ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏᴄᴇʟɪᴜᴍ ᴘʟᴀɢᴜᴇ// 𝙅𝙤𝙚𝙡 𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧

|| 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙞𝙚𝙜𝙚 ||

Joel looked at me. "Got it," I confirmed, understanding the gravity of the situation.

•••••

We had barely made it through the chaos when Joel pulled me aside, his grip firm but careful. "Let me see your arm," he said, his voice gruff but laced with concern. Gently, he started to unwrap the hastily placed gauze around my wound, his eyes flickering with frustration at my makeshift attempt. "Go sit on that ledge there," Joel pointed to a concrete ledge near a broken window. I nodded, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief as I settled down.

Joel squatted to my level, his face focused as he carefully cleaned the blood around my wound. He worked quickly but efficiently, his hands steady despite the tension in the air. As he wrapped a clean bandage around my arm, his touch was surprisingly gentle. I winced as he pulled the bandage tight, but I knew he was doing his best to patch me up. He finished with a final tug and adjusted the bandage to sit comfortably.
         When he was done, Joel stood and extended his hand to me. I gladly accepted, gripping his calloused hand as he pulled me to my feet. His strength was reassuring, a silent promise that he'd keep us safe. "Thanks," I said, my voice soft but earnest.
Joel nodded, his expression stoic but with a flicker of warmth in his eyes. "Mhm," he replied simply. "Let's head out."

We moved cautiously, staying close as Joel led the way through the dimly lit building. Every creak of the floorboards and distant echo of shouts set my nerves on edge. Joel paused at every corner, peeking around to ensure the coast was clear before signaling us to move forward. His eyes were sharp, scanning every shadow for signs of danger. When he gave us the all-clear, we slipped through the narrow corridors, pressing ourselves close to the walls and keeping low.

As we reached a heavy steel door, we could hear voices shouting from the street outside. "BODY! Body! THEY GOT FUCKIN' BRYAN!" a male voice bellowed, the sound of his rage and fear echoing off the buildings. My heart raced as Joel dashed across the doorway, checking if it was unlocked. He glanced back at us and gave a sharp nod, his eyes urging us to move quickly.

"Go, now!" Joel whispered, his voice tense. I motioned for the girls to run first, watching as they darted across the gap and into the safety of the doorframe. Once they were through, I followed close behind, my adrenaline spiking as I sprinted across the open space. I slammed the door shut behind me, the metallic clang reverberating through the quiet hallway.

We all breathed heavily, our hearts pounding in the brief silence that followed. Joel looked back at us, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with determination. "We've got to keep moving," he said, his voice firm but low. I nodded, and we fell back into formation, sticking close as we navigated the maze of the building. There was no time to rest, no time to linger. We were still in enemy territory, and every second counted.

As we crept further into the building, I couldn't help but glance at Joel. The way he moved, the way he protected us—it was like watching a force of nature. Strong, unyielding, and utterly committed to keeping us alive. And for that, I was grateful.

We made our way into an abandoned bar with a faded sign that read 'Hi Lo.' The place was dusty, filled with overturned tables and broken glass scattered across the floor. The bar counter, once a hub of noise and laughter, now served as a barricade between us and the outside world. Joel peered through a torn newspaper covering one of the windows, his face set in a hard line.

"They're not FEDRA, and they're not Fireflies. So who are they?" Ellie asked, her voice edged with curiosity and fear.

"People," Joel muttered, still scanning the street outside, his tone suggesting the kind of people who were unpredictable and dangerous.