#it’s all Joel and Ellie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daryltwdixon · 30 days ago

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Summary: You find a familiar stranger waiting outside your house, asking for your dad, and eventually, a car. Reluctantly, you agree to help, but what seems like a simple task quickly turns dangerous as you face infected and navigate the town outside your familiar neighborhood. The mission becomes a fight for survival, testing your trust and endurance.

warnings: violence against infected, lots of action in this chapter.

a/n: long chapter, sorry! so much going on. closer to game canon.

The stupid truck broke down the next day.

“Damn thing,” you mutter, slapping the wheel as the blue truck sputters to a halt outside the small storefront. So much for painting the house today. There was no way you’d make it back with everything you needed. The only reason you even cared was because Frank would’ve rolled in his grave if he saw the chipped paint on the front door or the shutters, more green than gray after weeks of rain.

With a resigned sigh, you grab your bow and quiver, hop out, and pop the hood. One glance tells you the problem: the battery’s shot. Of course. You can almost hear your dad’s voice, gruff and irritated, reminding you to store it in the fridge. You didn’t. Now you’d earned yourself a long walk home in the midday sun.

By the time you turn onto your road, sweat clings to your forehead, and your legs ache. You barely have the energy to curse the heat anymore when something stops you dead.

There’s someone in your yard.

They’re just standing there, staring up at the house. Adrenaline spikes as you scan the area. The fences were secure this morning. None of the traps had gone off—you’d have heard them. So how the hell had they gotten in?

Gripping your bow tighter, you nock an arrow and step forward, heart pounding. But as you close the distance, you realize, with some relief, it’s not an infected—it’s not even a stranger.

You blink, stomach twisting. The only person you ever knew, apart from Frank and your dad, is standing on your lawn. He’s broader now, his frame heavier with age. His beard is thicker, streaked with gray, but that scowl on his face hasn’t changed a bit.

Joel fucking Miller.

And with him, a girl.

“Joel?” you croak, your voice catching as you lower the bow, though your grip remains firm.

He turns, startled, and his dark eyes sweep over you. Recognition settles in slowly, like it takes a moment for him to piece it together. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he mutters, his voice quieter than you remember. “You’ve grown up.”

“Yeah, well,” you deadpan, swallowing the tightness in your chest, “time does that to a person.” You narrow your gaze, lowering the string fully but keeping the bow in hand as you step closer. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

Joel looks at you with a deadpan expression, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Your dad gave me the code. Years ago.”

“Definitely doesn’t sound like something he’d do.” you mutter, suspicion creeping in. Your eyes dart to the girl beside him. She fidgets, glancing between you and Joel like she’s trying to read the tension in the air.

Joel shrugs, ignoring your tone. “What’s it been? Six, seven years?”

“Closer to seven.” You take a slow breath, your fingers flexing around the bowstring. “So, what are you doing here, Joel?”

He shifts his weight, gesturing vaguely toward the gate. “Came to ask your pop for a favor. Where is he?”

The question hits like a punch to the gut. For a moment, you can’t answer. “Um, he and Frank...” you say finally, the words thick in your throat as you try to form them. “They’re… gone.”

Joel’s expression softens, a flicker of something—regret, maybe guilt—crossing his face. The girl beside him shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting to the ground.

“Sorry to hear that, kid,” Joel says after a beat, his voice low.

You nod stiffly, forcing the ache in your chest to settle. “Right. Well… you hungry?”

The girl perks up instantly. “Starving!” she blurts, her face lighting up in contrast to the tension.

You can’t help a soft laugh, the awkward moment breaking slightly. Joel turns to glare at her, but she’s still smiling at you.

“Come on,” you say, moving past them toward the house, the gravel walkway crunching under your boots as you lead the way.

You maintain that this is just downright weird. Having people in your house. Talking, even. To someone who… responds.

“You’re welcome to shower, too. We still get hot water,” you say, motioning up the stairs.

