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“Effingham!”
“Excuse me?”
Ellie hurries to his side, skidding to a stop as she points at a distant sign. “Effingham! Like, you’re an effing dick! What an effing great name for a town. Can we check it out?”
With a roll of his eyes, he gestures ahead. “Reckon you’ll be effin’ annoyin’ if we don’t.”
Ellie stops short, eyes wide as she turns to him with a mischievous grin. “Holy shit, did you just make a joke?”
He huffs, suppressing a smile. “Must be more tired than I realized.”
Her grin widens as she hastens to his side, bouncing down the cracked asphalt. “I can’t believe it. Emotionally constipated Joel Miller made a joke. It’s too bad newspapers don’t exist anymore because this would be a stop the effing presses, we need to effing change the effing headline situation.”
The gaps in Ellie’s knowledge of pre-Outbreak life mystify him. She learned about the world before in school, of course, but he very much doubts pop culture references were on the FEDRA curriculum.
“How the hell do you know about newspapers?”
Ellie shrugs, tucking her thumbs under her backpack straps and readjusting them as they move forward. “Told you, I like to read. I think I read everything in the library at the first four schools they had me at. I was working my way through the prep school library when this happened.” When she lifts her right arm in example, she smacks him in the chest, then looks up with a not-at-all-contrite expression. “Sorry! That was effing clumsy of me.”
It’s already getting tiresome. “Is this goin’a be a thing?”
“Is what going to be an effing thing?”
He doesn’t dignify that with a response, just presses forward. As they approach the exit, Joel guides them to the side of the road to check the map. He follows the highway through the town with his finger, tapping the next exit. Looks like a decent-sized town, which means they might have luck scavenging for supplies. It also means the potential to encounter people or infected, but with the nights growing cooler, they need to find better gear for Ellie.
“Don’t think this one’s our best option,” he informs her, glancing up in surprise when Ellie’s hand appears in his line of sight.
“Why?”
There’s a genuine, curious expression on her face that transforms into a small smile when he gestures for her to sit next to him. “You tell me,” he prompts, handing the map over and pointing out their location.
Ellie studies the map intently, her brow furrowing in concentration as she traces over the area. Her navigation skills have improved quite a bit since he caved to her repeated requests to learn his ‘super secret compass skills.’ Then she hands the map back and looks around, gesturing for him to stay put when she jumps to her feet and jogs down the exit ramp.
She returns, slightly out of breath. “This area looks kind of residential, but it’s an effing big town, so the next exit might be more, uh… shit, what did you call it? Wait, don’t tell me. Commercey? Commercial! Like, with restaurants and stuff.”
“Huh,” he grunts as he gets to his feet, stretching before he shoulders his pack. “You do listen to what I say.”
“I do not!” Ellie exclaims, scandalized. “That’s an effing rude thing to accuse me of. It’s like you don’t effing know me at all, man. I am a fu — effing genius when it comes to selecting where to find the good stuff.”
This might be the most annoying place name they’ve come across yet. And they’ll likely spend the rest of the day here.
He’ll just have to get effing used to it.
“Lead the way, Magellan,” he mutters, gesturing for Ellie to take point. When she falls into step next to him, he’s surprised; he figured she’d be half a mile ahead by now.
As they walk, Ellie delves into one of her tangents. “Did you know Magellan wasn’t the first person to sail all the way around the world?”
He didn’t. “That so?”
“Yep! He died before the trip was over. Like, way before. I don’t remember where, though. Do you think kids knew about all the cool exploration shit going on back then? I mean, there weren’t easy ways to share information, so maybe not. But I bet the kids who did know wanted to be explorers. It must have been like learning about astronauts. You know, ‘cause they were exploring places that seemed impossible to reach. Hey, did they still think the world was flat then? Did they all think Magellan was going to, like, fall off the edge of the world and float through space? That would be pretty cool.”
He hums, scanning their surroundings. “No idea,” he replies without real thought. “Me and school didn’t mix too well.”
“Oh, right. I forgot they had schools for cavemen,” Ellie teases before giving him a reprieve, joining in Joel’s silent observation. When buildings come into view, Joel’s posture stiffens, his hand moving to rest on his holstered pistol.
“Gun out. You know the drill.”
