Chapter 135: If im being honest

The night pressed down on me, cold and quiet in a way that never meant safety anymore. I leaned against the tree with my head resting on the bark, eyes half closed as the fire in front of me cracked and shifted. The sound was small, but it carried in the dark. Everything did.

I did not know how many days it had been since I left that place. Time blurred when you were alone long enough. It stopped feeling real. It just became something you moved through.

Still, I had managed.

The bag beside me sat half open. Matches. A few loaded magazines. A Glock 19. The hunting rifle rested against the tree within arm’s reach. I had taken it off one of Annie’s people before I walked out. I had not thought twice about it.

The map lay unfolded across my thigh. I had marked it myself, lines cutting through roads and forests, places I thought I could pass through without getting killed. It was messy, but it was something.

Canada.

I let out a slow breath.

Yeah… Canada.

The word sounded strange lodged in my brain now.

Lila was dead. Everyone was. And I was still planning a future like that meant something.

I rubbed my face with one hand, feeling the dried blood on my skin. It flaked under my fingers.

Where else was I supposed to go?

Surviving in the states that had long since been burned to the ground didn’t seem like something i was prepared to do long term. President probably fucked off or died amidst these past few months. Any other semblance of military trying to keep the peace had been destroyed before my eyes. Atleast…the ones I knew about anyway.

Hope was not something I had ever really held onto. Not even before all this.

Now it just felt stupid.

Canada wasnt hope. It was just… somewhere else.

My eyes grew heavy again.

I blinked hard, forcing them open. My head tipped forward, then jerked back up. My body ached from the constant tension, from the lack of sleep, from everything that had happened over the past few days.

It had been one of those nights where I wasn’t able to find a place secure to rest my head. The woods definitely hadn’t been the place.

And with no one by my side, no one keeping watch like they used to, I felt even more exposed.

I felt my mind slowly spiral with the thought of everything that had happened– before I quickly suppressed it.

That wouldn’t help me now.

I shifted slightly against the tree, wincing as pain ran up my side. My wounds had not been treated properly. Blood had dried stiff against my shirt and skin.

“I just need a minute,” I muttered.

My voice sounded rough.

No one answered. No one ever did anymore.

I stared into the fire for a few seconds longer, then slowly let my eyes close.

Maybe three minutes.

Maybe five.

That was all I needed.

The world went quiet.

Then something pulled me back.

Not a sound at first. More like a feeling. A tightness running up my spine.

I opened my eyes.

There it was.

Faint. Distant.

Boots crunching over leaves.

More than one.

I froze.

My breathing slowed on instinct as I listened harder. The sound came again. Controlled. Measured. Not random movement.

People.

God damn it.

I sniffed the air without thinking.

Nothing sweet. Nothing rotting.

Not Annie’s people.

That did not make it better.

Could be survivors.

Could be worse.

I did not wait to find out.

I moved fast, pushing myself up despite the pain. My hand grabbed a branch and kicked at the fire, scattering the burning wood. Heat licked at my boot as I stomped it out, sparks jumping into the dark.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

Too late. They might have already seen it.

I grabbed the Glock and the rifle, slinging the strap over my shoulder in one motion. The bag came next.

The footsteps were closer now.

I could hear low voices.

Human.

I moved off the path of the firelight, slipping behind a cluster of trees and lowering myself to the ground. My back pressed against the trunk as I steadied my breathing.

The Glock stayed close to my chest, finger resting along the frame.

I did not trust my hands not to shake if I rushed it.

Voices drifted through the trees.

“…saw it over here.”

“Keep it down.”

“They could still be close.”

I closed my eyes for a brief second, then opened them again.

Not infected.

That almost made it worse.

Humans thought. Humans hesitated. Humans lied.

Humans killed you slower.

I shifted slightly, careful not to make a sound, and angled myself to see through the trees.

Figures moved in the dark. Three of them. Maybe four.

Weapons in their hands.

One of them stepped closer to where my fire had been, crouching down to touch the dirt.

“Still warm,” he said.

My grip tightened on the gun.

My heart slowed instead of speeding up. It felt wrong, but it was steady. Cold.

That same feeling from before crept back in.

Something that told me to stay still.

I exhaled slowly through my nose. They were close enough now that I could see their faces.