The girl’s eyes light up, wide with amazement. “Awesome,” she whispers, scanning the house like she can’t believe her luck—lingering on the lights, the hum of the generator, and the sound of running water as you rinse your hands at the sink.

“Go on, get cleaned up,” Joel orders, his voice clipped. He takes her bag, and she shoves it into his hands without hesitation, bolting up the stairs two at a time.

“I’ll get her some clothes,” you say quietly, already moving toward the closet where you kept some of your old clothes that no longer fit. A simple red shirt with a black long sleeve, a pair of jeans that would probably fit her with a belt.

As you walk past Joel, you feel his eyes on you—not warm or curious, but assessing, like he’s sizing you up. It makes your skin flush in a way you can’t explain.

“You’ve got this place locked down pretty tight,” he mutters when you return from laying the clothes out for the girl upstairs. Not a compliment, not really. More of a statement of fact.

“Yeah,” you reply, keeping your voice even, “Someone had to.”

He grunts in response, leaning his weight against the counter as you move into the kitchen. You wonder if he knows how much he reminds you of your dad. That same gruff exterior, the same sharp eyes that seem to see too much. You’re not sure if you’re unsettled or comforted by it.

The silence between you and Joel grows heavier, almost suffocating. You busy yourself, lighting the stove, pulling out a pan, doing anything to avoid looking at him too much. But he doesn’t move, just stands there, arms crossed, watching you with that same unyielding intensity.

“So,” you say finally, just to break the quiet, “you and the girl… traveling together?”

“Yep,” he replies curtly, offering nothing more.

“She yours?” you ask, glancing at him. You don’t remember him ever mentioning a kid with Tess.

“Nope.”

Another beat of silence stretches between you. You study him for a moment, the lines on his face deepened by the dim light, before he finally says, “Just cargo. Her name's Ellie. Takin’ her to the Fireflies.”

“The what?” you ask, your brow furrowing at the unfamiliar name.

He exhales sharply, like he doesn’t have the energy for a full explanation but knows he has to give one. “Rebel group. Started out tryin’ to save the world—'find a cure’." he scoffs, "Freedom fighters against FEDRA. You know FEDRA, right?”

You nod, your gaze lingering on him as he speaks. His jaw tightens, his eyes clouding over as if he’s remembering something he’d rather not. There’s more to the story, you can feel it in the tension radiating off him, but you know better than to ask.

“And Tess?” you venture cautiously.

His frown deepens, his arms folding tighter across his chest. He shifts uncomfortably, his gaze skirting away from yours. “She’s fine,” he mutters, his tone clipped and final.

You don’t push, but his reaction lingers in the air, heavy and telling. Whatever “fine” means to Joel, it’s not the full truth. You smile weakly and eventually give in to the quiet. The smell of roasting chicken and garlic fills the air, and you catch Joel glancing toward the oven, his expression softening just a hair. He doesn’t say anything, though, just stays rooted in place like a sentry.

Ellie thunders back downstairs a little while later, her hair damp and sticking to her cheeks, wearing the clothing you left out for her, “This place is insane!” she announces, plopping into a chair. “Hot water? Electricity? Real food? You’ve got it all.”

Joel grunts, but his expression remains as unreadable as ever. You set a plate in front of Ellie—bread, chicken, and a fresh salad with everything from your garden—and then one in front of Joel. He doesn’t thank you, just mutters, “Smells good,” before digging in.

You sit across from them, picking at your own plate as you watch Joel eat. He chews with the same grim determination as everything else he does, like the act of enjoying food would somehow cost him something. Ellie, on the other hand, is practically inhaling her meal, moaning softly as she tears into the bread.

“This is amazing,” she says around a mouthful of chicken. “Like, seriously. I forgot food could taste this good.”

You huff a small laugh, but Joel doesn’t even look up. “Slow down,” he mutters to Ellie, his tone sharp. “You’ll choke.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but does as he says, albeit reluctantly.

You push your food around your plate, not sure how to keep the conversation going. After a moment, you speak up, feeling the awkwardness in the air. “So why are you here, Joel?”