Ellie nods, her earlier playfulness replaced by an alert focus. The eerie stillness of the town sets Joel’s nerves on edge. Veering off the highway, they head toward the crumbling remains of Effingham. There are several tall signs for gas stations and hotels; it must have been a popular overnight spot for people driving along the interstate.
They work their way down the main street, clearing and checking the promising-looking structures. Most of them are picked clean, but they both find some canned foods in a ransacked grocery store. Ellie discovers a pair of winter gloves in a clothing shop, grinning as she pulls them on. “My fingers won’t fall off when it gets effing cold at night now,” she preens as she shows off her find.
After a couple of hours of scavenging, Joel herds Ellie back toward the interstate. “Not sleepin’ in a town this big unless it’s necessary,” he reminds her when she pouts in disappointment.
She rolls her eyes and shrugs, trailing down the road after him. “Man, I’m hungry. If you could eat anything at all right now, what would it be?”
It’s a trap, and he knows it, but not answering will only egg her on. “Burger sounds good.”
“I’d kill for an effing ham and cheese sandwich right about now.” She looks up at him with an innocent, anticipatory smile.
God help him. “That was effin’ awful.”
Joel fends off the rest of her jokes as they head back toward the highway. They’re nearly there when Ellie points out a craft store they’d missed. He’s had luck in stores like that before — not everyone thinks to check novelty retailers for supplies — so they give it a shot. He prefers to keep away from larger stores because they’re hard to clear, but given how deserted the town has been so far, he’s willing to chance it.
It’s a windfall of utilitarian supplies — he’s thrilled to find a pack of box cutter blades and several rolls of duct tape. Ellie gets excited over a pack of colored pencils and an intact coloring book. Joel stands watch while she explores the remains of the kids’ section.
A pair of shitty water guns hanging on an end cap grab his attention. Joel knows he shouldn’t — knows he’ll regret it — but he’s in a good mood, and Ellie’s always looking for a way to pass the time. As long as he’s confident there aren’t people or infected around when she shrieks at him, she’ll enjoy a new way to torture him. When he’s certain Ellie’s attention is elsewhere, he slips them into his pack.
He looks up to find Ellie examining a paint set. They’re probably all dried out, but… “Put those back.”
“But—”
“No.”
“You’re so effing boring,” she huffs, zipping up her bag before joining him. “Onward?”
He gestures toward the door. “Lead the way.”
Ellie keeps up her chatter as they wind their way back to the interstate. Most of her observations seem to be vehicles for more effing references he rolls his eyes or glares at, but there’s one he comments on.
“That is an effin’ big cross,” he agrees, trailing behind as Ellie takes off to examine it up close. Joel sits on a low wall while she circles the cross, seemingly measuring herself against it. While she’s occupied, Joel takes the opportunity to fill one of the guns from his canteen and pockets it before she notices. He gives her another minute before whistling and nodding toward the road.
“Dude, that thing is more than thirty-seven Ellies tall!” she tells him once they’re side-by-side. “How tall are you? I want to figure out how many Joels it is.”
“How d’ya figure that?” he questions, glancing back. He’d never survive thirty-seven Ellies.
“They taught us effing math, dude. The sign said it’s a hundred ninety feet tall. I’m five-one. How tall are you?”
“Five-eleven.”
“Five… really?” She looks him up and down a few times before shrugging. “You look taller. Okay, five-eleven. That’s… seventy-one inches, so—”
He tunes out the rest of her calculations, allowing Ellie to take the lead once more. She’s deep in thought — probably doing division in her head — so he double-checks their surroundings and seizes the opportunity to tease her with his find. Joel hits her in the neck, just under her ponytail.
Ellie, predictably, squawks and grabs at her neck, wheeling around. “What the fuck was that?”
He holds up the water gun with a smirk. “Thought your hair was goin’a catch on fire doin’ all that math.”
Joel’s amusement disappears when he processes Ellie’s expression. Her face has gone pale, eyes wide and fixed on the water gun like it’s a proper weapon. The hand not clutching her neck curls into a fist and stays that way.
“Ellie?” he asks as he approaches, concerned by the sudden change in demeanor.
She blinks a few times, shaking her head to clear whatever triggered her reaction. “I… don’t do that again.”
He frowns, nodding as he tosses the toy to the side. He’ll ditch the other one next time they stop. “‘Course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Ellie cuts him off, turning back to the road. “Let’s just keep moving.”
