Chapter Text
It had been three days since John and Branch left their childhood town and hit the open road.
They had been driving almost nonstop, only pulling over when they needed to restock supplies, refuel the camper van, or when exhaustion finally forced John to stop driving through the night.
That happened far more often than John cared to admit.
Ever since he had been forced to kill their grandmother, sleep had become an elusive stranger. Whenever he closed his eyes, the memories of that horrific day came rushing back in vivid, agonizing detail.
Branch wasn't faring any better.
Nightmares had plagued the younger troll ever since he witnessed his older brother repeatedly strike their grandmother right in front of him. John had tried asking about the nightmares, but Branch always closed off, burying the trauma deep inside. It worried John terribly, but he refused to force Branch into talking about something he clearly wasn't ready to confront.
"Are we there yet?" Branch’s small voice drifted from the back of the van.
John glanced up at the rearview mirror. Branch was sitting on the floor, watching Gary—a lively little gray tabby kitten—bounce around beside him. A rare, genuine smile touched John's lips at the sight.
"Not yet, B," John replied, turning his eyes back to the gray asphalt ahead. "It's going to take us a while before we get there."
After leaving their hometown, the brothers had set their sights on Beach Wayside. It was the closest major city to their grandmother's town and, more importantly, the last place Bruce and his family had been staying before the world fell apart.
If Bruce was still alive... that was where they had to start looking. At their current pace, however, it would still take days—maybe even a full week—to reach the city.
Up ahead, a weathered green road sign emerged from the fog. John narrowed his eyes, reading the faded reflective lettering.
NEXT TOWN — 1 MILE
"Looks like we're almost at the next town," John announced over his shoulder.
Branch immediately looked up from Gary, his big eyes blinking. "Really?"
"Yeah. Just one more mile."
Minutes later, the camper van rolled into the outskirts of the town. It was noticeably larger than their hometown, lined with tall commercial buildings and sprawling intersections.
John carefully navigated the streets, weaving through a labyrinth of abandoned vehicles. Some had been violently flipped on their sides, while others were crumpled together in massive multi-car pileups, choked with debris.
Here and there, a few infected trolls aimlessly roamed the sidewalks. Thankfully, their glazed, lifeless eyes missed the passing vehicle as John kept the engine low and steady, ghosting through the ruined city.
Spotting a small gas station with an attached convenience store, John glanced down at the dashboard. The fuel gauge needle hovered dangerously close to empty.
"Hey, B," John called out, catching Branch’s gaze in the mirror. "We're going to make a quick stop. Is that okay with you?"
Branch looked hesitant, his hands tightening on his knees. After a brief pause, he gave a slow nod.
John offered an encouraging smile before steering the van into the gas station, bringing it to a gentle halt near one of the pumps. He scanned the immediate perimeter, searching every shadow and corner to ensure no infected were lurking near the building. Satisfied for the moment, he unbuckled his seatbelt and walked back toward Branch.
"I'm going to fill up the tank and sweep the store for supplies," John explained, keeping his voice calm and steady. "Will you be okay staying inside by yourself?"
Branch’s chest tightened with anxiety. Even with the area appearing clear, the thought of being left alone sent a chill through him. Still, he swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."
John glanced at Gary, who was blissfully swiping at a homemade yarn toy Branch had fashioned for him, completely oblivious to the world burning outside. John smiled softly, then turned back to his younger brother. "Just stay inside, lock the door behind me, and don't make a sound."
Branch nodded firmly.
John grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Leaving his heavy shovel behind, he picked up a sturdy wooden baseball bat. With a final reassuring look at Branch, he stepped out into the quiet air.
He immediately filled the tank, his ears straining for any sign of movement amidst the eerie quiet. Once the fuel cap clicked shut, he crept toward the convenience store entrance, pressing his back against the brick wall. He peeked through the dusty, shattered glass door, scanning the dimly lit aisles.
Nothing moved.
He slid inside, his boots stepping carefully around broken glass. Moving deliberately through the aisles, he reached the snack section, unslung his backpack, and laid his bat within arm's reach. He rapidly began sweeping non-perishable foods, canned goods, and bottled water from the shelves into his pack.
Passing the beverage cooler, a cluster of cold beers caught his eye. He paused, stared at them for a second, and grabbed a few. Even in the middle of the apocalypse, a guy needs a break, he reasoned, shoving them into the bottom of the bag.
