The Last of Us: Final Resort

Chapter 36 - The Last Stand

WARNING: This chapter includes intense violence, graphic descriptions of infected creatures, and references to sensitive themes. While the story handles these themes with sensitivity, there is a small mention of a character experiencing extreme suffering and contemplating escape. Please proceed with caution if these topics are sensitive or triggering for you.

Los Angeles, March-April
2043

In the early morning light filtering through a cracked window of their makeshift shelter in Los Angeles, Ellie sat cross-legged on the dusty floor, cradling Joyce's katana in her lap. The katana's blade gleamed dimly as she held it in her hands, turning it over thoughtfully. Outside, the city stirred with distant sounds of infected groans and the occasional creak of crumbling buildings. These sounds reverberated through the abandoned streets like ghosts of the past, haunting reminders of the world that had been lost to chaos and decay.

Ellie traced her fingers over the intricate patterns etched into Joyce's katana, finding comfort in the cool touch of the metal against her palms. Memories of Joyce's fierce determination and unwavering spirit flooded her mind. She remembered how Joyce had taught her to wield the improvised katana with precision, emphasising the importance of strength not just in body, but in spirit. "Hey, Joyce," Ellie murmured softly to the katana, her voice barely audible in the quiet room, "I hope you're still out there somewhere, fighting. No matter what they're putting you through".

She closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning Joyce's presence as if she could hear her voice echoing faintly in her thoughts. The weight of the katana in her hands felt like a solemn oath — a promise to keep pushing forward, to relentlessly pursue their mission until she and Lev reached Santa Catalina Island, where they would find a way to rescue Joyce and finally bring an end to her suffering at the hands of the Fireflies. "I know it's tough right now, but you've gotta stay strong through this hell. I'm coming for you, okay? Hang in there, my girl," Ellie added, her voice filled with heartfelt affection for Joyce. With a deep breath, she stood up, clutching the katana firmly in her hand. Ellie cast a glance at Lev, who was completing the packing of their supplies for the day ahead. "Ready to go?" Lev asked quietly, sensing Ellie's determined silence. "Yeah," Ellie answered, her eyes lingering on the katana briefly before she looked away, "Let's find Joyce". With Joyce's katana strapped securely to her back, Ellie departed from the apartment with Lev by her side.

Ellie and Lev moved cautiously through the desolate streets, their senses on high alert amidst the eerie sounds of infected nearby. Lev signalled for Ellie to halt as they approached a narrow alley, where guttural growls and clicking echoes indicated the presence of clickers. These grotesque creatures, once humans, now driven solely by their insatiable hunger, prowled just beyond their line of sight. Ellie's grip tightened on her pistol, her breath shallow as she scanned for any sign of movement. A sudden shriek pierced the air, followed by frantic movements. It was a runner, stumbling blindly towards them, its twisted figure a testament to the unforgiving passage of time. Ellie took aim, firing her pistol with precision until the chamber was depleted of ammunition. "Damn it!" she cursed under her breath, scrambling to consider her options. Lev fought intensely beside her, but the clicker was closing in fast.

Without hesitation, Ellie instinctively reached behind her back, grasping Joyce's katana. With a swift motion, she slashed at the clicker, the blade slicing through its distorted form with unexpected ease. The encounter escalated as more stalkers emerged from the shadows, drawn by the commotion. Ellie was astonished to discover that the blade retained its sharpness and unmatched cutting ability, effortlessly dispatching the infected with each stroke. The infected creatures fell one by one, unable to withstand the lethal efficiency of the katana wielded by Ellie. As the last stalker fell, Ellie felt a strange surge of energy, a lasting effect from Joyce's blood that had bonded with her own. It wasn't just a connection; it was as if Joyce's resilience was coursing through her veins. "Joyce, you've given me more than I ever imagined," she thought, a small smile playing on her lips, "I've never felt so empowered, like nothing can stop me. If this is what your blood can do for me, I'll make sure I won't let this go to waste".

Their moment of relief was interrupted by the appearance of Sasha Hart, a survivor with a troubled or distressed expression. Her dark chestnut hair fell in gentle waves around her shoulders, while her almond-shaped hazel eyes held a depth that spoke of wisdom earned through lived experience. A subtle scar ran across her left cheek, marking the challenges she had overcome in the past. She had a slender frame that moved with grace, often adorned in practical attire suited for the challenges of survival in a post-apocalyptic world. Lev immediately recognised her and urgently asked about Joyce's well-being. Sasha's voice trembled as she recounted the horrors Joyce endured under the Fireflies' experiments. "It's been a nightmare," she began, her eyes reflecting the pain, "Those Fireflies have been putting Joyce through hell — pulling out blood like it's nothing, digging into her bones for marrow, running all sorts of tests, and exposing her to all kinds of infected strains that have pushed Joyce to the edge. Physically, emotionally... she's barely hanging on. It's all for nothing, just trying to find a cure that might not even exist". Ellie's eyes widened in shock and her fists clenched in anger as she absorbed Sasha's words. In a low, seething voice, Ellie muttered to herself, "If I find out Abby or any of those bastards were involved in this... I swear to God, I'll kill every last one of them for what they've done to her".

Lev turned to Sasha with a worried expression. "Sasha, how bad is it? How's Joyce holding up?" he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of concern. Sasha sighed heavily, her voice laden with sorrow as she explained, "It's not good, Lev. Joyce's condition has rapidly deteriorated. She's in a critical state now". Ellie felt a lump form in her throat as Sasha's words sank in. "Wait, what do you mean critical?" she interjected, her voice tinged with incredulity. "I reckon you're Ellie, right?  She's been in constant pain. It's really taken a toll on her. Joyce has attempted to end her life multiple times because of it," Sasha disclosed, her voice conveying the seriousness of the situation. "No... Joyce... why?" Ellie whispered, struggling to process the heartbreaking reality. The revelation hit her like a ton of bricks. Sasha pressed on with a somber tone, "I've done everything I could to keep Joyce alive, but we need to act fast if we're gonna save her now. I can't watch her suffer like this anymore. That's why I'm in, even if it means going against the plan". She looked at Ellie and Lev, her eyes filled with resolve. "There's a shortcut to Santa Catalina Island that I know. I hope we make it in time before Abby or Paul decides to take more drastic measures for that damn cure". Ellie nodded, keeping a steady voice despite the storm of emotions inside her. "Lead the way. We're with you," she affirmed, ready to embark on the risky journey to save Joyce, no matter the cost.

Meanwhile, Joyce lay on a thin cot, dressed in a plain white and grey long-sleeve top and thick pants, the room bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights in the Fireflies' base. Her skin was almost ghostly pale, veins visible through the translucent surface, a testament to the countless blood extractions she had undergone. Her once lively eyes were now dulled by pain and exhaustion, with deep lines of fatigue etched into her face. These signs told the tale of numerous sleepless nights and endless suffering. Each movement she made was slow and deliberate, a grimace of pain accompanying even the smallest shift. Bandages wrapped around her arms concealed the aftermath of recent needle marks, a few still showing faint traces of blood seeping through. Joyce's hair, though tangled and neglected, maintained its volume, cascading over her shoulders like a remnant of her former self. She stared at the ceiling with hollow eyes, wondering if there would ever be an end to her torment. "Why does it have to be like this?" Joyce uttered a rhetorical question like a plea to the universe for an end to her agony, spoken more to herself than anyone else. Alone with her thoughts, she closed her eyes briefly, a single tear escaping down her pale cheek. In that fleeting moment, Joyce longed for sleep to be her escape, a chance to slip away from the unbearable cruelty that engulfed her existence.