The playful mood from earlier has evaporated, leaving only tension in the air. Ellie keeps pace without a word, her attention fixed on the ground. Silence stretches on as they proceed down the highway, the sun sinking lower on the horizon. Her uncharacteristic quietness stirs guilt deep in Joel’s gut, even though he couldn’t have known water guns would upset her.
When they cross a small river, Ellie turns to him but doesn’t meet his eyes. “We should camp here. Tree cover and water, right?”
“That’s right,” he agrees with a quiet voice. “You wanna set us up?”
Ellie nods and veers off, guiding them down toward the riverbank. They survey the area for a few minutes before Ellie selects a suitable spot — the same one he’d have chosen — and move in sync to set up their meager camp. Her movements are almost mechanical, her eyes distant. He wants to say something, to apologize again, but he’s not sure how to broach the subject without making things worse.
“You wanna handle water or firewood?”
She freezes, frowning as she turns with a confused expression. “Firewood?”
“Good enough breeze to disperse the smoke. Now that it’s getting cold, we’ll be buildin’ them more often,” he explains.
With a slow nod, Ellie decides, “I’ll get the firewood.” She shoulders her pack and heads toward the treeline without another word.
Joel watches her go, a knot of worry settling in his stomach. He’s seen Ellie upset before, but this feels different. More raw. He sighs, running a hand through his hair before heading to the river to fill their canteens.
Joel replays the incident in his mind as he crouches by the water’s edge. The way Ellie’s face had drained of color, her eyes focused on the toy as if it could hurt her. It wasn’t just surprise or annoyance — she was stuck in a memory. He knows the feeling all too well.
By the time he returns to their camp, Ellie is already arranging a small circle of rocks. He sets the canteens down and kneels to help her. She’d watched him before, but never helped build or light their fires. Ellie is quiet but attentive as he shows her how to set up the wood and tinder.
“We don’t need it burnin’ all night,” he explains, batting her hand away from one of the larger pieces of wood. “So this setup should do. Set the tinder in the middle there and the kindling on top. Should be taller than it is wide.”
He sits back on his heels, watching as she arranges some dried grass and leaves, then bark and small twigs.
“Like this?” she asks, peeking up at him.
“Little narrower.”
She studies the wood for a moment before asking, “Why?”
“If there ain’t enough air circulation, it’ll die before you get a flame goin’. You’ll want to add some smaller stuff as it catches.”
While Ellie rearranges the kindling, Joel digs out the flint. He holds it out when she seems satisfied with the setup. “Give it a shot.”
She takes the flint with hesitancy, brow furrowed in concentration as she strikes it against the steel. Sparks fly, but the tinder doesn’t catch. She tries again and again, growing visibly frustrated with each attempt.
“Here,” Joel says, reaching to readjust her hands. “Like this. Angle it down more.”
She nods, allowing him to guide her hands. On the next strike, a small flame flickers to life in the tinder. Ellie’s eyes widen, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she watches it catch, adding more kindling without Joel’s prompting.
As the fire grows, Joel settles back, watching Ellie tend to it with determination. The warm, flickering light softens the tension that etched itself on her face earlier.
“Keep an eye on the wood; we’ll need to push the larger pieces toward the middle to keep it goin’,” he says, digging in his bag for a specific can. He’d planned on saving it until they were well away from Effingham, but he feels bad about ruining Ellie’s good mood. “You pick up anything with a label today?”
“Corn and kidney beans,” she answers without hesitation, sitting back on her heels. “What’s that?”
“Somethin’ I already regret,” he mutters, tossing the can to her.
She stares at the label for a moment, a proper smile forming for the first time in hours. “Seriously?”
“Yup.”
“You found effing Spam?”
“Already regrettin’ it,” he repeats.
“Dude.” Her eyes glitter as she turns the can, reading the label. “This is, like, the best find. Spam from Effingham. I wonder if the effing Spam is better than effing ham. The kind they make in Effingham, I mean.”
With a grunt, Joel juts his chin toward her pack. “We’ll have the corn, too. Might as well be full while we have the opportunity.”
Ellie nods, her enthusiasm dimming as she rummages through her pack. She tends the fire as he prepares their meal, her movements more relaxed even though he can see the underlying tension in the set of her shoulders.