He chews thoughtfully, then meets your eyes, holding your gaze for a long beat. He leans back in his seat, wiping his mouth with the dark green napkin you’d set out for him.

“Well,” he begins, sucking his teeth, “I was hopin’ to ask your dad for a car.”

You nearly choke on your food. “A car?” The only one you had that still worked was that damn truck, and it’s sitting a mile away, just waiting to be picked clean.

Joel glances at you, waiting for your response. “So… that’ll be a ‘no,’ then?” he asks, his tone hesitant.

You swallow, collecting yourself. “I only got one working truck left, and it broke down this mornin’ before I saw you. But…” you trail off, thinking. “Dad kept extra parts around, across town. Pretty sure there’s a garage by the high school where he kept stuff. If we head over, we can grab a battery and get it in there by tonight, no problem.”

Joel looks at you for a moment, eyes narrowing. “You don’t need it?”

You shake your head. “I do.”

The room falls quiet for a moment, both of them waiting for you to elaborate. Finally, you put down your silverware, taking a breath before you continue. “Look, you're actually doing something good. With her, I mean,” you nod toward Ellie, your voice softening as you meet Joel’s gaze, “So I’ll get the truck fixed up for you, and I’ll figure something out for myself once you’re gone. There’s a couple other cars I could work on, get ‘em running with some effort.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t wanna take your only mode of transportation.”

You look at him, your tone steady. “You need it. I can tell.”

He studies you for a moment, brown eyes searching yours before he finally nods.

“So when do we go get that battery?”

You lean back, the question heavy on your mind. “We could go today, be back before sundown. But…” You hesitate.

“But what?” Joel asks, his voice low, his interest piqued.

You let out a long breath, looking at the two of them before speaking again. “It’s in a bad area. My dad didn’t like me going there, and he barely ever did himself. Only went if it was an emergency. He always said it was the safest place to store stuff if we ever got raided, but…”

Joel raises an eyebrow. “What’s the problem with it?”

“There’s a nest.”

“A…nest…?” Ellie asks, her eyes widening.

You nod, “Dad thought it’s like some sort of hideout for them, they’re everywhere.”

Neither Joel or Ellie had to ask what you meant by “they”.

You lead both Joel and Ellie down a narrow steps of the basement, the faint creak of the old wood above almost drowned out by the steady rhythm of your breath. At the end of the stairs, a thick steel door opens with a loud groan, revealing the bunker—your dad’s old workshop and storage. The smell of oil, metal, and rust hits you instantly, the air thick with the remnants of a life long gone. You pause by the wall of heavy machinery, your hand lingering over the cold metal as you assess the weapons lined up in front of you.

“If there’s any supplies you need, this would be the place to stock up. Help yourself.” you offer.

Joel steps in beside you, his gaze immediately locking on the shelves where various guns, knives, and ammo are neatly arranged. His eyes narrow as he surveys them, clearly weighing what might be useful.

“You okay?” Joel asks, his voice low when he turns and sees you examining the wall.

You nod, but the tension in your shoulders is still there. You grab a backpack and a rifle, its weight unfamiliar in your hands, not feeling quite right. You grimace, adjusting the strap as you shoulder it. “I prefer the bow,” you mutter.

Ellie, meanwhile, is practically bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide as she looks at the guns. “Seeing as it's just us...” she says, her voice almost playful, but there’s an edge to it, the unmistakable excitement of someone eager for a weapon.

“No,” you say, your voice firm, and it takes you a second to realize Joel said it at the same time, his tone just as sharp. Ellie holds up her hands in mock surrender, rolling her eyes, “okay, okay…”

After a moment, you turn to the wall, pulling a box of ammo from one of the shelves and loading the rifle. The metal feels heavy in your hands, and the weight of the decision to carry it makes you uneasy.

Joel is already grabbing a long range shotgun with a scope and a box of ammo, his movements steady and practiced. As he slides the gun around his chest, he loads his smaller pistol into the holster at his side, his gaze flicks to you, his brow furrowed. The silence stretches for a moment as Joel watches you. Then he nods, and without another word, he turns and heads toward the door.