He zipped the pack shut and headed toward the front register to check for small items. Reaching into a half-open drawer beneath the counter, his fingers brushed against cold metal.
John’s eyes widened.
He pulled out a heavy black pistol along with two full boxes of ammunition. His heart hammered in his chest as he inspected the weapon, ensuring the safety was engaged before slipping the gun securely into his jacket pocket and grabbing the ammo.
With the front secure, John turned his attention toward a heavy steel door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY at the back of the store. He carefully reached out, grabbing the metal handle, and pushed it open.
The door suddenly burst outward with terrifying force.
A snarling, feral infected troll lunged from the darkness, tackling John straight to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs as they crashed into the floor. Instinct taking over, John jammed his baseball bat horizontally across the attacker's throat, holding off the snapping jaws just inches from his face.
The infected let out a guttural, blood-curdling screech, thrashing wildly as black sludge dripped from its mouth.
"Get off me!" John growled, his arms trembling as his strength began to give out under the monster's crushing weight.
Knowing he couldn't hold the creature off much longer, John shifted his weight, freed his right hand, and blindly reached into his coat pocket. His fingers locked around the handle of the pistol. He pulled it free, jammed the barrel directly into the creature's head, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The deafening shot echoed through the enclosed store. The infected went instantly limp, collapsing heavily onto John’s chest.
John lay there in the silence, chest heaving as he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. Cold sweat dripped down his neck. He closed his eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths to force his heart rate down.
"John?!"
John snapped his eyes open.
Branch was standing in the doorway, pale as a sheet, looking around wide-eyed at the scene.
"What are you doing?!" John gasped, pushing the lifeless body off him and scrambling to his feet. He quickly hid the pistol back in his pocket and grabbed his bat. "I told you to stay in the van!"
"I heard a gunshot! I thought you were dying!" Branch argued back, his voice trembling.
John closed the distance and grabbed Branch by the shoulders, desperately inspecting him for scratches or bite marks. "Are you hurt? Did anything touch you?"
"I'm fine! I'm okay!" Branch insisted.
Before John could lecture him any further, a series of violent, raspy shrieks echoed from down the street. The gunshot had drawn attention.
"We have to go. Now!" John barked.
Grabbing Branch’s hand, John pulled him out of the store and sprinted for the camper van. They tumbled inside, John slamming and locking the door before throwing himself into the driver's seat. He turned the key, rammed the gearshift into drive, and slammed on the gas just as figures began spilling out onto the road behind them.
Only when the gas station vanished in the rearview mirror did John finally relax his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
Silence settled over the van.
~
Later that night, the camper van coasted slowly through the pitch-black streets of the city.
John glanced in the mirror and saw Branch curled up under a heavy blanket on the small couch, sound asleep. John let out a long, exhausted yawn. His eyelids felt like lead, and the dark road ahead was beginning to blur.
He couldn't risk driving off the road or passing out at the wheel.
Slowing down, John pulled the van into an obscured alleyway behind an abandoned warehouse. He killed the engine and headlamps, letting the cold darkness envelope them. Leaning his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest for the first time in days.
A soft pressure on his lap woke him a short while later.
John opened his eyes to see Gary carefully stepping onto his stomach, purring softly.
"Hey there, little guy..." John murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he gently stroked the kitten’s head. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping with Branch?"
Gary let out a tiny yawn, circled twice, and curled right up on John's chest.
John let out a faint, quiet laugh. "Guess not."
Closing his eyes again, John finally drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
~
Hours later, Branch shot upright on the couch, gasping for air.
He pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle his heavy breathing, his chest heaving as the horrific imagery of his nightmare slowly faded away. Sweating, he looked down at his trembling hands, trying desperately to calm his racing pulse.
Glancing toward the front of the van, he saw John slumped over in the driver's seat, fast asleep with Gary curled up on his lap.
Branch let out a shaky breath, stepping off the couch. But as he wiped his face, a faint noise outside caught his attention.
Scritch. Rustle.
Branch froze. He crept toward the window and peeked out into the dark street.
Through the fog, a tiny, shadowy figure darted across the road and vanished down a narrow alleyway between two storefronts.
Branch stared at the empty street. What was that?
