Left Forsaken: A The Last Of Us Story

Endure

I barely had slept at all, despite being exhausted physically, my body couldn't sleep more than a few hours. The sun would creep through the window, the distant gunshots would alarm me, and the stress of the research would haunt me. My burden not being eased of not assisting the Doctor in his laboratory, not satisfying the sole purpose I was here for. I walked towards the washbasin, the steady water reflecting how much had changed in just a short time. My hair had gotten longer, they were bags under my eyes accompanied by the black that got darker each night I did not sleep. My cheeks getting hollowed by each meal I missed. I reached into the water and splashed my face, feeling it refresh my dry skin from days I have been inside the lab, hunched over the desk. There were days where it felt like the more we knew the more things seem to complicate. Despite our efforts, nothing worked to contain the Cordyceps.

I rushed towards the cafeteria to get a bite of Isabela's amazing whatever-she-was-serving today. Her kindness was refreshing to hear, contrasting the indifferent tone of Doctor Malcolm. She tried to inquire about my studies in the lab, to which my tired and impatient brain could only manage to speak ambiguously about the research and the testings. She offered an unsatisfied hum at my lack of detail and slumped a spoonful of oatmeal with raisins onto my tray. I was disappointed with not being able to offer a further contribution to our socializing. I was slowly becoming a lab dweller like the Doctor. In my fear, I attempted to make small talk about the oatmeal of Dayton QZ, which ended in her laughing off the lack of proper cuisine and admitted I had survived torture. I was satisfied with that and walked off with a smile.

I tried to eat my meal slowly, a ceremonial appreciation of what could be my only proper meal for another set of days. A poke on my shoulder interrupted my peaceful intake and a familiar smirk disturbed it even further. Tommy and Davis joined me on the table.

"I couldn't stand seeing you so undisturbed, so I came to pester you," Davis commented. I merely stared at him and decided to not give him that pleasure, I simply shook my head and scooped another spoonful of oatmeal.

Tommy laughed before putting his hands in the air and shrugging. "If she decides to kick your ass, I am not gonna intervene. A man has to fight his own battles, y'know?"

"You are calling this a man?" I told Tommy before judgingly eyeing Davis' form up and down.

"Oh, ho. For your information, he is acknowledging it." Davis defended himself.

"Well, I will not comment on that." His grin confirmed that he got my point, and Tommy getting it a little too late protested in spite of himself. Davis and I laughed at his attempts.

As the two men continued their talk about their scouts and patrols, I continued to eat and listen intently on how it had gotten beyond the University's walls. I occasionally joined the conversation trying to direct it towards the infected experience they've had. Only to receive the unsatisfying answer "The same as usual." Davis kept reminiscing about having to drag the bodies to a pile and burning them to avoid the fungi growing so close to the University, and having the spores infect the group. Isabela came to the table, grimacing at the subject of conversation, then seasoned it with my malnutrition. She handed me a bowl of blueberries as she commented on how a new group coming had brought back a stash of them. Tommy hummed to this, and popped one into his mouth, earning a stone gaze from Isabela. She warned him she would take it from his noon ration. He laughed and told us about this reminded him of his brother.

"Now, let me tell ya, my brother loved blueberry pie. Mamma used to make it every Sunday afternoon, and like the hell'a good brother I am, I sprinkled laxatives on his slice. Every goddamn Sunday. He'd run to the bathroom only a couple minutes later. Now, this was every Sunday, when he started to realize it had something to do with blueberry pie. He started hatin' blueberries like they were the goddamn plague!" He laughed at his memory and popped another blueberry into his mouth, and between munches, he says, "That didn't stop Mamma from makin' the pie though, there was always a spare share."