Chapter Text
In hindsight, Brenda’s fate could have been prevented. She could have done many things to evade, or at the very least delay, the decomposition of her heart and soul that turned her into the heartless witch she was seen as today. She hadn’t always been so cruel. No, not at all. In fact, some people from her past- if they were still alive and kicking- might even go so far as to describe her as tolerable on a good day. She liked to think that she’d slowly wilted away with the years, like an apple left to decay in the grass after falling off of its branch. She liked to think she wasn’t rotten by nature like it may sometimes seem. Nobody is.
But, one thing that had not developed overtime was Brenda’s impulsiveness. No, she’d had that dating back to conception. It's probably why her mother had been forced into a C-Section. The doctors said she’d been only two days past the due date before seemingly trying to strangle herself in the womb with the umbilical cord to escape. Even then, she’d been too impatient for the world to run its course, and she’d had to do things herself. Though, looking back now, she was right to have no faith in the world or its courses.
Look at what they had led to.
“Does your mother know you’re down here, kid?”
“She said it was okay, so long as Lizzie’s down here too.”
“What, she doesn’t trust you to be alone with me?”
“It’s not me she’s worried about leaving alone.”
Chuck said it like it was nothing and walked off. Probably because to him, there wasn’t a whole lot in this world that actually meant something, with the exception of Thomas. Brenda still couldn't understand that.
Her eyes found Lizzie, squatting by the edge of the water. She had a long stick in her hand, cautiously poking at something on the shoreline. She’d been doing almost anything and everything to bide her time since Newt left, and that included following Brenda and Chuck down to the quarry that morning to do laundry. Granted, she hadn’t touched a single article of clothing, but her curious comments and snickers at Chuck trying to hang up wet underwear surely livened up the atmosphere.
“How much longer will they be gone, Bren?” Lizzie looked up
“I dunno.” Brenda frowned, “For the tenth time.”
“I’m being serious!”
“So am I!” Brenda replied. “It’s only been a couple of days, Lizzie. They’ve probably only just now made it into the city. It’ll be a few more days, too, so be patient.”
“I am being patient.” Lizzie grumbled, “I’m just worried.”
Brenda sighed. Her hands tightened around the striped polo she’d been scrubbing, and her gaze shifted from Lizzie to Chuck. The kid had taken off his shirt to play in the water ten minutes ago, and had already gotten a nasty sunburn on his shoulders. He was pale as a ghost, and just looked like one giant, walking tomato from afar. Still, he was a carefree tomato, or so it seemed.
“You’re not the only one who has a brother out there, Liz.” Brenda noted simply, looking at the younger girl. “Chuck’s got Thomas, and you don’t see him crying.”
Lizzie scowled. “That’s different, and you know it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, leaning forward, “Chuck doesn’t have-”
“A dad like yours?” Brenda finished her sentence with a tired face. She set the shirt down, and shifted on the ground until she was beside Lizzie. “You’re right, he doesn’t- because Chuck doesn’t have a dad at all anymore. His Dad is dead. Thomas is the only man he has left in his life, and he’s under the same risk as Newt, if not an even greater one, considering he’s the whole reason they’re out there right now. It might not look like it, but I bet Chuck’s scared out of his mind. This isn’t the first time he’s lost Thomas.” Brenda explained, watching Lizzie’s face contort.
She hadn’t meant to make the girl feel guilty about her own feelings. Brenda grabbed a pair of jeans, dunking them in the water to cut through the silence. “I get you’re nervous. I am, too.”
“About Minho?” Lizzie asked.
“About all of them!” Brenda disregarded, her voice at a much higher pitch than before. She cleared her throat. “Point is, you’re gonna be fine. You’ve got me here to take care of you while Newt’s gone. Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Brenda promised. ”That being said, Chuck’s a kid. We’re older, so it’s our responsibility to look after him until Thomas gets back. Keep his mind off of stuff. We don't get to feel bad.” It was a harsh thing to say, she knew. Actually, it was a downright wrong thing to say. But, Brenda knew it was better than letting Lizzie’s mind linger on her current circumstances. She just needed a distraction. It wasn’t Brenda’s first time dealing with a sad little sister.
Lizzie didn’t say anything for a few seconds, her nose scrunching the same way Newt's did when they were deep in thought. She looked just like her older brother, and acted just like him, too. Same brown eyes, same heart-shaped lips, same tendency to run and hide instead of ball a fist and swing. Well, Newt not so much after the last few days- except he’d swung a shovel, not his knuckles. That was still the best thing Brenda had ever seen.
Regardless, no DNA test was needed there.
Water sprayed on both girl’s faces as Chuck came barreling over with a stupid grin on his face. Lizzie stiffened beside Brenda, the frown on her face turning into something more neutral, something less painted in grief.
“Brenda, you were right! There’s frogs all over the place down here!” Chuck laughed, wiping water from the corners of his eyes. “Say, Liz,” Chuck started, holding the back of his arm above his head to shield himself from the sun, “Is Newt a picky eater? He’s never around, so I wouldn’t know, but I think if we caught some of these things-”
“He’s picky!” Lizzie interjected quickly, saving both herself and her brother in one fell swoop. She held her hands in front of herself, “In fact, I think starvation might get to him before the Grievers do! Yeah..Yeah, he- uh- he never eats. No frog legs for him. Nope .”
Brenda caught her eye from the side, and they grinned at each other. Chuck frowned.
