⋆ ★ REQUIEM FOR THE ACCUSED ⋆ ★

YOUNG

"another day goes by and where was i? didn't think i'd still be here." - vacations

the sun had barely risen as uncle john decided to venture out for food. salem watched him from the doorway as he gathered his bright orange backpack. it had been four or five years since outbreak day. the sound of scraping metal rings through the abandoned house salem and her family had resided in for the last couple of months. jack walks out into the room, wiping his blade on his pants. "i want to come." he says quietly, looking up at his father. jack had grown into a teenager faster than he should have. at roughly eighteen he stands tall and lean, his dark hair once neatly trimmed by his mother, now hung in uneven tufts,  often falling in his watchful eyes. 

the freckles that once dotted his nose seemed out of place on his grim expression, remnants of a life long gone. jack's hands, calloused and scarred, were always busy – whether sharpening his spear, repairing their makeshift defences, or simply clenching and unclenching as if ready to fight at a moment's notice. he rarely spoke about the past, but salem could see the pain in his eyes whenever he looked at her, a silent reminder of all they had lost--who they had lost. yet, beneath the tough exterior, there was still a glimmer of the boy who used to laugh and play.

"no, jack. we've been over this. you stay here with salem." john sighs, more irritable and tired than usual. jack bites his tongue and sits down on the ratty couch. "be careful." salem says, her voice almost a whisper. she tugs a piece of her long black hair behind her ear. "i will be back by noon, if not you know what you have to do." john says with a reassuring smile. salem watches with worried eyes as her uncle pushes through the bushes blocking the door and out onto the street. 

once he was gone, salem sat beside jack. "he'll be fine, right?" she asked, more to herself than to him. jack didn't look up from his blade. "he always is." he answered. they both knew that wasn't true. their aunt jamie and cousins had been among the first to fall. the family had been scavenging in an old supermarket when the walkers swarmed. jamie had tried to shield the twins as they were only four but it had been futile. salem could still hear their screams, could still see the blood. the dead ignored salem and she and her uncle and older cousin had managed to escape with their lives, but the memory haunted them.

since then, they had become more cautious, and more strategic. when leaving the house they drenched themselves in walker blood, guts hanging from their necks. they were able to blend in with the dead and walk among them for protection from others. they made no sounds out in the woods--communicated only by looks or whispers. salem's hair constantly reeked of insides but the family had grown accustomed to it, it rarely bothers her anymore. 

the hours ticked by slowly. salem and jack took turns keeping watch, their nerves on edge. every rustle of leaves, every distant groan set their hearts racing. noon came and went with no sign of john. "he should be back by now." salem whispers to jack, anxiety lacing her words. jack stood up, grabbing his spear. "i'm going to look for him." he whispered, smudging some more guts all over his clothes. 

"no. we stick to the plan. we wait till tomorrow. he could come back." salem says firmly.  the night was long and sleepless. salem lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, listening to jack's restless movements. dawn broke, and with it, the cold realization that john might not return. the morning sun cast long shadows as salem and jack prepared to venture out. they had waited long enough. salem strapped a hunting knife to her belt, while jack slung his spear over his shoulder. the weight of uncertainty hung heavy between them.

the two rubbed buckets of walker guts on each other, coating their skin with it. "we'll check the usual routes first." jack says, laying a string of intestines over salem's shoulders. they limped cautiously through the woods, their senses heightened. the world was eerily quiet, save for the occasional distant groan of a walker.

after an hour of walking, they came to a familiar road. it was a path john often took on his supply runs. salem's eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of him. it was jack who spotted it first– a patch of disturbed dirt, marked by tire tracks. "over here." jack whispers. salem limped over, her eyes scanning the trail. it led them a few yards before they found him. 

john lay on his back, his eyes glazed over, his mouth opening and closing with the mindless hunger of the dead. his legs were gone, severed just above the knees. a dark, dried pool of blood stained the ground around him. salem's breath caught in her throat, and she took a step back, her hand flying to her mouth holding back her cries. she had seen much death before, but this was different.

jack stepped forward, his spear trembling in his grip. "i have to end it." he whispered and familiar shuffling echos through the tree line. "be quick, they're coming." salem whispered to jack through her tears. as jack drove the spear through john's skull, ending his torment, salem's eyes scanned the area. beside john's body, she noticed the tire tracks leading away. his orange bag, the one he always carried on runs, was nowhere to be seen.

"someone did this. they left him here to die." salem says, her voice rough with anger. jack yanked his spear free and stood up, his face pale but resolute. "then we find them. we find out who did this." salem nodded, her heart hardening with resolve. they turned away from john's body, following the tire tracks up the road. the tire tracks led them deeper into the woods, winding through the trees like a snake. the two had picked up some walkers by now, the corpses walking alongside them providing them with the comfort and security they needed from whoever else might be out there. 

as the hours passed, the tracks grew fainter, eventually disappearing altogether on a stretch of rocky terrain. "ah, shit." jack mumbles quietly. "we'll find them." salem says, carrying out her words into a whisper. the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting dappled shadows through the canopy of leaves above. the air was heavy with the scent of pine and the distant sound of birdsong caught the attention of the walkers around them. "jack." salem mumbled, stopping her in her tracks. an outline of a building stays hidden in the trees.

they approached cautiously, their walker companions still limping along with them. as they drew closer, the building came into focus – tall fences topped with barbed wire, watchtowers standing sentinel. it was a prison. "do you think anyone's still here?" jack asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "let's find out." salem said pulling out her blade and limping over to the fence, attempting to cut through the metal. walkers crowd around her, making it hard for her to move without disturbing them. jack leads them off in a group, walking within them like a guide. 

the blade saws away at the metal, the harsh sound filling the still air. salem's muscles burn with each pull, her hand cramping and slick with sweat. "shit." she mutters under her breath as the blade slips from her grasp, clattering to the ground. crouching to retrieve it, salem's eyes widen as she finds herself face to face with a man aiming a gun at her through the chain-link fence. his eyes are wild and desperate, the kind that doesn't hesitate to pull the trigger.