lost & found || Joel Miller

Vigilante Shit pt. 1

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

August and Ellie found themselves in a desolate, forgotten neighborhood, where abandoned houses stood like hollow remains of a long old time. The air hung heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath their worn-out shoes. It seemed sort of safe, there was no sign of any infected creatures, granting them a temporary shelter from the relentless dangers of their world.

They sought refuge in the house at the front, out of pure desperation. Joel's condition demanded immediate attention, leaving them with no time to search for a more suitable shelter. The interior revealed the bitter reality of their situation, as they descended into the cold, dimly lit basement, the stagnant air chilling their bones.

Joel lay motionless on the frigid floor, his weakened breaths echoing in the damp, musty space. August's hands trembled with a mix of fear and determination as she prepared to tend to his wound. A flickering ray of light illuminated a mini fridge nearby, its contents limited but holding a precious bottle of Vodka. She carefully removed the makeshift bandage covering his injury, her gaze fixed upon him with a blend of apprehension and compassion, "Joel? I'm going to pour some beer on it, okay? It's going to hurt, a lot," Joel couldn't get out any words, just wheezing from the pain.

Then, August looks to Ellie, "See that fridge over there?" Ellie turns to the open door of the mini fridge before turning back around and nodding her head vigorously, "Could you get that bottle of beer?"

Without another word, Ellie rushes to the mini fridge and grabs the beer bottle and rushes back, "And could you get some fabric ready for me, hon?" Ellie gets to work.

August pops the bottle open swiftly, it's sharp scent filling the air. She pours the stinging liquid on Joel's wound, eliciting a pained groan from his lips. In his agony, Joel grasps August's arm tightly, "I know, I know, I'm sorry..." August's words were laced with empathy, her eyes filled with a mixture of regret and resolve. Ellie, ever the attentive ally, handed August the torn fabric, placing her trust in the older woman's hands.

August pressed the fabric against Joel's trembling stomach, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. As she worked, she begged Joel to cooperate, to lift his hips and assist in their desperate endeavor to save him.

"Leave." Joel grumbled through gritted teeth, his voice raspy with anguish. But August remained silent, dismissing his plea as if he hadn't said anything.

"Can you lift your hips for me?" she implored, her words tinged with urgency and exasperation.

"You go. You go North. North. To Tommy."

"Lift your hips for me."

"You go."

"Joel, please for the love of God lift your hips for me—"

"Leave—"

"I am not leaving!" August exclaims, angry, glaring down at him, "We are not leaving! Stop talking and lift your fucking hips for me! Now!"

Joel remained silent, his gaze locked with hers, his lips trembling from the pain. It became apparent that he wouldn't comply with her request, despite the severity of his injury.

Turning to Ellie, who stood wide-eyed and unsure, August sought her help, "Ellie? Ellie, please help me lift him up, can you do that?" Ellie nodded in a daze, crawling forward to join them in their struggle.