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morallyinept · 4 months

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Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter word count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Mentions and descriptions of smut.

It's here, the final chapter. What an emotional rollercoaster we've been on in this series! Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, re-blogged and enjoyed this journey with Joel with and Reader. Love you all! 🖤

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

1988...

C’mon, ya bein’ stupid. M’tryin’ to watch the game.

Don’t call me stupid, Joel.

Hey! I was watchin’ that!

I’m not stupid!

Well, ya sure acting like it, ain’t ya?

You’re such an asshole!

Real original, darlin’. Gimme the remote.

Look, just because I want better for myself doesn’t mean that-

What d’fuck ya mean ya want better?

That's not what I meant-

That’s what ya fuckin’ said, ain’t it?

Joel. You’re twisting my words.

No. You fuckin’ said ‘em.

I can’t talk to you when you’re like this!

Ya think you're better than me ‘cause you got a fuckin’ college education?

What? Why would you even say that?

M’fuckin’ workin my ass off on the site n’ it ain’t good enough for ya? M’not good enough for ya anymore, is that it?

Joel. Don’t-

You'd rather be off gallivantin’ ‘bout with your stupid friends without me?

I wanna see the world, Joel. What’s wrong with that?

Fine. Go fuckin’ see it. I’ve never stopped ya. See if I fuckin’ care.

Joel, stop it. I’m trying to talk to you.

No, ya talkin’ to me like I’m dumb. I ain't dumb. Get offa me.

Joel!

I said get offa me! Ya wanna leave, then leave. M’tried of fightin’ ‘bout it. Far be it for an uneducated fuckwit to stand in your way, darlin’.

Joel…

M’goin’ to bed.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the last argument you’d have with Joel.

You climbed into bed beside him later on and he was rolled over, back facing you and unbeknownst to you, still awake. The anger wouldn’t let him sleep.

He’d wanted so desperately to turn over and pull you into his arms, to whisper that he still loved you, but he didn’t. He held strong. He was tired of being the one that always caved first, apologised first for arguments he hadn’t instigated.

He wasn't going to apologise for not having a college education and working as soon as he left high school anymore.

He was tired of being compared and judged by your snarky friends, who, Joel thought, didn’t really respect you much either by the way they’d treated you on occasions. He’d been the one who held you when you cried over them.

But you were easily led and influenced by them, and it was almost as if the person you had become was partly due to their subtle moulding of you. You wanted more, they had more. It wasn't easy to see that and do the maths.

They were turning you against him and there was nothing he could do to prove to you anymore that he loved you so fucking much. It wasn’t enough anymore.

All he could do was throw himself into work that morning to forget about the anger as he ground down on his teeth all day.

He was at work when you’d packed your things, and he’d returned home to an empty apartment that he could barely afford on the shitty side of town. But he’d rented it for you; the both of you, so you could start a wonderful life together like you’d spoken about so many times before.

But you’d gone.

Every part of you had vanished. And you didn’t come back, not this time. And Joel hadn’t really known how to deal with it when you didn’t return his frantic calls.

He went out, got shitfaced drunk, slept all weekend in his piss and vomit, and then went to work again on the Monday, hungover and gravely irritable.

That was how it went on a cycle until days passed into months in a vacant blur. Then he met a girl who smiled at him when he stopped in for a coffee on his lunch break.

She was new at the coffee shop and complimented him on his eyes, even though they were sad. He took her out for pizza and she made him laugh again, and she ended up staying at his place.

She slept on your side of the bed.

Over time, she pushed you towards the back of Joel’s mind. Nine months later and she was pushing Sarah out of her, and Joel was holding his tiny daughter inside his arms covered in gooey placenta chunks and beaming at her, feeling that he finally made sense in the world, despite being innately terrified.

He’d called Tommy and told him he was an uncle. He’d called his parents. He’d wanted to call you and tell you. So fucking badly.

A year or so after Sarah’s first word - which to his pride was dada - Joel was a single parent after her mom upped and left one day out of the blue.

He woke to find a note left by the coffee maker informing him they were on their own, and Joel’s heart fell out of his ass for the second time.

Another one who had left without warning or explanation; it was hard to not develop a small complex about that as he grew in age and height, and put dating on the permanent back bench.

He had to do this alone now; raise Sarah all by himself and the thought fucking paralysed him.

He was convinced he would be a failure. A deadbeat. That he would fuck her up in some way. But he didn’t. If you were to ask Joel now, he’d say that she took care of him more than he probably did with her.

He worked every hour God sent so he could provide for her, so she could have everything she needed. He couldn’t have been more proud of her, and the night she gifted him back his watch fixed on his birthday, was probably the best gift he’s ever been given.

Aside from her, of course. His baby girl.

And then in 2003, on that fateful day and ironically, Joel's birthday, the world went to shit, and Joel lost Sarah. His baby girl.

He lost his sole reason for being, and he glanced down at his wrist, at that watch reminding him of that loss, as he raised the gun to his temple.

I'll see you real soon, baby girl.

Joel pulled the trigger.

Present day...

Joel glances at his watch now, forever frozen at the time of Sarah’s death; cracked glass with the bullet that ricocheted off of it and killed her on that fateful night that took everything from him.

An icon forever strapped around his wrist that reminds him of everything he’s lost when he glances at it thinking it still works sometimes; an unconscious action that circles round foolishness.

He realises his mistake and drops his wrist listlessly. It’s hot out, the warmth of the summer licking at the back of his neck and turning it evermore pink before it tans.

He rubs sawdust from his hands down his jeans, reaching for the wood plank.

“Hey you,” your voice chirps to him, interrupting his dark recall, and he turns around, squinting in the sun.

You hold out a brown paper bag that you push into his hands. “Brought you a sandwich,” you beam.

