Across States

Dark red clouds covered the sky as screams and screeches filled the empty silence. Fresh snow was falling from the sky. A feat deemed impossible by everyone alive unless it was raining ash. The cold pricked at their skin as they walked down the road of an old town that was once littered with bustling people. Now paint peeled from walls, blood coated the ground, and an abandoned gun lay by a car with its trunk open. Bodies slumped over cars. Distant yowls from cats in alleyways could be heard from them. The howls from the demon dogs that lurked were louder.

Argyle sighed as they looked down at the bloodied axe clutched in their hand. Their high was fading fast and upon patting their pockets and searching their bag, they found that they had no more joints to smoke or edibles to eat. This has happened before when they were forced to come back to reality and come to terms with what they've done. The people they had to betray or run from. The ones that stabbed them in the back, and the trauma that haunted every dream. The scars that were left behind.

Hair had been pulled back into a long ponytail that swayed past their waist. Light stubble covered their jawline and chin. New muscles along their body tensed every-time they heard a noise around them. Argyle stood in Hawkins, Indiana when they once lived in California. They had traveled all that way and over states to get back to someone specific. They didn't know if he'd be alive, but that's all that was keeping them going.

Jonathan was a fool to think that he could ever survive alone. Sure, he had fought demogorgans and their small, demonic mutt companions and won, but that had only been when he was with friends. He never stood a chance on his own, and that became painfully evident as his life practically was flashing like a slideshow in front of his eyes as he lay slumped over in Nancy's bathroom with a bloodied bat beside him. A large gash oozed and gushed on his shoulder and blood coated his pale, clammy skin. Everything felt like it was fading in and out, and despite knowing that there was no one to save him and that he couldn't save himself, he was still struggling to stay awake. Something inside him, maybe a primal instinct to stay alive (he had heard about that from others but hardly experienced it himself), was forcing him to fight; he hated it. Everything in his body hurt. A migraine was throbbing behind his eyes, and his mouth was impossibly dry. He didn't think it could get any worse until he heard the door downstairs open. The noise barely registered in his slow mind, but he glanced over at the open door to the small room he was in and sighed. Maybe, this was it. Wait- could dogs even open doors?

Argyle sucked in a breath as they stepped into the Wheeler's house. They had never been instead, and the only indicator that it was perhaps a home worth checking was the barely legible last name on the bent and broken mailbox at the end of the driveway. They froze in the doorway, remembering something in vivid detail that he wished shaking his head would rid of.

"Flynn?" Argyle called as they stepped through the worn store building. The kid had said that he'd be there. Where was he? Argyle could feel their chest tightening with each step that they took, and their grip tightened on their weapon.

When they opened another door that had been slightly ajar, they gagged at the scent that hit them in the face. Argyle looked down in horror at the mangled body of a kid that they had only met a couple days ago yet had felt a fierce need to protect. The kid looked no older than 15, and Argyle couldn't help the bile that rose in their throat as they were forced to see the maimed body of the boy.

Argyle shuddered at the memory but forced themself onwards. If they found Jonathan in the same position- no! They wouldn't. Jonathan was strong and capable. He would've been able to take care of himself. It wasn't like it had been years since the outbreak and since Argyle last saw their friend. It- hadn't been years, right? Argyle had lost track of time a long while ago.