Chapter Text
Looking at the ground ahead of him, though not seeing before the next foot jadedly went on. Ground that seemed to rope out in front of him, uncoiling with each step. Endless. Ragged and worn down from the sun bearing on him and days upon days that this journey had turned into, (Well closer to years if he was being honest.) With the last of his energy he had just buried his group. He had to do that much. But it was too much to even mourn them. Just go on. Think about it later. He must keep walking till he reached the next place. Then maybe he could start to make sense of it.
Then he lost his footing, and he fell..
Frank got up and saw he was in a large hole, too tall to get out. He could see the sky and the top of a house and tree tops. "How the hell?! This is great!" He yelled at no one. Then he started to pace. His crew would never have fallen for this. He pictured Rick strong but careful, maneuvering around trees, watching for tracks in the debris. He must have missed something. He grabbed for his canteen and gave it a shake, and looked at it disappointed. He tucked it away. Then he stared up at the mid-afternoon sun, a bead of sweat rolling down, washing a line of dirt away.
But then he spied roots and rocks. He could use to pull himself up. He felt a surge of hope. He reached for the top, fingers curled behind it- but it was damp. He pulled, rocking his body against the wall, crawling up the side. But a rapid pain shot through his arm. It tremored as he tried his best to ignore it. But no dice. He tumbled back into the dirt. He must have injured it when he fell the first time. He didn't even brush himself off when he got up,
but just kicked the ground in exasperation. He'd felt he'd die here.
"Get yourself together," he told himself. He noticed shovel indentations along the wall and realized someone dug this out by hand. How long would that take? Oh- it's about the same size as the hole he had dug not long ago. He called out, out of a pure instinct. Just as he was starting to feel hoarse, someone was coming in the distance. The sound of boots scraping along the ground. He wasn't sure whether to feel good or bad about this.
"Not Infected," he called out. They must have heard him cause there was a sudden shuffle of steps, and the sense that the person above had just become a lot more cautious.
"Do you have a gun?" The voice said no-nonsense. He didn't reply, hearing only the beats of his chest. Too nervous perhaps. But he could feel the time stretch out, and the sense danger rising. Then their footsteps start to approach again, his breath hitched as he heard branches snapping, and then finally he managed to call back,
"No."
The other man stopped suddenly and rebuked angrily, "Why'd it take so long to answer?"
'Shit.' He took a breath trying to remain calm. He saw he was shaking. He couldn't do anything but be himself he instructed.
"I don't know. I didn't know whether to lie or not," he said in earnest. The other man came into view, their eyes widened as they see him. He saw their gun as well. The man stood in a military stance. That didn't seem good. Frank slowly made himself look past the barrel of the gun and up into the man's eyes. They were grey blue, and despite his fear he noticed they were interesting, as a rock on the beach. The man instantly reacted at this exploration, as he stiffened but still holding eye contact. Perhaps he was not as impenetrable as he seemed he wondered. Maybe if he pushed him he could find humanity there, under the cold demeanor. That is what his instinct told him. If he was wrong about this it could be deadly though. The other man looked back nervous, dryly licking at his lip before he looking away.
"Are you hurt?" They asked, and there was a shift in tone. Was there a modicum of concern for him?
"It's not bad, just a bruise." He held his arm showing him. The man gave a nod, then went to his next question. It felt like the questions were something he'd prepared in the past because of how fast he rattled them off.
"Is there anyone else with you?" He asked.
"No, I am alone." Frank gulped then there was a silence like they were waiting for more. "It was a group of ten, We came from the last QZ. But they are all gone now. They died." And there the other man looked at him and he felt exposed. He hoped they wouldn't ask any more about it and thankfully they didn't.
"Ok." They said. Frank thought that meant they were done.
But then they left. He was once again alone. It was enough to start to unravel him. What if they don't come back? Nervous thoughts pulling at him. Wouldn't that be the easiest thing for him to leave him at this point and never come back. If Frank happened to die here, the other man didn't even have to pull the trigger. He put a hand around his injured arm. Feeling a growing lump there. He felt a mix of angry and fearful tears start to wash over him. He'd been so calm till this. He thrust his head against the wall, and could feel the tears stinging and that wanted to fall though he still managed to hold them back. He had held it together through all his team dying around him, good people who didn't deserve this, and he was least capable of them. It made no sense. Well that was before now. No, he'd be back. He had to be. He had to hold onto that hope. He lifted his eyes as he thought he heard foot steps. Then a metal ladder was lowered into the hole.