“Really? Well, maybe he can try some of Thomas’s frog legs, since they’re friends now.” Chuck shrugged, flopping in the dirt between the two girls, his shorts squelching from the water inside of them. “Thomas would eat them. My brother eats everything, especially if I make it. One time I made him a grilled cheese, and he ate all of it, even though it was a little charred. He says I’m an awesome cook. He’s not a good chef, though! Say, maybe he’ll bring me back some snacks from the city…”
Chuck rambled on for the entire rest of the time they were sitting down there. Lizzie listened, and Brenda pretended to listen while hanging up clothes on a clothing line behind them. It was mostly about Thomas. Sometimes about superheroes- a lot of Green Lantern. Lizzie smiled while he spoke, letting the sun nip at her face. She seemed to be taking what Brenda was saying to heart. Let him talk. Let him think about anything but the obvious.
Keep the bad to yourself; it was a rule Brenda had learned the hard way. She’d paid the price with the life of the person she loved most. That was a price Lizzie should never have to owe. Ever .
Brenda was taking what Lizzie said into consideration as well, though. When would the guys be back? This wouldn’t take more than a week, surely. That was, if things went smoothly. Gally and Minho got along fine most days, but Brenda was sure Gally was the exact opposite with Newt and Thomas, taking their most recent encounters into account.
Besides that, she’d already had a handful of silent confrontations with Junior, and Brenda wasn’t sure when they’d stop being silent. She’d promised Lizzie nothing would happen to her. She’d promised Newt, too. Lizzie was everything to him, and if he came back to…to something , to something Brenda hadn’t been strong enough to prevent…
No. She’d left that behind years ago- not being strong enough. There was no such thing as weakness anymore, not when there was a life on the line. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. She’d rather die.
Things were going fine though, right?
Things could not be going worse.
“Either someone’s lying, or a Griever snuck in while we were cuddled up last night and stole it.”
“Nobody took your nasty snacks, idiot! I’m allergic to peanuts!”
“Who you callin’ idiot, idiot!”
“You, idiot!”
“Says the guy with a nut allergy. You’re the weakest link the universe has to offer. Bottom of the food chain.”
“I’ll show you the bottom of the food chain if you touch me again!”
“You got a death wish, Park ?”
“I got a wish for you to shut up, Pilei .”
Newt sank against the door on the other side of the room, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He was muttering some swears Thomas couldn’t hear from where he was standing next to the window. Well, his position didn’t really matter, with the brawl happening in the middle of the hotel room they were in. Thomas pushed the curtain away and peered outside, his throat tightening at the view.
The plan hadn’t gone smoothly, to put it simply. It would have, if Minho hadn’t picked up a dismembered hand and decided to chase Newt with it. The blonde had screamed, the scream had attracted some awfully unfriendly visitors, and before they knew it, they were running for the first unlocked building they could find. That building had been a musty hotel targeted for people on roadtrips, extra pamphlets and maps scattered around the lobby. The first safe door they’d found had been on the third floor, and that was only after opening doors to Walker infested rooms more times than they could count. They’d looked like little ants, scurrying around one after the other seeking shelter.
Sleeping in the same room with Gally was an even bigger challenge. It wasn’t the sound of scratching on the other side of their door from the hotel's recently deceased patrons that made Thomas lose sleep. It was the constant complaining and threats from the redneck a couple of feet away.
‘ If anyone so much as brushes a strand of toe hair against me tonight, I’m sinking my knife into your throat.’
‘Can someone go out there and kill that thing? I’m getting a headache.’
‘Greenie, can we just skip the slumber party and dip?’
That had been the kindest thing Gally had ever said to Thomas, so he let it slide.
On the bright side (because they really needed a bright side right now), they were still aligned with their original route. In fact, if the horde of Walkers chasing them never existed, they would have probably stayed the night somewhere close to here anyways. So no, their position wasn’t what Thomas was worried about.
Thomas cleared his throat, closing the curtains. “If we don’t find a way out of here now, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get moving again.”
Gally’s head whipped around, “What’s that mean? Why can’t we leave now?”
“Our noise from running around last night attracted a lot of them. They’re everywhere outside, and there are way too many for us to deal with.” Thomas replied. “They usually take a long time to scatter, since they move in groups. I’d suspect these guys won’t be gone until nightfall.” Thomas stopped, thinking for a moment, and then groaned, “Then again, it’s not like we can leave when it’s dark outside. We’ll be tripping over our own feet and into their mouths. Really, we-”
“I’m going to shoot you if you don’t make a point in the next ten seconds.” Gally interrupted.
Thomas stiffened, “Our best bet would be tomorrow morning.”
“No way!” Gally huffed, “We can’t wait that long! I won't wait that long.”
“Unless,” Thomas continued, “We can find a way to make them leave early.”
“Which most definitely needs to happen.” Minho added, “I don’t like the idea of leaving Ben up there for an extra day.”
“Let’s not forget who’s fault this is in the first place.” Gally scoffed, his eyes darting to the runner. He backed away with his arms crossed.
“It was an accident, Gally.” Newt groaned from the floor, banging his head against the door. “Minho didn’t know there were any Grievers nearby. None of us did. He was just fooling around.”
“We don’t have time to fool around, Newt!” Gally argued.
“I never said we did.” Newt shrugged with an annoyed expression, folding his knees up. His voice was quieter, muffled against his jeans, “ Was just tryna make you be quiet. ”
Thomas stepped forward before another argument ensued. “It doesn’t matter who’s fault it was, or what should or shouldn’t have happened.” He began, stepping beside Gally. He raised his arm to place a hand on his shoulder, but a sharp gaze made Thomas think otherwise. “All we need to worry about now is how we’re gonna get out of this together. ”
“How inspirational.” Gally quipped.
