CNV-6

Two long, nail-biting days pass before the dreaded knock on Brynn's apartment door comes. She'd be lyint if she said that a selfish part of her wasn't silently wishing that Benjamin wouldn't make it to her -- she didn't want him to die, of course, but she certainly wouldn't be too strung up about it if he never showed up to whisk her away to Sibley. There were only so many things she could do to keep herself busy and keep her mind off of things while she waited; the television had stopped working nearly 2 weeks ago and she wasn't going to use her phone for fear that, somehow, all the electricity would go out and she'd be left with an uncharged phone for the remainder of her time. So, with a lack of things to get her mind thinking otherwise, she found herself thinking of every possible avenue of death she might cross when out on the streets of D.C..

She had tried to drag out packing as long as she could to take up time, but Will had told her to 'pack light ," which was so much easier said than done. For all she knew, this would be the last time she saw her little apartment - how was she supposed to choose what to stuff into her backpack? Her mind was trying to sort sentimental versus essential; while her favorite book and one of her photo albums would be nice, bottles of water and a first aid kit trumped them. She chose an olive green backpack that was just big and heavy enough to make her shoulders ache, and she filled it to the brim with essentials.

She went through the contents nearly 5 times before deciding it would be sufficient. One phone charger, 4 bottles of water. Snacks. The first aid kit she'd been gifted from her parents a couple of Christmases ago. She brought her wallet, not really knowing how necessary that might be. Was money even still a factor out there? She brought her research folder and several flash drives with content loaded on, as well as an empty grid-paged notebook and a few pens. With her bag nearly full at that point, she rounded up by shoving several pictures in -- she couldn't completely bar from her sentimental side, and seeing the smiling faces of her parents and younger sister had a way of cheering her up. She also threw in a little bag filled with creature comforts: tampons, a toothbrush, lip balm, soaps. And at the top of the backpack , she had just enough room to shove in a thin rain jacket, three pairs of underwear, three socks, a pair of her comfiest jeans, and two t-shirts. It wasn't a lot, but it was a good starting point. Will had said that they'd have everything she'd need there - hopefully that included a small wardrobe of some kind.

When Benjamin finally does arrive, it's in the middle of the night and his banging at the door nearly makes Brynn pee herself. She jumps about three feet in the air before calming herself and remembering that, oh, yeah , she was due for a visit.

She uncurls herself from the blanket she'd been using and straightens out her top, other hand grabbing at the hair tie on her wrist to put her short bob into a mini ponytail. Most of the hair escapes a second later, framing her face, but another loud knock prevents her from fixing it. He's very impatient.

"Benjamin?" It's not much louder than she'd use to talk to someone in the same room as her, but she knows that the door is thin. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Benjamin Yedlock. Will sent me." It's not much, but it assures her that it isn't some randomer coming to rob and murder her.

Born and raised in and around D.C., Brynn had her fair share of experience with those in the military. It was simply unavoidable. The Capitol was home to just as many military men as it was to politicians. So, when she opens the door, she finds that Benjamin is almost exactly what she expects him to be. Hair cut short, stubble growing on his face -- she knows that isn't permitted usually in the military, but the end of world kind of has a way of breaking rules -- he's big, tall. Even in the dimly lit corridor of her apartment building, she can tell that his skin is several shades darker than her own and that his clothes aren't in the best of states.

"Hi," she says, breaking the silence. He stares at her with calculating eyes. "Um, yeah, hi. I'm Brynn Zelinski. If you want to come in..." she takes a step back and gestures for him to come through the door.

"Are you ready?" He asks, slinging his backpack off his shoulders while he walks in. Without hesitation, he places it on the floor and takes a seat on her couch.

Great manners, Brynn thinks bitterly.

"Yeah, yeah," she nods, closing the door behind him. "Do you want to leave now, or...? If you need rest you can sleep for a little bit, or I have food and stuff if you're hungry. Or if you wanna leave I just have to get changed and then I'll be ready. Up to you. You're the guide."

He scoffs. "Lucky me, right?" When he sees her shrink a little and lower her head, his tone changes. "Sorry, I'm being a dick."

"Maybe a little."

"Sorry, it's not you," he says, and she has to raise her eyebrows because, yeah, it shouldn't be because of her. He literally met her fifty seconds prior. "It's just. I don't know; it's really shitty out there."

"I haven't been out there since right at the beginning," Brynn admits. She doesn't feel comfortable enough in his presence to sit on the small couch next to him, so instead, she plops herself down cross-legged on the floor across from him. "But I could imagine. You should sleep," she frowns, noticing the dark bags under his eyes in the new light of her living room. "I can get ready and wake you up when you want to go."

"Yeah, that...that sounds good," he agrees, nodding. "Thanks."

They agree to be out the door by seven o'clock in the morning - it's already nearing two, so neither of them will get much sleep but it will be enough so that Benjamin, particularly, doesn't crash. He had told her that in the past two days, he managed maybe eight hours of sleep total. He wasn't even too far from her apartment when he started his trek, but the roads are a mess and he took a long way instead of risking it on especially infected streets. He said that he managed to avoid any truly living person the whole time - most people had evacuated the city or were locked up in their little apartments, praying for it all to end. He said this last part bitterly and Brynn couldn't help but wonder what he must think of her -- she had been like them, satisfied for the time-being by the safety her apartment offered. If Will hadn't called, she probably would stretch her time there until it was physically impossible to live there anymore.

Brynn leaves Benjamin to the couch and takes her spot in her own bed. It seems to her that her eyes are closed for three seconds before being met by the coming dawn through her windows.



Benjamin Yedlock is a pretty shit tour guide.

