EXTINCTION EVENT

chapter fourteen: red thread

[ season 1, episode 4; not fade away ]

DAY 13

The last beams of sun were beginning to dim behind the L.A. horizon by the time Meghan made her way back to the Safe Zone. She'd stashed her car, grabbed Alicia's bike, locked up the auto shop behind her, ducked through the hole in the fence, hid from the patrols, and was now making her way back to her house. Her supplies were strapped firmly to the back of the bike, and crossbow slung over her shoulder, its weight grounding her to the moment. Which was a good thing, Meghan considered, since her own thoughts were currently in a downward spiral, replaying the moment her arrow made contact with Caitlyn's head, playing it back in her mind's eye like a tape caught on loop.

I shot Caitlyn. I killed Caitlyn.

No, she corrected herself internally. You can't kill what's already dead. The person Caitlyn was died with her, bitten and bleeding out over nine days ago. The thing she saw was not her roommate.

Even accounting for certain diseases, such as leprosy or rabies, couldn't account for both the behavioral changes as well as the physiological signs of decay.

Okay, think, Meghan grounded herself. Let's think about this logically; What are the seven characteristics of life, and do the infected meet them?

If they don't meet the requirements, then they aren't alive, and I am not a murderer.

Some she could cross off immediately — she didn't have the knowledge, tools, or ability to measure whether they had a complex chemistry. As far as she could tell, they didn't reproduce or pass their own traits onto any offspring, either. The closest equivalent would be biting to infect others, however, that logic would consider viruses alive, as well — which they weren't.

Metabolism and ability to breathe were debatable. They seemed to feed on the living, but inside of a rotting carcass, Meghan was unsure how food would provide any actual benefit.

Growth and change were also negated. The longer time went on, the worse off their bodies became. Georgie was nearly indistinguishable from human, but Caitlyn (or the thing that used to be Caitlyn, anyway) was rotting already. They didn't heal, either. From what Meghan could tell, they only seemed to be decaying more and more, so any form of homeostasis was off the table as well.

That left environmental responsiveness.

People had pain responses. If you touched a hot stove, you'd flinch and draw your hand away before you can get seriously burned. And your cells maintain bodily integrity or work to heal injuries. If you get bruised, capillaries burst, rupture, and knit together again, and the bruise goes away as the blood is reabsorbed into your body. Cells split, divide, and specify according to their needed bodily function.

The infected's reaction to environmental stimuli was almost primal. There was no concern for danger or harm to themselves, only a base interest in food. That night at the college, they should have seen what Heather was doing to the other infected and fled, but none did. They just kept coming. It went completely against any self-preservation instinct shared by any species.

The things out there weren't infected — they were just dead.

As horrible as the thought was, it actually helped calm her racing mind. She didn't have to feel guilty about killing something that wasn't actually alive; if it was just a parasite or bacteria that was animating the walking corpses, she didn't need to mourn when they got put down any more than she would when she used hand sanitizer.

She didn't kill Caitlyn, not really. She had died almost two weeks ago, the night the dorm was overrun. If there was any part of her friend left, there was nothing she could have done to save her. If anything, she put her out of her misery.

Things were simpler that way, easier. These days, she wouldn't complain about 'easy.' Things were complicated enough as it was.

With that realization, she could move past the moral dilemma that killing the so-called 'infected' provided, and focus on what mattered — getting herself and her family the hell out of Los Angeles. Today was the first step towards that.

That goal had become even more of a priority now, given what she'd seen outside the fence. She could understand confusion on the part of the soldiers the night the lights went out — when no one knew what they were looking for, and when the dark of night made it impossible to tell the infected apart from the living.

But that was nine days ago. After presumably roasting on a sidewalk in the LA sun for over a week, a body should show signs of degradation, not even bringing into consideration rats, flies, and scavenger animals. The bodies on the streets and inside the medical center, the uninfected ones, showed no such signs. They were fresh.

The military was killing both the living and the dead. And now they were trapped inside a fence, surrounded by them.

She couldn't worry about that right now. She had a weapon, now all she had to do was get it back to the house without being spotted. Once she was back, she could talk with her mum about what to do next.

