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“We leave alive,” Joel says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.
“We return the same way,” you reply, looking up at him with a smile.
These words have become your routine. Each time you and Joel head out for patrol, you repeat this mantra to each other. At first, it started as something silly, just to make you feel better and calm your nerves. But after a year, and you and Joel coming to terms with the fact that you’re beyond friendship, it’s become serious - a warning. You leave alive; you will both come back alive. There is no other option.
As it goes, you and Joel rarely have trouble on your shifts. You’re both strong, smart, and quick, and you look out for each other. The odds of either of you ending up dead or wounded are slim, but neither of you is cocky enough to think you’re indestructible. So you tell each other to be safe because you love each other. And if anything were to happen to you, Joel wouldn’t be able to survive.
So, yes, your mantra is routine.
Joel leads the way this morning, with you following along on your usual path. It’s a warm summer day. A comfortable breeze blows around you as you trot along on your horses. You keep your eyes on Joel as he speaks, half-listening, half staring at him in astonishment. He’s beautiful in the daylight, his sweat-slicked skin glimmers with each flicker of light from the sun above, and his eyes glow with warmth and tenderness each time he glances back at you.
“It’s gonna be a good day,” he says with a bright grin. “I can feel it.”
You laugh, something light and airy to let him know you agree. You do, for the most part. Jackson’s had beautiful weather the past few weeks. And the town has been active and alive with music, and color, and endless dances. And even the usual chaos, the infected and untrustworthy out to get you, haven’t been as bad lately.
Maybe it’s the calm before the storm. Or maybe luck is really on your side these days. And Joel is different, too. He's cheery, well, as cheery as the man can be. And he's upbeat, hopeful, which is very unlike his typical cynicalness. It has everything to do with you. You know it does.
It shocked you at first how open and expressive Joel can be. The first time you met him, he was full of anger, resentment, and he was so not a people person. So it was strange when you befriended him so quickly. But there was something about him that drew you in. And he felt the same way about you. The two of you just clicked for whatever reason. You don’t question it now because how could you? Whatever this mystery connection is, it brought you to the love of your life.
Your life changed before Joel, but for all the wrong reasons. After meeting him, you started to rebuild yourself, your lives, together. He helped you fight back against your negative thoughts and stood beside you when your pain became too much of a burden on your emotional wellbeing. And you did the same for him. A bonding of the broken, you once called it. But as you got closer, you didn’t feel so broken anymore.
As corny as it seems, you think in many ways Joel saved you. Sure, you did a lot of the work yourself and you give yourself the credit, but Joel’s been a constant in your messy, screwed-up life. Meeting him gave you hope. He made you believe that life was worth something. He still does. And he still manages to get you out of sticky situations when your mouth gets you in trouble. You don’t mind being a damsel in distress if he’s there to save you.
“Should we split up?” You ask Joel once you guys reach your first checkpoint. It’s a small shopping center closer to the edge of town. It’s rare to find any infected around these parts, but not impossible. If you split up, you can cover more ground at a better speed.
“Yeah,” Joel nods at your suggestion. “Just be careful,” he warns, and if he were anyone else, it would annoy you. But you don’t mind with Joel. He says these things out of love, and he knows you can handle your own. It’s just a basic instinct before you go your separate ways.
“You too,” you wink in his direction, happy when you see his perfect lips twitch up into a grin. You could stare at that smile for days, and knowing you’re the one who can cause that type of emotion to be brought forth makes your insides warm and fuzzy.
You split off into different directions with Joel heading towards the pharmacy and you choosing the garden center. The way the plaza is mapped out, you’ll meet in the middle at the old craft shop. It's a simple walk-around, nothing too risky, and it’ll be quick and easy. Then you can finish up the rest of your patrol and head home to enjoy the sunny day.
The garden center is still in decent shape after years of abandonment. The building isn’t falling apart and there aren’t many places for infected to hide. It’s just a bit run down, messy from scavenging and looting, but it still has some charm. You can still find planters, a few seed packets of veggies and flowers everyone else passed over, and a couple of cute garden decorations that don’t really have any use anymore.
You like coming to this place. You like to imagine what it would have been like when it was thriving or what you would have been like. Would you have been into gardening? And what would be your favorite thing to grow? Flowers, fruits, vegetables, all of it? You like to think you have some kind of green thumb. After all, you enjoy working in the greenhouses back at Jackson.
You’re a bit lost in your thoughts, thinking about the type of garden you could start back at home with Joel. It’s a fun scenario to imagine, so it’s not a surprise when you’re startled by a harsh jerk on your shoulder. You jump, spinning around, expecting to find Joel (because who else?), only to scream upon being startled by a clicker.
Screaming was probably not the smartest thing to do, but your body reacted the only way it could. Alarmed, you scramble away from the clicker as quickly as you can, using the debris around you to your advantage. You grab a garden gnome and toss it across from you, effectively distracting the creature with the smashing sound so you can stealthily make your escape.
You manage to skirt around what was a checkout counter and hide behind it, plotting your next move. The irritating clicking sound gets farther away, giving you the chance to get the upper hand. As quietly as you can, you unsheathe your knife from its place on your hip and carefully crouch behind the screaming creature. One quick motion is all it takes for you to plunge your knife deep in its throat, rendering it lifeless in your arms.
Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your arm, but it's a sensation you’re used to in this life. With a grunt, you yank your knife out, wiping it on your jeans and dropping the dead clicker to the floor. You’re on alert now. How did this thing get in? And how many more are hiding?