“You got anything better to say?” Thomas asked boldly.
Gally walked off in response. Minho smirked, placing his hands on his hips.
Newt stood up and pushed himself off of the door, walking until he reached the bed and leaning against the frame. His hair was disheveled- well, more than usual- and there was a vivid purple hue under his eyes. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Thomas suspected it was something to do with his sister, or lack thereof.
“It’s still pretty early in the morning right now.” Newt stated, scrunching his nose. “If we get out of here in the next hour or two, we could reach the center of the city by sundown.”
“That’s assuming we won’t have any more issues .” Minho muttered.
“And that we have the ability to not only get out of this building, but clear that horde outside.” Thomas said. “I know for a fact we don’t have the firepower to do that.”
“We’re so screwed!” Minho whined, holding his hands up in defeat.
“No, we’re not!” Thomas disagreed.
“Tommy, your optimism is admirable.” Newt nodded, “But, unless you have another genius idea in that lobe of yours, we are a little bit screwed.”
“I can think of something. I just need a few more minutes.” Thomas promised, but it was no use. He’d been thinking all morning, and he’d come up empty. But, that was the thing, wasn’t it? He couldn’t come up empty. He had to have something . He couldn’t run out of juice, not now of all times. He had to fix this; he couldn't let anyone down when they needed him. It was on him, like it always was.
The door to their room rumbled as another Walker was added to the pile outside trying to get in. The doorknob rattled, and the metal ring around the peephole became unlodged, falling to the floor. Minho flinched, and just as quickly swore under his breath. They hadn’t exactly been quiet since they got here, and it wasn’t helping their situation. While the other three scrambled to find things to push against the door, Thomas dragged himself to the bathroom and shut himself in.
He forced himself to tune out the chaos outside so that he could think . His head fell against the door with a soft thud, and he winced. He’d had a headache since waking up. Thomas shoved himself off of the door, straight onto the edge of the sink, his hands gripping the counter. The bathroom was just what you would expect from a cheap hotel room, small, cramped, and crowded with just one person in it.
Thomas craned his neck up to look in the mirror. His face was still bruised in places from Gally’s fist, and there was a gash on the bridge of his nose from tripping on a set of stairs the night before during their getaway. Newt had graciously helped clean the dirt off his face with a wet rag so he could put a bandage over it, but the sweat from his panic had been enough to peel the adhesive off in less than an hour.
Yeah, he’d looked better.
“ Think .” Thomas ordered himself. He’d been in worse situations, right? Seriously, he’d escaped hanging upside down from a tree with two Walkers snapping their jaws below him. That was before he even knew what Walkers were! But, there had only been two of them then, and he wasn’t stuck in a room with a group of teenage boys who couldn’t go more than a minute without fighting. Maybe that wasn’t the best comparison to make.
What did he know? That was a good starting point. Thomas knew there were at least fifty Walkers on the street in front of the hotel, and around ten at their door. There was no telling how many were on the rear or sides of the building, or in the hallways. There was no doubt they’d woken up half the building last night with their running, so there were undoubtedly a couple handfuls of Walkers waiting for them in corridors that they didn’t know of.
‘No, stop worrying about what you don’t know.’ Thomas groaned.
Okay, what else? One: They didn’t have the strength to take out ten Walkers themselves. Two: They couldn’t risk firing any weapons this far away from their destination. Which meant they’d have to play defense here, which then meant an even more complex plan that Thomas was struggling to come up with at the moment. He had to have something.
Something…
Something…
Something?
“ Nothing .” Thomas answered himself out loud. “I’ve got nothing!”
“Well, that’s not what a lady wants to hear.” A breathless voice came from behind him.
Thomas’s head whipped around, and he let out a captive breath. “Newt.”
“Sorry,” The blonde shrugged, shutting the door behind him, “Thought you might need something to lighten the mood.” Thomas could see the other move around in the mirror’s reflection.
“Are things okay?” Thomas asked.
“Depends what you mean by ‘things’.” Newt answered lightly, sitting on the closed toilet lid. “We managed to push the dresser in front of the door, so we’re covered there. But, well, we are still trapped. Actually, more trapped than before, since we’ve just barricaded ourselves inside-”
“Newt!”
“Sorry.”
Thomas ran a hand down his face. “I don’t get it; I thought we’d have a straight shot to Ben. I never thought there would be this many Walkers so far from the center of the city.”
“They aren’t birds, Tommy.” Newt smiled hesitantly, “You can’t track their migration patterns.”
“I should have.” Thomas shot instantly. “I should have planned for this to happen.”
Newt frowned. “Plan for what? For Minho to be a shuckface? Nobody can guess when that’ll happen, even you.” He bit the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched. “You’re smart, not a mind reader.”
“What I am is an idiot. I should have never brought you here. None of you.“
“I volunteered on my own accord.”
“After I begged.”
“ Ehh . It was still my choice.”
“And the others?”
“Gally would have come here with or without you. Minho would rather take a Griever bite to the rear than not help someone.”
Thomas felt his throat tighten. “I don’t know how to save us this time.”
“It’s not your job to do that, White Knight.” Newt scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Not alone, at least. This isn’t the Tommy show, now is it? Have your past victories begun to inflate that ego of yours already?”
Thomas rolled his eyes with a groan. His head was pounding, and this conversation was getting them nowhere closer to survival. He let his head fall down, and he looked into the sink drain.
Newt raised a brow from his seat. He leaned forward again, arms resting on his knees. He was waiting for something, something Thomas couldn’t give. “Well, if you really do have nothing to say, perhaps I should go man my battlestation again.”