Brynn doesn’t consider herself an expert at avoiding contagious zombies or anything, but she’s fairly certain that even she would know as much as to avoid the main downtown portion of the city near the White House and other national monuments. She could tell from a glance out the window of her apartment that the whole area was a mess.

Perhaps if Benjamin wasn’t forcing her to run the streets – seriously, was walking not an option? – she would’ve found it in herself to tell him this. But instead of observing the familiarity of the streets and the rising heights of the buildings, she was focused on not tripping over her own feet and on not passing out. There was a reason she hadn’t joined the army or pursued soccer after her four years of undergrad; she wasn’t made to be a runner and this was surely proof of that.

“What does Will want with you, anyways?”

Brynn’s head snaps towards Benjamin. They had been going silently since they left her apartment building. She’s out of breath and does her best to force out a clear answer. “I study immunology and infectious diseases. I know most of my colleagues have either died or fled, so their team is kind of lacking in that department. He thinks I could help.” There’s no response. “What about you?”

He laughs. “I think you were most of the reason – he told me there was no way he could get you to come alone. “Besides that, though, protection, maybe? I don’t know. He kept the call brief.”

Brynn found that a little strange – that he didn’t know his reason for being there, that is. As soon as she opened her mouth to ask, however, Benjamin skidded to a stop next to her, arm out straight to block her path so that she would not continue. He turned quick, just enough so that she could see the finger to his lips in a ‘shhhh’ gesture. “People,” he whispers, nodding ahead. Brynn can’t see anyone, but she trusts his world. “Up ahead. Over here; stay quiet.”

Benjamin has taken a spot in front of Brynn, crouched and leaning around an abandoned Buick. She never saw him remove the handgun from his holster but now it's in his hand, creeping around the corner, not aimed to shoot but ready if it needs to be called upon.

"We'll try to wait and see if they move on," he whispers, turning to look at her for a moment. She nods, heart close to beating out of her chest. "Just stay quiet, okay?"

Another nod. Brynn is too scared to chance a peak through the back window, but from the sound of it, whoever is up ahead of them doesn't have the same worries as she does. She hears laughing and yelling, what sounds to her like two teenagers goofing off. Worse than that, the noise doesn't seem to be fading in the slightest. They aren't moving on.

A few minutes pass in silence. Brynn has went from crouched to sitting on the ground, her calves starting to ache at the previous position. She's anxious; she can't help her fidgeting and shifting around.

"There's four of them," Benjamin says, finally breaking their silence. He says it so quietly that Brynn has to scoot closer to him to hear. "All of them have weapons - guns. Three guys. They look young, though." He peaks his head out again. "I can't tell why they're just waiting there."

"Can we just turn back and find a different way?"

"It's risky - there's not much cover down this street. We wait another ten minutes and see if they leave and if not, we'll track back."

Ten minutes don't have the time to pass before Brynn's eyes widen and her hand finds Benjamin's sleeve, a tug on it meant to get his attention. His eyes snap up, follow her gaze, and a muttered "fuck" falls from his lips.

The infected are easy to spot. If a living, breathing human were to stand next to one of the infected in a lineup, you would be able to tell in a second which was which. Even when first risen, the infected had a sickly looking blue tint to their skin, any color that had been present during life all but faded. The whites of the eyes would appear yellow. Depending on how long they were awake for, their body would be in varying states of decay. The virus seemed to speed up the process of decomposition; one who had risen two days prior might already find chunks of skin and flesh falling from their body. The movements of the infected were without any sense of grace. Ridged, feet dragging, arms unmoving at their sides. Somehow, they found it possible to run, though. It was slower than the average human might run but they had the advantage of never tiring.

They were more or less the same image that zombie movies had crafted into Brynn's head throughout her whole life. She had never been a fan of the idea of zombies; not because it scared her, but because the science of it didn't add up. There was no way a human whose brain had stopped, whose heart has stopped, whose everything had stopped, could conjure the ability to walk or move or have any urges at all. Impossible.

But that was before the infection started. Now, the impossible was slowly but surely making it’s way towards herself and Benjamin.

There were eight of them. No, wait - make that nine. Clothes torn, flesh white, stumbling down the street towards that they were hiding behind. Brynn didn't have to look at Benjamin to know that they were pretty screwed in this position: four potentially hostile humans with weapons on one side, eight infected hungry for their flesh on the other. The only plus was that the infected didn't seem to have sensed them yet. Surely, if they had, their stumbled walk would turn into a run. It was bound to happen, though. While their sight lacked, their noses seemed to pick up on humans once they were in a twenty-foot range.

"Are you good to run?"

Brynn's head snaps to Benjamin, the fear apparent in her eyes. "Yeah, but what way? The infected will block us if we try to go back."

"There," he says, nodding his head towards the other side of the street to a large building. "Inside. That one isn't chained up."

Many of the buildings did have chains on the outside of the doors. Back when the infection first started, business owners and landlords had locked up the doors in the hopes that they'd keep their buildings clear for the time being and then, with no intruders, things would be back to normal.

"They'll see us. Both of them."

Benjamin nods. "There will be places to hide in there if they do," he paused for a second, wiping sweat off of his nose. "I'd rather that then risk running straight into them, wouldn't you?"

"But if they shoot..."

"I'll go first, okay? You try to stay directly behind me. When we get to the door, I'll stand cover and you get it open. Run for whatever stairs you see first. Can you do that?"

She could tell that he's trying to be patient with her, not condescending. He's fully aware that she isn't on the same level as him: she doesn't own a gun, probably couldn't hit a target, and running and hiding is probably her best option. If he was alone, she's sure he would take them on himself. Stroll up to whichever group and teach them not to mess with him. Unfortunately, he had a liability stuck to his side.

"I can do that," she replies, nodding. And, on Benjamin’s count to three, they run.