Ash didn’t like the quiet. It made every sound cut sharper, echo longer—the crunch of her boots on cracked pavement, the faint rustle of wind through skeletal trees, the occasional groan of something that wasn’t human. The suburbs stretched around her, ghostly and hollow. Houses slumped in disrepair, their windows shattered, their yards a tangle of weeds. It felt like the world itself had given up trying.
She kept her knife in hand, her grip tight enough that her fingers ached. Weeks of wandering aimlessly hadn’t dulled the raw ache in her chest, but it had made the isolation settle deep in her bones. The silence pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. She found herself longing for noise—any noise—to drown it out.
Her steps faltered as the shadows stretched longer. Her breath seemed too loud, each shuffle of her boots amplified. Then, a twig snapped behind her, sharp and deliberate.
She froze.
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she spun around, knife raised.
Eve.
She stood several yards away, bow drawn, arrow aimed—directly at Ash.
Ash’s breath hitched, her blood turning cold. Her grip on the knife tightened as her mind raced. She stumbled back a step, trying to make sense of it. “What the hell are you doing?”
Eve didn’t answer. Her focus was razor-sharp, her stance steady.
Ash’s chest constricted. This didn’t make sense. Why was Eve—? Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out reason. “If you’re gonna do it, just do it!” she snapped, her voice trembling despite herself.
Eve’s lips parted slightly, her gaze still locked. “Don’t move,” she said, her voice low and calm.
Ash blinked, thrown. “What—”
The growl behind her cut her off.
She barely had time to process it before Eve loosed the arrow. It zipped past her, so close it stirred the air near her face, and then came the wet crunch of impact.
Ash whipped around, her stomach turning. A zombie lay sprawled on the ground just a few feet away, Eve’s arrow buried cleanly between its eyes.
For a moment, the world held still.
Ash’s grip on her knife faltered as she turned back to Eve, her heart still pounding. “You could’ve warned me,” she spat, her voice sharp, trying to cover the tremor beneath.
Eve lowered her bow with a slow exhale. “I did. I said don’t move.”
“That’s not a warning! I thought you were going to kill me!”
Eve arched an eyebrow, already moving toward the zombie. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” She yanked the arrow free with a practiced motion, wiping it off on the zombie’s tattered shirt.
Ash glared, the knot in her chest tightening. “You can’t just shoot at people like that!”
“I wasn’t shooting at you,” Eve replied, slipping the arrow back into her quiver. “If I’d stopped to explain, you’d be dead. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Ash bristled, her hands balling into fists. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
Eve straightened, her gaze steady, unbothered. “Good thing you didn’t have to.”
The silence between them was thick, charged with tension Ash couldn’t quite name. She hated the way Eve looked at her—like she was a puzzle, a problem that needed solving.
“What are you even doing here?” Ash demanded, her voice rising with frustration. “This is my route.”
Eve let out a dry laugh. “Your route? Pretty sure this place doesn’t belong to anyone anymore.”
Ash clenched her jaw, swallowing down the argument brewing in her chest. There was no point. It wasn’t like she could force Eve to leave, and wasting time here wasn’t safe.
“Fine,” she muttered, turning away. “Just stay out of my way.”
“Gladly,” Eve shot back.
As the sun dipped lower, Ash’s hunger gnawed at her, a sharp, constant reminder of how long it had been since she’d eaten. Her movements were sluggish now, her thoughts hazy. She forced herself to search another house, climbing through a shattered window, but found nothing.
By nightfall, her body ached, her head throbbed, and she could barely hold her knife steady. She needed rest. Anywhere would do.
She stumbled upon a two-story house that looked mostly intact and slipped inside. Dust hung in the air, and the faint smell of mildew clung to the walls. She crept from room to room, checking for any signs of danger, her exhaustion making every movement feel heavier.
When she reached the attic, her breath caught. The air was colder here, still.
And Eve was there.
Curled up on a pile of blankets near a boarded window, her bow resting within reach, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The moonlight painted soft shadows across her face, smoothing the sharp edges Ash had come to expect.
Ash’s pulse quickened. She thought about leaving—finding another place to hide—but her foot caught on a loose floorboard, the creak slicing through the silence like a gunshot.
Eve’s eyes snapped open. Her hand darted to her bow.
Ash barely had time to raise her knife before the arrow was nocked, its tip aimed at her chest.
“Move and you're dead,” Eve growled, her voice low and sharp.
Ash froze, her breath shallow. “It’s me,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice steady. “Put that down.”
Eve’s eyes narrowed, her bowstring still taut. For a moment, Ash thought she might actually shoot her. Then, slowly, Eve lowered the bow, her expression shifting from alarm to annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Eve asked, her voice still edged with tension.
Ash scowled, lowering her knife. “Looking for somewhere to sleep. Didn’t think I’d find you up here playing guard dog.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t put an arrow through you,” Eve muttered, setting the bow aside.
“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I didn’t stab you,” Ash shot back, though the quiver in her voice betrayed her nerves.
Eve let out a dry laugh, leaning back against the wall. “You wouldn’t have gotten the chance.”
The air between them was thick, unspoken tension crackling like static. Ash shifted uncomfortably, Eve’s gaze making her stomach twist in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge.
“You staying or what?” Eve asked after a long pause, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.
Ash hesitated, her pride warring with her exhaustion. But she was too tired to argue. Too tired to keep moving.
“Fine,” she muttered, moving to sit against the opposite wall.
Eve watched her for a moment longer, then lay back down, her posture relaxing.
They sat in silence, the faint sounds of the night filtering through the cracks in the walls. Ash leaned her head back, closing her eyes, but she couldn’t shake the lingering tension. Not with Eve so close, not with the memory of that arrow still fresh in her mind.
“If you snore, I’m kicking you out,” Eve said suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet.
Ash opened her eyes, glaring at her. “You’re hilarious.”
Eve smirked, her expression softer now, almost teasing. “Try not to get yourself killed in your sleep.”
Ash huffed, but a faint smile tugged at her lips despite herself. She leaned back again, her body finally starting to relax. The tension between them lingered, sharp and unresolved, but for the first time in days, Ash felt the weight in her chest ease—just a little.
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