Meghan slowed down, combat boots skidding against the pavement before stopping enough for her to swing her legs over the bike and walk it towards the Clark's house. She leaned over on tip-toe, checking the windows for any signs of movement before making her way up the drive, kicking the stand out and leaning the bike at rest.

Satisfied she hadn't been caught, she turned to leave, but froze when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks. "Going somewhere?" Shit.

She turned to meet the suspicious gaze of the eldest Clark sibling leaned against the truck in their drive, watching her with what almost resembled curiosity.

His outfit was atrocious (also, apparently unchanged since the dinner) and his hair still looked like it was home to a pair of extremely disgruntled birds, but Meghan wasn't expecting much else.

Nick tilted his head, crossing his arms as he surveyed Meghan's appearance — the bags slung over her shoulders, scuffed boots, and sweat slicked ponytail — and corrected himself, eyes squinting slightly. "Or getting back from somewhere?"

"What's it to you?" she asked defensively, hand going automatically to clutch at the bag strap.

"Well," Nick dragged out the word, and pointed to the bike beside her, "that is my sister's bike, and I doubt she'd be that happy to know you stole it."

"I didn't steal it," Meghan refuted. "I borrowed it."

"Without asking."

"I brought it back!" she exclaimed.

"That doesn't make it not stealing," Nick pointed out.

Meghan scoffed, and gestured dismissively at the bike in question. "Well, it's here now, isn't it? So what's it matter if I took it?"

"That's an interesting perspective. Don't think Alicia will see it that way." He jerked his head towards the front door, eyebrows lifting up in silent question.

She took a breath. She was backed into a corner and he knew it. Well, she'd tried denial, and anger — maybe it was time to bargain. "What do you want?"

Nick's gaze dropped to the smaller bag she had slung over her shoulder, dark eyes lingering on the red and white first aid kit. "Find anything...medicinal...on your trip?"

Of course. Of course the druggie was after drugs. What the hell else would he be after? She shifted in place, making a conscious effort to drop her shoulders back and straighten her posture. "Maybe."

"Well then," Nick flashed her a grin, descending the steps with a bounce in his step that hadn't been there a moment before. "My confidence for your stash — square deal."

"You can't have all of it," Meghan denied, then offered, "You can have some."

"Why not?"

"Cause you're not the only one who needs it," Meghan insisted.

"What?" Nick's brow furrowed, and he gave her a cursory look up and down. "You take some study aids back in the day? Need to take the edge off, Meg?"

Meghan resisted the urge to bristle at the insinuation. "My name's not Meg-"

"Really?" Nick seemed surprised. "You look like a Meg."

Meghan held back the urge to deck him, and grit out, "It's for Ofelia's mom, dumb-ass. In case you forgot, she has a bit of a bigger issue than just the shakes."

A look of annoyance, then guilt, flashed across Nick's face as he remembered the injured woman, and he rubbed at his jaw. "Shit. Right. Okay, just — whatever you have left after that, you can drop it off with me, and I'll make sure Alicia doesn't find out-"

"Alicia doesn't find out what?" A new voice broke through their debate and they both flinched. Double shit.

Nick sucked in air through his teeth, his brief bout of self-consciousness quickly transformed into a childish schadenfreude. "Busted."

Meghan shot him a glare, but her focus was quickly redirected to the younger Clark sibling stepping just outside the front door, who was eyeing her like she'd just mugged her grandma.

Meghan swallowed. She hadn't realized it earlier, but the Clark daughter was every bit as imposing as her mother when she wanted to be. "I needed a ride," she attempted. "And the Guard is locking down all the cars, so I thought—"

"You thought what? You'd just take mine?" Alicia challenged, moving quickly down the steps and stopping by her older brother, blue eyes narrowed as she looked down at the shorter girl. "You know everyone's been canvassing the neighborhood looking for you, right?"

Meghan resisted the instinct to wince — she hadn't intended for her family to find out she'd been missing. "Like I said," she repeated, keeping her face as neutral as she could, careful not to give too much away to the younger teen. "I needed a ride."

"You could've asked."

"Didn't want to risk you saying no."

"That doesn't mean you get to just take it."

Meghan gritted her teeth. She couldn't afford getting caught out in the open with a crossbow. Couldn't afford the jackboots getting ahold of their stuff — she'd never get it back. "Next time, I'll ask. Happy?"