Thomas pulled his head up before he could blink, “You aren’t going to help me?”
“You seem pretty against all of my efforts here, mate.”
“What efforts? Calling me a narcissist and laughing about the fact we’ve gone from ‘maybe dead meat’ to ‘definitely dead meat’ in less than an hour?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call us definitely-”
“Newt!”
“Thomas!” Newt mocked, standing from his seat with his hands on his hips. “In case you haven’t noticed, you haven’t been doing much of anything either, unless you include sulking and accepting imminent death to be a complete chore.” He wore a serious expression now.
“It’d be easier, if I had some help every once in a while.” Thomas argued.
“It’d be easier to give you help if you weren’t so self-absorbed.”
“Self absorbed? Me? The person who’s risking his life to save someone else’s?”
“And who would be doing it alone if he could.”
Thomas clenched his jaw. “You don’t understand.”
Newt raised a brow, “I don’t? Tommy, you spent so much energy trying to rally us all up for this little trip. But, now that we’re here, you’re treating us like we’re invisible. Every time we try to help, you push us away. Why? Did you just want us here for the company?”
Morning sunlight filtered in through a window behind the shower curtain and over Newt’s shoulder, stinging Thomas’s eyes. He swallowed. “No.”
“Were we your backup plan?”
“No.”
“Bodies to sacrifice if you get cornered?”
“God, no!”
“Do you think you’re more capable than we are? Just because you spent some nights alone out there?”
“ Of course not… ”
“You don’t trust us.”
“I do.”
“Then why isolate?”
Thomas stared at Newt, but not directly- never directly. He stared at the side of Newt’s face that had been tinted sunny and golden by the window behind him, the side that still looked alive. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His own vocal cords were even telling him to shut up and quit fighting.
Newt stepped back. “The whole point of assembling a team of people, Tommy, is that you somewhat intend on utilizing the members of said team. If not, they’re basically just some personality hire. Or, in this context, chopped liver.” Newt clicked his tongue in disdain and shook his head, “I’m not partial to being someone’s chopped liver, even yours. But, really, what else am I supposed to feel like, when I’m stuck out there pushing furniture against a door to keep the Grievers out, while you tuck yourself away in the wash? You must feel safer alone, yes? So, you must not need us?”
“I get it, Newt!” Thomas raised his hands in defeat. “I get it. I know I haven’t been fair. You shouldn’t feel like, uh, what was it again?”
“ Chopped -”
“Right. Chopped liver. You shouldn’t feel like that.” Thomas shook his head, “I don’t want anyone to feel like that because of me. I’m just not used to sharing my brain, or my thoughts. My anything. When…When I asked you to come with me, it was for a reason. I knew that, I still know it. I just didn’t realize how hard it would be to let someone else take the wheel for once.”
Newt didn’t speak for a while, and Thomas almost started to think he’d said or done the wrong thing again. He always felt like that with Newt. He was an inch away from another speech when a fist brushed his arm. Friendly, reassuring. Newt.
“A person can only drive for so long, Tommy. Otherwise, they’ll get exhausted, and drowsy, start hallucinating klunk in the streets, and before you know it? Our car is smoking upside down in a ditch, mate.”
Thomas almost laughed at that. Almost. Newt backed up and leaned against the bathroom door, scuffed hands burrowed into his pockets. Thomas could hear the other two outside bickering over whether or not to wrap a lamp cord around the doorknob. Were they trying to electrocute the Walkers? They were going to catch the building on fire. Thomas moved to open the door, but Newt wouldn’t budge.
Thomas pulled back, trying to find Newt's gaze. But, Newt wasn’t looking at Thomas anymore- not really. His eyes were pointed at something behind Thomas, though not entirely focused. He was thinking about something, until he wasn’t.
Newt cleared his throat, his voice softer now. “I get it, you know?”
Thomas paused. “Newt.”
“They act like klunkheads. I know that better than anyone. But, that being said, we’ve still got some pretty decent brains on our team here.” Newt looked at Thomas, his eyes honest. “I heard you in here. Earlier. Thinking out loud. Statin’ the facts. You wanna know the stats?”
“I hadn’t meant anything by that-”
“Gally’s one of the strongest people in camp, and he knows how to track anything for miles. Not only that, but once he finds what he’s looking for, he’ll bring it back- dead or alive, for any reason. He’s heartless. Heartless is reliable. It means his feelings won’t get in our way. Minho? Minho’s like a walking map. He knows this city like he knows the gel he uses in his hair every morning. You put him in a rotating maze filled to the brim with deadly monsters? He’ll get you out by sunrise, I bet. You give him a strategy, he’ll remember it. He’ll follow it to a tee. You can use that. Use them .”
Thomas found himself nodding as Newt spoke. His hands steadied. Breathing became second nature again. Though, Newt had left something out. Rather, he’d left someone out.
“And you?”
Newts' brows screwed, “What about me?”
“Minho’s smart. Gally’s strong. What’s so special about you?” Thomas asked, the corner of his mouth curling up. Something shattered on the other side of the door.
Newt matched his grin, hand curling behind his back to grasp the doorknob. “I’m really good at infuriating the local Einstein.”
Arizona hated coconuts.
It had to be banned for the fruit to pass through state borders. Because no matter how far and wide Brenda searched, she hadn’t been able to land her hands on one. Not even a carton of coconut water that probably only had less than five percent real coconut in it. Still, that would’ve been something. The cake would taste like the thought of coconut. If she were lucky, it might’ve tasted like someone whispered the word ‘coconut’ into the batter before baking it.
