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When Jesse sees the horses, Shimmer included, tied up outside the lodge, he feels relief wash over him like a tide. Thank god. They're safe. He sees Dina and Joel's horses too. Ellie must've found them, and now they're all holed up waiting out the storm.
He ignores the little niggling doubt in the back of his head and dismounts, casting a glance over his shoulder at the flaming beacon that used to be Jackson. He wonders if there will even be anything left to save by the time they ride back.
The lodge is silent when he opens the door, the hinges creaking. In horror movies, that's ominous, but these days it's a fact of life. It's not like anyone outside of Jackson is going around oiling their door hinges. Hell, being able to hear the door open is a good thing if you're out here on your own.
The place looks gutted, like when the outbreak hit whoever owned it was in the middle of remodeling. A permanent monument to all the potential lost that day, all the hopes and dreams shattered, the lives lost.
Jesse doesn't hear anything, which is either a good sign or a very bad one. He keeps his gun ready as he climbs the stairs, head on a swivel, searching for threats. For signs of life. He finds none until he reaches the landing. One of the doors is open, so he creeps closer, still on high alert.
When he crosses the threshold, he almost slips on something. He looks down and sees a piece of metal. He looks up, eyes catching on the view through the window. Jackson a pillar of smoke in the distance. Then he sees the bodies.
Ellie's hat, her jacket, her fucking converse sneakers that she insisted on wearing even in the snow.
He rushes forward, looking for injuries even before he's on his knees. Not seeing any, but that doesn't mean much at all. She's laying half on top of-
Joel.
Joel Miller, beat to shit, blood pooling out from his neck. Eyes open but empty and lifeless and unseeing.
Joel, dead.
"Ellie," he breathes, hands on her shoulders, gingerly, like he might break her.
Like he's trying to pick up broken glass with his bare hands.
She twists in his grip, but it's a far cry from her usual fire. It's like she's running on instinct and isn't actually here. Well, shock. Probably. He doesn't know what happened, who did this, but he needs to get her out.
He can break about this later.