SILVER BULLET ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

━ ix

Arthur likes rain, as inconvenient as it is. The smell is better than any food's he's tasted since the outbreak, and the pitter-patter of drops in the mud is a silent encouragement for thoughts to wander. It's rare to feel at ease, Arthur savors as much of it as he can.

(Y/n) is surprisingly good at tracking for someone who has so little knowledge about food sources and subtlety. For once, he can be the one that does nothing to contribute — it's very odd to be in such a position. But complaining would be utterly foolish.

(Y/n)'s a strange one, that much Arthur's certain of. Thirsty for blood and yet ready to offer kindness when given the occasion, the blend in her personality is terrifying and as unpredictable as a zombie attack.

Maybe that's what has kept her alive for so long.

"Arthur! You need to see this!"

He blinks in a quick succession to wash the internal monologue out of his thoughts. (Y/n) stands in the middle of a muddy road, looks at Arthur like it's Christmas day. He trots over to her side, sucks in a wince when he steps somehow awkwardly and causes a slight ache in his bitten leg.

He then hums, peeks at the mud over her shoulder. Car tracks, multiple and fresh.

Jackpot.

He wonders how (y/n) knew almost exactly where to look for the military, but he won't ask. He doesn't want to know. Dutch has been an adept of intricacy for far too long, and Arthur has had to endure it. If he can find even a taste of simplicity in his last few hours, he'll prolong it for as much as he can.

"Can't've gotten too far by now." (Y/n) continues. "We can catch up if we hurry."

Arthur has to hold back a laugh, but can't refrain from shaking his head. A naive little thing she is. "Catch up? I'd like to see ya run for hours straight to keep up with some damn cars."

"They always stop in towns." (Y/n) argues. Arthur raises a brow, gestures for her to articulate her point more. "Y'know, because of old cars? More than you'd expect still have something in their tank. And almost no-one aside from the military uses fuel anymore, so..."

Arthur has to admit he's never thought of it that way. Sure, him and the gang haven't used such means of transportation for the past fifteen years, but then again, he feels kind of stupid for not having considered it.

"Well then. Let's track 'em down."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It's as easy said as it's done: (Y/n) is the first to spy the military. As soon as they find a decent vantage point on the top of a hill, she practically rips Arthur's borrowed rifle off her back and starts inspecting the situation through the scope.

"So, how're we gonna do this?" She asks. Arthur hums, motions for her to hand the weapon over.

He looks through the scope as well, and identifies a LUV, small but sturdy-looking on the edge of the makeshift camp the soldiers have set up.

"That one should be fine." (Y/n) speaks up out of nowhere, having noticed the vehicle Arthur was staring at. "On a scale of one to ten, how good are you with stealing cars?"

He cracks a smile, hands her back the scoping rifle. "Good enough to steal my dad's for a ride when I was fifteen."

"By hot-wiring, I hope?"

"What do ya take me for?" Arthur's smile shifts into a grin. (Y/n) returns it.

"Good. I'd say you keep quiet and only cause a ruckus after you're inside the car. I'll kill everything that gets too close."