“Let’s get moving,” you say, tone as steady as ever, walking out the front door.

Once you're out of the safety of your gates, the air smells stale, the scent of rot mixing with the distant remnants of the world that used to be. The neighborhood is quiet, too quiet, and every step you take feels like it could be the last.

You take a deep breath, pushing down the creeping paranoia that seems to grow with every second you’re out here. You’ve been through this town before, sure, but not in a long time, not without your dad, and never like this—everything feels unfamiliar, even though it’s a place you thought you knew.

“We just gotta push through a couple houses up here, down through the church, and out the back. Then we’ll be in the schoolyard. Be ready for anything,” you whisper, your voice low but steady.

Joel gives a sharp nod, his eyes scanning the area as he moves into position. Ellie’s behind you, her footsteps a little too heavy for your liking, but you can’t exactly blame her—this place is unsettling for all of you.

You glance over your shoulder, catching Ellie’s eye for just a second before you slide through a broken window into the house. The frame is twisted, the edges jagged, and it takes some effort to climb through without cutting yourself. You land lightly on the other side, your boots sinking into the dirt and overgrown weeds. The place is a mess—abandoned long ago, windows boarded up, and furniture toppled.

Frank would’ve had a fit about this. You can almost hear his voice in your head, nagging about how this place could’ve been cleaned up. He always wanted everything in its place, kept tidy, even when it seemed pointless.

But that was before. When he was here. Not that you care enough to waste any of your resources on this ruin.

You make your way through the house, stepping over debris with practiced ease, and signal to the others to follow.

Once Joel and Ellie are inside, you give a quick nod, pointing toward the back door. “This way.”

Joel’s already moving, his hand hovering near the gun at his hip. His eyes never stop scanning the space around you, and for a second, you wonder if he feels the same unease you do. But he doesn’t show it—just keeps moving, calm, like he’s done this a hundred times before.

You all move through the house, making your way toward the back door. The wood creaks under your weight, and the faintest sound of something scratching at the walls makes you freeze for a second. Your heart hammers in your chest, but you don’t say anything. You’ve learned not to overreact to every little sound—it could be nothing.

But it doesn’t stop the feeling crawling up your spine.

Finally, you make your way out onto the roof on the other side of the house, pausing to survey the courtyard below. You gesture with your hand, your voice low but clear.

“Alright, through this area, there’s gardens before we hit the church. It’s a bit of a maze, so stay close and keep your ears open. You’re lucky we haven’t run into any of them yet.”

You start to descend the overgrown fauna below, moving cautiously. Then, just as you’re about to reach the ground, the noise pierces through the air. That click. That unmistakable, haunting click. The sound that’s been in your nightmares for weeks. The one that freezes your blood and makes every muscle in your body tense.

You stop dead in your tracks, quickly turning around. With one hand, you press a finger to your lips, signaling for silence, and with the other, you gesture toward the other side of the overgrown brick wall. The wall is tall, covered in moss and vines, flowers dotting the cracks between the bricks.

Clicker, you mouth. Ellie’s eyes widen, but Joel takes a deep breath, nodding.

Getting low, you crouch and move forward, peering around the gate. There they are—two Clickers. Their faces, nearly consumed by fungus, are unrecognizable, with only their limbs resembling something human. Green, pink, and yellow growths where their eyes and noses once were now serve as a grotesque reminder of what they’ve become. They can’t see, but god, they can hear. Echolocation, using the clicks and guttural noises that bounce off walls—make even the slightest sound, and they’ll be on you.

You glance at Joel, then back at the Clickers. The air feels stiflingly heavy with the sound of their inhuman clicks, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Slow. You move slow, agonizingly slow, as you inch through the gate, keeping your body low. Your fingers graze a piece of brick that’s fallen from the mossy wall. You pick it up carefully, eyes never leaving the Clickers as they move in circles, completely oblivious to your presence for now.

