[all that's left are your walls and you'll die there]

╰┈➤ ❝ she decides god is no good, but he must exist, / he must exist, so she can hold him accountable. ❞
╰┈➤ the echo sounder, ada limón

THE THREE LEFT THE CABIN A MESS. Blood was splattered across the front of the building from the group that had attacked them. The room in the back was an atrocity. Moira's corpse lies in the bed, long dead and desecrated. A part of her hopes and prays they stumble upon her, that they relay the message back to Esther and tell her of their atrocities. If her little sister wanted to be such a cunt, Ruth could be a cunt right back. She wanted to not believe it, to think that there was some part of her sister still left in there. That she wouldn't send every Seraphite she could after them. Orders were to bring her back alive, - kill Ezekiel - so that she would face just judgement. In Esther terms, that meant she was going to be gutted and strung up at the gates of their camp. A reminder of those who stepped out of line, to those who thought about challenging them.

"Looks like we're nearing the city." Ezekiel spoke, staring at the map.

"Which city?"

"Cheyenne."

She slowly nodded, her hand reaching up to rub her face. Part of her knew they needed to stay away from the city, but they were dangerously close to running out of food. The city seemed to be their best shot. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she sighed. "We'll play it by ear. If we get close and see any red flags, we pull out."

"Ru," Ezekiel started, a frown on his lips, "we're maybe a day out from running out of food. We're splitting grapes at this point."

Her eyes stared at him, mimicking his frown. Cursing under her breath, she nodded. "Yeah, no, I know." She whispered. This wasn't what she expected when her and Ezekiel left. She didn't expect him to follow her. At most, maybe they'd go a few states away, part ways. But he's stuck through it all. And she has no idea why. She has no clue why he trusts her leadership, why he follows her. Why he's watched her commit atrocities against the people they used to call family and still considered her one of his.

"I could go ahead," their eyes are brought to Tommy, his frown matching theirs, "scout it out. Come back and tell y'all if it's safe 'r not."

She remained silent, thinking it over. After a moment of silence, she shook her head. "No, no. We're not splitting up. Not now." Chewing on her bottom lip, she felt her mind racing. She never signed up to lead them. Didn't choose to be their leader. But here they were, waiting for her command. "We go together. And we pull out if shit hits the fan. Got it?" Both men nodded, exchanging looks of skepticism behind her back.

Tommy adjusted the rifle hung from his shoulder as he followed the two down the broken road. Abandoned cars began to grow denser as they drew nearer to the city. Occasionally, she stopped to open one of the cars, root around the half empty bags left behind. She neared a silver SUV, flinging the back door open. Her body froze. A deep frown settled on her lips. A skeleton sat strapped to a car seat. The clothes had mostly rotted away, but the pattern of the fabric was still mostly visible. Winnie the Pooh smiled towards Piglet. Both Tommy and Ezekiel joined her side, looking in to see what had startled her. Ezekiel cursed under his breath, moving away from the car. Tommy stayed next to her, his eyes slowly moving to gauge her reaction. Her hand remained latched onto the handle of the car door. A deep frown was painted on her lips, accentuating the lines in her face - the jagged, aged scars. After another silent moment, she shut the car door, taking a shaky breath. Her eyes darted towards him. "We should keep moving." She managed to choke out before turning away from him and the car and catching up with Ezekiel. Tommy looked back towards the SUV, his own frown deepening.

Her hands were shaky at her side. The fabric was burned into her sight, all she could see when she blinked. If she thought hard enough, she could almost hear the child crying. But she tried not to think about it. Tried to think about anything but. "You alright?" Ezekiel's voice pulled her from her trance. Looking up to the tall man, she slowly nodded. His eyebrows raised in skepticism. He could see through her lie from a mile away. For all of their years together, he knew her in and out. For all of the missions they had done together, he noticed when she wasn't in the right headspace. "You sure?"