“Shouldn’ta done that.” Joel blushes as he leans in for a kiss. The feel of your lips brushing gently against his makes his fingertips buzz and he moans gently into your mouth. A sound that you will never tire of.

“Y’want some lemonade? C’mon, get outta this sun for a bit,” Joel leads you by the hand under the canopy of his workshop in the commune a few weeks later after you’ve both returned from the outpost.

Your return was an emotional one, one that you both approached with tentative footsteps. The moment you were reunited with Max, Sal and Guthrie, sharing in your devastation for the loss of Kelper, Joel was resolute in giving you the space to let you grieve with them.

But you pulled him back and instructed him in no uncertain terms that him being away from you was the last thing you wanted or needed.

I need you, Joel.

M’right here, darlin’. Ain’t goin’ nowhere. He’d assured you.

Joel was true to his word, clutching on tightly to your hand at the memorial for Kelper and all those that had fallen with him that day. A small ceremony with wild flowers and hand carved stones that were laid to rest in the chapel’s garden.

A peaceful, contemplative space that you visited daily, regaling Kepler’s stone with your thoughts from the day, things that had happened. Tending to and keeping the space trimmed and neat. And Joel always let you have that time alone with him.

He cradled you in his arms as you finally fell asleep after the tears had stopped falling. That night, unable to sleep, you went for a walk around the commune whilst Joel was dead to the world.

"I don't know if I can do this."

Of course you can, Goose. Kelper walked beside you, or at least that's where he told you he'd always be now.

Besides, you just got him back, are you gonna let him go again?

You shake your head. "I'm scared, Kelper."

I know. Wouldn't be right if you weren't. Trust me.

"I miss you." You sniffled.

I'm always here when you need me. Kelper smiled.

Joel stirred, reaching his arms out as you climbed back into the sheets, skin cooler and clammy.

"Ya okay, darlin?" He murmured into your hair.

You settled into the crook of his neck, safe inside his big, strong arms.

"I will be," you smiled into the silver of his chest hair.

And he held you tight as you slept. Held you even tighter when he sank his cock inside you almost every night since you’d both come back to the commune; unable to be parted from one another's skin for too long.

It was like you were both making up for lost time. Thirty years or so of pining and neither one of you ready to relinquish that closeness now that you'd got it back.

You sit on a stool as he pours out some lemonade for you that's sweetly tart and unwraps his sandwich. He smiles down at it, stuffed so full of filling that it’s spilling out the sides sloppily, but it’s his favourite. He offers you half like he always does when you bring him one.

You always shake your head smiling, and insist that he eats it all, but you find he’s left the other half for you regardless, and somewhat obstinately, as he stands to do some more work.

You sit and watch him work for a bit, as he measures and saws the wood and the others on the site come to collect the planks for the housing frames.

You observe him take charge, giving direction and even getting his hands roughed up as he sands the wood down, talking you through the process as you watch keenly.

Sometimes you bring a book from the library and are content to spend the day under the shade of the canopy breathing in sawdust and losing yourself into a make-believe world, until Joel nudges your cheek with a scruffy kiss and takes you with him back to his house - your new shared home together.

He leads you inside and the moment the door shuts, shuts out the rest of the commune, the rest of the world, you’re all over each other.

His hands are in your hair and yours are round his thick waist. His tongue licks into your mouth and you whine around it, feeling him press into you and crush you against the door.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout eating ya out all day,” he husks against your face, skin sweaty and hot. Gritted with sawdust. You flare as his words are your undoing. “All. Fuckin’. Day.”

“So then do it, big guy,” you challenge back and his eyes blaze.

Your stomach simmers as he throws you over his broad shoulder, despite his groan when his back pulls; you’re giggling as he tosses you down on the bed and tugs down your jeans.

You’re a sanguine vision, naked from the waist down as he parts your thighs and kisses up them gently. You moan as the silk of his scruff feels good against your skin.

“Look at ya, all spread open for me, darlin’.” Joel croons at you. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You watch as he dips his head down and you feel his breath against the wet heat of your cunt already clenching and throbbing in anticipation.

Joel flattens his tongue against your slit and licks an agonising stripe upwards, slowly; tasting your slick and humming out in sweet, abandoned relief. He gently pulls on your labia, sucking and popping it out of his mouth in wet squelches.

Your fingers are scratching in his hair and he whines, taking a moment to enjoy the prickles that burst all over his scalp in only that way you can massage, before he dives back in.

“Fuck, Joel…” You groan; your body warming and your eyes fluttering closed.

He stops licking and sucking, and slips his fingers into you; index and middle right up to the base of his knuckle as he thrusts indomitably with them. With his other hand, he splays your wet lips and flicks his tongue over your clit relentlessly as he fucks you with his fingers, curling inside of you.

It feels so good, that deep winding and pulling as he furrows deep against your spot and the noises are obscene, coming from you and your pussy in equal measure.

Joel’s hard cock is pressing into the mattress and he can’t help but wind his hips into it with need.

“Joel, fuck… I’m gonna come,” you gasp; your body stiffening, back arching and starting that tight shake as the fire boils and travels through your veins.

“Come for me, darlin’,” Joel husks and he licks you harder, curls quicker and watches as you completely fall into oblivion. “Give it all to me.”

You try to shut your legs, crushing his chin and cheeks into your thigh meat, but he keeps you anchored to him, kisses all around your pussy and licks up your stomach until your mouths meet and you taste the sweet tang of yourself.

You reach down to unclasp his belt with his hands pressed either side of your head, you push his jeans down his thighs as far as they’ll go until you can’t reach anymore.

You take his head in your hands and kiss him deeply, you draw back; your eyes are lost inside of him and you tell him that you love him. Because you really do. You always have.

You never fucking stopped. Not once, in thirty years.

