Highway Outskirts, Abandoned House.
The flickering flame of a kerosene lamp cast a dim light in the dark bedroom. Brian sat on the edge of the bed, carefully examining Sarah's dislocated leg. Not long ago, they had learned that the bridge would be swarming with infected. Knowing it was far too dangerous, they had sought higher ground, hoping to spot Joel and Tommy from above. But beyond the reach of the streetlights, everything was shrouded in darkness. The only sounds were the distant gunfire from the bridge and the shrill, piercing roars of the infected, echoing through the night.
Unable to find their companions, Brian had no choice but to carry Sarah and head in the opposite direction of the bridge. They found this abandoned house by the lake, off the highway, and decided to rest here for the night. They planned to head back to the bridge at first light to check on Joel and Tommy.
When they entered the house, it was in disarray, with belongings scattered everywhere. Clearly, the occupants had left in a hurry, aware of the danger outside. The house had no electricity, and the generator in the basement was out of fuel—likely taken by the previous residents. Fortunately, Brian found a working kerosene lamp in the shed, providing a sliver of light in the darkness.
Looking at the swelling around Sarah's knee joint, Brian knew that without proper treatment, the condition would worsen, potentially leading to permanent damage. "This is trouble," he sighed, lifting the drowsy Sarah and laying her gently on the bed.
He went downstairs to the living room, found a sturdy wooden stick, and grabbed two scarves from a rack. Back in the bedroom, he placed the stick alongside Sarah's leg and wrapped the scarves tightly around it. He wasn't sure if the method for treating fractures would work on a dislocation, but it was all he could do.
After securing everything, Brian found some bedding in the next room, spread it on the floor, locked the bedroom door, and barricaded it with a chair. Better safe than sorry, he thought. He extinguished the kerosene lamp, picked up a notebook from the table—which had a letter inside, presumably from the previous occupants—and used it as a pillow. Exhausted from the night's escape, he felt the warmth of the bedding and the comfort of rest.
"Comfortable!" he muttered, closing his eyes. Sleep washed over him like a wave, and he quickly drifted off.
The Next Day.
"Thump... Thump..." Brian didn't know how long he had slept, but the faint noise jolted him awake. He opened his eyes to see sunlight streaming through the window. He slowly got up, grabbed the handgun from the table, and fixed his gaze on the door.
The sound was unmistakable—something was on the stairs, moving carefully but still making noise. He tiptoed to the bed and gently shook the still-sleeping Sarah. When she woke up, he pointed to the door and put a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. Sarah, still groggy, quickly understood and nodded, promising not to make a sound.
The room fell silent, but no more noises came from outside. After what felt like an eternity, the doorknob suddenly turned, making both of them tense up again.
"Is anyone in there?" The voice outside was elderly, and the person didn't seem to be hiding his presence. He knocked on the door and called out again.
Hesitating for a moment, Brian finally spoke. "Who are you?"
"Huh!" The man outside was surprised to hear a child's voice. "My name is Arman. This is my daughter's place. Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Can you open the door?"
"...."
"Can you set bones?"
"What?"
The man outside didn't expect the question but quickly understood its importance. "Yes, I used to be a medic. If it's not too severe, I should be able to help."
Satisfied with the answer, Brian wasted no time. He moved the chair blocking the door, unlocked it, and stepped back, still pointing the gun. "Come in."
The door creaked open, revealing an elderly man with white hair and a kind face. He held a shotgun and looked around the room in surprise.
"Are you two kids alone here? Where are your parents?"
Brian didn't answer, but Sarah spoke up. "It's just the two of us. My dad and uncle went to distract the monsters and got separated from us."
She then turned to Brian, who was still holding the gun. "Brian, put the gun down. This isn't nice."
Looking into Sarah's kind eyes, Brian felt a pang of something he couldn't name. He holstered his gun and said, "I'm Brian. This is Sarah. I'm sorry about earlier."
"No problem, no problem," Arman waved it off. He walked over to Sarah and examined her leg, which was tightly wrapped in a scarf. "Did you do this?"
Feeling a bit guilty, Brian nodded. "Silly boy," Arman scolded, but he quickly got to work, unwrapping the scarf. The swelling was more pronounced now, and Sarah's entire leg was starting to look puffy.
"Go get your blanket and roll it up. Let her lean on it," Arman instructed. He had seen enough injuries in his time and didn't want Sarah to suffer any long-term damage.
"Okay!" Brian quickly did as he was told.
"Relax, Sarah," Arman said gently as he lifted her injured leg. He bent her knee to a 90-degree angle, pressed down on her lower leg with one hand, and pulled up on her knee with the other. He looked at Sarah, who was staring nervously at her leg, and asked, "How does it feel, Sarah?"
"Huh?" Sarah looked up at him, confused.
In that moment, Arman's hands jerked sharply. There was a loud "crack," and Sarah's dislocated leg popped back into place. She let out a scream of pain, but as the pain subsided, she was overjoyed to feel sensation returning to her leg.
Last night's events replayed in Sarah's mind. She knew her injury had forced her dad and uncle to lead the infected away to keep her safe, and Brian had carried her over rough terrain. She felt like a burden, a liability. But now, with her leg back in place, she clenched her fists, determined not to be a burden anymore. She had to become stronger.
"Thank you, Grandpa Arman," she said sincerely.
Arman ruffled Sarah's hair, smiling warmly. "You're welcome, kiddo." His expression turned serious as he looked at the two children. "Did you see anyone else when you got here?"
Brian realized this was Arman's daughter's house, and he had come looking for his family. They hadn't seen anyone when they arrived, but then Brian remembered the letter from last night. He slapped his forehead and quickly searched the floor, finally finding the letter under the bed.
"Here, does this help?"