It was hard to know who one could trust, but trust is something he had to hold onto just the same. He would have gotten emotionally jaded like so many, had it not been for his belief that people were really good at heart. But even he could doubt this. Gratitude swirled around him, as he dizzily climbed, ignoring the pain from his arm. He wondered if the man saw all that had gone through his head as they were looking him over now curiously. When he got to the top, “Stop,” the man said. He stopped. His eyes grew wide as their arm reached over him, skin grazing his, and then he felt something hard and cold pressing on his neck. For the third time in a very short time span he thought he was a dead man. 'What is that?!' He squeezed his eyes shut and waited. He was torn from his thoughts of the end by a loud "beep" from the machine and a glowing green light and then nothing else. It was one of those machines that tested for infected. Few had them. “Where’d you get that?” Frank asked surprised. But the man only gestured with his hand that he could climb out now. Not a particularly chatty one. He finished climbing. Then he cautiously took another look over at him. He could have shot him or left him there to die. But he let him live. Also there was something in his blue grey eyes? Or maybe it was nothing.
He nearly jumped when he touched land. He could see things besides a dirt wall now. He smiled but then the smile faded when he saw the gun still pointed at his head, replaced by irritation. He lifted his hands slowly, looking back wary. The annoyance bubbled in him till he blurted, "The gun still?! I'm clearly not a threat to you?!" The man squinted back and seemed like he was gonna say something back.
Then another thought totally the farthest away from thinking about the gun.. Maybe there was food here. When did he even last eat? His stomach rumbled in agreement. There was a house in great condition in front of them. They had to have food. But would they share it? He didn’t look all that generous. He should not ask. Definitely not. But he was going to anyways.
The man pointed to the direction of the nearest settlement while still impressively managing not to move the gun’s direction as it continued to impose the threat of death on him, so that he knew he had better not do the wrong thing. "Towns that way, you can make it there in a day," he said.
“I’m Frank by the way. What’s your name?” Frank interjected with a pleasant-ish voice.
“I didn't give one.” Bill said, alarmed, a paranoia sweeping in him.
“I’m very hungry.” Frank continued. Frank was dirty and starving and knew he must sound pathetic, but he couldn't help it. He looked back at him seeming both irritated and considering.
"Listen, Frank, If I give you a free meal, I would have to feed every random person you tell about this place, and this is Not an Arbys.” He said back. And though his eyes looking fierce it was in a way Frank found oddly appealing all at once, in that bad cop sort of way. He countered,
“But, Arby’s isn’t free. It was a restaurant?” The other man just looked back perplexed. Frank softened. “Okay, okay, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” he said with sincerity, his hands gesturing. There was a pause then, he said laughing, "You already know I'm a terrible liar." But then dropped his hands with irritated flair, hands slapping jeans. "If you're gonna kill me what can I do?" he asked. The man looked at him confused. They stood like that for a while and he wasn't sure whether the man was gonna shoot him or hand him a sandwich. But then with a sigh Bill signaled for him to come in with him. He couldn't believe his luck. Not letting the grass grow on this in case he changed his mind he practically skipped towards the man.
As they entered the house it was so different then what he normally saw in his travels. Breaking into abandoned places for leftover bits and scraps was what he usually did and the homes had all been washed out and slowly destroyed over time, sometimes they were barely wooden frames, that looked more like desiccated bones barely holding together against the elements. Here in contrast, it was an immaculate and so reminiscent of the time before. It brought up a great deal of nostalgia for him. Everything perfectly in its place. And yet it also looked very still. A stale dust seemed to cling to the air. And it felt like nothing had changed in the last few years. It was a time capsule. He stared wide eyed like a child at it all and felt like running around and looking through every drawer and cubby, but managed to restrain himself. Still his eyes said it all, that he would have a field day here. The other man (Bill it turns out,) seemed annoyed by his interest. Bill walked stoically on though. "This is the place that didn’t fall" Frank said with wonderment and Bill just nodded.
~
Bill led him to the bathroom next and said that he could take a shower while he got food out for him. "You have a working shower?!" Bill gave a nod. And then Bill left, leaving him to the shower.
He gingerly peeled off his clothes and set them in a neat pile. The water ran perfectly, and it went to any temperature. He turned it very hot, as he carefully stepped in. Taking a moment to adjust to it. The water seared through the dirt and sweat, but also the sad weariness as well. And it helped him forget just for a moment the horrors he had seen and just think of this moment. Heavy steeps of steam billowed around him and filled the whole of the room and coating the mirror. The high pressured water pelting his back and rolling down his chest. Turning his hands a pinkish color. Then from across the door a muffled voice came through, he couldn't make it out so he turned and called, “What was that?” That's when he realized he hadn't quite shut the door and the other man seemed startled.
From outside the bathroom, an awkward shuffle and a loud clearing throat then, “Clothes!” Bill said louder.
“Oh Okay, Thank you! Almost done!”
“Okay..” Bill said curt, about to turn.
“Actually can I have just five more minutes? This is amazing!?” He asked back. An uncertain pause as Bill was struck by something, pondering. “Sure,” Bill said quieter. After that was settled, he darted off. When Frank got out a few minutes later, wrapped in a towel, he saw clothes neatly pressed on the bed, waiting for him.
He picked them up. Feeling the softness of the material. They looked almost new. Plaid polyester shirt, and blue jeans and best of all, it turned out to all fit more or less fit.
He changed, then headed to the other room.