CHAPTER 21: 21: THE WORLD HIDES A LOT FROM US

City B, September 27th? Year 0 of the Great Collapse

The garage was silent except for the faint rustle of clothing as Winter shifted to lean against a cold, rusted shelf. The dim light from a small crack in the metal door cast long shadows over the scattered tools and forgotten parts strewn across the floor.

He glanced at the woman across from him. She sat like a statue, her coat wrapped tightly around her form, her eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched on her face.

Winter turned back to his task, checking his rifle and ammunition.

The small ration packet he had handed her earlier lay crumpled beside her, emptied. Smart woman—she hadn’t touched it until he ate first. Not that he blamed her; caution was the only currency left in a world like this. Still, her thin frame and pale skin colour told him she didn’t have the luxury to be picky.

Why had he run into her again?

Tracking the small horde of zombies had been his primary focus until they’d led him to her. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the undead had been following something. Someone.

Her?

His gaze flicked to her briefly. She was pale, her cheeks hollow from hunger, and her jacket hung off her frame like a deflated tent. But it wasn’t just her condition that caught his attention.

He shifted his weight, his eyes flicking briefly to the bulky shape beneath her coat.

What the hell was that?

It hadn’t been there when they first met weeks ago. He would have noticed. The idea of her being pregnant flashed briefly in his mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly. She hadn’t looked pregnant then, and the timing didn’t make sense. Still, the bulge was odd, and her guarded posture didn’t make it any less suspicious.

Was the father still around? Doubtful. No sane man would leave her to fend for herself like this. Maybe there hadn’t been a father at all, and the thought of someone forcing themselves on her sent a flare of heat through his chest.

His hand stilled, and he glanced up again. She was glaring at him.

"What?" The woman’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and defiant. Her glare could have carved stone.

Winter allowed himself the faintest twitch of a smile. "Nothing," he replied, his tone as neutral as ever, though the corners of his lips threatened to betray him. No one’s taking advantage of this one, he thought. She was too fierce, too stubborn. A monster in her own way.

"Get some sleep. We’ll move when you’re rested."

"I’m fine," she snapped, pressing lightly on the bulge beneath her coat as if shielding it. "I can’t sleep."

"When’s the last time you did?" Winter asked, his gaze steady.

Her expression faltered. He watched as she racked her brain, her brows furrowing in genuine effort. That hesitation was all the answer he needed.

"Exactly," he said, shaking his head. "You’ll collapse if you keep pushing like this. Sleep."

"I don’t remember saying I was going anywhere with you," she shot back, her voice laced with haughty defiance.

That earned a single raised eyebrow from him, his tone carrying a hint of amusement."And where are you planning to go? You’re injured, without supplies, and..." His gaze drifted pointedly to her coat. "Whatever you’re hiding isn’t going to keep you alive out there."

The woman opened her mouth, then closed it, visibly floundering for a retort. She eventually gave up, turning her face to the side with a frustrated huff.

Winter allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk. "I’ll take your silence as agreement. Sleep. Now. Stop wasting time."

Her glare burned through him for another few moments before she shifted, laying down in the corner furthest from him. Her back faced him, her coat pulled tight around her.

Winter watched her for a moment longer, his thoughts churning. He couldn’t help but notice how deliberately she positioned herself, the bulge hidden against the wall.

He leaned back against the opposite wall, his rifle balanced on his kneePregnant? No, she didn’t act like it. Supplies? Maybe. But what could be so important that she’d go to this length to keep it hidden? Whatever it was, he’d find out eventually.

*****

The next morning, the sun’s weak rays filtered through cracks in the garage door, casting pale, fractured light across the dusty floor. Winter had been up for hours, scanning the area and ensuring the coast was clear. He nudged the woman awake with the blunt end of his rifle, earning a groggy glare in return.

"Coast’s clear. Let’s go."

The woman groaned but pushed herself to her feet, wincing as she shifted her weight onto her injured ankle. She said nothing, simply pulling her coat tighter around herself and limping toward the door. Winter followed, his eyes narrowing as he noted the worsening limp.

They moved through the desolate city in silence, sticking to the shadows and weaving between the skeletons of abandoned buildings. The streets were eerily quiet, the distant groans of the undead a constant reminder of the danger lurking just out of sight.

"Stop," Winter said suddenly, his voice low but firm. The woman froze, her glare already locked on him.

"What now?" she snapped.

"Your ankle," he said, nodding toward her leg. "It’s worse."

"I’m fine," she insisted, her tone defiant.

Winter crossed his arms, unimpressed. "You’re limping harder than yesterday. Let me see."

