ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴀʟ

Chapter 30: Cut Your Losses

The gates of Ericson's opened with its usual screech, alerting everyone of entry. The sound caught the attention of Louis, who sat on a nearby picnic bench as he impatiently waited for you. As they entered, his vision followed Marlon and Aasim, who slung two heavy bags filled with preserved foods, attracting a crowd. Louis' frantic gaze darted in every direction, a desperate search for any sign of your return. The void of uncertainty swallowed him whole as he yearned for even the smallest glimmer of hope. Three bags had accompanied you on your departure, yet only two reappeared with Marlon and Aasim. If you were dead, they would've carried the third, right? The absence of that third bag loomed over him, a heavy weight settling in his gut, amplifying the racing beats of his heart into a thunderous crescendo. The abyss of worry mirrored the depths of his stomach, a sensation not felt since the crushing moment Marlon told him you were... No, it couldn't be true. Not you. Surely not? You couldn't be. The echoes of fear reverberated through him, turning every moment of silence into a deafening roar of uncertainty.

With a shaky step, he arose, dread drumming against his heart with every step. The crowd seemed preoccupied by the haul, relief and gratitude bubbling the conversation as people scoured through the bags, oggling at the masses of food. 

"Guys," Louis' voice was fragile, "where's (Y/N)?" The chatter ceased as your absence dawned on the rest of the group. Their expectant gazes flicked between him, Marlon and Aasim, worry plaguing their minds.

"Yeah, oh my God, where is she?" Frowned Omar.

"She didn't die, right?!" Asked Violet, voice booming with concern.

Eyes shrouded with grief and uncertainty, Aasim and Marlon shared a look. "We don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Venom laced Minnie's question.

"We, um, we were attacked by some guy trying to steal our food." Aasim explained. "(Y/N) said she could fight him off and told us to run, so we did..."

"So you just left her there to fight some random dude alone?! She's probably dead by now." Mitch's eyes were wide in anger, "If you didn't think you could hold your own against that man, what makes you think she could?!"

Twiddling his thumbs, Tenn tentatively chimed in, "(Y/N)'s strong, she can defend herself." His voice was near to silent as his gaze scanned the ground, "I'm sure she's on her way back now." He positively speculated. 

Nervous, Marlon contributed, "She almost died disarming a grenade just because she saw the stash of food. I'm sure you're right, Tenn." 

"Wait," Louis didn't know how to feel. You were capable, he knew that, but an amalgamation of concerns and thoughts swirled his conscience, drowning out whatever he was thinking before. "You were attacked and you just let her fight alone? What if she needed help? You should've stayed with her!" He was worried, so worried. He couldn't bare to lose you again: he'd break. 

"I trust her judgement," said Aasim, "if she thought she could take him, then I..." he breathed, "I believe her. But I'm just as worried as you are."

"Not in the slightest," Louis combated, "you're not in a relationship with her - I am." 

It was silent, the air wracked with an unsettling tension, each mind fantasing your whereabouts, your actions, your state, or if you were even still breathing.  And trust me, you were...

The man in front of you was tall, much taller than you. He was scrawny, bones wrapped by his pale skin, peeking through at the bend of his arm. His face was dirty and gaunt, both his hair and beard were outgrown, each scraggly bushes of stringy jet black. His eyes were narrowed, bloodshot by the absense of sleep. "Just give me the bag." He gruffly growled, flip knife pointed at your throat. "I need it more than you."

"Fuck you, we found it, it's ours." Likewise to him, you clasped your knife defensively, ready to attack at any given second. A dangerous glower squinted your eyes, a piercing glare flicking between him and the switch blade. 

"I'm stronger than you," said the man, "I could easily overpower you."

Scrutinising his stature, you frowned, "Don't threaten me, I will kill you."

"Will you, now?" The man mused.

An eerie silence stood between you, each of you waiting for the other to move. The quiet of the forest made your deep breaths seem loud, as you inhaled at a calm pace, gaze unwavering, immune to fear's chokehold. The wind blew through you, halting at the man's matted mane. 

Without warning, he surged forward, the blade of his knife leaving a searing mark across your cheek as you evaded the imminent danger. A sharp pang radiated through your face, accompanied by the sight of crimson liquid tracing a path down your skin. The abrupt confrontation spurred you into action. He charged once more, only to be met by the impact of your foot colliding with his solar plexus, forcing a pained wheeze from his lungs.

As he doubled over, clutching his stomach in agony, you seized the opportunity to retaliate. Your clenched fist found its mark in a swift, precise strike to his nose, the resounding crack echoing through the air as blood erupted from the now misshapen feature. Relentless, you pressed on, a storm of punches and kicks converging on him until he succumbed to the unyielding assault, collapsing to the ground beneath the force of your determined onslaught.

He cried out as you stamped your foot onto his right arm, forcing him to discard the weapon. In his weakened state, you ditched him, kicking his weapon away. The bag strapped over your shoulders was heavy, all you wanted was to return home. You were certain the other two would have arrived and the rest of the group would be concerned of your whereabouts. 

The hurried thuds of footsteps reverberated behind you as the man sprinted toward you, driven by desperation. Swiftly turning on your heel, you thrust your knife into his abdomen. With an unfeeling stare, you carved the blade upward, rending the man's flesh and coating you both in a visceral cascade of deep red. Inches from the brink of death, he crumpled, breaths ragged, succumbing to the fatal wounds. Apathetic, your vacant stare scrutinised his form.

In the near distance, the haunting moans of the undead drew closer. Casting a glance at the canopy, the sun descended, blanketing a violet hue across the sky; time was of the essence. Shifting your gaze back to the fallen man, you knew that his fate now rested in your hands.

LEAVE HIM FOR THE WALKERS OR FINISH HIM OFF?