The Both Of Us | Zelink X The Last Of Us

Chapter Twelve

Zelda's pov

We make it out of the building without much trouble. There's not many men left to try to kill us and the ones who fling themselves in Link's path are dead in seconds. I'm numb as I trail behind the cold-blooded killer. The gunshots sound like distant echoes and I step over the lifeless bodies, slipping in blood occasionally. I don't look at their faces. Some of them don't much left to look at after Link shoots. His aim is fatally accurate, never missing a shot. Nothing breaks his focus as his eyes land on one victim after another.

The sun is setting by the time we make it out and yet I still feel like I can't breathe outside. My body threatens to collapse under my own weight and the throbbing pains come from everywhere. I slow down, my body refusing to keep going and Link grabs me, forcing me to walk as fast as he is. We move through the forming shadows of the city until the buildings thin and thick clusters of trees replace them.

He releases my arm and turns off the road towards a path leading into the woods. I follow without question, doing my best to make out the roots in the dark before I trip on them. The path is overgrown with only a thin line of packed dirt in the middle, the only sign that it used to be a trail people would take walks on. I can almost see it: couples taking walks with a stroller or a runner with their dog. Now it's being walked by two beaten people, one a killer and one too weak to handle harsh realities.

The trail empties into a small clearing at the edge of a river. The sand ground slopes where it meets the edge of the water and small waves lap up rhythmically. It's peaceful but not enough to calm me. A flood would better suit how I'm feeling, one that leaves scars of what used to lie in its path.

Link stumbles forward and it's the first time he's shown a sign of exhaustion. It had to happen at some point and after what he did in the city, I'm shocked it didn't happen sooner.

He drops to his knees at the water's edge, dampening his jeans and he dips his shaking and blood crusted hands into the river. He cups the water in his hands and splashes his face, also covered in blood although this blood is his own. I feel like retching as I watch him wash away all the blood as if it's something simple like dirt. It doesn't get rid of what he did, what I watched him do.

Anger and fear rise in me, mixing and giving me the confidence or stupidity to say, "You're a murderer." My throat is still scratchy, making my voice come out quieter than I would've wished.

He speaks without looking at me. "I'm a killer, not a murderer." His calm only makes me want to pound my fists against his chest. He is a murderer. He brutally killed that man and I had to watch.

"There's no difference." My voice came out a little fiercer than before.

He scoffs and splashes his face again. "So you'd rather I left you there?" I don't want to see his point. "They would've raped you until you were numb and bleeding and then they would've killed you." My anger dissipates. He did save me and that would've happened if he didn't. It was about to happen. "I suggest you get used to death because it's everywhere and and it's coming for you and it's coming for me." Impa said I'd get used to it. How? How do you get used to violence? How do you get used to being covered in blood that's not your own?

He stands and I can make out some of his injuries in the dim moonlight when he looks at me. He's badly bruised with a large cut on his forehead where he was hit with the rifle. His bottom lip is split open and swollen. The purple and red handprints around his neck make my own throat hurt and imagine what it's like to be kept from breathing.

He says one more thing that sends a shiver through me. "Just be glad I'm the one doing the killing so you don't have to."

He leans back against a tree when he sits. He grimaces with his hand over his stomach and makes a faint grunting sound. I used to help people like him but I won't now. I don't want to touch him.

I kneel at the water and clean my face like he did. The cool water eases a bit of the pounding in my head. It feels like someone is taking a hammer to my skull where my head injuries are. My cheeks are still stinging from the slaps and feel warm to the touch. My dislocated thumb aches from being out of place for so long and the cuff is rubbing my wrist raw. I've never been in so much physical pain before. I had the occasional bumps and scrapes as a child and annoying injuries in the quarantine zone but nothing like this. I've never been hurt by another person like this before.

My hand lingers on my neck where the man kissed me. It wasn't the first time my neck has been kissed. Its happened before when I first got to the quarantine zone. A young man who smelled like weed and sweat cornered me and touched me. I stood trapped between him and a wall, frozen as he groped my breasts and slid his hand in my underwear. He whispered in my ear about how big he was and how good it'll feel. It was only then that I fully realized what was about to happen. I bit his hand and kneed him in the crotch before running away. I was almost raped again today and it disgusts me. I don't want that stolen from me but I also know sex isn't something I'll ever get to experience. It's something people trade for food or protection or men take it. I don't want any of those to be my reason. Sex is supposed to be shared with someone you love and I doubt there's anyone left I could love like that. I bet Link had someone he loved. He was older than me when the outbreak happened. He got to live more life than I did before the world ended.

I push what I think is envy from my head. I shouldn't be envious of him. I don't even want to accept that he's right about everything.