And Joel takes a beat, right as his cock is lined up with your dripping seam and is about to sink his throbbing head in slowly to that warm, wet crevice that welcomes him inside every time with a clench and a gasp rolling off your lips.

He looks down at you, mesmerised by the way you look at him. The way you used to look up at him all those years ago. He smiles softly.

“Marry me.” He says without hesitation, without a slur or stutter.

He watches as your mouth contorts open, the feel of him pushing into you slowly, deliberately for you to feel him. “Want ya to marry me.”

You nod, eyes swelling with tears. “You want to make me your little woman, Joel?” You chuckle with a groan as he breaks through.

“Yeah. I do. I love ya, darlin’.” He smiles earnestly, as he pushes his hips forward gently and sinks inside of you with a heady grunt. “So fuckin’ much. Goddamn.”

“Joel!” You grasp at his shoulders pulling him closer into you as he fills you whole.

“Say it, say you will.” He pants, his forehead rolling over yours. “Be my wife.”

“Yes.” You sigh out, elated. “Yes, yes, yes…” Your heart swells, bigger than your chest can contain. Helium and glitter filling you up as he furrows deeper inside of you, makes you scratch at the back of his neck.

And it’s at that moment right here, and every night and day with you thereafter, that Joel Miller knows that no matter what happens next in this altered and rotten world - whatever it is that comes snapping its sharp jaws towards him relentlessly - he’ll always be able to endure and survive.

With you by his side, as his lover, his friend. His wife. The absolute love of his life who he found again, after all this time. And he fell back in love with you, all over again in just five days.

Because five days was all it took, to lead you back to him.

The End??

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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morallyinept · 5 months

Text

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Chapter word count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You and Joel face the morning after your shared intimacy, and any consequences that may come with it. Mentions of smut and death/gore/blood. Descriptions of panic attacks.

☝🏻 I WILL NO LONGER BE ADDING NEW TAGS due to some of them not working as they should, despite me tagging, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

When dawn approaches, Joel stirs first; the intruding light glowing a dull orange behind his eyelids and pulling him out of a broken sleep.

Everything. Hurts. Like. Hell.

His back is still pulling tight and unrelenting - screaming at him that he needs to fucking move off this damned cot or be paralysed for life. His face feels raw with the grazes scabbing over in places and his arm is numb.

He turns to inhale you in and although he can’t feel his fingers where your weight is crushing them, he lays there enjoying the abstract sensation of your body shape nestled against his as you snooze. Something he still can’t quite comprehend in its entirety.

You’re here, you’re here alive. And you're with him, in his arms. You’ve let him inside of you, after all this time.

He winds his nose into your hairline and just listens to the sounds of you sleeping as he inhales. He can feel the small whooses of your breath against his sternum cooling him. And he thinks this is how it was always supposed to be.

He can smell the sex between you lingering in the air; the scent of sweat from your body, and he never wants to wash you off of his skin.

He replays it over in his mind, that first moment he entered you and how good you felt contracting around him. How good you’d always felt.

He’s swollen again. Aching. Morning wood, a new peculiarity that stirs grizzly between his legs after what feels like a long hiatus. No-one since Tess, and he thought there’d be no-one else. Destined to live in solace and loneliness, waiting until it was his time to check out of the world, growing ever more rickety in the bones and grey and thinning in the hair.

Despite the pain in his back, fof a moment he feels alive again as he feels the blood fill him thick.

There’s the calming sound of a few birds twittering outside and he’s lying here on the cramped cot, with come stained sheets, eyes closed enjoying just a few more minutes where Joel can pretend that nothing else exists outside of the shack, except for you.

That he’s back in his home in Austin, in his old bed with the wooden slats that creak each time he rolls over, and your naked body is curled around him in that sleep-warming haze.

He strokes all the way down your body to the little swollen belly you’ve got and places a kiss on it. You stir through bleary eyes as he looks up at you smiling, and that devilish smirk that he loves so much on your mouth has him trailing his lips lower still. He can feel you finger through his hair as he starts to lap at your pussy, tasting your honey that only gets sweeter each time.

Then, he can hear Sarah downstairs humming to her favourite song on the radio. She’s calling up and letting him know the pancakes and bacon are ready, and that he’ll be late for work if he doesn’t get a move on and-

Joel’s eyes snap open and he’s mourning the loss of that sweet, haunting reverie already as it sluices out of his ears to die on the threadbare pillow.

And then that voice; that insidious little fucker creeps up the base of his spine again, seemingly out of nowhere, and is heard taunting him. It leans over his shoulder with a sharp claw tapping against it.

She could never love you, Joel. Not after everything you’ve done.

In that split second of it pouring its words out at him, making him choke on the smoke of its beguiling voice, Joel feels that unmistakable rigidity flood him; like he’s hit freezing cold water face first.

It strips him of his breath, the enamel on his teeth; his leg muscles coil and pull tight and he tries to suck in oxygen that flaunts itself at him with an evil smirk as it feels so far out of reach as he gasps for it.

His fist comes up to the centre of his chest and he shudders, encased in that spiralling grip once more, sinking and drowning.

You’re going to die, Joel. All alone.

He can’t breathe, he can’t see anymore. He’s just cold and shivering and unable to surface, and all rational thought has abandoned him.

You hear me, Joel? Alone!

“Joel? Do you hear me?”

The sound of your voice is what pulls him back slowly; the small semblance of recognition through the foggy void that reaches in and grabs him, yanking by the ankles.

He locks eyes with you and instantly the shame devours him; spitting out gristle chunks of him until there is nothing left. He pulls away from you, sitting up on the cot as you reach up and squeeze his thick shoulder affectionately.

“Joel-” You query carefully.

“S’nothin’,” he immediately cuts you off, and the jerk of his shoulder makes you drop your hand like you’ve been stung.

You can only watch, confused and concerned as he dresses quickly, despite the hisses between his teeth from the lingering pain, and retreats out of the shack muttering something about the horses.