Alicia's eyes drifted downwards, towards the blood splatter on her front, and Meghan tugged her jacket a bit farther closed, hoping it came across as more self-conscious than suspicious.

"Is that blood?" Alicia exclaimed, and Meghan looked around quickly, checking her back and sides for any trace of the soldiers, in case they heard. "You went outside the walls, didn't you?"

"And if I did?" Meghan's attention snapped back to the younger girl. "Gonna report me?"

"You're putting everyone in danger!"

"Everyone's already in danger!" Meghan voiced, exasperated.

"Travis is working with the military. They have it under control," Alicia responded, though she didn't sound like she truly believed it herself.

"What? You think your step-dad's Mr. Roger's act is gonna somehow save us?" Meghan challenged. "Well, maybe you're all happy to play pretend and act like it's a wonderful day in the neighborhood, but I'm not. Not while those things are clawing at the gates, getting ready to rip our throats out — not exactly good neighbor material in my book."

Behind his sister, Nick stifled a snort. Alicia whipped around to glare at her brother. "Shut up, Nick, this isn't funny."

Nick's eyes widened in faux innocence. "I didn't say anything," he responded.

Alicia glared at her brother for a minute more before turning the full force of her icy gaze on Meghan, who for her part, remained stoic at the visible anger. "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to come around anymore," the teen grit out.

"Fine," Meghan snapped, and stepped away from the two, turning and walking down the drive, silently fuming.

She felt the continued stare of Alicia and Nick burning holes into the back of her jacket even as she turned out into the street, and was hardly surprised when the younger girl spoke up. "What out there was so important you needed to risk your life to get it?" Alicia called after her.

Meghan turned, and with a sigh, shrugged off her crossbow, dangling it in view of the younger girl. "You're looking at it," she snarked.

"All that," Alicia said slowly. "For a crossbow?"

Meghan deliberated for a moment. When she put it like that, it sounded stupid. "Yeah," she finally said. "Pretty much."

Alicia stared after her, too stunned by the girl's casual answer to come up with an appropriate response. After a moment, she shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes, as if shaking away Meghan's words, and went into her house without a glance back, the door slamming shut behind her.

Nick remained on the drive, watching her with his head tilted in a way that almost reminded Meghan of Holly when she lost track of her ball — curious and searching, as if Meghan was the sole possessor of the answers to her questions. Simple, easily answerable questions to anyone with a trickle of intellect, but questions nonetheless. That, and Nick tended to swing between looking like a lost puppy to a kicked puppy depending on the situation, so the comparison was apt.

Still, no amount of LA druggie pathetic-ness was enough to quell the irritation brewing within Meghan, and she retorted; "You know, for an addict, you're a real narc."

"I didn't snitch. Alicia found out on her own, you can't put that on me," Nick defended.

"You could've helped."

Nick gave her a puzzled look, as if she'd suddenly started speaking Spanish. "Why would I have done that?"

"You're right," Meghan scoffed. "Why on earth would you ever do anything as stupid as help someone besides yourself?"

Meghan slung her crossbow over her shoulder once more, relaxing at the familiarity of the weight, and headed down the road for her house, leaving the drug-addled boy alone once more.

➸  ➸  ➸

When Meghan arrived home, her mother was stationed at the sink, scrubbing aggressively at a dish that was long since clean. Beside her, the rest were overflowing in the dish rack by the sink, drip-drip-dripping onto the gleaming counter, twinkling in the fading sun through the gauzy curtains.

"Where were you all day?"

She didn't respond. It was obvious to her already this wasn't a conversation, but an interrogation. Her mother's anger hung in the air — invisible tripwires all around her, and Meghan was afraid to move lest she set one off.

When she spoke again, her mother's voice was dangerously quiet. The same deceptive still of a riptide, calm on the surface, with the full force of the ocean's rage underneath. "You weren't home, or with Heather, or Ofelia, or Alicia, so where were you?"

Katie's warning went unsaid — Don't lie to me. As if there was a point to telling her anything other than the truth. Her mother had a way of seeing straight through her, in the places no one else could. Sometimes, she was careful — stitching together all of Meghan's broken places, carefully threading together the facsimile of a girl, keeping her together when she felt she was on the verge of being torn apart.

