"Losing all hope was freedom."

  James absentmindedly stirred the fire in front of him, nudging a half-charred log deeper into the coals. The flame was small—just enough to keep them warm without drawing attention. He’d dug a shallow pit for it earlier, the earth around it helping mask the glow from wandering eyes.

  They’d spent the rest of the night and the following three days traveling as far as they could along the frozen river, pushing themselves until the sun dipped below the horizon, and when they ran out of river they traveled through the snow. Now, they were camped beneath a sparse canopy of trees, sheltered enough to feel hidden. Joel and Ellie slept nearby, inside a tent bundled in their gear, while James took the first watch of the night, eyes scanning the treeline for movement.

  He was supposed to stay alert. Focused. But his thoughts kept drifting.

  It had been about two months since they left the Lanterns, and—if he was being honest—life had been amazing. He was learning survival skills from Joel, making jokes and talking with Ellie, and soaking in the raw beauty of a world he never used to notice. In his old life, the city was all he knew—concrete, noise, and the dull gray sky above. But out here?

  Out here, he was seeing a different side of America. He’d never really appreciated how beautiful his country actually was until he started traveling.

  Nebraska in winter was nothing like he’d imagined. The wide, open plains stretched out endlessly in every direction, blanketed in a layer of snow that shimmered under moonlight like powdered silver. Sparse clusters of trees stood like frozen sentinels across the land, their bare branches cracking softly in the wind. In the distance, gentle rolling hills broke the monotony of the horizon, not quite mountains, but enough to create a sense of depth and quiet grandeur. Rivers, like the one they’d traveled on, had turned to winding highways of ice, cutting through the white-draped wilderness. The world felt ancient and untouched—harsh, yes, but beautiful in its silence.

  Every day felt like a journey. And James was living life to the fullest.

  His body had healed up better than expected, the lingering pain from past wounds fading quicker than it should’ve. Another perk of the upgrade, he guessed.

  His eyes flicked to the corner of his vision, where his store quietly hovered.

  Currency: 63

  Infected were rare out here in the wilderness, but he took every opportunity he could to hunt them down. That bloater had earned him a decent payout, though a good chunk of it went into the supplies he burned through just to try and kill the damn thing.

  He already knew which body upgrade he wanted next.

  Improved organs I: 100

  Improves organ functionality and strength by 10%

  If this upgrade improved every organ, then it was the best option he had. Improved nervous system meant better reactions and possibly pain tolerance, improved heart and lungs meant better oxygen circulation and intake, and that's not even to mention if this upgrade counted things like his eyes and brain.

  As a whole he thought it would be the best upgrade he can get first, as it would make life out here easier to survive in.

  James shifted slightly and leaned back on one hand, his fingers dusted with ash from the firepit. The flames crackled softly, throwing dancing shadows across the snow-packed ground. A quiet sigh escaped him as he watched the sparks drift upward and burn out.

  Then he heard the faint rustle of movement to his left.

  His eyes flicked toward the tent, seeing Joel emerge and sit at the fire. There was tension in the way his shoulders held, in the way his head was tilted just slightly down, eyes catching the glow of the firelight.

  James smirked slightly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Joel didn’t answer right away. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, brushing snow off his jacket. The crack of his knees and the soft grunt that followed made James glance over..

  “You should get more rest,” James said, nudging the fire gently again with his stick. “You still have watch tonight.”

  Joel grunted. “Didn’t feel like sleepin’.”

  James nodded, not pushing it. He’d seen Joel like this before—restless, quiet, like his mind wouldn’t let go of something. After a moment, he asked, “You still worried about that guy near the gas station?”

  Joel didn’t respond at first. His gaze swept over the treeline like it had done a hundred times before, slow and meticulous, lingering on shadows too dark for comfort.

  Then he gave a silent nod.

  The two sat in silence for a moment, staring into the dark woods around them. The light from the shadows made the forest seem alive, and James felt a shiver of excitement as imagined what was out there.

  James leaned back on his elbows, watching the sky through the thin canopy above. “I doubt he followed us, not in this cold. ” he said eventually, scooching closer to the fire, “He saw we were armed and decided better.”

  Joel didn’t answer. The silence stretched out between them again. James sighed, sensing the weight pressing down on the older man’s shoulders.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said eventually, voice low. “Desperate men don’t need reasons. Just excuses.”

  James nodded slowly, but then tilted his head toward him. “Yeah. But it’s been days. If he was tailing us, don’t you think he’d have shown himself by now?”

  Joel’s stare tightened like a noose. “That’s not how this works.”