She nodded again. "Yeah, seeing that kid back there just... really fucked me up." She mumbled, her hands reaching up to wipe her face, rub her eyes with the heels of her hands. Everything felt like it was all caving in on her. People depended on her now. It was easier when she thought none of them cared whether she lived or died. But now they looked to her. Waited on her instructions. Actually listened to her. Biting the inside of her cheek, she let out a breath through her nose. Broken asphalt crunched under her boots. The cracks and pops of each rock did little to settle the growing pit that formed in her stomach. Her mind remained stuck on other things; things she wasn't particularly proud of. Dark eyes glance over to Ezekiel - the starkest reminder of her past. The one person who had seen her commit atrocities, all in the name of community. All in the name of something to believe in in the face of constant tragedy. No matter how she tried to rationalize it to herself, it never worked. She was always a monster - always was and always will be. That's the worst part of it all. She can sit here and save people and be kind and help Ezekiel and Tommy, but it will never be enough. It will never be enough to stop whatever festers inside her. Is it rage? Is it poison? All she sees when she looks in the mirror is an open wound, oozing with pus and blood and anger. She fears that she has become whatever might be the opposite of King Midas. That everything she touches turns to rot. She, herself, is doomed to rot.

She wonders if maybe she is doomed to the same fate as the infected that run around, as the "demons." If the children back in Seattle are being taught that her and Ezekiel are now demons. Demons to be slain on sight. Her mind pictures Alice, Michael, Yara and her newborn sibling that Ruth hadn't gotten to meet. All of these little kids who had loved her, had shouted her name and jumped into her arms as they all giggled. Now harbored a deep hatred for her. Now being taught to shoot her on sight. "Do you think Esther is gonna come after us?" She asked, staring ahead at the broken city slowly coming into view. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Ezekiel look at her with furrowed eyebrows. A shaky breath escaped her lips as she tried her best to avoid his gaze. It's difficult enough knowing that he's looking at her, trying to read her mind. A feat that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. But she's worried that meeting his eye will break her mask, break the face that she was trying her best to put on. She didn't want to cry, couldn't. Not in front of some guy she'd known for barely a week.

"I doubt it," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders, his eyes boring into her, "she's too valuable. Plus, she's a coward. Wouldn't come all this way even if she wanted to." His grip on the metal bar tightened. Bits of flesh and blood and hair glued to it. Had become one with the metal. The metal itself had become rusted from the weather, almost looking like blood itself at a glance. Most days, he'd felt bad for Ruth. For everything she had been through, everything she felt she had to do. He wonders if they were victims - if they'd be seen as victims of a vicious community that took advantage of them. Glancing back towards the man with the rifle, he frowned. "That was really nice of him to offer to scout ahead." He mumbled, quiet enough for just them to hear.

Her own eyes glanced back towards him. They remained stuck on him for a fleeting second, quickly ripping her gaze back to the road beneath their feet. "Yeah," she whispered with a frown, "guess he's just a nice guy." Whether it's sarcastic or not, even she isn't sure. It's been so long since she's spoken to anyone who wasn't a part of her group. Most others either converted or were gutted and strung up from a tree. It feels illegal, foreign, to speak to someone not bearing the same scars as her and Ezekiel. Like he was an outsider they were forbidden to speak to. But here they were, still alive; they hadn't burst into flames yet. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she sighed through her nose. She wished she could go back, change it all. Let Esther join that stupid group alone. She wished she would've opted to be gutted with the rest of the defectors. Save herself from a lot of trouble. Save all of them from a lot of trouble. "How many d'you think are left up in Seattle? They've sent, what, five squads after us? She's losing people quickly. They have to cut their losses soon."

It's what she really hopes. Maybe it's a pipe dream, but it's something. Something to believe in. Something to hope for. Hope. Something she hasn't felt long before the end of the world even came about. Something she needs to keep her going. It's been so long since she's felt anything like that. She'd all but given up when she was with the Seraphites. It had all begun to weigh down on her, reminding her of her place in the food chain. That she was a no one. That she didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. That Esther resided above her - the younger sister become the alpha. A deep part of her regretted being so harsh with her sister growing up. Maybe then this wouldn't have happened. Maybe she wouldn't have driven the woman into the open arms of the fuckers that called for sinners to be gutted and skinned. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she stared ahead. It wasn't fair, she thought to herself. What they did was good. They rid the world of a horrible man. A man that took advantage of the needy, of the vulnerable. Yet they were the ones being punished. They were the ones being chased and attacked. It wasn't fair, would never be fair. But she'd learned quickly that her life would never be fair. She found at an early age that fate had not been on her side. That the noose had been tied around her neck since day one. Her own cells know that she is not meant for this world. It's why they fight against her at every turn. They scream at her to give in, to give up. To throw herself to the wolves. It's her stubborn nature that refuses to do so.