Other times, her words acted as her scalpel, carefully undoing the stitches around everything she didn't say, unspooling all her secrets in a mess of oil-slick blood and intestines like red thread, spilling in ropes across the pale kitchen tile. Or was it beige? Blonde hair stained red, slowly creeping from her eye, pooling on the floor, shimmering in the dying light—

Get it out. Get it out get it out get it out get it out.

Struggling to ignore the images enmeshing in her mind's eye, Meghan forced out her confession. "I went back to the dorm."

Her mother sucked in a breath, and it felt like she was stealing the oxygen out of the room — the air thinner than it had been a minute ago.

"Are you bit?" she finally managed to choke out.

Meghan shook her head lightly. "No."

"Hurt?"

"No."

Katie let out a heavy breath of relief, and leaned heavily on the edge of the counter, hands white-knuckled as she clutched the edge. "What the fuck were you thinking?" Katie asked, turning back ever so slightly to look back at Meghan over her shoulder. "UCLA is over twenty miles away, the military only cleared out to six. You could have died."

"We needed the crossbow—" Meghan tried.

Her mother cut her off before she finished, finally turning to fully face her, a simmering anger in her eyes. "You're still worried about that fucking crossbow?"

"You kept talking about it!" Meghan blurt out. "You wouldn't stop, I just thought — I thought you wanted it!"

"I don't give a damn about the crossbow, Meghan, I give a damn about you."

Katie didn't snap. She didn't have to.

Meghan stiffened on instinct, her body locking up as Katie's voice raised. She kept her breathing careful and low. Her legs felt shaky, unsteady underneath her, like she couldn't trust them to actually do their job and keep her upright. Her sense of balance was skewed, and all she wanted was to collapse onto the floor, but she wasn't sure where she'd land if she allowed herself that much. Behind her eyes, there was a heat like a furnace, and a pounding starting within her temple.

Stay focused. You can't lose it, not now.

Meghan's eyes drifted down to the collar of her mother's shirt — unbuttoned, a soft off-white decorated with tiny red flowers she couldn't identify.

As Katie's voice raised again, she began to count them silently, biting down on the inside of her cheek. "You know how much shit your sister and I have gone through for you? How much we've sacrificed so you could be here? The student loans, the lien on the ranch, the second job, all of it was for you! But it wasn't enough, you had to pick a college 3,000 miles away cause you just couldn't stand to be near us."

Meghan swallowed against the lump in her throat that developed at her mother's words. "That's not true—"

"And I let you," Katie cut her off. "I let you run, I let you run all the way across the fucking country so you could play city girl, and look where it got us! If you'd have fucking listened to me when I told you to go to UVM, we would be safe at home during all this!

"But I would do it again, because I did it for you. And that's what you do for your kids, you do everything you can to keep them safe, to give them a future better than the one you had, so they can be a better person than the one you are," Katie's voice trembled. "I didn't go through all that just so my daughter could go and get herself eaten by some fucking cannibal, sneaking off to play Robin Hood!"

She scoffed and ran a hand through the errant strands that had since fallen from her pinned-back bun. Suddenly her gaze latched onto Meghan's front. "You said you weren't hurt," she stated.

"I'm not."

In a few quick strides, Katie was in front of her, pinching the fabric of her shirt where the blood had stained. "Then what's this?"

"It's not mine," she muttered, her voice thick.

"You killed one?" Katie confirmed, and at Meghan's faint nod she let out another aggravated sigh. "For God's sake, Meghan, we're meant to be avoiding them. You could've gotten yourself killed! How could you be so reckless—?"

"Caitlyn's dead," Meghan blurted, unable to hold it in any longer. Katie stilled, watching as her daughter's lip wobbled, struggling to get the news out. She wiped her eyes with the rough edge of her jacket sleeve, sniffling once before she continued, attempting to shake off her childish tears. "I um...the medical center, one of them, isn't too far down from my dorm, so I thought I'd drop by to get some medicine for Ofelia's mom, and she — she was there, but it wasn't her anymore."