Tired. Dirty. Alert.

Just like me.

One of them turned slightly, scanning the trees.

For a second, it felt like he was looking right at me.

I did not move.

I did not blink.

I just waited.

—

Aubrey sat on the porch with her elbows resting on her knees, the cigarette hanging loose between her fingers. The cold night pressed against her skin, biting through her shirt, but she did not move to go inside. The ember at the tip of the cigarette glowed faintly each time she inhaled, just enough light to give shape to her face and the steps beneath her.

The yard in front of her was still. Too still. No wind. No movement. Just the quiet that came after everything had already gone wrong.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”

Aubrey did not turn her head. She already knew who it was.

Isabella stepped out onto the porch and lowered herself beside her. She carried a blanket and draped it over Aubrey’s shoulders without asking. The warmth settled in slowly, but Aubrey did not react much to it. She just took another drag.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Aubrey held the cigarette out. Isabella took it, brought it to her lips, and inhaled. The ember flared brighter for a second, lighting Aubrey’s face. Her dark curls framed her features, soft against the hard edge of the night. Isabella exhaled and handed it back.

They sat there together, looking out into the dark.

No questions. No pressure.

Isabella did not ask what was wrong. She did not need to. She had been there. She had seen everything. Sometimes silence did more than talking ever could.

Aubrey let out a slow breath, smoke trailing from her lips as her shoulders dropped just slightly.

“Sometimes I wonder what I even did to that bitch.”

Isabella blinked, caught off guard for a second.

“Who..?”

Aubrey turned her head and looked at her, and the answer clicked before she even said it.

“Oh.”

Aubrey looked away again, jaw tightening.

“Why do you care, anyway?” Isabella asked.

“I don’t,” Aubrey said quickly. Too quickly.

She took another drag, longer this time, like she was trying to burn the thought out of her head.

“It was just… hard to ignore that look in her eye,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “Like I didn’t matter. Like nothing I did ever mattered.”

She paused, staring ahead.

“Ever since this sickness started, the only person she could give a fuck about was Adrian.”

The words sat heavy between them.

Isabella watched her for a moment before speaking again.

“She was different before?”

Aubrey let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but there was no humor in it.

“Me and her used to be best friends,” she said. Her tone was flat, like she was stating a fact she did not feel connected to anymore.

Isabella’s eyes widened slightly.

“Seriously?”

Aubrey nodded once, slow.

Isabella leaned back a little, looking up at the sky. The stars were faint, barely visible past the haze, but she stared at them anyway.

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath.

A quiet settled in again, but it felt different this time. Heavier. More personal.

After a moment, Isabella spoke.

“Well… you wanna know what I think?”

Aubrey barely turned her head, but she was listening.

“Being a decent human being automatically makes you win,” Isabella said. “No matter how this ends. No matter who walks away.”

She shifted slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around Aubrey’s shoulders.

“You don’t need someone like her to see that. You don’t need anyone to see it.”

Aubrey stayed quiet.

“I mean it,” Isabella added. “You still try. You still care. Even after all that shit. Most people would’ve shut that off a long time ago.”

She glanced at Aubrey.

“Hell… it makes me like you even more if im being honest.”

She nudged Aubrey’s shoulder lightly.

Aubrey let out a weak laugh, the kind that barely made it out of her chest.

“Yeah?” she muttered.

“Yeah.”

They sat there again, closer now, the space between them smaller.

Aubrey looked down at the cigarette, then flicked the ash off the end. The ember glowed again, then dimmed.

For a second, her expression shifted. Something quieter. Something more honest.

“You know, for a moment there, i really thought she’d do it.” she said.

Isabella did not interrupt.

“I really thought she could change.” She added.

“I thought if I just stayed close enough… did enough… she’d come back.”

Her grip on the cigarette tightened slightly.

“But she never did.”

Isabella looked at her, her expression softening.

Aubrey let out another breath, slower this time.

“And the worst part is,” she added, her voice low, “I dont even think i hate her.”

That hung in the air longer than anything else.

Isabella did not try to fix it. She did not try to give it meaning. She just reached over and rested her hand over Aubrey’s for a second.

Aubrey did not pull away.

The cigarette burned lower between her fingers.

The night stayed quiet.

And for once, Aubrey let it.

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