"whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."
➳ Please note I do not at all take credit away from Syfy for the creation of this series, I only take credit for the main character and her involvement with the plot :)
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➳It turns out, spleenwort was not particularly good at stopping infections, but rather keeping them from happening at all. In Cassandra's case, the natural remedy was administered, by (y/n)'s estimate, around two days late.
That's it, a mere forty-eight hours and the outcome of her life would have been drastically different. She wouldn't have vomiting on the roadside as she was now, with 10k delicately holding her dark hair away.
(y/n) couldn't watch her friend suffer. It was one thing to volunteer to give her mercy, but another to watch death approach her in such a gruesome way. The girl had even taken to avoiding her at all costs.
Some might have said she was wasting precious time, but the girl thought she simply might be a coward.
On the brighter side of their gloomy existence, was the fact that Citizen Z had told them of another lab, closer to them in Colorado. If they had any luck, they might be able to get Cassandra a doctor in time, before the damage was really irreversible.
If it wasn't already, that is.
"How much gas we got left?" Warren asked Doc, who was standing nearby, not far from (y/n). She was trying to clean of her knives, to distract herself from the sickness sounds nearby.
"I dunno," Doc shrugged and (y/n) sighed.
"Half a tank," she shrugged "ish."
"Make it 150 miles?" Their leader asked again, to which (y/n) solemnly shook her head.
"If it's mostly downhill," Doc pointed out. Well, that was one way to look at things.
"We're running real low on ammo again, too," the girl informed, gesturing to her rifle, which leaned unused against the van's door.
With the negatives out of the way, the group could finally focus on their primary mission: get Murphy to this lab in Fort Collins. Surviving was their secondary focus. Always had been, for the past how ever many months it had been.
It felt like a lifetime. And, in the apocalypse, it essentially was. They were luckier, than most.
The girl thanked her lucky stars for this second chance to do something right, expressing gratitude almost daily. Even on the bad days. Especially on the bad days.
Which, as she'd soon discover, was what today was shaping out to be.
➳For once, Doc drove. Warren sat in the back with 10k, Cassandra, and (y/n) - who couldn't avoid her dying friend in such a small vehicle. Instead, she tried to disassociate as much as possible. Cassandra had Ten Thousand, after all.
