The wind cut sharp through the abandoned streets, carrying the scent of decay and damp asphalt. Ash kept her distance, trailing a few steps behind Eve, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her fingers clenched at the fabric of her sleeves, knuckles aching from the cold. She was still furious, bitterness clinging to her like a second skin. Eve had made it perfectly clear she didn't want her around, and yet Ash refused to just roll over and die. She didn't have to like Eve to recognize that she was her best shot at survival.
Eve moved ahead with her usual sharp precision, her bat gripped tightly in one hand, the other hovering near the knife strapped to her belt. She didn't slow, didn't glance back, but Ash didn't miss the rigid set of her shoulders—the way they remained taut, like she was waiting for Ash to make a move.
But Ash was set in her resolve to keep silent. She wasn't going to beg, wasn't going to grovel for Eve's approval. She was here because she refused to die, because survival was the only choice left. Eve might not want her around, but Ash wasn't giving her a choice.
The silence between them was thick, only punctuated by the sound of their boots crunching over loose gravel. Ash ignored the sting of Eve's rejection, pushing down the wounded pride curling in her gut. She wasn't some fragile thing that needed coddling. She was here because she chose to be. Because giving up wasn't an option.
Then the first shot rang out.
A deafening crack split the air, followed by a sharp ping as the bullet ricocheted off metal. Instinct took over. Ash dropped low, her heart hammering as she scrambled behind the rusted shell of an overturned car. Another shot. Then another. She had no idea where it was coming from.
"Move!" Eve's voice was sharp, urgent.
Ash barely had time to react before Eve grabbed her arm, dragging her into a narrow alleyway. They pressed themselves against the crumbling brick, the gunfire still sporadic, but precise. Whoever it was, they weren't shooting at random.
Ash's breath came in ragged gasps, adrenaline thrumming through her veins. She tried to process—tried to think—but all she could hear was the pounding in her skull. Her eyes flicked to Eve, who was pressing her free hand against her thigh.
Dark, wet blood seeped through her jeans.
Ash's stomach lurched. "Shit—"
"I know," Eve ground out, teeth clenched. She was trying to stay upright, but Ash could see the slight tremor in her frame, the way her fingers tightened into a fist like she could will the pain away. "We need to move."
Ash swallowed hard. "You're bleeding."
"No shit, Sherlock."
Another bullet whizzed past the alley's entrance, kicking up dust and debris. Ash barely flinched. Her mind was already shifting, slipping into something steadier, something familiar.
Her mother had always said she was born to be a nurse, her father pushed her to be a doctor. He'd always pushed her to aim for higher. And right now, the fact was that Eve was losing blood, and if they didn't do something fast, she wasn't going to make it far.
Ash squared her shoulders. "We need to stop the bleeding."
Eve shot her a glare. "We need to get the hell out of here first."
"You won't get far if you pass out from blood loss."
Eve opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, but another shot cracked through the air. Ash didn't give her a chance to protest. She moved quickly, slipping her pack from her shoulders, but Eve was already ahead of her. With a swift motion, Eve ripped the lining of her jacket with her knife, tearing off a strip of fabric.
"Sit down," Ash ordered, already kneeling.
Eve hesitated.
"Eve."
The rare use of her name must have caught her off guard because she actually listened. She slid down against the wall, hissing through her teeth as her injured leg stretched out. Ash ignored the way her hands trembled slightly as she pressed the cloth against the wound, applying firm, even pressure. Blood bloomed against the fabric, warm and sticky against her fingers.
"It doesn't feel like the bullet's still in there," Ash muttered, more to herself than Eve. "But we'll have to check later. Right now, I just need to slow the bleeding."
Eve was watching her. Not with distrust, not with impatience, but with something unreadable. It made Ash's stomach twist.
"You've done this before," Eve said.
Ash kept her focus on wrapping the wound. "I was studying to be a doctor."
A pause. Then a quiet, "Huh."
Ash risked a glance up, bracing herself for another snide comment, but instead, Eve just looked… thoughtful. It was strange. Unsettling, even. Ash had grown used to Eve's irritation, the sharp-edged hostility she wore like armor. But this? This was different. This was something Ash couldn't read, couldn't prepare for. It left her feeling unsure—something she wasn't used to around Eve.
Without another word, Ash grabbed a sturdy piece of wood from the ground, her fingers fumbling as she wrapped it around the fabric, fashioning a makeshift tourniquet. The jagged edges of the wood dug into her palm, but she barely noticed. She met Eve's eyes, her voice low and steady despite the tension in her chest.
"This is going to hurt," she warned, before she tightened the fabric around Eve's leg.
Eve's breath caught in a harsh gasp, then a muffled scream ripped from her throat. She cursed, voice raw and biting, as Ash tightened the makeshift tourniquet with as much force as she could. The pressure made Eve's body jerk, but Ash held it firm, securing the knot. Eve's face twisted in agony, but there was no other choice. No time to be gentle.
She turned back to her work. "Try not to move too much. This should hold until we can get somewhere safer."
Eve exhaled, her breath shaky but controlled. "We need to move before they come looking for us."
