lumy12

Page One Hundred Seventy-Nine

You see Joel's very defensive body posture and deduce that he needs help (unlike you, the man will not call for help no matter how badly he needs it). You rush in and leap on a Runner who's about to pile on, then you start slashing wildly at its throat while you cling to its back. You let go when it starts to fall, and you whirl around to see how Joel is faring -- just in time to see him crush a Runner's head into the ground with that sickening crunch sound that you've never really gotten desensitized to. There are only two left in the immediate vicinity. One for each of you. Easy peasy!

Thirty seconds later, you assess the carnage with satisfaction, then turn to Joel. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. You?"

"I'm good." You wonder if Joel would tell you if he wasn't... "Joel, if you got bitten, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. Can't hide somethin' like that." He chuckles. "All the fights we've been through, an' now you're wonderin' about that?"

"I've wondered before. Guess I just never wanted to ask." You also wonder why he didn't ask for help -- why he never asks for help -- but you think you know the answer: if he's in a weakened position where he can't help you out, he'd rather not pull you into the mess and risk you getting hurt. Which makes you feel a little guilty because you don't do that. If you're scared enough... if things are clusterfucked enough... you call for him.

But it's also possible you're giving him too much credit. It could be just his stupid macho pride, right? Yeah, let's go with that.

"Well, let's keep at it." Joel musses your (already-mussed) hair before looking around for a Runner to mark as his next victim. "We're only about halfway done."

You tighten your ponytail and look around for yours. "You should get those ones over there. They're more spread out. I can--"

"I got a little impatient there, I admit, but no need to baby me now."

"I wasn't! It just makes sense!"

"Calm down, I'm just givin' you shit. How 'bout I take the ones over there." He points to the same Runners you had earmarked for him.

You roll your eyes and turn to survey the ones on 'your' side. "If I run out of arrows, is it okay to just shoot them if you're almost done with yours?"

"...I s'pose."

You glance at him. "But you think I'm being lazy."

"Did I say that?"

"No, but I could tell by the way you said it that--"

"If there's one thing you ain't, it's lazy. Kill 'em however you see fit."

You move in closer, taking cover behind some shrubbery which feels like a safe, out-of-the-way place to launch arrows from. The last of your runners turns and starts heading in your general direction, and your stomach twists painfully: it looks like Danny!

The binoculars are still hanging around your neck; you raise them to your eyeballs for a better look...

If it's Danny, turn to page 254.

If it isn't, turn to page 259.