Mortala

7.

"Thank you for allowing me to go on this run with you, Inejra," Gabriel says as he, Inejra, Blythe, and Malaou walk through the woods together. His voice is small and hopeful, as if that's going to make her fall into his arms again.

Inejra barely reacts, she just continues staring straight forward. "You needed a job," she replies.

Gabriel nods. "Well, some father-daughter bonding time-" 

Inejra rolls her eyes. "Don't." Gabriel's soft expression drops and he looks away from Inejra, trying to hide the hurt on his face. It's hard for him to accept how different she is now. She's been his little girl since the beginning of the apocalypse and now that's all gone? What happened to them? 

It's quiet for a moment again, the only sounds around them are the soft conversations between families of birds and the whispers of the leaves. 

"Why do you wear masks?" Gabriel asks, looking at Blythe's black metal mask that resembles a Death Eater mask from the Harry Potter movie series. Malaou stands next to Blythe wearing a dark metal mask with black on the eye bags and several gashes and scratches from when she got in a fight with a wolf that now has black in the deep parts. Inejra still wears the ski mask she wore when she and Adrian reunited. 

"If we run into forgefront, they can't recognize us by our features." Blythe answers for Inejra, his guard heightening now that Gabriel isn't leaving her alone. 

"Oh, smart," Gabriel says.

"Bit," Malaou says, nodding to sign a few feet away. Blythe follows her gaze and notices a sign that says "Hillsborough, North Carolina High School. 'Go Tigers!'" 

"This is it." Blythe says. "Nobody's there anymore but you have to stay vigilant, understand?" There's a collective amount of agreements and nods between the small group of four. 

"Wait, what are we getting again?" Malaou asks. 

"We're looking for things they have forgotten. Important things so maps, files, ammo or weapons, that typa' shit." Inejra answers. "Adrian said there should be files about the testing they're doing so that's the main goal." 

"Correct. Walk quietly and in formation. Don't walk into the school with your chests held high acting like you own it. There could be traps, people, Walkers, whatever the sorts." Blythe says. 

Continuing down the road to the school feels eerie like they're walking into a disturbing and buried part of history. The red-brick school ahead of them has three stories and a basement with files. The road is covered in debris and rotting Walkers, the smell of them swirling under the small group's noses. 

They decided not to take the woods because being able to approach the school through the woods would be incredibly difficult and dangerous, considering the extensive amount of protection the school has around it. It's especially safer on the road since the main concern isn't humans watching them, as this base has been abandoned for about a year. Instead, the main worry is things the group can't see. 

"We don't have to stay together," Blythe says as the school inches closer and closer. The ripped Forgefront flags waving at them as if to say to turn back. "but we have to stay on the same floor as each other. We can split the rooms between us. As soon as you're finished with your rooms, radio in. When everyone is done we can move up a floor." The group doesn't need to respond for Blythe to know they heard him. 

Malaou grunts loudly as she slams her black spiked hammer on a Walker's head just as they're approaching the front doors. The corpse's head splits open and it falls to Malaou's feet, blood splattering on her brown Converses.