Ash steadied Eve as she struggled to stand, her hands gripping her tightly, eyes scanning their surroundings. The town was eerily quiet, too quiet, as if the world itself had fallen still in the wake of the chaos. The edges of the streets were littered with debris, signs of the collapse, and the distant rumble of an engine reminded her that they weren't alone. But they didn't have time to figure out who—or what—was nearby. They needed to get out. Now.
Ash moved to grab Eve's bag, but Eve's sharp refusal cut through the air like a whip. "I'll carry my own shit," she snapped, voice strained but defiant. Her pride burned in her eyes, even if it was clear she was barely holding herself together.
Ash's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. She knew better than to try and wrestle control from Eve now. They were too far past that point. Eve was relentless—unyielding in her stubbornness—and Ash, having only known her for a couple of days, had already learned that pushing her only led to more resistance.
Eve took slow, deliberate steps, her movements shaky but determined as she shifted away from the main roads, steering them toward the thick line of woods just beyond. The trees loomed like a sanctuary—if they could make it there. Ash followed closely, glancing back at the quiet streets, every creak and crack of the world around them too loud. They were at the edge of the town Ash had once called home, and the weight of it settled like a stone in her chest.
She bit back a curse as she scanned the landscape, her thoughts racing for a place—any place—where they could find safety. The town's familiar streets were no longer a refuge. They were a trap. She huffed, frustration rising, pushing away the lingering thoughts of home.
Eve's steps faltered in front of her, and Ash moved to take some of her weight, but Eve jerked away, her voice harsh in the still air. "I've got it!" she hissed, her breath shallow and quick. The words were firm, but Ash could see the strain in her pale face, the way her knees buckled slightly with each step.
Ash didn't push it. Eve might've been stubborn as hell, but Ash wasn't blind. It was obvious that Eve wouldn't be able to keep up for long. The tourniquet was holding, but just barely, and every step Eve took was like a ticking clock counting down to when she wouldn't be able to take another.
It was then that Eve's gaze shifted, something flickering in her eyes, and Ash froze, following her line of sight.
The old Jameson house.
Ash's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't thought about it in years. The Jamesons had lived on the outskirts of town, a quiet, humble house that had been abandoned long before the outbreak—long before the world fell apart. The family had died off some years back, a tragedy no one had ever fully understood, and their house had sat untouched ever since. If they could make it there, maybe, just maybe, they'd find some shelter. Maybe they could survive this day.
Ash nodded, eyes narrowing as she calculated the distance. The house wasn't far, but with every step, it felt like a hundred miles. The thought of leading Eve there was almost comforting, like it could be their ticket to surviving another day. But it was hard to ignore the fear gnawing at her gut, clawing its way up from somewhere deep inside. We make it there, Ash thought, and maybe we survive. Maybe we can get through this.
Just as the words settled in her mind, a distant crack of gunfire shattered the quiet, followed by more shots—closer this time. Ash's heart jumped into her throat, and instinctively, she grabbed Eve, pulling her behind a fallen tree at the edge of a broken-down gas station. The bark scraped against her palms as she squatted low, her breath catching in her throat, her heart pounding with every beat.
The shots echoed, ricocheting off the empty buildings around them. The sound of footsteps, hurried and uneven, carried through the air like the weight of a thousand warning bells. Ash strained to listen. There—voices.
"They're getting closer," Eve hissed, her body stiffening beside her, her face pale as snow.
Ash risked a glance from behind the wall. A truck—old, rusted, a relic from the world before—rolled past slowly, its tires crunching over the debris-strewn pavement. She could barely make out the shapes of the men inside, but the rifles in their hands were clear enough.
Her stomach dropped as she followed Eve's gaze. The look on her face, the kind of recognition that froze her in place, told Ash everything she needed to know.
"Fuck," Eve muttered under her breath, her voice tight with something Ash couldn't quite decipher—regret, fear, maybe both.
Ash's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, fuck?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath, the urgency of the situation pressing down on her chest.
But Eve didn't answer. Her face was drained of color, eyes locked on the truck as it rolled past, the men inside still scanning the surroundings. For a moment, everything felt suspended in the air, like time itself had stalled, holding its breath.
Then, without another word, Eve grabbed Ash's arm and yanked her down, pushing her behind the fallen tree. "Get down," she hissed, her voice harsh and panicked.
Ash barely had time to react before Eve was pulling her lower, her body pressing close as she tried to melt into the shadows. Her breath was shallow, the weight of Eve's fear pressing down on her like a physical force.
The truck rolled past them, slow but deliberate. Ash could feel the rumble of the engine beneath her chest, could hear the faint, ominous creak of the metal as it rolled over the broken pavement. She could see the men inside now, their faces masked in the shadow of the cab, rifles clutched tightly in their hands.
Eve's grip on her arm tightened, fingers digging into her skin as if she were holding on for dear life. Her eyes stayed locked on the truck, watching every movement, every twitch.
The men didn't stop, but Ash could tell by the way Eve was looking at them—eyes sharp, focused—that this wasn't just a random encounter. It wasn't just a group of men passing through. These people knew Eve, and Ash wasn't sure what that meant, but her gut was telling her it wasn't good.
As the truck disappeared down the road, the sounds of its engine fading into the distance, Eve stayed frozen, her body tense. She didn't say anything, not yet. But Ash could feel the storm brewing inside her, like Eve was preparing for something, bracing for whatever was coming next.