Now, Lise would be settling for vanilla. It was the only other thing she wasn’t allergic to. Wouldn’t be much fun to die on your birthday.
Brenda stuffed her fists into her back pockets, stepping over cracks in the pavement as she walked back home. The grocery bag on her shoulder swished with every step she took, almost spilling a handful of times. If there were anything of real value in there, Brenda might be worried. Like she could afford anything of real value.
Her neighbor’s dog- an overfed brown pitbull named TeeTee- barked at her from behind a chain link fence as Brenda rounded the corner. You’d think after living next to one another for two years, the canine would stop viewing Brenda as a threat. Though, even her own mother didn’t think of Brenda that way, so why would a dog? It only ever shut up after she picked up an empty water bottle from the ground and threw it at TeeTee’s thick head.
“Dumb mutt.” Brenda muttered as she jogged up the stone steps to her house, pulling out her rusted house keys from her jacket pocket. The doorknob jiggled for a few seconds before giving in and letting Brenda inside. Instantly, she was hit with the smell of disinfectant and her grandmother's Summers in San Diego scented candle. It was the closest to San Diego they’d ever get.
Clatter rang out from the kitchen two rooms away. Brenda sighed, kicking off her sneakers and leaving them by the front door, right there next to an unpacked suitcase from last week's hospital stay. Not her own hospital stay, of course. They didn’t have the expenses to cover any of Brenda’s health concerns once her younger sister's medical bills were paid off. They could barely afford those.
Her mother was lounging on the tattered couch when Brenda passed by the living room, fingers slowly twirling a nail file. She had a freshly trimmed black pixie cut, the skin on her golden brown arms was more tatted than a gang leader's, and her everyday eyeliner was sharp enough to slice through steel.
She was a hardened woman- had been, ever since the divorce. Ever since Brenda had picked to stay with her dad. The only reason Brenda had even come back here had been to take care of Lise.
They didn’t share any words, just a look. Then, Brenda disappeared into the hallway.
Down the hall, past one , two , three battered doors. Past the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling that flickered every other minute or so. They’d replaced it three times only to discover it wasn’t the bulb, but a rat that had been chewing on their house's wires. Brenda fed it to TeeTee when she caught it.
At the end of the hall was the only untouched, unscratched, unscathed door in the house, with the exception of Winnie-the-Pooh stickers scattered over the wood. The door was open, of course. They couldn’t shut it. They had to be able to hear if something went wrong.
Brenda rapped softly at the door when she entered. The room was dark, the way she liked it. Bright lights gave her headaches. The illumination in the room instead came from her bedside lamp and a string of golden fairy lights hanging over her closet door.
It smelled like antiseptic.
“Lise, I’m back.” Brenda called out, to announce her presence more than anything.
Lise couldn’t see well.
The girl was in her bed, like she always was, propped up on a stack of pillows so she could sit straight up. Well, that, and so her cords wouldn’t get tangled. Brenda wasn’t greeted with a ‘hello’ today. In fact, she wasn’t greeted at all, unless you count the soft, hissing wheeze coming from the bed. Brenda hated that sound. It was like a leaking tire.
Lise wasn’t asleep, though. She didn’t sleep much. One brown eye was open, peeking at the bag on Brenda’s shoulder. Brenda grinned and flopped down onto the stool beside Lise’s bed.
“You’re creepy when you stare.” Brenda joked.
No response.
Brenda inhaled sharply, pulling open the plastic bag. “Got the goods. Didn’t have the money for candles, but that's a fire hazard anyway, yeah?”
Nothing.
Brenda laughed despite herself, setting the bag down on the carpeted floor. “This year's cake won’t be scorched and dry like last year's, promise.”
That got something. A breath- wet and strangled- pushed through the opening in Lise’s throat. The plastic tube attached to it shook with her breath. Brenda's smile faltered.
The tube was smaller than Brenda’s pinky. Something that tiny shouldn’t mean so much. But, it meant everything. There was always something to clean, always a machine to charge, always a prescription to order with money they didn’t have. Buzzing, beeping, whirring, worrying.
No worrying, though. Not today. Today was special. Lise was eight now. Eight, but she still looked six. Round cheeks and limbs skinny like broomsticks, chronically bent. She couldn’t fully straighten them, not without help.
“I couldn’t find any coconut. But, they had a vanilla cake mix on sale.”
Silence.
“I’ve been so excited for your birthday hermanita . I wanted to make it so special. I really, really tried-” Brenda stopped talking for a moment. Her hands balled into fists in her lap.
Lise blinked. Once, slowly. Like she understood. Or maybe Brenda was finally losing it. There was a subtle hiss from the base of her throat. Brenda stood up to lean over Lise, fingers brushing her skin to check the tube- just two fingers under her pajama top collar. She let out a sigh.
“It’s fine. Still clear.” She stated, more to herself than Lise. Brenda retreated, settling back on her stool with a soft thud. Brenda let her breathing settle, adjusting the strings on her jacket. She didn’t let the silence envelop them long, though, nudging the bag at the floor with her feet.
“Gas station on Caper Street was out of rainbow sprinkles. But, I picked up some icing. Old man Guapo cut me a deal. A whole squeeze-bag-thingy of the stuff for only three bucks. Yellow, too. Your favorite. Don’t say I never spoiled you, yeah?”
