𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒓 ᖭི༏ᖫྀ 𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚜

chapter twenty eight : mariposa

Warning.
This chapter features explicit content recommended only for readers 18+ years old.
Viewer discretion is advised.

[XXVIII]

BUTTERFLIES; I could never seem to get enough of them.

"So, where exactly are we going?" She said, nervously chuckling as I directed her by hand. She was blindfolded, so she could only rely on my navigational expertise to take her where we were going. "You asked me to dress in these clothes that make me look like one of those middle aged dads from old holiday commercials."

I snorted, knowing she was gesturing to the wonderful Hawaiian shirt I had asked her to put on, bright and bold and covered in very large, gaudy flowers. It wasn't exactly the same as wearing earth tones spattered with blood your whole life; not exactly Ellie style, but I thought she looked kind of cute.

"It's summer, it's warm, and we're safe. Let's enjoy this, just for today, okay?"

She groaned a little, but conceded. I led her down an alleyway, and had to guide her as she made her way down a rusty ladder, very slowly, to the underground. She was very sceptical during the entire process, constantly chipping in with her questions and suspicions. But she wouldn't turn around. I appreciated that.

The faint sound of music could now be heard from where we had walked.

"Can you hear that music?"

"No, Crumpets. I can't hear that very obvious, loud, obnoxious mu- Ow!," she said, interrupted by an elbow to the gut.

I hoped Ellie would like it. I mean, she was kind of a nerd. She read comic books, made puns, and hated interacting with most people. But I hoped tonight would be a good night.

This was my little gift to her after she had brought back something I had forgotten about, and laughed when I saw her carrying it. Fucking Bertha, once again, had made it back into our lives. I would be lying if I said I wasn't ecstatic, my fingers itching for it when she first presented it to me. It felt like things were finally starting to get better.

The music was now ferociously loud, pulsating from the other side of a huge, rusty door.

"Shit. We going to a party?" She said, and I could hear the nervousness she was trying to chuckle away.

"Something like that," I smirked, still holding her hand as I pulled the rusted door open.

My mum's legacy could have been a museum, a library, or any sort of monument or testament to humanity involving an educational aspect. But she always said, the greatest part of humanity, is our ability to sniff out fun.

When she told me about the Mariposa, I thought she was joking. A fuck ton of noise and intoxicated people underground, with no infected? It sounded like a fever dream.

But she showed me this little underground room, that they called 'the pit', before it was active. It was basically a safe house. Four walls of concrete with a huge, lockable metal door at the forefront. Apparently it used to be an underground weed farm, so they repurposed that part, because it's way easier to grow weed than make alcohol in the apocalypse.

Even my badgering about possible infected was shooed away, as apparently they had cleaned out the entire sewer system under the Facility years ago, and did monthly checks. I felt dumbfounded; she really was a great leader.