Chapter Text
Killjoy looked down at the beige melon-sized pouch attached to her horse's saddle, covered with a plastic bag. She looked at her backpack, equipped with rations, a sleeping bag, a bow and a revolver, among other things. She looked back at the people she survived with, their concerned faces look back. They thought she wasn't going to make it half the way to the pier, that she would be bitten within a week. Killjoy, however, was filled to her head with determination and persistence, as well as grief and sorrow. She was going to either die with Raze next to her arms, or live to scatter her ashes in the sea. This was her final purpose, her final mission in this strife and losing battle.
In the past 5 years, her world has been flipped upside down, yet there was still an engine, something that powered her internal will to live, dragging her up and down the broken and rusty rollercoaster of their new life. The violent shores of wrath erode away the already crumbling island of hope. Now, only the sound of a horse’s hooves clopping on gravel paths fill her mind. The settlement is already far away. Killjoy still adorned a green beanie, but her yellow jacket had been replaced with a grim black parka. Month-long planning all culminated for this final journey, and she knew that. Replaying and replaying, Raze’s last words kept echoing in her mind. “Killjoy, please take me to the sea.” Raze uttered, shortly before she collapsed, the lake of blood around her deep and dark. That was a month ago.
She looked at her map once more, reviewing the route. The pier was her final destination, but first, she would need to pass through the extremely dangerous leisure district, where many people died trying to evacuate from the city. Before that, however, she would need to cross the winding river, its currents powerful and never ending. There was no guarantee that any of the 5 bridges would have held in the half decade of deterioration, it was truly a gamble to take. Behind the bridges would be the high-rises of the city, many of which can be seen from her position leaning onto each other.
From the calculations, it would take a week. While Killjoy had maps and pictures, she never actually set foot in the city, for she had no reason to. Alas, a grief-influenced adventure would await her, slinging her into danger and tension like a soldier drafted to a foreign tour, or a newborn sea turtle on its mad dash toward the sea. The towers became larger as she moved closer to the city, trotting upon ruined roads.
She was ready for anything. Stronger and much more deadlier infected from the dense and cramped space, raiders and hunters who pillage and torture, friendly facades who wont hesitate to stab you in the back. She would need to change the way she made her decisions, to take more risks, to try to get by in a scramble for already dwindling resources. For a while, she tried to fill the time, fidgeting with a Rubik’s cube and checking on her navigation. Finally, rows of dead cars and overgrowth told her that she was approaching the belly of the beast.
The map stayed true to rusty street signs and landmarks, guiding her northeast to the pier. Nighttime came, and she eventually found refuge in the higher floors of an apartment building. She set up and prepared her various items, like a sleeping bag, and a small makeshift workshop. As she leaned onto the balcony, she looked down at the streets, with mossy car chassis and rusty dead lamps. The faded energy of the city resonated with her. It was like Raze. Raze and her optimistic view on this world, Raze and her contagious glee, Raze and her ever-present will to keep moving. Now it was just hollow.
As Killjoy drifted into light sleep, a threat loomed next to her. She didn't lock the door. It slid open as a walking corpse stumbled in, the dreadful croaking coming from its deformed mouth. Waving its arms to snatch something to bite into, it knocked over an empty can, falling to the floor with a loud crash. Fortunately, she woke up quietly and without movement, her terrified eyes tracking its every movement. Her trembling hands tried to reach for a knife, sheathed on her side. It wasn’t there.
Suddenly, the clicker turned toward her. “Why didn't I check that?!?” She scolded herself internally, angry and ashamed at this blunder. The clicker kept croaking in her direction, the intervals between croaks getting shorter. Killjoy looked around, trying to spot a weapon. The knife she was looking for was closer to the clicker than the sleeping bag she lied on.
A flurry of German curses echoed inside of her head as it began running at her. Panicking, she stood up and grabbed the nearest hard object next to her. She hurled the empty tin can, clanging down the floor and confusing it for a moment, buying her some time. Time well wasted frozen in shock as she contemplated on what was going on. Her eyes stared into the middle distance as she began to doubt or regret this insane quest. As her strive to grieve and let go pushed her to go deeper into the den, something started pushing back. Then she zoned back in and lunged at the table for the knife. She unsheathed it, and aimed for its throat, but the clicker somehow gripped her forearm, and pushed her back. She was knocked over, her stance lost, along with her hope. She could not accept her fate, as the wretched being dropped onto the floor, her bare hands was all she could use to stop it from biting her. It was almost over.
Suddenly, like fate itself knew it was not the moment, a bullet lodged deep into the clicker’s head, its dying croaks fading away. As a shocked Killjoy pushed it away, she saw a figure standing next to the doorway, barely lit by the moon, the gun they held upright shining. They were thin, and wore a dark blue hoodie. She realized it was someone she last saw 5 years ago.
They stumbled into a lighter part of the room, and holstered the gun into their pocket. Sunwoo Han stood upright, her eyes filled with as much shock as Klara’s eyes. They recognized each other immediately.