He stays outside for a long time; most of the morning is swallowed up by his obvious, intruding absence. You’re not sure what he’s doing, and you can only stare at the plate of uneaten food you’ve left for him that has long since turned cold and dried out.

His back, broad and hunched, was presented to you in the stable when you went to let him know it was ready. He offered you no acknowledgement, no familiar grunt in response.

Just bubonic silence that got under your skin and infected you with doubt and worry until it forced you to retreat.

You’re now sitting in the wicker chair gawking out at the valley while smouldering away inside.

You stare at the walkie-talkie with a swill of nervousness swashing around your gut. It was only yesterday the crackled warning came through and then you were ambushed by the infected. But all that seems so far away considering it led to you and Joel to physically expressing your requited pining for one another.

The memory sears into your brain; his mouth on yours, his rough, deft hands on your body… the grunting sounds of his pleasure.

You feel it flutter in your gut and between your legs, and you hitch a breath at the recall that you can still taste on your tongue.

The words ink themself on your skin, he loves you. He always has. It’s what you’ve longed to hear for so long.

And now it’s led to him hiding from you like a child facing his scary closet monster for the first time. You can’t help but feel slightly rejected, despite knowing that you haven’t done anything wrong - have you?

You glance at the clocks and they read a little after ten AM. You stand sighing and reach for your handgun. You holster it to your hip and decide to go for a walk - you need to get out of the shack, away from the trussed up sheets of the cot where the ghosts of you both still writhe and moan in ecstacy.

Away from the missing shape of him filling up the air you breathe. The heat is beginning to stifle again and Joel’s behaviour isn’t helping.

You’re not sure if he’s still in the stable. You hear the sound of the mare whinnying gently as you pass, but you don’t check.

The lumpy constriction in the back of your throat strangles you as you pass and stomp lithely down the path.

You pass the bodies; flies circling and feasting on the rotting flesh. You’re so mad even the smell doesn't deter you as you step over them.

“Why don’t ya ever fuckin’ listen to me?” Joel scolds you as you step back into the shack a little while later.

Your body is hot and sticky from sun exposure and the sweat sticks to you, irritating you further.

Joel saw you trail the path back up to the shack, fuming. He was preparing himself to go out looking for you when he saw your body; small and wandering down at the bottom of the hill.

Gritting his teeth, he endured that slow walk you did whilst rooted to the spot at the window, with fists clenched and recalling all the times before, when you were younger, that your free spirit and desire to chase impulse would come between you more often than not.

As much as he loved you, that lingering platitude of your careless wanderings always irked him.

Leading to passionate, heated debates and arguments he wouldn’t engage in much, which riled you up even more. Then you would take off again in a huff, to spite him and leave him floundering and worried.

You’d always come back though, tail between your legs and kissing him round to fucking you in forgiveness - until you didn’t.

Joel remembers the last time you left and he waited for you to come back. Waited probably longer than he should have.

You didn’t come back.

“Ya could’ve got hurt.” He growls at you.

He’s pissed as he puffs out his chest, hand on slender hip as you pass him and discard your holster onto the cot that’s still a mess.

“I didn’t.” You simply say, brushing it off.

“S’not the point.” He snarks.

“Then what is, Joel? I’ve been taking care of myself long before you showed up back in my life.” You bite back.

He grumbles, words you can’t decipher, as he sighs and frowns at the ground.

“Old habits die hard.” You simply retort and he glances at you with dark eyes and a pout.

“Ya can’t be doin’ shit like this, not on my watch.” He trails off, losing himself in the dissipating anger, trying to swallow it down fully.

"Your watch? I'm a grown woman, Joel. You're not my keeper." You growl.

He rolls his eyes chewing on the inside of his gums. “Where’d y’go?”

“For a walk.” You say bluntly. You lift off your top and swap it out for one that smells less stagnant under the arms. “You’re not the only one who can run away and hide, you know.”

“Is that what ya think I was doin’?”

“Isn’t it?” You lance him a knowing look and he hangs his head, guilty as charged. “What was that this morning, Joel?” You question and he shakes his head.

You change tactics and approach him gently, reaching for his face, but he bats your hand away and you scoff, annoyed.

“You’re not going to let me in? Not after-”

“I can’t.” Joel reiterates. You can see it pains him to, his eyes pleading with you not to push it.

You nod, defeated and step back as he passes you and sits himself down on the chair. His hand rubs at his temple - the side with the scar.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive, brash. Taking off like that. But you have to understand, I've fended for myself for so long. I’ve had to.” You explain.

“I get it.” He nods gently. “I can’t lose ya,” he says, barely a whisper.

“You won’t. Promise.”

“No,” he shakes his head and looks up at you. “Ya can’t make that kinda promise, not now.”

“Then,” you sit opposite him. “I promise I’ll always do everything in my power to make sure I come back to you. I promise not to be so reckless. How’s that?”

Joel sighs, his giant palms dropping onto his knees as he massages one gently. “Better,” he gruffs. He tries not to smile, but you can see he’s struggling.

“I get it too.” You say, after a few minutes pass between you that’s filled with a suffocating silence.

“Get what?” He questions.

“You’re scared of the way I make you feel.” You begin at him. “Because you don’t want to feel anything. You’ve spent so long making sure that you don’t.”

He shakes his head as your nodding increases.

“And it's terrifying. It is for me, too.” You admit. "It's easier to have nothing then lose something you care about, right?"

Joel frowns. Then sighs. Then wants to strangle you because you used to do this. You used to get into his head with simple ease. Break down his impenetrable walls and sneak in, and he has no fucking idea how you do it. Or how you can still do it after all this time.

“It’s better that way.” He mutters bitterly.