Meghan paused, swallowing down on a sob that threatened to rip its way out of her throat. She finally spoke, her voice breaking. "She got bit. That night, and she must've — she must've gone there for help, but no one was there, and she had to do it alone, and she couldn't stop it, so she just — she just turned there, alone—"

Callused hands softly swiped below her eyes, dipping to cup her cheek, and Meghan's voice caught in her throat. She threw herself forward, and sobbed openly into Katie's collarbone, the dam finally breaking as her hands grasped at her mother's shirt, twisting lines into the tiny red flowers stitched in the delicate fabric. Still, she didn't loose her grip. She had the terrifying notion in her head that if she didn't hold as tightly as possible, she'd be lost forever.

Her knees buckled, and she sank in a blubbering pile to collapse on the cool tile. Katie slowly knelt, adjusting so she was sat before her, and readjusted so Meghan could once again settle against her. Warm hands rubbed circles into her back, and the flowers disappeared, blurring into red dots on an off-white backdrop as salt burnt the split on her upper lip.

"I killed her," Meghan choked out. "I killed her, and I left her."

She hiccuped. "It's my fault," she got out, voice thick. "If I made her come with us that night, if I'd just told her, she'd be okay. She wouldn't have—"

"You did what you had to," Katie comforted her, moving one hand up to cup the back of her head as another sob wracked its way through Meghan's body. "It's not your fault, sweetheart, you didn't know what could happen. None of us did. This isn't on you."

There was deep hunger inside her, aching for her mother's acceptance like a woman starved, a child scorned. No matter how close they were, how often she assured her that she was loved, she was needed, it remained. It was like there was a part of herself she'd left behind in the womb. No matter how tightly she clung, it wouldn't come out. It was there under the skin, just out of reach. Sometimes, she wished she could crawl under, pick apart her mother like she did her own body and make herself whole.

There was an emptiness inside of her like a missing organ, a vacant space that couldn't be filled. It wasn't meant to be.

She would always be a little bit hollow. A parasite without a host, forced to survive on its own.

Meghan didn't reply. She couldn't, she could barely keep her body from violently shaking, her shoulders jerking at odd intervals without her say so as her hands clutched the edges of Katie's shirt in a death grip.

Please don't leave me. Please stay.

"You two are the most important things in the world to me, you know that?" Katie murmured, brushing her hair back from her face in soft strokes. "They say motherhood changes a person, but I had no idea how much before I had you. It's not like they show on TV, you know, with the overbearing helicopter mom stereotypes. It's more primal than that," she tucked a strand of dark hair behind Meghan's ear, and continued, voice soft. "The moment you were born, I looked at you and knew; I would do anything to keep you safe. I would burn the world to keep you warm."

She pulled back and cupped Meghan's face. Katie gave her a wobbly smile. "I'm so glad you hit Nick with your car," she whispered.

Instinctively, Meghan knew what her mother was talking about. If she hadn't hit Nick with her car, then her mother and sister would never have travelled to see her, and she would be dead along with Caitlyn, and everyone else at her dorm. It would be her in the UCLA medical center, bandaging up a wound that would never heal, while her mother called desperately, over and over again, leaving voicemails for a dead girl only to receive a busy tone.

They would never have seen each other again.

Still, she couldn't help but let out a tiny snort at the way the sentiment had been phrased.

"Jeez, Mum, it's not like he didn't have enough problems," Meghan managed to croak in an undertone.

A moment passed, then Katie gave a strangled laugh at her words, soon followed by Meghan until both women devolved into fits of laughter, salt burning brands down their cheeks.

Her mother tugged her close again and kissed her forehead, pulling her in for another hug, her arm around her shoulders, head tucked against Katie's collarbone.

There she was — unspooled, spilling out across the kitchen floor. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

She felt like she had been stripped raw.

She felt clean.

➸  ➸  ➸

Meghan toweled off quickly after her shower, not wanting to waste what hot water they had. Her striped shirt and jeans were in the wash, bloodstained from the days events, so she pulled on her UCLA sweatshirt and sweatpants instead. Thank God for college paraphernalia.

She sat down heavily on the master bed, letting out a ragged breath. Her legs felt sore, which made sense. She'd been biking, walking, jumping, and climbing for almost the whole day. She'd be sore for quite awhile. Meghan played with the ends of her hair, feeling the water slick off and drip across her palm as she wrung out the strands. Though it happened no more than a few hours ago, the events of the day felt like a distant memory, sand slipping through her fingers, faster and faster the more she tried to grasp at it.