He glanced back at John. His older brother looked utterly drained, deep dark circles carved under his eyes even in sleep. Branch knew how desperately John needed this rest. He couldn't bring himself to wake him up for what was probably just a stray animal.
I'll just check it out real quick, Branch reasoned.
Creeping past the seats, Branch noticed John's baseball bat leaning against the passenger side. He reached down and gripped the handle tightly, deriving a small sense of comfort from the weight of the wood. Unlocking the door with painstaking care, Branch slipped outside into the night, quietly clicking the door shut behind him.
The night air was freezing. Branch kept his back pressed against the brick walls as he crept toward the alley.
Reaching the corner, he carefully peeked around it.
It was pitch black. Nothing moved.
He took a slow breath, his knuckles white around the bat, and stepped into the darkness.
Rustle!
Branch practically jumped out of his skin as a loud noise echoed from a large metal dumpster a few feet away. He wheeled around, raising the bat high above his head, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Slowly, step by agonizing step, he approached the dumpster. He reached up with his left hand, grabbed the edge of the heavy lid, and slowly lifted it up.
Branch gasped.
Huddled inside the dumpster, surrounded by discarded trash, was a small pink troll. She was trembling violently, trying to shrink into the farthest corner to make herself invisible. The moment her wide, terrified eyes locked onto Branch, she let out a choked gasp and pressed herself flat against the metal wall.
Branch froze, staring at her in absolute shock.
Seeing how terrified she was, Branch slowly lowered the bat, setting it down against the wall. She wasn't infected. She was completely normal—and she looked to be right around his age.
"Hey..." Branch said softly, making his voice as gentle as possible.
The girl flinched, clutching her knees to her chest, but she didn't run.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She stared at him for a long, quiet moment before giving a timid, barely perceptible nod.
Branch let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
"I was... I was..." Her voice broke, and big tears began welling up in her eyes. "I was with my father a few days ago... We were running from a horde of those monstrous things, and... and we got separated..."
She buried her face in her knees and began to sob uncontrollably, her small shoulders shaking.
Branch felt a heavy pang in his chest. He knew that exact feeling—the terrifying, hollow void of losing your family in a world that was tearing itself apart.
An idea hit him.
"Hey," Branch said softly, leaning closer.
The girl lifted her teardrop-stained face, looking up at him through messy pink bangs.
"Why don't you come with us?" Branch offered gently. "I'm with my big brother. We're travelling to find our other brothers... We can help you find your dad, too."
The girl blinked, stunned by the offer. She looked at Branch, searching his eyes for any sign of deception, before slowly nodding her head.
A genuine smile broke across Branch's face. "Okay. Let me help you up."
He reached into the dumpster, carefully taking her hands and helping her climb over the high ledge down onto the ground.
"My name is Branch," he said, gently brushing a stray lock of pink hair out of her face.
She offered a weak, watery smile. "I'm... I'm Poppy."
Before Branch could reply—
SNAP!
Both kids jumped, spinning around toward the mouth of the alley.
Out from the darkness stepped an infected troll. Its jaw hung loose, grey skin rotting, and a gruesome, jagged bite mark torn into its shoulder. Its cloudiness-filled eyes locked onto the two children, letting out a horrific, gurgling roar.
It charged.
"RUN!" Branch screamed.
He grabbed Poppy's hand and bolted toward the main street. They sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them, but the infected was fast, its manic footsteps rapidly closing the gap.
Realizing they weren't going to outrun it, Branch made a split-second decision. He threw Poppy behind him, spun around, picked up his bat, and swung with all his strength.
CRACK!
The bat caught the infected square in the jaw, sending the creature sprawling onto the pavement.
"Come on!" Branch yelled, grabbing Poppy's hand again as they sprinted out of the alley toward the van.
Suddenly, Poppy tripped over a crack in the pavement, tumbling hard onto the asphalt. Branch caught her just before her face hit the ground, dragging her up.
"Are you okay?!"
"I-I think so!" she gasped.
Branch looked back. The infected troll was already back on its feet, shaking off the blow, its bloodshot eyes fixed on them as it sprinted directly at them.
There was no time to run.
Poppy buried her face in Branch's shoulder, throwing her arms around him as Branch squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact.
BANG!
A thunderous report shattered the silence of the night.
