The Crash of Worlds - The Last Of Us

Part I - A Bullet to the Arm

August 17th, 2023

James cautiously removed the plank, wedging his knife in between it and the door frame. The nails came out rather easily as he slowly un-boarded this door. He'd been running low on supplies for a few days now, this house didn't look all too raided.

He finally got the door open, stepping over the wooden planks on the doorstep as he wandered into the dusty home. Seemingly frozen in time, chairs turned over, and cabinets swung open in a panic. However the car was still in the driveway, or what remained of it. A rusted shell.

With his revolver in hand, he slowly searched for anything of value. A bedroom to the left was his first spot to look, creaking open the door quietly as he looked inside. Just a bedroom, nothing out of the ordinary. It was scattered like someone had been living there but the dust said not for a while. It was eerie.

Just for good measure, James checked under the bed, he would check the closet but there were no doors on it. The room was empty of anything living.

Now feeling safe he began to loot, drawers, bins, anything. A desk in the corner of the room had a nice lighter, one of the rectangular metal ones. He stuffed it into his bag, the dirtied satchel of sorts slung across his body.

The bed looked soft, if not for the dust and cobwebs. There was a small box on a bedside table, and James grabbed it. Opening it he was met with a dildo, and various lubes he felt the need to close it but a box of bandages looked promising. So he snatched them, running his hand unwillingly across the toy as he did. He shivered dropping the lid shut. Who knows what that thing has been in. Or who.

There wasn't much in terms of supplies but he still grabbed quite a few things. Some pepper spray he found in a shoebox, a Swiss Army knife, some sewing needles, duct tape, and a pill bottle containing Vicodin. That would definitely come in handy.

As he tried to leave the room he felt something grab his leg, he looked back and found a cat. Well a kitten, latched onto his calf like a little vampire. James smiled, kneeling to look at the adorable nuisance. The orange cat looked up at James playfully, jumping up and pawing at his hand as he went to pet it.

James had always wanted a cat. He'd never had one so this was like a dream come true. He lifted the feline from the dirty floor, holding it under its arms as he looked at it. It was heavier than expected.

Wonder what it is about animals that makes people want to protect them, James thought to himself as he held the cat close to his chest. The little thing let out a meow before beginning to purr loudly. It was just so precious.

James then felt a sense of sadness when he realized he'd have to leave the cat behind. He can't bring it with him, thing would run off and get eaten. Or fall out of his hands as he ran. Not to mention how the cat would certainly panic if it heard a gunshot.

"Sorry little guy." He mumbled to the cat, rubbing his thumb on its soft little head as he sat it back on the floor. It was actually kind of perfect, James had a tin of raw sardines he'd been holding onto for no reason. He'd never eat them, they look putrid. However cats like fish.

So he dug out the fish from the bottom of his bag, and hesitantly he peeled back the lid. His face was hit with an expected fish smell that made him want to vomit, however, he wanted to leave something for this cat. Give it a fighting chance. So he sat down the can, six small fish looking at him as the cat hurried over and began happily eating the fish.
"Enjoy kitty." He mumbled as he left the room, making sure to close the door.

The rest of the house didn't have anything really, money. It's no good anymore, cords, VHS tapes, none of it was worth taking.
"Fuck!" He shouted, looking into the master bedroom he first smelt it. The smell of rotting flesh was only a faint one as the three corpses on the bed were nearly skeletons.

Black blood like tar soaked the mattress, a gun laid beside the remnant of a hand. Two large skeletons holding a horrifyingly small one in between themselves. Judging by the unmoved car, he'd say these three killed themselves before they could get infected.

Finding corpses is like finding infected, they're everywhere. Always in various stages of decomposition. Most of the bodies had been shot, a few stabbed, but a large percentage of them were suicides. Whether that be a corpse hung from a rope or a body with its wrist slit open.

You'd expect to find bodies mauled by the infected, but no. If one of those things got to you, you'd turn. Or you'd be eaten in your entirety. Not a bone left.

James left pretty quickly after that, some things are just too much to see. So the blonde wandered outside, adjusting his glasses even though he didn't need to. It's a pain wearing them in this type of world. They always fall off, and there's a crack on the corner of the left lens. Damn things are a nuisance, but without them, James can't see more than a few feet in front of him.

As he wandered away, carefully sneaking from bush to bush he heard the rumblings of infected all about as usual; A man came out of nowhere behind the corner of a garage. James screamed instinctively as the man shot him in the arm. A searing pain ripped into his flesh as he stumbled back to the grass floor. Hitting his head hard on a car.

James suddenly felt dread as he attempted to pull out his gun with his hand, but that arm was done for now. The man noticed this it seemed as he snatched the weapon and held it from the boy.
"If you're gonna kill me just do it." James groaned, glaring at the man as he looked down at the guy he had just shot.
"I'm not gonna kill you," the man sighed, "Sorry." The stranger knelt, still holding the gun in his hand firmly. "What's your name?" He asked.
"What's it to you?" James mumbled, holding his bloodied arm as the red started to soak down his sleeve.

Looking at the man James felt a few things, anger, confusion, uncertainty, and lust. That last feeling was the smallest of them all but James was only human, he knew when a man was attractive and he couldn't help it. However, the fact that this stranger shot him made him considerably less attractive. He could've done without the wound in his arm.
"Nothin' I guess." Joel scoffs, "What you doing sneakin' around like that?"
"I could ask you the same."

James liked the way his voice sounded. Deep and southern.
"I'm looking for someone." He said, "I'm Joel." He said, putting out a dirty hand. He'd tell him his name but not his last. Don't trust this guy enough for that.
"...James." He sighed, shaking the hand carefully, "You know how to sew?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're getting at?"
"I need you to sew the wound shut," James groaned as he pulled out some needles and thread," please."

Joel was hesitant to do so, he looked down at the sewing supplies made for cloth and felt uncertain. He'd never sewn a wound shut before so that'd be new, god knows this is NOT how you close a wound.
"That's for sewing clothes?" Joel said, lifting a brow as he looked down at the boy.
"You g-got some medical grade supplies or something?" James stuttered, the pain was traveling up around his neck to the point it hurt to move his head.

Joel mumbled "no" as he took the needle into his hands, carefully sliding the thread through the hole as the boy groaned in pain. Without much of a warning, Joel pressed the needle to the tender skin around the wound. The outer layer of tissue took some force to pierce before he was able to slide the needle through the skin and slowly and painfully pull the hole to a close.
"Fuck!" James screamed as Joel finally pulled the thread taught and closed the wound fully.
"Sorry," Joel mumbled, placing the bandage over the wound.
"It's fine, it's done." James groaned out,
"Well no, there's another hole on the other side." Joel sighed,
"Fuck."