The one thing she couldn't forget was Caitlyn, and she'd been trying.

"Hey."

Meghan looked up to see her younger sister leaned against the door frame, arms crossed and expression unreadable. There was something inside her denim jacket, but Meghan couldn't tell what it was from where she was sitting.

She responded, "Hey." A silence followed, and Meghan felt the need to speak further, to not let this tension hang between them. "I'm sorry for lying to you."

Heather acknowledged the apology with a raised eyebrow. "It was a jerk move."

Her shoulders felt damp as her hair continued to drip dry against the absorbent fabric. Meghan bit the inside of her cheek. "Are you mad at me?"

Her sister gave a faint shrug, her expression not giving away much. "A bit. Mum wouldn't stop giving me the third degree when she found out you were gone, so there's an hour of my life I can never get back."

"I'm sorry."

"I know," Heather mumbled. "I'm mostly glad you're not dead."

A smile tugged at the corner of Meghan's lips. "Me too."

Heather uncrossed her arms and tugged at the edge of her jacket before finally bursting out with, "You know, last I checked, I was at the prime age for teenage rebellion, not you."

"I missed the cut-off?"

"Yeah," Heather affirmed, "so you're gonna have to get your shit together. I need obsessive planner bossy-pants know-it-all Meghan, not impulsive runaway Meghan."

"Got it," Meghan replied. "I'll remind you of that next time I tell you to vacuum."

Heather scoffed out a laugh, and said, "You know you're grounded until you're like, thirty, now?"

"Thirty?" Meghan asked. "That's the best news I've gotten all day. I had heard fifty."

"I was factoring in parole for good behavior," the teen explained, finally leaving her place in the doorframe to sit down beside Meghan, all but throwing herself back on the bed.

Meghan bounced in place as the mattress rippled with Heather's arrival. "Ah, that explains it."

Heather's smirk faded as she studied Meghan closely, grasping her hand lighting and rubbing at a darker spot — apparently she hadn't gotten it all off in the shower. "You killed one?"

"Yeah," the word felt dry on her tongue, and she stopped to wet her lips briefly before continuing, her eyes drifting down. "Caitlyn."

Heather didn't respond, most likely trying to remember who Caitlyn was. When she did, she gave a quiet sigh, dropping her hand. "Shit. I'm sorry."

"It's nothing," Meghan muttered, playing with the key charm. "It's just...I keep trying to remember what she looked like before, but all I end up seeing is what happened, and the blood..." she trailed off, shaking her head to herself. "The last memory I have is of her as a monster," she ended up stating. "And now I can't get it out."

Heather's lips pressed together, twisting up in concentration before she spoke, "Make a new one."

Heather opened her jacket to retrieve the black sketchbook Meghan had all but forgotten about packing, and handed it over. "I thought you could use something to take your mind off whatever happened back there," she revealed. "Maybe it'll help with the whole Caitlyn thing, too."

"Remind me how I got so lucky to have the world's best sister?" Meghan questioned.

"Oh, this isn't free," Heather pointed out. "I expect you to handle dish duty for the next week for this. You got a therapy session when you got back, and I got an hour of hell. You owe me."

"Got it," Meghan huffed out a laugh. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, my humble servant," Heather grinned. It faded into something more genuine, her eyes creasing as she nudged her side with her elbow. "Are you okay?" her voice was softer.

Meghan's fingers ran over the sketchbooks bumpy cover. "I will be."

➸  ➸  ➸

Katie walked up to the Clark-Manawa-Salazar home, quickly striding to the front door before hesitating, and briefly checking the block for any sign of military patrol. Confident she wouldn't be caught, she knocked at the door.

The door swung open, and she was met by Madison, who immediately began talking as soon as she saw her. "I talked to Alicia — Meghan's on her way home, you don't have to worry about her, she's safe."

"I know, she's with Heather right now, I wanted to make sure you knew so you didn't have to keep tearing up the neighborhood," Katie said, attempting to insert some lightness into her speech. "I came over to let you know, and thank you for helping."