“For who?” You watch as his back stiffens. His neck disappearing into his shoulders. His serious expression melts away a little. Another chink in his armour. Then he shakes his head again, muttering incoherently under his breath and you can hear some cursing going on.

“Why are you doing this?” You question.

“I lost someone,” Joel drones, reminding you; his tongue turning around his teeth.

“Sarah.” You confirm, accepting his pain and understanding. Or at least trying to; you would never understand that pain he harbours fully as you’re not a parent.

“No,” Joel shakes his head and looks at you, despite the pain twisting around his scruffy face. “Myself.”

It comes out as a croak that dies a horrific death on his tongue. You watch as his eyes glisten and you reach for him instinctively. But it’s not enough.

You get up and sit in his lap and he doesn’t resist this time when you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. He buries his face into the crook of your neck as you offer him what he so desperately needs.

“I don’t deserve any of this,” Joel begins, a mouthful of your skin.

“What makes you think that?” His brown eyes are red in the whites and you watch as he wipes them with the back of his hand quickly.

“‘Cause, I’ve done so much that I should be punished for. In the old world, I'd be rottin’ in a cell now.”

“We’re not in the old world anymore, Joel.” But he was still there, stuck and forever looping it seems.

"Ya've no idea what I've done. If ya did, you'd take that rifle n' shoot me between the eyes. N' I wouldn't stop ya."

You scoff. “You think because you did bad things, things to survive, that you’re not deserving of affection now? Of redemption? You’re wrong, Joel.”

“Ya don’t get it, darlin’.” He shakes his head solemnly.

“No, you don’t get it.” You correct and he looks at you with a quick shift of his eyeballs and nothing else. “We’ve all done bad things, things we had to. Terrible things. The world forced us to. You think we were prepared for it? That this is the curveball life was going to throw at us? Every single one of us has done things that, yeah, sure in the old world, we'd be punished for. But now? If faced with it, we’d do it again. You wanna know why?”

“Why?” He asks softly.

You breathe in, reciting Kelper’s words when you’d needed them the most. “Because in this world you have to have something to fight for. To be reckless for… To kill for. If you don’t have that, you may as well roll over and die now because there is nothing else. It's all gone. It's all fucking gone…" You sniff as your own eyes water. "And something tells me you're not ready to do that.”

Your fingers stroke at the nape of his neck softly, curling his hair around your fingers.

“Are you?” Joel asks tentatively.

“I was.” You say, glancing down at your scar as your hand rests on your thigh. “But turns out, I still got some fight in me. And so do you.”

Joel sniffs deeply and sighs out; his head falls forward and rests on yours and you stay like that for a little while.

"How’d ya fuckin' do that?" He asks into your eyelashes in wonderment.

His arms just wrap around you and hold you to him as you kiss the top of his head gently.

“I just know the subject matter really well.” You smile into his crown. “Better than he knows himself.”

“Ya do,” he pulls away to look at you; deep browns with a pulling, hypnotic warmth boring into you and heating you up.

You feel his hands sliding up your back, fingers notching over your spine nodules and making you shudder.

He smiles at your reaction, the smile blooming on your lips as you enjoy the feeling of him exploring.

“Know ya really well too, darlin’. I never forgot.” He says, as he latches onto your lips.

Joel switches the walkie-talkie back on later, and you both wait silently.

He throws a glance at you, one that tells you he can still taste you in his mouth. You squeeze your thighs together at the recall of him laying you back down on the cot after your heart-to-heart, and proving to you again how much love he did have inside him, as he filled you up with it.

But now you both sit silently, waiting for any news.

You can feel your gut weighing down to your feet like concrete blocks, and sure enough a voice comes through over the static that’s more clear to receive today.

It’s a voice you recognise and Joel grabs it and speaks. “Tommy?”

“Joel. Goddamn. Ya guys hangin’ in there?”

“Just ‘bout.” Joel's eyes dart towards yours and you smile tightly in agreement. Fine, hanging threads.

“What happened yesterday? Had a small pocket of infected pay us a visit.” He speaks into the walkie, his thumb letting go of the receiver when he finishes.

“I figured they’d head ya way. Ya pick up my signal?”

Joel swallows as he glances out the window, his eyes squinting in the light. “Yeah.”

You both know it was a close call and your mind shifts to that strident moment when Joel was yanked backwards by the body and tumbled down the hill with it, and it makes your stomach lurch.

That could have ended very differently and it doesn’t bear thinking about as you swallow it away.

“We handled it. ‘Bout twenty or so. Put ‘em down.” Joel explains.

The walkie crackles. “Horde’s gotten bigger. We had to regroup, weren’t expectin’ it. Was fuckin’ chaos.”

Joel grits his teeth and you sit forward in the chair sighing, your hands fisting together under your chin and listening carefully. Trying not to imagine the guys - Kelper, Max and Sal - out of their depths. But you hold fast and steady. They can handle it, deep down you know it.

They’re fine.

“Second team managed to get the explosives laid down. We’re ready for tomorrow. S’gonna go down as planned.” Tommy continues.

“Good,” Joel replies.

You nod with some small relief ebbing through your bones.

“Listen Joel. I gotta tell ya somethin’.”

“M’all ears.” Joel says as he looks at you; his brown eyes softening as he takes you in, sending a small affectionate smile back up at him.

He swears in this moment he's probably never loved you more, and the thought makes him sweat a little. He reaches for your knee and gives it a squeeze, watches with some contented awe as your fingers lock into his.

“We were ambushed by infected breakin’ off. Chased us down. We had to let ‘em. Couldn’t risk the whole horde noticin’...”

Joel nods even though Tommy can’t see. You swallow thickly as you both listen.

Your heartbeat speeds up, you can hear it start to steamroll in your ears, almost drowning Tommy’s voice out.

“What happened?” Joel asks with a brewing frown.

Yesterday...