When you see the perfect moment, you throw the brick, the sound of it hitting the far end of the courtyard loud enough to catch their attention. You draw your bow in one fluid motion, an arrow nocked and ready. If you just make this strong enough, you could potentially aim it through both of their heads at once. Might lose an arrow over it, but worth it for you.

Joel’s eyes are locked on you now, his focus unwavering. You can feel the weight of the moment—the pressure to get it right. You breathe in, your aim steady as you watch the two Clickers rush to investigate the noise. As they move into position, you release the arrow.

The shot is clean, precise. The arrow drives straight through the first Clicker’s head, sending it tumbling forward, the momentum carrying it into the second, pinning both of them together.

“That…” Ellie’s whisper meets your ear, “Was…. Awesome.”

You can’t help the ghost of a smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, but you stay focused. “Right, well, there’s definitely more of those assholes.” You turn back to Joel, lowering your bow. “And I’m not wasting all my arrows on them than needed. You got a knife?”

Joel’s still watching the downed Clickers, his eyes flitting between them and you. Then, without a word, he pulls out his homemade shiv, the blade worn but sharp enough.

“Better than nothing.” you say looking at it, and he rolls his eyes, scoffing.

You move swiftly through the courtyard, your boots barely making a sound as you pass the stone fountain in the center. The once-pristine structure is now a jungle of overgrowth and rot, a sad reminder of a world long gone. You don’t stop to look at it, though—there’s no time for distractions.

Ahead, the gate looms. You pull out the keys, keeping them pressed tightly in your hand to avoid any jingle, and rise up to unlock it. The metal groans as you push the gate open, but it’s Once Joel and Ellie slip through, you close it behind them, the sound of the latch clicking into place strangely loud in the stillness. You’re not sure how much longer you’ve got before something hears you, so you don’t waste any time.

Ahead, two Infected are hunched over, twitching in some half-rest, their bodies contorted and unnatural. The sight makes your stomach turn, but you can’t afford to hesitate. You wouldn’t be getting any sleep the next few nights if you made it through this.

You turn to Joel, your eyes meeting his with a silent understanding. You mime your plan quickly, knowing he doesn’t need a full explanation, just confirmation. You hold two fingers down into your open palm, directing him to sneak up on the creatures ahead. Then, pointing to his shiv, direct him to use it on the one on the right. Then, you gesture to yourself, drawing your knife with practiced ease, and point to the Infected on the left.

Joel watches your hands carefully, his expression unreadable. He glances up at you one last time, meeting your gaze for a split second before giving a small, nearly imperceptible nod. You return it, then drop into position.

The two of you move forward without a sound, careful not to let the ground betray you. You’re close now, the heavy foresty, damp earth smell of the fungus wafting off of them, almost suffocating. Their twitching bodies are oblivious to your presence, but that won’t last long.

You reach them before Joel, though he’s only a step behind. His shiv is ready, and you feel the faintest pressure in your chest as you watch him close the distance. One clean move, and it’ll be over for it.

On your side, the Infected on the left twitches again, its face a grotesque mess of fungus and decay, but it doesn’t hear you coming. You’re almost there.

You exchange one final glance with Joel, a silent confirmation between the two of you that it’s time. You strike at the same moment, both knives sinking deep into the Infected’s skulls in one fluid motion. No sounds. No mess. Just done.

You stay crouched over the bodies once they hit the ground, chest still tight with adrenaline, eyes scanning the area for any more movement. There’s no time to linger. You motion for Joel and Ellie to keep moving.

You move through the garden with practiced silence, each step deliberate as you take out the Infected one by one. Sometimes it’s a clean strike with a knife, other times you skirt around them, keeping to the shadows and staying out of their reach. The quiet is unnerving, but it’s necessary. One wrong sound, and this all goes south.

You breathe a little easier when you reach the other side of the garden, the familiar structure of the church looming ahead, its colorful windows glinting almost like a sense of safety. Almost.