She’d said it like it was a joke. Brenda said everything like it meant nothing. But, she’d never be able to fully ignore the way her throat went tight around Lise. She couldn’t look too closely at the girl without feeling something inside of her bubble and steam and sting like salt water over a hot stove. The same feeling Brenda felt that day two years ago, when Lise became bedridden. The day Brenda realized she’d never walk without help again. Never run. Never play like other kids. Never blow out her own stupid birthday candles. What was the feeling? Guilt? Shame? Anger?
Anger. It was anger.
Cerebral Palsy. That’s what the white man in a white hospital jacket had read off of his white paperwork. The same paperwork that said with the right kind of treatments- physical therapy, medications, supplements - Lise could still be a moderately functioning, decently independent person one day. That had been six years ago. Brenda had been ten. That man had been a liar, and his jacket had been ugly.
“I…” Brenda started, wiping the sweat from her palms and standing up, “I’m gonna go make this cake now, yeah?” She picked up the bag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”
Brenda’s mom hadn’t bothered updating the kitchen since buying the place. Which was fine, until you were stuck with an off-brand-off-brand cake mix with half the instructions in Japanese, and you kept having to reattach the knobs onto the oven to set the dumb thing to ‘bake’.
The oven clicked on with a familiar hum while Brenda hunched over their chipped countertops, using a plastic fork to mix the mysteriously lumpy cake batter in a paper bowl. There hadn’t been a visible expiration date on the box. Brenda tried not to think too hard about that. She found a cracked ceramic pan in the cabinets under their sink and used a mini pack of butter they’d stolen from Tripper’s Diner a week ago to grease it.
Behind her, a cracked floorboard creaked.
“That doesn’t smell like takeout.” A female voice stated.
“No way I’d be able to buy dinner after a splurge like this.” Brenda replied, “Unless, of course, my mother wished to donate some cash.”
“Not my fault you decided to waste your money on…whatever that is.” Her mother leaned over Brenda’s shoulder, “You baking? Found a new hobby?”
“What?” Brenda scoffed. “That’s not funny, Jackie.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny, Brenda.” She retorted. “Is it for church or something?”
Brenda’s shoulders tensed. She stopped mixing, letting the fork rest in the bowl idly while she turned around.
“Tell me you’re joking.” She demanded.
Jackie hesitated, blinking slowly, “Why would I be joking?”
“You forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
Brenda stepped back before she grabbed the fork and did something she’d regret. She ran a hand through her hair. “Lisanna’s birthday. You forgot.”
More blinking. More silence. Brenda turned back to the counter and hastily started mixing again. Her mother stood a few feet behind her, jaw tense.
“I didn’t forget.” She recovered quickly, walking across the kitchen to grab the carton of eggs from the fridge. Oh, so now she wanted to help. “I didn’t. Really. I…I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. I was up all night-”
“Just save it.” Brenda interrupted softly. “And throw those eggs away. They went bad two days ago.” Jackie paused in the middle of the kitchen, hands clasped around the carton like a lifeline. She opened her mouth, then shut it, turning to toss the carton into the trash can behind her. She stared into it blankly. What? Could she not process the fact she’d forgotten her own daughter's birthday?
“I was gonna order something. Buy her a gift. I didn’t realize today was the sixth. I thought I still had some time-”
“You carried her for nine months. Surely, it shouldn’t be that hard to remember the day you pushed her out.” Brenda snapped, pouring the mixture into the pan.
Jackie flinched at those words. “Brenda, don’t treat me like this.”
“Don’t treat you like what? Like an irresponsible mother?” Brenda hissed, whipping her body around. “Whats that saying? If it smells like it, looks like it, sounds like it- that's probably what it is?”
“You think I don’t care?” Jackie argued, stepping into Brenda’s space, voice suddenly louder. “I’m the one here with her everyday while you’re at school!”
“God forbid I get an education so that one day I can make enough money to get her and I out of this dump.” Brenda pressed a finger into her mothers chest, pushing her back. “Besides, you might be in the house, but you’re not here with her. No, you’re in your room with the door shut, ordering crap we can’t afford online. You’re the reason her spine is curling into itself because we can’t afford a new chair! I’m up at two in the morning suctioning out her trach, all while trying to finish my homework due that same day! I’m here, not you!”
Brenda’s voice cracked, and she cursed herself for it.
Jackie's eyes were angry, her thick eyebrows twisted inward. “You think it’s my fault she turned out like this?” She asked.
“Isn’t it?” Brenda cocked her head.
“I was sick when I was pregnant-”
“You were an addict! God, just say the word addict! You weren’t sick! Lise is sick!”
“¡Ya basta!” An elderly man's voice barked from the hallway.
Both women froze where they stood, chests huffing violently.
Abuelo’s cane smacked against the hardwood floor as he entered the kitchen, face red with annoyance. His pace was slow, but his presence was dominating. He was not tall, not muscular, but he was the wisest man Brenda knew. Which was saying something, because she thought most men were idiots.
“You two…” Abuelo started, pointing between them with his cane. “You two fight like strangers.”
Jackie crossed her arms, “Papá, she is cruel to me- ow !” She whined when the cane came down on her toes.
“There you go again, chica estúpida.” Abeulo grunted, “You speak like a child, not like any mother should. You should be grateful this girl is anything to you! She cooks our meals, and does her chores, and takes good care of Lisanna! She is good girl! Good..good granddaughter to me!” Brenda looked away from him to smirk in triumph, and he smacked her ankle with his cane. She winced, looking back up.
“I am not through with you, nieta. You must speak kindly to your mother!”
“Why?”
“Do not ask me why! ¿Sos o estúpida te haces? Now, enough of this! Today is special day for my Lisanna! We will not fight. Si?”