The sun hangs low in the desolate sky, casting an eerie glow over the barren landscape. Sparse woodlands with resilient trees run parallel, separated by a wide stretching field that’s filled with the moving shuffle of infected bodies en masse.

Tommy can feel the sweat pooling at the back of his neck, gathering in the jet curls where he rubs listlessly at his sun-beaten nape.

From this position, hidden craftily behind the bushes, he’s got a good view.

Kelper, kneeling beside him, peers through the binoculars and sighs gently; but his face is etched with acute determination, watching the horde move towards the direction of the canyon as planned, that seems to echo with the ominous whispers of impending danger at any moment.

Tommy adjusts his position carefully, crouched behind the thick brush, with aching knees and thighs; his fingers tightly gripping the worn handle of his weapon should he need it.

His breaths come in shallow bursts, the tension in the air almost suffocating. Kelper, the seasoned survivor, keeps his gaze fixated on the passing horde of death, just a few yards out from them.

“How many do ya think there are?” Tommy whispers.

Kelper shrugs. “More than a thousand now, that’s for sure.”

They've swelled in numbers; strays attaching themselves to the wider congregation as they move, led by the unseen force of the group spread up and down the route ensuring they don’t divert.

“How is this even possible?”

Kelper turns to look at Tommy and shakes his head at a loss. “Evolution?”

The moans of the infected reverberate, creating an eerie symphony that underscores the gravity of their situation. Tommy shifts uncomfortably, glancing between them and in the far direction of where the explosives are being set to detonate.

“Come on ya bastards…” He mutters.

Kelper smirks. “We’ll get ‘em there. Plan’s been working well so far. We keep pushing. Last hurdle, right?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ jinxin’ us now, man.” Tommy says, a thin smirk pricking at the corner of his lips.

“Hold your nerve. We’re almost home. Get you back to your lady and your kid.” Kelper assures.

Tommy smiles and looks at him. “What 'bout you? Ya got any family left?”

Kelper shakes his head. “Just the ones I arrived with.”

Tommy nods. “Right.”

“They’re all I need.” Kelper nods, smiling to himself.

“Do ya ever wonder if we're becomin’ as heartless as ‘em?” Tommy asks after a few beats of silence.

He nods out to the horde. His eyes bear the weariness of a thousand battles, yet a glimmer of something unresolved flickers within the darkness of them.

“You start to blur the lines between the living and the dead out here, Tommy. But heartless? No, we're fighting for something more than just breath in our lungs.” Kelper says.

"Ya think they know? Like they still have some conscious thought or shit?"

Kelper shakes his.head. "Nah. Whoever they were, they're long gone."

"Whatever makes ya sleep at night, right?"

"Maybe." Kelper replies.

“I just don't wanna forget what it means to be human, y’know? My brother… he’s lost his humanity. I see it when I look at him now.” Tommy says, shaking his head despondently. “I love him, but… I can’t be like that.”

“I don’t think anyone ever truly loses their humanity.” Kelper says. “If we did, we’d be exactly like them.”

“How’d ya know we ain’t? They’re just tryin’ to survive, like we are.”

“You feel bad for them?” Kelper's jaw tightens, his gaze drifting to the distant shadows where the infected still roam. The burden of leadership etching deep lines on his face and casting deeper shadows under his eyes.

“They were people once, even if they ain't now.” Tommy states. “Hard not to feel some guilt sometimes.”

Kelper smiles. “That’s how you know you’re still human.”

Tommy glances down at the ground and nods contemplating.

“Being human means adapting, surviving. Sometimes, it means doing things you never thought you would. But it's also about holding on to a glimmer of who you were. You just need to remind your brother of that sometimes. And yourself.”

Kelper's gaze meets Tommy's, a shared understanding passing between them. The depths of the woodlands seem to amplify the words, carrying them into the void where shadows whisper of both survival and sacrifice.

“What if there's another way? A way to survive without sacrificin’ our humanity all the time?” Tommy queries, his voice a low baritone.

“There isn't room for what-ifs in this world. Every move we make is a gamble. We're just trying to tip the odds in our favour. This world doesn't care about ideals. It cares about survival.”

The weight of Kelper's words settle on Tommy's shoulders, pressing down with the burden of a world gone mad.

Kelper shoots him a glance, a look with the harsh realism of their existence. “We're all paying a price. Sometimes it's just steeper for some.”

“I just... I need to believe there's somethin’ more than just survivin’. For my son.” Tommy says.

Kelper's gaze softens for a moment, a flicker of sympathy cutting through the grizzled exterior.

“I think ‘bout the world waitin’ for him. If it can ever be like it used to. Sounds fuckin’ dumb, I know.”

Kelper shakes his head. “Not dumb. You survive long enough, you start thinking about living. But first, you've got to make it through the hard nights.”

They both glance at one another again.

“We’re changing the world, for your son; for everyone. One dead parasite at a time.” Kelper says with a sincere smile offered.

Tommy nods, and then jumps as the bleep of his radio sounds on his hip.

“Fuck!” He scrambles for it. “I said radio silence!” Tommy hisses into the walkie.

He shoots his glance up, muffling the sound of the walkie with his jacket.

Kelper keeps watch on the horde, who don’t seem to have heard it.

A voice crackles over the low frequency. It's Max. “We got a problem… there’s… shit! Run!-”

Kelper scans the horizon with the binoculars. “No, no, no, no…” He murmurs in an increasing tempo shaking his voice.

“What?!” Tommy rushes forward and snatches the binoculars as Kepler stands.

In the distance he can see bodies breaking off from the rear of the horde and disappearing into the woodlands.

“Fuck!”

Kelper moves and Tommy follows.

“Hey!”

“We gotta stop this!" Kelper says, frantic. “We can’t let them change course. We need the others to keep them moving forward.” Kelper pelts as he starts to run. “If the bulk of the horde notices, they’ll all come at them!”