"It's no problem, really," Madison maintained.

"I also have something for the Salazars, are they around?" Katie asked, checking briefly around Madison.

"They're right inside, I'll get Daniel," Madison said, leaving her out on the steps and entering the house before Katie had a chance to reply.

Katie's hands gripped the backpack tighter as she checked again for a patrol. It wasn't quite time for curfew yet, but they were cutting it close enough. As the durable fabric twisted in her hands, she reflected on the family they were risking so much for.

The Salazars had always been polite, albeit distant, in their interactions. Their only true connection was through their children, as Meghan had struck up a friendship with their daughter, Ofelia. Katie had the sense that despite their difference in age, with Ofelia in her late twenties and Meghan at nineteen, the two were rather similar in development. Both dedicated to their respective families; homebodies with little experience in the outside world. Even with almost two semesters under her belt at UCLA, Meghan had retained those traits  — reserved around strangers, and stubborn, set in her ways.

She'd had little interaction with Griselda, the woman being bound to her bed due to the nature of her injury, while Daniel spent little time outside, hovering around the Clark home and tending to his wife. Still, despite his reserved nature, Katie sensed he knew more about their situation than he let on.

It didn't make them friends, and Katie would rather not put themselves out for anyone who wasn't a blood relative. However, Meghan had gone out of her way specifically to get the medicine for Ofelia's mother, Griselda, and it would be wrong for them to keep it when Griselda's life depended on her treatment. It didn't matter that they weren't family, it was the right thing to do.

A couple minutes later, Daniel's face, lined with puzzlement, appeared in the doorway.

"Katie," he greeted her, though he seemed confused. "What brings you over here so late?"

"I know that your wife has been needing antibiotics," she started, and slipped the backpack off her shoulder, unzipping it before handing it over to Daniel. "I don't know if they're the right kind, but hopefully they'll help."

Daniel took the backpack and began to sift through the various medications Meghan had managed to stuff inside — there had to be at least twenty, and would doubtlessly help in Griselda's recovery. He picked out one bottle, cradling the medication in his hands like it was gold. "Where did you get this?" he asked. His dark eyes flitted up to search her face. "The soldiers?"

"No," Katie said, then hesitated. Could she trust Daniel not to say anything? He'd expressed his doubt towards the soldiers already, and didn't leave the house.

If there was anyone she could trust, it would probably be him. And if he did end up outing them, she'd lie.

Her decision made, she met his gaze, and admitted, "Meghan got it. Went beyond the fence to grab some supplies we'd dropped before the military moved in. She figured she'd make a stop for Griselda while she was out."

"That was kind of her," Daniel said, placing the medication back in the bag before zipping it closed. "She's a brave girl."

"Wish she was a little less brave," Katie muttered, almost to herself, before turning back to Daniel. "You're not going to—"

"I won't tell them where we got it," Daniel assured her. "Meghan's secret is safe with me."

Katie nodded. "Thank you," she said.

Before she turned down the steps to take her leave, Daniel caught her arm with his free hand, and leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"Outside — beyond the fence — what did she see?" he asked. Katie hesitated, and Daniel pressed. "I saw her face coming back, when she was returning that girl, Alicia's, bike. She saw something out there, something that scared her, and it wasn't the dead ones. So what was it?"

Katie looked around furtively, scanning the street for soldiers, and Daniel got the message, ushering her inside. Her boots felt like they echoed with every step she took on the rough stone tile. Navigating carefully around the eclectically decorated living room, she took a seat on the tan couch, and Daniel sat beside her, watching as she fiddled with her hands, twisting the fabric of her blouse absentmindedly in her worry.

For his part, Daniel was refreshingly patient — as if he was well-versed in handling people who weren't ready to speak. He simply sat next to her, eyes never straying from her face, and waited silently for her words.

Katie took a breath, and began.

"Bodies," she admitted, bringing her anxious hands to a standstill as she clasped them in her lap. "Not just the infected — she said there were people there, too. Ones that hadn't turned, shot in the medical center, maybe a day old."

"How far out was this?" he questioned, not missing a beat.

"About twenty miles out," she responded, her voice sounding brittle in her ears. "But there were ones closer — within the six-mile radius, even."