“Y’know,” Joel begins, setting the cans near the flames. “If you wanna talk about—”
“I don’t,” she cuts off sharply. “Leave it.”
“Alright.”
Silence falls as the food heats, broken only by the crackle of flames. It’s only when Joel nudges the Spam away from the fire that Ellie speaks. “It’s hot already?”
“Nope,” he answers, popping the p in a way he knows Ellie hates. “Gimme the two longest sticks you found.”
She wrinkles her nose as she passes the requested items over, watching with interest as he slices two pieces of meat and spears them. When he hands one back, she stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “Uh?”
“Try it,” he encourages, holding his stick out until the flames just lick his slice. “But I think you’d like it crispy.”
Ellie takes a hesitant nibble before mimicking Joel’s actions. “It’s pretty good just regular.”
“Ain’t bad,” he agrees. “Nice havin’ a little texture, though.”
The sizzle and pop of the meat fill the air as they cook their dinner. After a few minutes, Joel pulls his stick back and blows on the meat to cool it. Ellie follows suit, sniffing the browned Spam before taking a small bite. Her eyes widen in surprise. “Holy shit, this is good!”
“Told ya,” Joel chuckles. They split the remaining food — if Ellie notices she gets a bigger portion, she doesn’t say anything. Darkness surrounds them as they finish and bury the cans to deter any curious animals.
This is about the time when Ellie launches into a series of questions that teeter on the edge of personal. Tonight, she remains silent, staring into the dying embers of the fire. Joel watches her from the corner of his eye as he cleans his weapons, shoving down his concern at the continued silence.
Ellie breaks the silence, her voice just above a whisper. “Sorry I freaked out earlier. It’s just… a memory I don’t like thinking about.”
Joel sets down his gun, giving her his full attention. “Got plenty’a those myself.”
She nods, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top. As far as he can tell, Ellie curls up like that when she’s feeling unsettled. “Offer stands whenever,” he tells her in a quiet tone, holding a hand out to stop her protest. “I’m just sayin’.”
“Yeah,” she sighs tiredly, gaze fixed on the fire. “I know.”
Joel watches her for a few more minutes before returning to his task. They sit quietly until Ellie speaks. “Can I take first watch? I’m not tired.”
He hesitates, studying her face in the fading firelight. She holds her shoulders taut, her posture stiff as she stares at him, waiting for an answer. As much as he’d like to know what’s bothering her, pushing will only make her retreat further.
“Alright,” he agrees finally. “Wake me if you get tired.”
Ellie nods, not meeting his eyes as she retrieves the rifle and moves to sit with her back against a tree. Joel observes her for a moment longer before settling into his sleeping bag. He doesn’t expect to sleep much, not with the stilted silence surrounding them. Joel drifts in and out of a light doze, always aware of Ellie’s presence. She doesn’t move from her spot, doesn’t fidget or hum or do any of the little things he’s come to expect when she takes watch.
He wakes, unsure of what disturbed his sleep. The fire has burned down to embers, casting a dim glow over their small camp. He sits up, scanning the area until his eyes land on Ellie. She’s still sitting against the tree, rifle across her lap as she stares off into the darkness.
“Ellie?”
She startles, blinking as she turns to face him. “Oh. Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Nah,” he lies, pushing himself to his feet. “My turn anyway.”
Ellie nods but doesn’t move when Joel approaches and settles down beside her with a grunt. They sit in silence for a few moments before he speaks again.
“You alright?”
She shrugs, picking at a loose thread on her sweatshirt. “Just… hate that one stupid memory can make a nice day shitty.”
He hums, sliding the rifle into his lap and ducking to catch sight of her face. “Yeah,” he breathes after a moment. “Ain’t fair.”
“Life’s not fair.”
Pursing his lips, Joel considers how to respond. “Reckon you’re right.”
They fall into silence for several minutes until Joel clears his throat. “You should rest.”
Ellie studies him for a moment before hauling herself to stand. “Hope it stays quiet.”
“Me too,” he agrees, tracking her movements to the sleeping bag. They need to find a second one; it won’t be practical to continue sharing when the weather turns and they need additional layers to get through the night.
Joel looks back when the soft slip of nylon stops because Ellie’s settled. “Hey, Ellie?”
“Yeah?”
“Get some effin’ sleep.”
The small, genuine smile he gets in response carries him through the night.