  “I mean, I get the paranoia,” James said, keeping his tone easy. “I really do. But being this wired all the time—it’s not healthy, man.”

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  Joel’s gaze snapped to him. Not angry. Not quite. But sharp. “You don’t get it.”

  James blinked, thrown off by the sudden weight in Joel’s tone. “Alright.”

  Joel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked on the fire, though his words were aimed straight at James. The glow lit the hard lines of his face, making him look more worn than ever.

  “You think just ‘cause you’ve had a few close calls—fought a buncha’ infected—you’ve got it all figured out?” he said, voice low, rough. “Like surviving a handful of bad nights means you understand how this world works?”

  James stilled, the grin he’d worn earlier fading under the weight of Joel’s voice.

  Joel shook his head slowly, then looked over at him. “I see it in you. The way you walk, the way you talk. You haven’t hit that moment yet.” His voice darkened. “The one that breaks something in you. The kind of mistake you don’t come back from. The kind that doesn’t just change you—it hollows you out.”

  He leaned back slightly, exhaling like the words had taken something out of him. “I’ve seen what people turn into when they’re cornered. Watched good folks bleed out over scraps, watched others walk away from it like nothin’ happened.”

  He turned his body toward James, his tone firm now—measured. “You’ve said it yourself—you were sheltered. I don’t know your past, not really. And I’m not sayin’ it was easy. But pain doesn’t make you wise.”

  James swallowed, the fire suddenly feeling too warm against the cold settling in his chest.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quietly.

  Joel leaned back, shaking his head, his voice quieter but no less raw. “You talk like all this—” he waved a hand around at the wilderness, at the cold sky, at the nothing “—is some kinda blessing. Like we’re free now, like it’s some clean slate. It’s not. It’s just pain. Dressed up as survival.”

  James watched him carefully, studying the way Joel’s jaw tightened, the way he kept staring into the flames like they were whispering something only he could hear. There was something off tonight. Something deeper than the usual grimness.

  Joel wasn’t just being grim. He was spiraling.

  James shifted, leaning in slightly. A sharp scent caught in his nose—faint, but familiar.

  Booze.

  He narrowed his eyes. He’d never seen Joel drink but he knew he did—it was rare though, and never enough to get really drunk, just enough to help him fall asleep. But tonight… maybe he’d snuck a sip or two extra from the bottle stashed in his bag.

  James didn’t say anything about it. Not yet.

  Instead, he kept his tone calm, even. “Still sounds like you’re choosing to live in it, though.”

  Joel didn’t react at first. Just sat there, shoulders hunched, eyes dull in the firelight. As if that single sentence had hit something deeper than he’d expected.

  Joel glanced at him, brow furrowed.

  James leaned in a little. “And if you’re still choosing to live in it… maybe there’s still something that matters.”

  That hung in the air for a moment.

  Joel didn’t respond.

  James broke the quiet again, more casual this time. “Y’know, Joel, you spend a lot of time bein’ angry at the world.”

  Joel scoffed. “World’s given me plenty of reasons.”

  James smiled again, poking at the fire. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to let go.”

  Joel stared at James with incredulous eyes, “Let go of what? The fact that every day is a goddamn fight? That the second you trust someone, they’re either dead or stabbin’ you in the back?”

  James leaned back, looking at the stars through the thinning branches above. “That’s the beauty of it, though. No rules. No expectations. Just life. Raw and unfiltered. You get to be exactly who you are—no masks, no bullshit.”

  Joel’s stare didn’t soften. “That ain’t beauty. That’s just chaos.”

  James shrugged. “Call it what you want, but you can’t deny it—there’s a kind of honesty in it. Before, we all had roles. Society told us who we were supposed to be. Good citizen. Hard worker. Family man. But now?” He motioned at Joel. “Now, you’re just… Joel. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”

  Joel let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite, “Yeah? And what’s that worth? You talk about freedom like it’s some grand thing. But all I see is people doin’ whatever the hell they want, no matter who it hurts. You say we’re free? Feels more like we’re all just animals, scratchin’ and bitin’ just to stay breathin’.”

  James leaned forward, grinning faintly. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re free too. Even with all that weight on your shoulders, you still get to choose. Every day, you decide whether to keep goin’ or lay down and die. No one’s makin’ you get up in the morning, Joel. That’s you.”

  Joel’s voice was low, tired. “You call that a choice?”

  James met his gaze evenly. “What else is it?”

  Joel looked away, jaw clenched. “You think if someone’s starvin’, dyin’, got a gun to their head—they’re free? That’s not freedom, kid. That’s desperation.”

