𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 ➪ «𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛»

ch. XXXVII pt. II

oOo

There was no way Felix would be wandering all by himself through this hell-spawned place. It seriously creeped him out, the absence of human presence where it should have been, the abandonment that brought him back to the early days. Back to when mom and dad were still with them, when they first met the Dixons.

He'd kind of admired them their fearlessness, the way they'd mowed down those walkers like the character with the best stats in a video game. Up until that moment, he thought he'd be like Dead Island's Sam B. if an apocalypse ever broke out and not like an expendable NPC.

Then his parents...

And the CDC being a bust. Everything added to this uncontrollable fear and he hated it.

So he stuck close to Alice, hand tight on the bat hanging at his side, swinging against his thigh with every timid step, as if afraid to awaken some slumbering boss. His head hung low and his posture was like that of his late 90-something-year-old great-grandpa who had worked the lands to his grave.

Alice looked over her shoulder at him, her eyebrows bunched together, and she shook her head at him. She was stronger, he would admit that, but her "courage" bordered on suicidal recklessness. He could tell by the way she had gutted her couch and pillow back at the CDC that something was wrong. He hadn't asked because he knew her.

They paused at a black minivan and Alice opened the back door while Felix stood watch. He could see her rummage through the contents of a backpack from the corner of his eye. She poked his shoulder with a cereal bar, which he accepted, and unwrapped one for herself. The bar hung from between her teeth as she removed unnecessary items from within the backpack, zipped it close and swung it over her shoulder.

She gestured with her head for them to check the luggage space. They did while munching on the stale cereal bar. It was probably the most sugary and delicious thing Felix had eaten in weeks, an American brand he didn't recognize but had to give due credit. They sorted through random articles of clothing and toiletries and after some time it felt like a quest from a game to him. Loot the vehicles but look out for enemies. It was ridiculous how much he loved video games that his brain automatically processed everything like that.

They moved to the next car and Felix looked over his shoulder; they were losing sight of the RV, they promised Diana they'd stay close. "We shouldn't be out this far," he whispered, tugging on his sister's arm.

Alice jerked away and scoffed. "We're not fucking babies. There's no one around and if there was," she gestured to her (dad's) knife and his bat, "we're armed."

Felix's heart sank into his stomach, making him gulp against his dry mouth. He wouldn't put much faith in his zombie-slaying skills. "You're batshit."

"It's alright, bro, I'll look after your grown ass," she whispered back, a teasing tone lilting her voice.

Eventually, they retraced their steps and scavenged where they still could see the RV and the others, but Felix couldn't help but think back to the words his sister had almost engraved into the walls of her room. That grim promise.

He was scared for her; of the lengths she would go to try to keep it. He'd have to keep an eye on her and let Diana know.

He knew she was burdened, they all were, but he also knew neither she nor he would ever forgive themselves if something were to happen to their sister because she'd gotten loose rein to do as she pleased and got hurt in the process.

"This looks good," Alice said, holding an olive green T-shirt up to his torso and then shoving it inside the backpack. "We're keeping it."

"Nothing really useful, though, no weapons, no real food," Felix sighed. He startled and looked over his shoulder at a clang somewhere behind him, but relaxed slightly when he saw it was one of them.