Brenda huffed, crossing her arms. “Si, Abuelo.”
He looked at Jackie and raised his eyebrows. She looked away in embarrassment. “Si.”
Her mother wiped her face with the backs of her hands and walked off in anger. Brenda stayed still where she stood, watching her leave. She couldn’t believe that woman. After all that, she wasn’t even going to help make Lise’s cake. She was just going to leave, like she always did.
Abuelo stepped closer to Brenda, wiping her own face with the sleeve of his shirt. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying.
“Cake batter.” He stated, pulling away.
“Oh.”
The oven beeped behind them, and Brenda hurried herself with grabbing the pan and sliding it onto the middle rack. She shut it, her hands braced on the side of the counter. She didn’t want to be angry today. Today was supposed to be a good day. But she ruined it. That woman always ruined it.
“I’ve messed up Lise’s birthday. Haven't I, Abuelo?”
Abuelo shrugged. “Did you wake up this morning loving her?”
Brenda nodded.
“And will you go to sleep tonight loving her?”
Brenda nodded again.
“Then the day could never be ruined, my star.”
Abeulo reached to grab Brenda’s shoulder, squeezing it softly before turning away to walk off. His cane tap, tap, tapped down the hall where he came from, and then yelled a swear word to himself.
The light had turned off again.
“I’m starting to think you don’t like me, man.”
“Why would you say that?”
“No reason…” Minho rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, staring down at the plan Thomas had scribbled on the back of their map. “But, is there any specific reason I gotta go out there first?”
Thomas blinked. “You’re the fastest.”
Minho gave Thomas an incredulous look, frowning. Thomas sighed, turning back to their paper. His fingers went back to where they’d been before Minho interrupted.
“Okay, from the top. Our first task is to see how many Walkers we’re dealing with. Gally,” Thomas called over to the door, where Gally had climbed on top of the dresser they’d used as a barricade to count how many were outside their door. “What number you getting?”
“Shut up and let me focus. Keep losin’ count with your yappin’.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting maybe…hm, five? We stay quiet for another hour, they’ll probably fizzle out and we can leave. Wanna wait?”
“No need.” Thomas answered, “We aren’t using the door.”
The other three heads in the room snapped towards him. Thomas flushed and looked down. “I mean, unless you guys feel prepared to go down three floors of hallways that could potentially be crawling with Walkers.”
“No, no. That’s not the part we’re confused about, man.” Minho muttered. “If you haven’t noticed, there’s no other way out of the room.”
“Sure there is.” Thomas answered simply. “The bathroom window. Above the bathtub.”
Gally scoffed, “You were takin’ bubble baths while we were out here-”
“That window opens to the building's fire escape.” Thomas disregarded Gally’s incoming tantrum.
“Fire escape is rusted to all shuck. We’d be sitting eggs three stories up.” Minho countered.
“Fine, then we’ll just open the door and-”
“Okay! Okay, fire escape. What about it?”
“Thank you.” Thomas sighed, “Now, without further interruptions…” He grabbed the pen from his back pocket and popped the cap open with his teeth, letting the plastic fall onto the nightstand he'd been baring down on. “Yeah, it’s a risk. But it’s a calculated risk.” He flipped the map back to the original image and pointed to the building they were at. Then, he used the pen to draw a bright red line down the right side of the hotel. “The outer west side of this place is open, there’s no building there to shield us. But look, that fire escape drops down to the alley on the east side. We wouldn’t be seen by the main road down there. Not if we were quiet, at least.”
Three sets of eyes glared at Minho, who pretended not to notice.
“That’s the way we came in.” Newt looked back down, “Who’s to say we didn’t lure a group of Grievers into that alley last night?”
“Walkers move in groups. Chances are, the majority of whatever horde we could have led there went out into the streets to join the pack on the main roads. Dodging ten is a lot easier than dodging one-hundred.”
Newt smirked, “Calculated risk.”
Thomas bit back a grin of his own.
Minho stepped forward. “I took a look at the buildings across the street. They’ve all got those weird fire escapes. The ones that have the ladders that won’t drop unless you pull a lever. Levers at the bottom. Must have been done purposefully by the city, so that fire exit protocols could be uniform in certain areas. I’d bet the fire escape here has those same mechanics.”
“Which is why you’re going first.” Thomas said.
“Again,” Minho’s face puffed in worry, “Why me?”
Thomas looked at Newt, remembering what he’d been told in the bathroom. Then, back to Minho. “You’re fast. That, and you’re the one I trust with my plans the most.” He answered quickly. Too quickly. It sounded rehearsed.
Someone snickered. Thomas had ten bucks on Newt.
He coughed, “Anyways…You go down there, yeah? Take the crowbar from Newt's bag, and use it to get down those stairs and clear the alley. Don’t bring a gun, because it’s just extra weight. You won’t use it. When the alley’s clean, find that lever and pull it to drop that ladder down to us. Something goes wrong, lock yourself in a room. I’m going to be counting- you'll have ten minutes to do this. If ten minutes pass and I don’t hear anything, I’m gonna go out there myself to get you. ”
“And if I do make it?” Minho questioned. “I just stand down there, fifty feet from a pack of Grievers, hoping they don’t hear that rusty hunk of metal slide down a brick wall?”
Thomas sighed, “We’ll all be on standby near the window to watch for the ladder. The minute it’s down, Newt’s dropping. He’s good with locks– he’ll start working on the gate at the back end of the alley. If they start coming before we get down there, you two ditch the job and start climbing. Get to the roof, and pull that ladder back up. We can’t risk them piling up on it and making the escape collapse from their weight.”