"Esther's resilient." His voice brings her out of her swirling whirlwind of thoughts. A soft nod is the only response she can muster. Her sister was resilient. A monster of her own making. A hard-headed bitch just like her. "Prophet knows if they're still recruiting. Not sure if they got a hold of that liberation group or not."

"If anyone could beat them, I'm sure it'd be her people." Ruth frowned at the image in her mind. Her little sister, blood streaking her face. Red hot hatred in her eyes. She wonders if that look is reserved for only her. Or if it's something their enemies also see. If it sends chills up their spine like it does Ruth's.

Tommy listened to them as he kept his eyes on the hills that surrounded them. All of these names remain unfamiliar to him. Who Esther was and who this group they had been a part of remained a mystery. But part of him felt too nervous to ask. He'd thought about asking Ezekiel, finding the man a less intimidating presence. But he always bit his tongue. It was never the right time. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he looked out over the expansive rolling hills around them. The highway was slowly leading into the city. His guard was up, lifting his rifle higher to his chest. Though he couldn't help his eyes finding their way to the back of her head. Watching the way pieces of her black hair fell from the messy bun she'd tied it up in. If she didn't remind him so much of Joel, he might like being around her. But he'd stayed for a reason. What reason that was, he still wasn't sure. Safety in numbers? Was he just lonely? Or did he see something in them that drew him closer? Chewing the inside of his cheek, his eyes fell to her hands. One hand held her bloodied axe while the other visibly shook before curling into a tight fist. The two ahead began to speak lower, barely above a whisper. Whatever they were discussing, they did not want him hearing. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched them walk closer. He wondered what they were. If they were together or not. His mind harkened back to when he'd entered that back room in the cabin. How Ezekiel's arm had pulled her back away from Tommy in case he attacked them. The amount of times Joel had done that for him, for Tess. A small frown crept onto his lips at the memory of his older brother. It would be a lie to say that he didn't miss the man. Maybe a part of him regrets leaving him behind.

A sudden force pushes him back, a deep wildfire spreading across his shoulder. He landed on his back on the broken pavement. Through blurry vision, he can see Ezekiel and Ruth duck. His ears are ringing and the burning in his shoulder is becoming more painful. Ruth rushes over to him, speaking. But her words are jumbled and muffled. He groaned as her hand pressed to his shoulder. A shot rang out, the bullet ricocheting off of one of the cars by them. Rounding behind him, her arms wrap under his and drag him up against one of the cars. "You remember how to shoot one of these?" She called out to Ezekiel, nodding towards Tommy's rifle on the ground, still in the middle of the road. The man remained behind one of the cars two away from them. Glancing down at the rifle, he simply shook his head. Cursing under her breath, she huffed with frustration. Her foot reached out towards the rifle in a vain attempt to drag it closer. Another shot rang out, hitting the pavement just a few feet left of her foot. Flinching back, she cursed again. Panting, she quickly lunged forward, grabbing the rifle and flinging herself back against the side of the car. Holding the rifle tight against her chest, she glanced back over to Tommy. His face contorted in pain as his hand held his wounded shoulder.

Staring down at the rifle, she tried her best to recollect how to even use one. It had been so long - so many wasted years. None of it stuck out to her. Turning her head, she peaked out from behind the car. Another shot, whizzing by her head. She quickly ducked back down. "Apartment building to the right. Maybe the roof." She whispered to herself. Her hand reached around the rifle, her finger settling on the trigger. It was difficult to work up the courage to look back over the car. Taking a sharp breath, she lifted the rifle and set it on top of the trunk of the car. Another shot that hit the pavement to her left. Looking down the scope of the rifle, she looked around the roof of the building ahead. Another shot, this time hitting the roof of the car she knelt behind. Her scope caught a glimpse of a glint of light. Aiming just above it, she pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked back into her shoulder harshly. Gritting her teeth, she watched the roof to see if she'd hit her target. Another shot rang out, the bullet hitting the side of the car. "Fuck." She hissed as she aimed higher this time. Pulling the trigger, she grunted at the kickback. She pushed herself up further to get a better grip. But as she did, another shot rang out. This bullet scraped past her shoulder with fury. Yelling out, she looked through her scope again and aimed a little to the left of the source of the gunfire. The rifle slammed into her bad shoulder.