"I said I’m fine," she repeated, turning to keep walking.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "You’re slowing us down. If you collapse, you’ll be a liability. Let me see."

The woman’s jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with frustration. "I don’t need your help."

"And I don’t need dead weight," Winter shot back. His calm, measured tone only seemed to fuel her irritation. "Sit. Or I’ll make you."

They stared each other down for a long moment before the woman finally let out an exasperated sigh and dropped onto a nearby step. "Fine. Make it quick."

Winter crouched before her, reaching for her ankle. She jerked back. "I can handle it."

"You can’t," he countered, not bothering to look up. "Let me see."

After a tense pause, she relented. Winter resisted the urge to shake his head.

Why was she so stubborn?

He pulled up the hem of her trousers, revealing the makeshift bandage wrapped around her ankle. It was poorly done—sloppy, even—and caked with dirt. He carefully unwrapped it, frowning at the sight of the swollen, bruised skin beneath.

"This is bad," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "But it’ll heal if we take care of it properly."

"Great," she deadpanned. "Now hurry up."

Winter ignored her and pulled out a few supplies from his bag—a strip of cloth, some tape, and a couple of splints. His hands were steady and firm. His expression focused as he splinted the injury, ignoring her occasional winces. The woman watched him with thinly veiled suspicion, her body tense despite the gentleness of his touch.

"There," he said finally, tying the last knot. "Try not to make it worse."

"Thanks, doc," she said, sarcasm dripping from her tone as she pushed herself upright.

Winter stood as well, the sarcasm wasn’t lost on him, but he chose not to engage. He adjusted his pack, motioning for her to follow. "Let’s move."

*****

Winter’s eyes flicked intermittently to the woman as they walked, and his mind turned over the inconsistencies he’d noticed.

Her limp didn’t match the weight she should be carrying. Supplies wouldn’t sit like that, and it definitely wasn’t a weapon.

She was hiding something. That much was clear. But what?

Winter’s eyes went to her coat again, the bulge beneath it shifting subtly with her movements.

"Where are we going, anyway?" The woman’s voice broke through his thoughts.

"You’re here for the same thing, aren’t you?" Winter replied without looking at her.

She scoffed. "I lived in City B before all this. I told you that already. Or did you forget?"

Winter smirked. "Sorry for not keeping your every word on repeat in my head."

The woman rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "I need to find a way away from this guy," she muttered, her tone more exasperated than angry.

"Likewise," Winter said dryly.

"There is supposed to be a group of people somewhere around here. We can get supplies from them, and then you can leave."

"Supplies from people?!" The woman’s eyes widened in horror, and she took a step back, clutching the bundle.

Winter’s eyes narrowed, "Yes?"

"No," she hissed, wincing as she took another step back. "I’m not waltzing into some unknown group camp! You can’t just—Are you crazy?!"

"Scream louder, will you? I dont think the zombies in the back heard you."

She glared at him, "I’m not going anywhere near anyone with you! How do you think this caused this?" She pointed to her leg.

Winter frowned, so that’s what happened?

"We aren’t going to waltz into anywhere," he sighed, raking his hand through his hair. I’ll sneak in and get a few things from their supplies."

"Arent supplies usually highly guarded?" she asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Not when they’re feeling cocky about their skills. Clearly, you haven’t encountered many people," He ignored her huff of irritation and continued. "but these groups tend to have lax security around their supplies because they didn’t think anyone would dare to sneak in."

The woman seemed to think about it for a while. "But I can’t follow you into the campsite," she said.

"I know, you can find something to do as long as you dont get in my way," he said dismissively.

The woman sputtered, glaring up at him. "I’ll have you remember that I saved your life three times already!"’ she poked his chest.

"Yes, and that’s the only reason why I am even considering helping you right now," he smirked, clasping her hand.

"Huh, and here I was wondering what you were up to," she huffed, pulling her hand out of his grasp.

Wintre shook his head; he didn’t understand what about this woman made him want to argue all day. They didnt have that luxury though.

"We need to move faster," Winter said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The woman shot him a look. "I can’t."

"Then we take riskier routes."

"That’s stupid."

"Stupid is sitting here and waiting to get eaten," Winter countered, his voice calm but firm.

The woman huffed, her frustration evident. "You’re infuriating, you know that?"

"Not the first time I’ve heard that," Winter replied dryly.

She muttered something under her breath, shaking her head. "Men," she said audibly, her voice dripping with exasperation.

Winter’s lip twitched, but he said nothing.

She wasn’t watching where she was going; her focus was on her irritation with him. Her foot caught on a loose stone, and she stepped heavily onto the injured leg.

She cried out, her body pitching forward.