“You don’t have a good history with rooftops.” Gally spat at Thomas.
“Slim it.” Newt huffed, “Keep going, Tommy.”
Thomas exhaled slowly, eyes darting between the two of them. “Right. Right, uhm..” He looked back at his paper, “Once we get down there and that gates open, we go right, down the back of the block, behind the buildings. Eventually, we’ll hit a barrier- another fence, cutting off a parking garage to an apartment building.”
“We’ll be stuck.” Minho said slowly, confused.
“We’ll climb.” Thomas corrected, “One at a time, so the rattling doesn’t make as much noise. Our goal here is to stay off of ground level as much as possible, so from there, we travel to the top of that parking deck. Those things go pretty high up, and the buildings from that point forward are all smashed together-”
“No.” Minho interrupted.
“Minho.”
“No!” He yelled, stepping back. “I know where this is going! You want us to jump from building to building like creatures of the night, don’t you?”
Newt and Gally gave Thomas anxious looks. Thomas didn’t want them to start doubting him now. He grabbed Minho by the arm and pulled him back. “They’re short jumps. They keep us off the ground, away from the risk of getting cornered on the streets.”
“Until we fall and snap our necks.” Gally quipped.
“If we get to a gap that looks too wide, we back off. Head down and start running down back alleys again. But, like I said, I think our best move here is staying off of the ground as long as we can, at least until we get closer to Ben.”
“And when we get to Ben?” Gally prodded, “Newts gonna unchain him and we all ride off into the sunset?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Great.” Gally turned around and walked off. “He doesn’t know. Great!”
“I’m gonna figure it out! I can’t have all the answers right away!” Thomas spat.
“You should’ve thought about that before leaving him on a shucking roof!”
Newt stepped in between them, “Gally-”
“Quit defending this idiot, Newt!” Gally shoved a finger into Newt’s shoulder, “Listen to him. He wants Minho to go down there by himself to let down a half-broken ladder that’ll probably chip and crumble when we touch it. Then, he wants us to American Ninja Warrior from building to building, working off nothing but a prayer that we won’t miss a jump and bust our skulls open. He’s insane!”
Thomas stepped forward, his chest pressed against Newt’s back as he spoke from behind him. “Then give me a better idea.”
“I will!”
“Good, go find Ben yourself! I’ll go get the stuff we can actually use- like the tools, and the ammo! Or have you forgotten this trip wasn’t just about that racist you keep for a pet?”
Gally’s eyes widened. He stepped forward, sandwiching Newt between them. “You wanna say that again, Greene?”
Before Thomas could say anything, Newt’s arms shot out to push them both backwards. Gally moved forward again, and Thomas followed. Minho’s arms wrapped around Gally’s middle to stop him, and Newt's hand coiled around Thomas’s upper arm, pulling him back.
“Let me go!” Gally barked. “He’s got no right talking to me like that, when he’s the reason we’re all here in the first place!”
“Ben’s the only one to blame for where he is right now.” Thomas stated, tensing against Newt’s grasp. Newt’s hold only tightened. Thomas knew he’d be grateful for that later. If he and Gally got into it right now, Thomas would be dead in seconds. But right now? Thomas didn’t care. He was so sick of people doubting him, when he was the only one actually trying to do something to help. They all turned to him for answers, but disregarded him every time he gave those answers. They were ungrateful. Gally was ungrateful. Brenda was right all along. Leaving Ben up there wasn’t the evil deed he’d thought it was, not if the only person mad about it was someone just as horrible as Ben. The last thing Thomas would ever do was cater to that lousy, ignorant, filthy-
No. No. Thomas couldn’t think like that. Okay, maybe Brenda had had a point about Ben, but that was it. He couldn’t let his mind wander down a path like the one it was on. That wasn’t him, wasn’t why they were here. He’d be no better than Gally.
But God, if this idiot didn’t make it hard to not go trigger-happy at 8 in the morning.
Gally struggled against Minho, but the two of them were even in strength. It was no use. Minho grunted, “You know he’s right Gally. Ben's a jerk. You’ve said it yourself, long before any of this ever happened. You weren’t there, he-” Minho paused, remembering the reason Thomas had done what he’d done. What Ben had said to him, done to him. His jaw tensed, “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we ain’t got time for this klunk right now.”
Thomas huffed, “That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”
A voice hissed in his ear, hot and assertive. “ Slim it. Now. ”
Thomas stiffened, swallowing the lump in his throat. He looked at Newt, whose eyes glared at him from the side. Narrow, dark, and tired. Thomas’s gaze lowered, and he yanked his arm away in annoyance. He fixed his shirt sleeve, straightened the fabric that had been bunched up under Newt’s grip. The blonde stared for a few seconds, and then stalked off towards the door.
Minho waited until Gally stopped thrashing, and then finally let go of him, too. Gally's breathing was hard, his chest rising and falling like he’d just ran a marathon. He pointed at Thomas. “You’re lucky, Greene. Real lucky.” He stated, pushing past Minho roughly.
Minho stumbled back, his eyes low on the ground. He looked up at Thomas slowly. His eyes were embarrassed. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. His arms crossed against his chest. “Just…uhm..tell me when you wanna leave, yeah?”
Thomas exhaled, “You’re still gonna do it?”
Minho shrugged. “I trust you. Maybe it’ll prove to be a stupid choice, but I do.”
“Thank you.” Thomas muttered.
Minho didn’t respond, just gave Thomas one last look before walking into the bathroom.
Shuck.