Falling back against the car, she prayed she'd finally hit her target. If she hadn't, they might have to call their losses and retreat. This could either be a lone gunman, or maybe even a sniper for another group. She, frankly, would not like to find out. Her hand reached up to her shoulder, feeling for the wound. It was just a graze, she thanked the Prophet. Glancing back over to Tommy, she could see him attempting to stop the bleeding with the sleeve of his flannel. Peeking back over the edge of the car, she waited for the gunfire, but heard none. Letting out a quiet whistle, Ezekiel was quick to turn to her. Her hand waved him over. With a hesitant look, he slowly began to crawl along the edge of the car before bolting towards her. Once again, no gunfire. When he neared her side, he crouched next to her. "I either got 'em or they're movin' somewhere else. Either way, we need to find somewhere to hunker down. Night's comin' and we got'ta look at Tommy's shoulder."

Ezekiel nodded with her words, looking over to the bleeding man. He frowned deeply as he pulled Tommy's hand away from the wound to get a better look at it. Leaning him forward, he found himself slightly relax at the sight of an exit wound. "Exit wound. At least we don't have to go digging for bullets."

Her eyes searched for anywhere close that they could lie low. Cursing under her breath, all she could see were hills of grass. The closest place to rest would be in the city. "We have to go into the city."

"What?!" Ezekiel snapped, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed.

"That's the closest we can get somewhere to rest. Unless you wanna trek all the way back with him bleeding out."

The two stared each other down in defiance. His eyes glanced between her and a barely conscious Tommy. After a fleeting moment, he finally relented with a sigh. Nearing the man, his arm wrapped around Tommy's waist on his uninjured side and lifted him from the ground. Holding the rifle tight to her chest, Ruth led them towards the city. They moved as quick as they could. Her eyes darted around, searching for the sniper that might still live. Her heart pounds against ribcage so harshly that she almost fears it breaking through. Wouldn't that be a way to go. At least she'd know that she had a heart. A final way to discern if she were human or not. Some days she worried what the answer might be. If maybe there was something inside her that her sister saw first. Some reason that the babe had cried every time they were too close. Chewing a hole into the inside of her cheek, she finally caught sight of an old comic book shop. It'll do, she thought to herself.

The three stumbled their way inside, boots crunching over the broken glass towards the back room. Holding her rifle out, she pushed the door of the back room open. Her rifle entered first, scoping out the large stockroom for anyone else that might have had the same idea. When she comes up empty-handed, she almost lets out a breath of relief. She let out a soft whistle, Ezekiel whistled back in response as he entered the room. Gently setting Tommy down, the two made quick work of barricading the door. She threw her backpack off of her shoulders and began digging around. Tossing out bandages, she watched Ezekiel do the same, pulling out a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. Ruth scoots over to Tommy, crawling on top of him to straddle his lap. Her hands are pulling flannel off, careful around the bleeding wound. She thanks the Prophet that he's wearing a tank top. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as she gently runs her finger along the swelling flesh of the wound. "I'm sorry." She mumbled as she held the bottle of alcohol over it, a gentle stream pouring out onto it. Gritting his teeth, his hand is quick to grab her thigh and squeeze. She can feel a bruise already forming under his fingers. Once the blood is diluted to a dull pink, she can finally see the extent of the injury. Not as bad as they'd thought. Grabbing the bandages, she pressed the gauze to the front of his wound. "Medical tape." She held her hand out to Ezekiel. Quiet shuffling could be heard from behind her as he looked through her pack. The tape was set in the palm of her hand. She taped the gauze to his shoulder before leaning him forward. "Sorry, soldier." She muttered as she repeated her steps again on his back wound. He took this one better, his hands still digging into her thigh. Taping the gauze to his shoulder blade, she grabbed the bandage wrap and began wrapping his entire shoulder.

A deep sigh escaped her lips as she set him back against the wall and stumbled back. "Thank you." Tommy mumbled, exhaustion laced in his voice. His eyes could barely stay open long enough to even look at her. A frown settled on her lips as she watched him slink in and out of consciousness. Her eyes turned to Ezekiel, a faint worry behind both of them. With a soft sigh, she began stuffing her remaining supplies back into her pack. Setting the pack on the floor, she neared Tommy, gently moving him onto the floor, resting his head on the pack. Picking up his blood-soaked flannel, she lied it on top of him in a makeshift blanket. Better than nothing, she thought to herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Ezekiel smiling at her.

"I'll take the first watch." She spoke without looking at him. Picking the rifle up, she settled her back against one of the metal shelves that reached the ceiling. Ezekiel sent her one final smile before settling down on the floor for some rest.