Your next moves are crucial, careful, as you slink through the rest of the store. Each corner you turn, you double-check your surroundings. So far, the rest of the store is empty. There are no threats. So they’re not coming in through this way. There’s an opening somewhere else. Panic sears in you, hoping that Joel is alright.
As far as you can tell, the shop is clear. So you rush out of there, keeping light on your feet, and head to the next building. Joel’s fine. He can handle himself. You have a job to do, so that’s what you focus on.
The establishment next to the garden center is a gym. You never stepped foot in a gym before the apocalypse, but you’re in one now. Any equipment that hasn’t been taken is broken and useless, taking up space. It’s a hassle to climb around, but you do so calmly, alert in case of intruders. Luckily, there’s only one runner, and it’s stagnant in the locker room. Easy enough to take out by sneaking up on it and impaling it in the head with your knife.
Once again, blood gushes out, soaking your clothes, splattering across your face as you try to remove your knife jammed into its skull. You mumble a few curses but finally manage to retract your weapon. And it’s just in time. You thought you were alone. You swore there was only one of these bastards in here. But as you stumble back, knife in hand, you feel something sharp graze your side.
“Fuck!” You yell, circling around without hesitation and swiping your knife haphazardly in front of you. It barely scrapes against rotting flesh, causing you to trip and land on your back. You keep calm as you reach for your pistol, still using your knife to keep the biting monster at bay. “Motherfucker,” you cough, wrapping your fingers around your gun and pointing it directly at the runner. You shoot without a beat, your silenced pistol making the decaying body slump to the floor next to you.
Reds and pinks mist your face, and you gasp, breathing heavily and glancing at the dead body beside you. Are you getting careless? How could you miss this fucker? This incident only makes you worry about Joel more.
You practically sprint to the craft store, hoping that Joel’s already there waiting for you. Your body relaxes with relief when you see the man you love standing in the paint aisle. He’s also covered in blood, and you know that he’s encountered the same mess you have.
That only means that more bloodshed awaits you in this store. But at least now you’re together. And you’re not letting him out of your sight.
“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay,” you breathe and run up to him, smashing your lips against his. He returns your kiss with fervor, gasping into your mouth, holding you as if his life depends on it. “You are okay, right?”
“I’m fine, baby girl,” Joel assures you, grabbing your face in his hands. His bloodied thumbs run across your cheeks as he assesses your face, your lips, your eyes. He brings his lips to yours again, kissing you deeply. “What about you?” He asks, kissing you again. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” you comfort him, grabbing his hands. “I’m fine. But we have to work quickly. There’s gonna be more in here,” you say and he nods in agreement.
“Stay close,” he orders you, and you do as he says. You work best as a team. So you watch for each other, moving in step as you glide through the store. You can hear faint noises coming from one of the aisles on the left and you slowly make your way over, jaw-dropping when you see the gaping hole in the wall. You nudge Joel, showing him your discovery. His face pales. “Fuck, we’re gonna need to send out another team to patch this up.”
“Makeshift for now?” You ask, already putting something in motion.
“Absolutely,” Joel agrees.
You work together to move a few shelves in front of the new entrance to block off as much as you can. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do for the time being. Now, you just need to make sure the rest of the area is clear.
“Babe,” you catch Joel’s attention. “We’ve got company.”
Running towards you as fast as they possibly can is a horde of infected. You and Joel glance at each other, bracing yourselves for the carnage about to come. He leans into you, whispering quietly. “You got this, darlin’,” he mutters.
“Back at ya, cowboy,” you smile and get to work.
After you and Joel successfully clear the craft store, you head back home, totally exhausted. You're both covered in dirt, blood, and sweat, and the looks you get re-entering Jackson are comical. Joel pauses for a moment to tell Tommy about the breach on your patrol, and he automatically sets up a team for construction.
Getting back to the house, you call first dibs on the shower. And since Joel is such a gentleman, he doesn’t argue. Showers are the one luxury you can’t live without, and you’re so thankful Jackson gives you that commodity.
You start with your hair, massaging your scalp, ridding it of the grease and grime and overall stress of the day. You feel amazing for those few moments, lathering your hair, using your fingernails to scratch small circles into your skin. Already you can feel yourself relaxing, soaping up your body, and watching the discolored mixture swirl down the drain. You’re in a little bit of pain, but for the most part, the shower refreshes you and gives you a little boost of energy.
Wrapped in a towel, you run a brush through your hair as you check your reflection in the mirror. There’s some bruising on your face and a few cuts and scrapes on your arms, but overall, you look good. Well, from what you can see. Under the towel can be a different story.
You take your time drying off, giving the water a chance to warm up for Joel. Skincare is hard to come by, but luckily there’s a woman in town who makes her own lotions and creams and soaps and…yeah, all that. So you have a few things to help with your dry patches.
Dropping your towel, you grab the jar of cream you keep next to the sink. You take a decent amount and close your eyes as you massage it into your shoulders. It smells like peppermint and herbs and instantly calms your insides. When you open your eyes to call for Joel, you stop, gawking at yourself in the mirror.
Your chest feels heavy, tears immediately springing to your eyes. You let your fingers trail down your sides and gasp. Your lips tremble, but you eventually find your voice, even if it does come out shaky.
“Joel,” you speak, but it comes out in a whisper. A sob escapes your lips, and this time, you yell. “Joel!”
You hear heavy footsteps approach the bathroom, and you turn as the bathroom door swings open. Joel stands before you, concerned. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Joel watches as your eyes travel down, settling on your waist. Your hand is shaking, covering a patch of your skin. He watches you with concern, eyes widening, glossing over with tears when you move your hand to reveal teeth marks. “Joel,” you whine. “I’m in trouble.”