The infected lurched backward, a hole bursting through its shoulder.
BANG!
Another shot rang out, striking it square in the chest.
BANG!
A final bullet tore through the creature's skull. It collapsed onto the pavement like a sack of bricks, motionless.
Branch and Poppy opened their eyes, gasping for breath as gunsmoke drifted through the air. Standing near the front of the camper van, holding a smoking pistol with a wild, terrified look in his eyes, was John.
"Branch!"
John dropped his firing stance and sprinted toward them, sliding on his knees in front of his younger brother. He practically tackled Branch into an inspection, checking his arms, neck, and face with frantic hands. "Are you hurt?! Did it bite you?! Are you okay?!"
"I'm fine! I'm fine, John!" Branch gasped.
Once he verified Branch was unharmed, John's terror instantly transformed into raw, furious adrenaline. He grabbed Branch by the shoulders, his voice cracking. "What the hell were you thinking?! Walking out here alone in the middle of the night?! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?!"
Branch shrank back, guilt washing over him. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, John... I saw something move, and... and I saw her." Branch pointed a trembling finger toward Poppy. "She was trapped in a dumpster. She needed help!"
John paused, his breath ragged as he slowly turned his attention toward the pink child standing nervously a few feet away, clutching her elbows.
"What happened to you?" John asked, his tone shifting from anger to exhaustion.
"She lost her dad," Branch explained quickly, stepping protective in front of Poppy. "They got separated by a horde. I told her we'd help her find him."
John stared at Branch, overwhelmed. "Branch..."
"Please, John!" Branch pleaded, his eyes shining with desperate tears. "She's all alone. We can't just leave her out here! Please, we have to help her!"
John looked at Branch. Then he looked over at Poppy, who was silently weeping, terrified and helpless.
John closed his eyes, letting out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to drain the remaining anger out of his chest. When he opened his eyes, the hardness was gone.
"Okay," John murmured softly. "Okay. We'll help her."
Branch's face lit up. "Really?"
"Yeah," John said, offering a tired smile. "We'll find her dad."
Poppy wiped her eyes with her sleeve, letting out a tiny breath of relief as a small smile broke through her tears.
"Come on," John said, gesturing toward the vehicle. "Let's get off the street before more of those things show up."
They hurried back inside the camper van, John securely locking the heavy door behind them. He guided Poppy over to the plush couch in the rear, where she sat down stiffly, still visibly shaken from the ordeal.
As she sat staring at the floorboards, a soft thud echoed on the cushions beside her.
Gary hopped up onto the couch, trotted over, and gently rubbed his cheek against her leg, purring rhythmically.
Poppy blinked, looking down at the little grey kitten in surprise. A tiny, genuine smile touched her face. "He's cute..." she whispered, hesitantly reaching out a hand to stroke his soft back.
Gary instantly leaned into the affection, purring louder.
"Yeah, he is," Branch said, walking over and sitting down next to her. "I named him, you know."
Poppy looked up, curious. "You did?"
Branch rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a bit bashful. "Yeah... I named him Gary."
Poppy giggled softly. "That's a cute name." She gently stroked the kitten's ears. "Is it okay if I hold him?"
"Yeah, sure," Branch nodded.
Poppy carefully lifted Gary into her lap. The kitten instantly curled up into a small, warm ball, purring contentedly as she stroked his fur. For the first time all night, the tension drained from Poppy's shoulders, replaced by a quiet sense of comfort.
Standing near the hallway, John watched the two of them with a warm, gentle smile. Seeing Branch already forming a bond with Poppy brought a rare sense of peace to his chest.
He stared at Poppy’s face for a moment longer. There was something strangely familiar about her round eyes and the shape of her smile—it tugged at a distant memory, reminding him faintly of someone he used to know.
John shook his head, brushing the thought aside. Probably just imagining things, he thought to himself.
"Alright, kids, buckle up," John announced, stepping up to the driver's cabin. "We're heading out."
Branch and Poppy nodded, settling into the couch as John started up the engine. The camper van rumbled to life, slowly pulling out of the alley and continuing its journey into the dark, quiet night.
As the cityscape rolled past the windows, Branch sat beside Poppy, watching Gary sleep on her lap.
For the first time since the world ended, the road ahead didn't feel quite so lonely.