  “Desperation is freedom,” James countered. “The ultimate kind. ‘Cause it forces you to be who you truly are. When you're comfortable, when you're safe, you don’t have to make real choices. But when your back’s against the wall? That’s when you find out who you really are. That’s when you become something.” the boy said with a certain zeal in his voice.

  Joel shook his head, his voice hardening. “That’s when you break.”

  James didn’t blink. “And then come out stronger”

  Joel’s jaw tensed. “Yeah? And what about the ones who don’t? The ones who can’t fight back? Kids. Families. People who never asked for this?”

  “No one asks to be born either,” James said with a shrug. “But we’re here. And we make our own way.” he said, poking at the fire, “And the weak still have a choice. They can kneel, or they can fight. Even a slave has the freedom to decide how they’ll die—on their feet or on their knees.”

  The man stared at him for a moment, “That why you think it’s okay for people to do whatever they want?” Joel snapped. “Because they can? If someone decides to take what ain't theirs—enslave, torture, rape—you’re just gonna sit there and say ‘Well, that’s their freedom’?”

  James gave a humorless smirk. “You’re acting’ like there’s ever been a time when that wasn’t the case. Power’s always belonged to those willin’ to take it. The only difference now? No one’s pretending’ otherwise.”

  Joel stared at him. “That ain’t freedom. That’s just people bein’ monsters.”

  James leaned in. “And what about you, Joel? You ever stop and wonder what you are? All the blood on your hands? You’ve done some awful shit. Killed, tortured, stole. So what makes you any different from everyone else?”

  Joel didn’t speak.

  James nodded slowly. “You’ve done horrible things, yet I trust you to have my back when the time comes. There are good people out there—the three of us are living proof of this.”

  The words hung in the cold night air, drifting slowly into the quiet between them. Joel didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. The fire crackled softly, its glow pulsing against the snow-packed earth like a heartbeat. The tension between them hadn’t fully broken—still lingering in the unsaid, in everything Joel kept buried and everything James wanted to get out.

  James watched the fire for a few seconds longer, then let out a quiet sigh. He brushed the snow from his pants as he stood. “Look, you finish up my watch—I’ll grab some sleep and take the last shift.”

  He didn’t wait for Joel to argue, he just turned and stepped away from the fire, boots crunching through the frost, leaving behind only the warmth and the flicker of dying embers between them.

  He stepped quietly into the tent, the cold air following him for a moment before the flap fell shut. With a tired sigh, he sat down, tugged off his boots, and slipped into his bedroll in the far corner. The fabric was stiff from the cold, but it was a comfort he’d come to appreciate.

  As soon as his head hit the makeshift pillow, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. His body relaxed, muscles unclenching from hours of travel and tension. Sleep was right there—waiting to take him.

  But then he heard it—a rustling to his right, barely audible over the wind.

  “You’re wrong,” Ellie muttered.

  James turned his head toward her voice, blinking into the pitch-black of the tent. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel the seriousness in her tone. He let out a soft hum, encouraging her to go on.

  Her voice was quieter now, but heavy. “This world isn’t beautiful.” A pause. “It’s chaos. A world where brothers kill brothers because one of them turned. Where you watch your best friend change—turn into a monster—and you keep going, because there’s no other choice. Where kids grow up without parents. Where that’s normal.”

  The pain in her voice said more than the words ever could.

  James didn’t reply.

  There was another pause before she continued, this time with steel beneath her words. “No... it’s not beautiful. But I’m gonna make it beautiful. With my blood the firefly’s will make a cure, and we’ll put a stop to this madness.”

  James stared into the dark, eyes wide open, watching nothing. But he smiled—soft and full of admiration.

  “Then,” he murmured, “I look forward to seeing the world you create, Ellie.” He said, coming to a decision in his mind.

  He’d been wondering this whole time what he was going to do when he actually gets to the firefly’s.

  Would he try to stop Joel? Encourage him?

  He wasn’t sure, he really wanted Ellie to survive—she’d become his best friend at this point. But at the same time what Joel did was arguably the worst thing anyone has ever done in human history, practically dooming their race to the fungus.

  He doesn’t blame Joel though, because he understands. Selfish love is a beautiful thing.

  However he has come to his decision. When they get there, he’d tell Ellie the procedure would kill her, and then ask what she wanted to do. If she still wants to do the procedure, which James is almost sure she will, then he’d do everything in his power to support her and stop Joel.

  If she said she wanted to live?

  Well… then James would fight tooth and nail to get her out.

  No matter what.