Fighters

Chapter One

Tristan's POV

20 Years Later..

I couldn't help but glare at the tree line as we marched. I was just tired, up all night with Eric the night before and then getting up at the ass crack of dawn so that I could sneak back to my room. But my dad was missing, and mom was worried, and no one liked dealing with mom when she was on edge, so here we were.

"Tristan!" Eric yells, snapping me from my thoughts. I look over and he's pointing at what we've been looking for: my dad's jeep, coming down the road. I take off running, my back pack bouncing, my machete gliding through the air as if it's an extension of my arm. The Jeep comes to a stop and I can't help but let out a laugh as the door opens and he steps towards me, arms extended with his "stupid grin" as mom loves to call it. I throw myself at him and he almost stumbles, chuckling and squeezing me.

"Missed ya, bud. What are you doing out here, huh? Lookin' for little old me?" I pull back and glare at him, stepping back to cross my arms across my chest.

"Mom is worried sick, pops. You've been gone a lot longer than she thought you were going to be. She thought maybe..."  I trailed off, unable to finish as I looked at him and his eyes softened.

"I know, kiddo. I really am sorry... but.." he trails off, looking back at the jeep and for the first time I see them, and the realization of who they are sends me stumbling backwards like I was punched in the gut. Dad moves quickly, stepping forward to rest a comforting hand on my shoulder as my chest heaves. "I found them, and they need to be taken back to The Helm..."

I sputter, unable to form coherent words. The Helm was a fairy tale, or so everyone thought.  It was opened when the outbreak started, and they were only able to take in a select number of people... and when the world is being ravished by zombies any number is too small.

"You're telling me... " I struggle to get out, looking him in the eye as he brings his other hand up so that he's holding both shoulders, almost as if he's afraid he'll have to restrain me. "You're telling me... that the parents and aunt who left my sister and I to die made it to The Helm and have been there this whole time? While you and mom lugged us around on your backs and..." I couldn't finish, the words choking my throat as stupid tears burned my eyes. "We looked everywhere!" I scream, startling him as I push off away from his hands and start walking in the opposite direction. I can hear him calling, asking me to get in the car, but I can't bear to turn around. I do, however, extend the hand not holding my machete into the air to give them all the bird. "Fuck them, pops, Fuck. Them."

I faintly hear him swear, and the sound of the jeep starting up. I reach Eric, who's leaning against an abandoned car and picking at his nails with his knife. He doesn't bother to raise his head as I approach, talking into his nails. "Soooo I'm guessing the peeps in your dad's ride aren't getting a welcome home party?" I stare straight ahead, my eyebrows drawn together in thought. I almost jump when he puts his hand on my shoulder, turning to make eye contact with him. I stare at him, and then shake my head and laugh. When I look up and see his hands on his hips and his head cocked to the side, I double over and continue to laugh, so hard that I didn't realize my dad was pulling up in his jeep next to us. "What is wrong with you?" He asks.

"I'm sorry, dude" I say, standing up and brushing my pants off. "I just couldn't help but laugh because this situation is so fucked, ya know?"

"Son." I look over, at pops with his dirty blonde hair back in a ponytail, his flannel shirt straining against his arms. I'm wearing an army uniform, as is Eric. Pops should be wearing his too, but he sweet talks mom out of it. I continue looking at him, waiting. "I know you're angry, you don't think I am? I love your mom, and I don't like the idea of bringing these people back and drudging up history and..." he trails off, rubbing his temple with his hand. I can't help but notice that in this moment he looks even older than he did down the road. "Let's just get back home and deal with this. We're fighters, remember? We never stop." His eyes are serious as he recites our motto, the motto I remember my mom saying to herself as she walked with me on her back and Aurora strapped to her front all those years ago. I blink the haze from my eyes and take in my dad, standing there with his hands in his pocket. "Well? You riding back with me?" I look back at Eric and he shrugs, doing what any good boyfriend would do and sets off to squeezing into the back of the jeep with my "Family" so I could ride shot gun.

Before my dad can open his door I grab his arm, and he turns back to look at me with one eyebrow up, an unspoken question. "Why did you do it back then? Why did you put me on your back and walk with mom?" His eyes glaze over a bit as he purses his lips and looks off down the road, then at his boots, then back up to me. He steps forward then and wraps his arms around my shoulders tightly, his face in my hair.

"I was alone, all of my family was dead. But when I saw your mom and you peeked over her shoulder to look at me, I knew. I lost everyone so that I could find you guys. And then one thing led to another and I fell in love with your mom and with being your dad." He pulls back to look at me then, running a finger down the scar on my forehead I'd had since I was 5. "You guys mean everything to me, and your mom..." The faint hue of a blush hit his cheeks and he pulled away to rub one of his arms awkwardly. "Your mom is amazing, and she didn't let me get away with anything. And when she finally decided to admit that she did love me that was it for me. I had her and you kids and even in this fucked up world I was happier than I'd ever been." I smile then, almost forgetting the assholes in the back. "Why do you ask?"

"Because" I say, walking around the front of the car, "I'm trying to figure out how a stranger can put me on their back and love me, but my own family left me to die." I watch as his eyes harden, glancing into the back. He nods, opening the driver's door.

As I sit, he leans back and hisses in his most intimidating voice he saves for special occasions, "You speak when spoken too, you leave him alone unless he wants to talk to you". I smirk, rolling my window down and resting my arm on the window and sheathing my machete on the holder on my waist. Dad gives me one last smile and smack on the shoulder, and then puts the car in drive.

I couldn't help but chuckle as he began to drive, running a hand through my hair. If they were scared now, they better start preparing for the wrath of my mom.