You pause, letting the silence settle before you speak, your voice low but steady. “My dad kept some things in here for explosives—Molotovs, nail bombs, you name it. I’m gonna grab a few things, and then we’ll head out again. You guys good?”

You give them both a quick look, and when they nod, step inside the church, your boots echoing slightly in the still air. The shelves and corners are lined with the supplies your dad left behind—bottles of alcohol, nails, makeshift explosives. You grab a few Molotovs and a couple nail bombs, tucking them carefully into your pack.

As you finish up, Ellie’s voice breaks the silence, her tone quieter than usual. “Those things... they’re freaky, huh?”

You look over at her, catching her eyes for a brief moment. There's no fear there, but you can see the unease lingering in the way she stands. "Yeah, they're something else," you say, your voice low. "But we made it through, didn't we?"

Ellie gives a small, tight smile, nodding. “Yeah. For now.”

Joel looks between the two of you, his face unreadable as always, but you know he’s just as relieved as you to be moving on. “Let’s get going then,” he says, his voice calm, steady.

With the supplies secured, you head back toward the door, ready to face whatever else comes next.

You turn to them, keeping your voice low but clear. “Okay, through here, there’s some cars. We’ll use them to hide behind—there’s a lot of them that can see here. They get more riled the closer we get to the school, at least from what I remember. Might have to make some noise, but we’ll be fine if we keep our wits about us, yeah?”

Joel swallows, then nods. “I got your back.”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, feeling the weight of his words. “And I got yours.” After a beat, you glance at Ellie. “Stay close.”

Ellie nods, her face set, and you adjust the strap on your bag before moving forward. You enter the large schoolyard, the familiar sight of broken-down buses bringing back memories of years ago. You spent hours siphoning parts with your dad, before the yard got overtaken by the nest inside the school.

You crouch behind a wall, nocking an arrow. The creature ahead is unaware, its back to you. But before you release, you feel a tap on your arm. You drop your bow and glance at Joel.

Going over here and I’ll go meet you on the other side, he partially mimes with his hands and says softly under his breath. You follow his gaze, then nod in silent agreement.

You adjust your grip on the bow, hearing Joel’s footsteps fade to your right. You wait, focus sharp as you pull back and release. The infected goes down easily with little to no sound and you peer around at the others nearby. Two more are to your right, and the other three are on the other side of a chain link fence, if Joel manages to take out the two he’s aiming for with stealth.

You see him move—silent, calculated. His biceps strain in the sunlight as he grabs one of the Infected by the neck, twisting and pulling it to the ground with practiced ease. One down, with no noise, no fuss.

With that, you move forward, quick and silent. You pull your knife from your belt and plunge it into the head of the Infected in front of you. It drops without a sound. You spin and hide behind a bus just in time as the second one hears you.

You wait, breath steady, before the creature rounds the bus, oblivious. You pounce, knife flying, embedding into its skull before it even has time to react.

Finally, you meet up with Joel, your back pressed against the side of a short yellow bus. Your breath comes in quick, heavy gasps, but you force yourself to steady it, letting the adrenaline subside just enough for a moment. Behind the vehicle, you can hear the faint, strained breaths of more of them, riled and restless. You don’t have much time. You can handle a few if you make a run for it, but you don't want any nearby hearing you.

Ellie’s eyes flick between you and Joel, her body tense, waiting for the next move.

“Alright,” you say, your voice low but firm. “If we take a right here, and go over that truck,” you point to the chain-link fence opposite, pushed in by another vehicle with a climbable bed in the back, away from the remaining Infected, “we can avoid these guys. But we need to be fast. That’ll get us around the school and to the house where the garage with the extra supplies is.”

Joel, catching his breath, nods. “Sounds like the best option we’ve got. Let’s move.”

You move fast, heart pounding, feet shuffling the ground with urgency. The distance to the car is almost within reach, but as soon as your foot steps into the clearing, you hear it—aching yells, guttural growls, and shrieks echoing across the yard. A chorus of pain and hunger.

You freeze.

