Chapter Text
"Not even if you were the last woman on earth."
The phrase had been spoken in good humor, a half-joking response to a half-joking inquiry from one Maya Fey, as she showed him around the Kurain training grounds. Miles had to accept that spirit channeling was real. He'd seen it with his own eyes, several times, and had spoken to a dead woman, more than once.
He'd watched the woman who now cuddled against him, shivering in fear and pain, literally being held captive by another deceased woman who seemed to be the embodiment of evil itself.
The last twenty-four hours had been utter hell, a strange, horrifying blur of terror, agony, and grief. More than once, Miles thought he might break, unable to even consider continuing to live in the world that would be left after this.
What exactly was "this"? Neither actually knew; all they knew was that the sky was now an unnatural shade of flame-orange, and miasma poured from the cracks in the scorched earth. The trees were all dead; sap oozed from their black trunks, discolored to deep crimson, giving the appearance that it was blood.
Miles still wasn't ready to give up. They were alive. There was still hope. Perhaps they'd starve to death. He didn't trust any of the plantlife, even those plants that he could still recognize as edible. They'd seen only a few animals, here and there. Which was good and well, except without knowing what had happened, he didn't think they could trust meat, either, and they didn't have any way of catching a wild animal anyway. He was sure that if they dared to venture out of their safe haven, they'd be able to find tools to slaughter an animal, but neither was inclined to do so, from fear and injury both.
On that line of thought, he was going to have to venture out soon, anyway. The gash in Maya's leg that rendered her unable to move would require cleaning again; conditions were horrific, but not quite so abyssal when he'd first cleaned and bandaged it. Now Miles was convinced the water was poisoned, as well.
"Mr. Edgeworth... I'm scared..."
His lips brushed her temple, his arms tightened around her. She cringed against him as, somewhere above them, a human voice howled, an unearthly and haunting sound. Two days ago, he'd have instructed her on what personal space was, since the Kurain elders had obviously neglected to include it in their social instruction. Now, however, he was as terrified as she, just as injured; as they'd fled into this cellar, a piece of the roof collapsed. Miles had to place himself between the falling wood and Maya, because such a blow would likely finish the young woman off.
It was likely a severe concussion, but at least he could walk.
"I need to try to get supplies," he said softly.
"N-no, don't leave!" Maya cried, clinging to him tighter.
He looked down at her, bemused. He didn't want to leave, but they'd surely die if they didn't find food and clean water, and things they could use for medicinal purposes. Attempting to inject some levity into the situation, for her sake, he asked, "Why? Do you think there are zombies out there or something?"
"Yes!" she whimpered.
"Oh, Maya..."
"Zombie cows. And chickens! And, oh god, zombie pigs. Pigs are vicious even when they're alive!"
"Maya, I don't think-"
"They're going to eat you! And then I'll be alone!"
"There are no zombies who are going to eat me," Miles contradicted, his head injury making his heart race and not being as sure of that as his tone indicated. It had to be the head injury giving credence to such a ridiculous notion. "And I will not leave you alone, Maya. I swear. I'm only going to find the things we need for our immediate survival. I will return immediately if I encounter trouble."
"Promise!"
"I promise."
He untangled himself from her. She let him go unwillingly, but knowing that he needed to. He limped over to where the blankets were- relatively clean blankets, as they'd been stored in this cellar- and carefully draped one over Maya. He continued to speak soothingly to her as he prepared himself to emerge from the cellar, armed with just his tazer. While he didn't believe there were any zombies up there- He didn't! There weren't any mutants, monsters or demons, either!- there was no point in tempting fate.
And then Maya giggled.
It was a subdued noise, not at all like her usual loud, obnoxious laughter. Fearing that Maya's mind was slipping, Miles looked to her in open concern, a question of what she found amusing on his lips.
She met his gaze evenly. "So... I might be the last woman on Earth. Is that still a no, Miles?"
Miles smirked in return. "Try to sleep, Maya. I don't know how long I'll be gone."
"Don't go far."
"I won't."
He left her then, climbing the stairs to the cellar cautiously. He removed the steel lock from the chains they'd used to bar the cellar doors, and took it with him. He didn't like the idea of leaving Maya there with it unlocked, but how was he to get back in- or how was she to get out, in an emergency, if he locked it from the outside?
Miles relaxed as he peeked out cautiously. His surroundings were absolutely still; nothing moved. Aside from that ghastly scream they'd heard, it didn't look like there was anything to disrupt him. Steeling his nerves, the prosecutor- former, now, as he assumed there was no prosecutor's office in Los Angeles to employ him anymore- pulled himself from the cellar and set the doors back in place.
The sky was still orange, although the clouds had gone from electric pink to deep gray, and Miles thought the sky now had a slight blue tint to them. The ground had ceased smoldering, and although there were still dark red puddles around the trees, it appeared the horrifically-colored sap was beginning to dry on the tree trunks. Looking around, he couldn't see the horrible black clouds of poisonous gas rising from the gaps in the ground anymore.
Perhaps the worst was over.
With that thought, Miles started his trek back to the village. Hopefully there was food and water that was still good.