“Fuck!” Tommy paces after him.

“We have to create a diversion.”

“How?” Tommy pulls Kelper back by the shoulder, yanking him fiercely. "What d'ya mean a diversion?"

Kelper weighs it up and comes up with a desperate blank before a dark realisation settles in over his features. “We have to take them.”

Tommy shakes his head. “Thats fuckin’ suicide.”

“You have another idea? We have to get the others. We can’t do this without them.”

Tommy’s stumped and shakes his head. “It’s not worth the risk. A few strays-”

“Fuck the risk! I’m not losing anymore people to these bastards!” Kelper spits.

A few beats exist and pulse around them before the decision is made.

“I’ll draw them back through and join you on the other side of thise trees." He points across the field to a clearing beyond the woodlands there. "Round up the others ready.”

Tommy doesn't have time to protest further. He can only watch as Kelper sprints off towards the small branch of infected that have wandered off into the trees after Max's group.

“Fuck!” He grits and takes off towards the field. Tommy radios the others, instructing them to meet him, but he’s met with crackled silence as he runs.

His face batters wayward branches as he dashes forward; the beat of his heart in his throat. Then he stops as though hitting a wall as he hears it.

The echo reverberates through the clearing, and the small swarm of infected, like puppets drawn by an unseen force, turn their attention towards Kelper.

His defiant shout slices through the air; a battle cry tinged with both bravado and desperation.

“Fuckin’ idiot!” Tommy seethes.

As the infected converge towards Kelper instead, the small group, including Tommy, seize the fleeting opportunity to slip past unscathed and unnoticed into position.

The air thickens with a cocktail of relief and guilt. The clearing seems to close in around them, casting shadows that pulse with the haunting thrum of brutish survival. They can only hope the main horde didn't hear Kelper.

Tommy steals a glance back; the torment of leaving Kelper behind etched across his face.

The sounds of a struggle punctuate, each blow landing on undead flesh as Kelper fights them off bravely. The air feels charged with an unspoken understanding - Kelper's creating the diversion, but at what cost?

As the group distance themselves from the small swarm, the guilt claws at Tommy's chest. A corridor of remorse that resonates with the cries of the infected and the desperate struggle of a man who has willingly put himself in harm's way.

“We can't just leave him!” Max whispers to Tommy.

“He knew the risks. We gotta keep movin’.” Tommy ushers him forward, but hesitates himself. His stance falters, a magnetic pull urging him to turn back.

“Okay, we take ‘em. All of ‘em. Not one of ‘em lives, ya hear me? Make it snappy, make it quiet. No guns. Just blades.” He instructs.

They all nod at him, eyes wide and ready to go as chaos spills out into the clearing.

Kelper's eyes flick with a mix of surprise and relief as Tommy and the small group flood in towards him. The reinforcements inject a surge of hope into the struggle, weapons slashing through the infected with calculated precision.

The small swarm, once focused solely on Kelper, now face a united front. They fight with a fierce determination, their movements synchronised in a brutal beat against the encroaching threat of screeches and teeth.

Kelper, momentarily freed from the relentless assault, locks eyes with Tommy. There’s gratitude in the glance; a recognition of the camaraderie that has driven Tommy to return.

The fight rages on, but in that moment, a silent understanding passes between the two leaders as they resonate about not leaving anyone behind, no matter the stakes.

The commune needs a man like Kelper, Tommy thinks. Perhaps he can spend more time with his son and less time making decisions.

The skirmish continues; the group pushing back the infected with a collective force that speaks of their shared resilience.

They can do this. Nip it in the bud now.

“Shit!” Tommy cries, as more infected flood through the trees towards them.

Kelper turns at the commotion as they run out, and he locks eyes with one.

It stops him in his tracks and he feels it like ice in his bones.

It looks like… you.

It has your face, your gait, your hair even.

And he knows it isn’t you; knows somewhere in the back of his head that Joel’s taking care of you at the outpost, or you're taking care of him, but for a split second, it’s enough to render Kelper useless on his feet as the sinking realisation of failing you floods through him.

He’s frozen to the spot, frozen in fear just watching the infected impersonator run closer towards him.

You're coming for him.

Somewhere, he hears his name being yelled as it hits the back of his head in a dull fuzz as he stands there, unable to move his limbs, for what feels like an age.

But it’s long enough for him to feel it; that searing burn as teeth clamp down on the side of his neck and his blood spills into its mouth.

The world has stopped turning, leaving him alone inside his frantic battle with screaming and viscera everywhere.

The bloodstained face of Tommy holds dark, cold eyes as he works his way through the infected effortlessly. Picking them off one by one with his bare hands it seems and leaving no indication of remorse as he goes and yells frantically at Kelper.

The thuds as the lifeless entities fall to the ground thunders through the clearing, sending vibrations towards Kelper. He can feel it in his toes.

He’s not sure how it happens, but the one who is latched onto him is now dead at his feet as he tries to stem the bleeding.

The noise is deafening and Kelper is lost out of eye sight, somewhere amongst the throes of more bodies ramming against them; their faces mangled with bitter hatred and the determination to slaughter the infected with just cause.

The infected have gathered their numbers well, and it appears as though Tommy is outnumbered as Kelper glances back at them, stunned and shaking.

A single handful of elite warriors facing off against a swarm of hideous monsters, intent on shedding blood in their ravaging hunger. It's like watching a movie play out in front of him, and he's helpless to intervene.

And like those ancient Spartans from film reels gone by, Tommy commands a small unit of his most relentless soldiers. Determined and hell bent on seeking justice and retribution. Their strength is not in their numbers, for they could stand alone and wield the power of many.

Regular men and women, baptised into the fire of combat, they’re taught from the aftermath of the apocalypse never to retreat, never to surrender. No pain, no mercy.