The Infected—more than you thought—are already turning toward you, spotting you within seconds of stepping out behind the bus. The sound of their calls fills the air like a warning siren to the rest that are hiding. The moment their eyes lock on you, they scream—loud, desperate calls that bounce off the walls of the schoolyard, alerting every creature in the vicinity. You feel your breath catch in your throat. The plan—hell, any plan—just fell apart.

“Go, go, go!” You shout, panic surging through you.

Ellie’s already moving, but you can hear the desperation in her footsteps, the same frantic rhythm in Joel’s as they rush toward the car. You run, but your gut twists with the feeling that they’re closing in too fast, the air heavy with the sounds of them coming after you.

You’re not going to make it to the car. You know it, feel it in your bones. Your eyes dart to the left, where the chain-link fence lies ahead.

“Joel!” You grab his arm, tugging him sharply as panic spikes through you. “Left! Now!”

You don’t wait for his answer. You can’t. The Infected are closer, already running toward you. The sound of their screams only grows louder, the shrieks and clicks mixing into a maddening symphony of death.

Joel reaches the fence first. He grabs Ellie’s leg, hoisting her up so she can climb over quickly. Then, he grabs you, shoving you up the chain-link with a firm push. You climb, your hands finding the gaps in the fence for grip as Joel follows, doing the same.

Ellie lands on the other side, already moving forward, while you scramble to get a grip going up. You scramble, adrenaline pushing you faster, and Joel boosts you over the top of the fence, his hands steady on your waist as he lifts you with surprising strength.

Once you get your legs over to the other side, you jump, hitting the ground hard, but there’s no time to recover. There’s already more on this side of the fence, and so you push yourself up, pulling Ellie along as you both run toward the nearest window, Joel right behind you.

The sounds of the Infected are deafening now, the shrieks of their painful calls only growing louder. You don’t dare look back. You round a corner of the side of the high school's classrooms, spotting a dumpster with a window open above it.

“Through the window!” you shout, urgency clawing at your throat.

Ellie’s already moving, squeezing through the small opening, her body sliding in with ease. You follow close behind, but the second your torso is through the gap, you feel something sharp grab onto your ankle.

A screech escapes you as you turn to see the twisted face of a man who is no longer human–fungus growing through his eyes and ears and splitting his scalp– its hands clamped tightly around your leg, pulling you back toward the ground. Panic surges through you. You kick out, trying to break free, but its grip is strong.

Before you can make another move, you hear the sound of a shotgun cocking, and a split second later, Joel’s shot rings out. The Infected’s head explodes, the force of the blast sending you flying forward.

Inside, you collapse to the floor, chest heaving, heart racing. You hear Joel’s quick footsteps behind you, the window slamming shut as he pulls himself through, his face flushed but focused. The classroom's walls rumble with the slamming of more infected against the window.

This was the last place you wanted to be stuck in.

"They’ll be able to push through that glass in any minute," Joel mutters, catching his breath, scanning the room.

You nod, still breathless. "We keep moving. We don't stop."

Ellie’s already on her feet, eyes wide but determined. "Let's go."

In the back of the room, you spot a set of double doors. Without hesitation, you push through, the cold metal of the door scraping against the frame. You shut it behind the three of you as quietly as possible, heart racing in your chest. Every sound, every creak feels like it could echo across the room, drawing attention to your every move. You don’t need to hear any more of those shrieks.

You knew what you were walking into, and you’d be damned if you let any more of those things hear you coming. The air in the hallway is thick, and the silence feels suffocating. You knew what you were walking into, and you’d be damned if you let any more of those things hear you coming. The air in the hallway is thick, the silence suffocating. You hold your breath for a moment, listening for any sign that you’ve been followed. The low, unsettling clicks and the sound of labored, painful breathing drift from up ahead.

You glance at Joel and Ellie, a quick, silent check-in. They’re close, eyes alert, waiting for your lead.

You give a small, subtle nod toward the hallway, your eyes scanning for any sign of safety. The school’s checkered floors are cracked and stained with time, the lockers rusted and open, papers and textbooks scattered across the floor like forgotten memories.