Daniel watched as she spoke, his face showing no signs of surprise Katie might expect from a revelation such as this. It was resigned — as if this was something he had been anticipating for a long time.

When he spoke again, his voice was even and deliberate. "When I was young, these men — these men were from the government. They came to our town and they took some people away. And my father was someone of certain importance in the community, so he went to speak to the captain and asked, 'When will they return?' And the captain told my father, 'Miguel, don't worry. They always come home.' And they did."

Daniel's eyes hardened, and he continued, his tone never shifting away from solemnity. "I was standing in the river fishing. Just a boy. And I found them. All of them. All at once. All around me. In the water." Katie's eyes widened, and she took in a sharp intake of breath as the meaning behind his words sank in.

Daniel waited until she met his gaze again, and continued. "My father told me not to have hatred in my heart. He said that men do these things not because of evil; they do evil because of fear," the man's voice dropped, colder when he spoke again. "And at that moment, I realized my father was a fool for believing there was a difference."

He met her gaze, mouth tightening as he imparted his knowledge on the woman. "If it happens," he said carefully, "it will happen quickly and you must be prepared."

"We have supplies," Katie said, shocked by his words. She put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "We have a place in Vermont," she shared. "It's safe, has access to food, water, weapons. We can take you, your family—"

"I appreciate that, I do," Daniel assured her. "But when the doctors come, I must stay with my wife," he hesitated, then took Katie's hand in his own, dark gaze pinning her to her spot. "If anything happens, you will take Ofelia there, and look after her for me." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Of course," Katie agreed immediately. Their conversation had cleared her doubts regarding where Daniel stood, and if their situations were reversed, she'd want her daughters with someone as level-headed as him. Besides, Ofelia was a good-natured woman who had watched out for both Meghan and Heather throughout their time there. She may have been older than both, but she was young enough to still need guidance and the protection of a family, especially in this world.

He patted her hand, shoulders relaxing at the woman's promise. "Thank you," he heaved a sigh of relief, and stood to leave. He paused by the door, turning back to Katie once more. "Your girls are strong," he commented. "Smart. That isn't always enough. Keep them close."

"I will," Katie said, and he nodded, leaving to go look after Griselda. After he disappeared down the hall, door closing behind him, Katie's shoulders slumped and she raked a hand through her dark hair. She wasn't the type of woman to be easily overwhelmed, but this brought in a slew of new challenges. It was already going to be hard enough to get to Vermont on their own, now they had to contend with a hostile military force in order to do so.

Absently, she wondered what would've happened if they hadn't returned to their rental in time, or if they had chosen someplace else to stay while picking Meghan up. She thought of the bodies her eldest had described, and shuddered to imagine how that could easily have been her family's fate.

There was strength in numbers, now. The dead were predictable, but too many and they would be overwhelmed. Not to mention the worse threat; people. Who were likely just as bad now as they had been before the apocalypse, if not worse. And three — potentially four, if Ofelia did end up joining them — women traveling alone would be easy pickings for whatever monsters lay ahead on the road to Vermont.

The trip was long before the world ended, as it is now, it would take weeks at best. Most likely longer, considering all the major roadways would be blocked off with cars, or the dead, or bandits. With time allotted for detours, stops, scavenging, and refueling, it would take months, which their supplies wouldn't last them for.

They needed a mode of transportation that could stand up to harsh conditions, and a consistent way to attain supplies throughout the journey.

Katie felt the low rumble of the military vehicle before she heard it, and watched out the Clark's living room window as a patrol passed them by, watching as the last of the Safe Zone residents filtered their way back into their homes before curfew set in.

Her lips pulled up in a smile as a plan began to form in her mind.

➸  ➸  ➸

And Nick continues to be a gremlin. 😂 

To be honest, it's fun to write the dynamic between them. Meghan is very strait-laced, and Nick is...anything but, which leads to some humor. However, right now Meghan doesn't really see that, so she's gonna be irked for awhile.

The breakdown scene between Katie & Meghan had been building up for awhile, I hope I portrayed it well. They do love each other, but mother-daughter relationships are complicated, especially in this world, so I wanted to show that. 

As always, hope you liked the chapter, and please vote/comment to let me know if you enjoyed!