Endure and fucking survive!

A well orchestrated phalanx, breaking off into sections when under threat, but soon chaos ensues, blood is spilt. God’s wrath pouring across the land like hot, bubbling lava.

But still they hold strong.

Tommy fiercely wields his machete as though it’s fluid; sharp steel thrusting in and out of rotting, fungal skin in mere seconds as he fights his way to Kelper.

His cries of war echo over the field and into the ears of those who are in earshot. Instructions in wrath, commands in murder, and praise in blood.

A fearless leader despite his earlier reservations, and it’s not hard to see why the others admire and follow him so.

Kelper smiles, not burdened anymore with that baton previously held tightly in his grip; he’s happy to hand it over. He never was a leader, not really. Just a determined son of a bitch to not falter and wither.

But it's time to rest now. He had his moment in the sun; plenty of them as they flash behind his flickering eyelids as his vision starts to water and blur.

The warmth of his mother's embrace. The first time he smoked weed under the bleachers in high school. His first gay crush on Bobby Denton. Man... Bobby fucking Denton. He smiles as he remembers a pretty face he thought he'd forgotten.

Coming out to his father who looked upon him with scorn and disappointment, while his mother welcomed him with open arms. She never did blame him for their divorce. Not once. But he knew.

His first love; the first time he bared his puny heart to Phillip, who reciprocated. The first man to actually love him back.

Phillip, who was wrenched from his arms on outbreak day, in mass hysteria at the shopping mall - at the fucking Gap of all places. He couldn’t find him. Lost him amongst the crowds running and screaming.

He never got to give him the ring...

Kelper remembers the small band of survivors he’s called family for the last several years. Remembers when he found you huddled in a dirty, shivering ball and trying to take his head off as he approached tentatively.

Fuck, he can’t leave you. What the fuck is he doing?

He looks down at his hand, covered in his own blood, and already feels lightheaded.

“I’m sorry, Goose…” he chokes out, blood gushing down his front and sticky on his chest.

Flashes of your hands are on his, nursing him back to health. He can taste the time you kissed him, and then apologised, and it took everything in him to pull away from your lips, questioning everything he’d ever known about himself. Drawn to you somehow. What was it, loneliness? Desperation?

Love?

Did he love you, more than that?

The hungry, consuming eyes stare down upon him in their millions it seems, and he welcomes the whisper of death with a smile on his face and a middle finger.

A small grunt of satisfaction tears through him and the faint beats of his name are heard somewhere in the distance.

He knows you’re strong. That you crinkle your nose when you laugh at something he says when you feel bereft, he can see it now. Hear it even; it’s echoing all around him as they tear into him, blocking out the sun.

At the end of a hard day enduring, surviving, seeing you smile at him makes everything alright. He never told you enough.

Never told you everyday that he fucking loved you.

He hopes you knew. Hopes you knew that in another world, he loved you the way you might have wanted him to.

He should have been the one, in another life he deduces that he probably would have been. You’d both be married with papery skin, sitting on rocking chairs overlooking the ocean with fat grandchildren playing at your feet.

But in this life, he had you as a friend. A soulmate. And it seemed better somehow. Transcendant.

It was worth it all.

Kelper drops his weapon, his fingers weak and unable to use it now. Unsteady on his feet as they devour. Blurred vision splits the sun in two and hot wetness is felt below his abdomen, searing at first, but soon massaged away by the delight of nausea.

He’s deluded and sincere. He knows you love him. That Guthrie, Max and Sal love him. That Phillip loves him, wherever he is. Perhaps he’ll see him soon.

He believes it and it will ensure he can pass on happily. Content. At peace.

Fuck, he deserves some peace. He chuckles, hearing it in his ears above the cacophony of their grunts and groans.

He recalls those precious moments; moments where the darkness of the world disappeared for a while. It wasn’t all doom and gloom and fungal bloodshed.

There was always light in the darkness when you were lost, you just had to look for it.

Remembering his smile lost inside of your freshly washed hair that smelt of wild flowers, breathing in the notes as you slumbered peacefully on his chest after he saved your life.

He can smell them now, the clearing has come alive with them, sprouting up everywhere and beautiful from root to petal.

He wishes he could show you them.

It gives him comfort in his last moments where he falters now alone in this barren clearing, where the earth has been cracked and splintered by the creatures that ravage it now.

Kelper falls backwards against the hard ground, but doesn’t notice the pain. The lights will soon dim, but he can’t take his eyes off of your smile, your resilience.

How strong he knows you’ll be in this world without him.

You’ll be alright, Goose…

He gives into it now, comes quietly despite the sound of teeth around his face.

And as Kelper slips away from this world into the next one, a single tear flows from the crease of his eye, never to be seen by anyone.

“... We lost Kelper.” Tommy confirms over the static.

Joel’s eyes immediately flick to yours; his face sinking as you sit forward gripping the chair rests, your eyes filling with water.

No.

“He didn’t make it.” Tommy says. “They got him. Was pretty bad and-”

“Tommy, stop talkin’!” Joel hisses down the radio cutting him off as he sees your expression changing.

No.

You’re shaking your head, but you don’t feel the physical motion. You’re instantly numb.

No. No. He’s wrong.

The next thing you know you’re screeching into the walkie, having snatched it from Joel’s hand, and telling Tommy frantically that he’s wrong.

Yelling through to him to stop fucking around and put Kelper on so you can talk to him. You need to hear his voice. Hear him say he’s okay.

Because he is - he has to be! There’s no way that he-

“M'so sorry, sweetheart," Tommy’s voice says, as Joel grapples with you, but you don’t hear it.

You don’t hear anything else except your own frantic wailing and screams as you sink to the floor, Joel catching you in his arms and crushing you tight against him, as you finally break in two.

No.

NO!

To be continued...

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