Up ahead, a Clicker paces back and forth, its clicks reverberating off the walls. You move fast, pulling your bow from your back, nocking an arrow with practiced ease. The shot is quick, clean. The arrow drives into the Clicker’s head with a soft thud, the creature collapsing silently to the floor.

Joel moves forward next, his eyes scanning the hallway as he spots a stray Infected wandering into the center. He doesn’t hesitate. His hands move with swift efficiency, grabbing the creature by the throat, choking it into submission until it drops to the floor.

You don’t miss a beat, drawing another arrow and letting it fly. It finds its mark, taking out another Infected in one smooth motion, the body crumpling without a sound.

The hallway feels heavier now, the tension thick in the air as you move forward, staying close, staying quiet. The school might be falling apart, but for now, you’re still fighting to stay one step ahead of the chaos that’s hunting you.

Through a classroom to your right, you hear more of them, this time a clicker and two fucking runners, so you had to both be silent and out of sight. Great.

Joel snags a beaker from the ground, tossing it across the room. The sound of shattering glass distracts the Infected, and you mentally praise him for his quick thinking. Without wasting time, you notch another arrow, taking careful aim. The Clicker’s head snaps back with the impact of your shot. It drops instantly, silent as the others continue to shuffle.

Moving forward with practiced stealth, you skirt around the desks, careful to avoid the broken glass scattered across the floor. As you approach one of the Infected, you draw your knife, throwing it with precision. The blade sinks into its head with a sickening thud, and it collapses without a sound. Meanwhile, Joel takes care of the other, his own knife flashing as it drives deep into the creature’s skull.

They’re down. You stand, your breath steady, and collect a few bits of resources from around the classroom including the arrow you managed to keep intact from the clicker's head. It’s been years since you’ve been in here, maybe you missed something useful. Anything.

You reach for another beaker, preparing for any distractions you might need later. Then, you rifle through the drawers, checking for anything you can use—chemicals, alcohol, sulfur. Luckily, you find a couple bottles and bag them quickly.

Joel turns to you, his face set with determination but marked with the same adrenaline that’s running through your veins. "Which way?"

You point to the back classroom door into another hallway, chest still tight, eyes scanning the room one last time before you lead the way out. It’s not safe yet, but for now, you’re still alive. And that’s all that matters.

You move down the hall further, each step quieter than the last, heart pounding in your chest. It’s clear—too clear. The silence around you grows thick, making every sound feel louder than it is. It’s almost unsettling.

Then you reach the end of the hall. A double door stands before you, but it’s not just shut—it’s blocked by a large cabinet. Your stomach twists.

That’s never a good sign.

You step closer, eyes narrowing at the cabinet, your pulse quickening as a sinking feeling creeps up your spine. This wasn’t just some random obstruction. No. This cabinet was meant to keep something in. Something worse.

You glance at Joel, his face darkening as he recognizes it too. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension between you both is palpable.

A beat passes, and you can almost hear your heart in your ears.

"Not good," you mutter under your breath, eyes flicking to the cabinet, then back to Joel. "Whatever’s in there, it’s not gonna be pretty."

Joel’s hand hovers near his weapon, eyes locked on the door. "We don’t have a choice," he says, his voice grim. "We clear it, or it clears us."

You swallow, a cold knot tightening in your stomach. You know he’s right. You don’t have the luxury of waiting, not with everything that’s been chasing you. You sheath your knife, pulling around your rifle to point forward.

Ellie looks between the two of you, her voice barely a whisper. “What are we waiting for?”

Without another word, Joel moves forward, slowly pushing the cabinet aside. The sound of the heavy wood scraping against the floor is deafening in the silence, each movement deliberate, measured.

The cabinet shifts, inch by inch, revealing the faint crack between the doors. You hold your breath, every sense on high alert.

And then, from beyond the door, you enter into the old basketball courts of the highschool.

The door is holding back something that’s not just dangerous—it’s horrifying.

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