I Hope the Worst Isn't Over ✔️

Chapter Seven

Some time had passed before the duo was able to truly compose themselves, settling down to something resembling their normal parallel-- in addition to the strained atmosphere that refused to fade, that is. Not even Remus could ignore it, try as he might to pretend the unease wasn't lingering. But he supposed that was fine, for he knew that trying to repress his concerns wouldn't get him anywhere fast. Or anywhere at all, for that matter-- easily proven by their ordeal just mere hours ago.

He could still feel the odd sensation of anxiety in his fingertips, as if someone were constantly pricking his hands with tons of not-so-safe safety pins. Or maybe it was more akin to sticking his arms into a vat of thumbtacks? Regardless of what he compared it to, it always was just as unpleasant.

Despite the discomfort, they made their way down the street, empty handed and with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Janus seemed particularly antsy, and was refusing to walk without his arms crossed, right covering the left. The man seemed tired, but pushed forward nonetheless. Remus distantly wondered when things would really be back to normal, or if they would survive this at all.

"It's going to be more difficult to find the FSA base without our supplies and radio… but I'm sure it's still manageable," Janus said, speaking for the first time in awhile.

"We're in the right town now, aren't we?" Remus asked, "We just have to find the center, or whatever."

The other man nodded, "Exactly, it shouldn't be so hard. As long as this city doesn't happen to be huge, we could get there within a few day's time. And we'll manage without resorting to theatening murder, unlike the folks back there. Though that probably shouldn't be where the bar is."

"Hmm, maybe not. Since that would leave the option of non fatal sabotage, or blackmail."

"That's not much of a moral high ground, either. But so be it, I guess."

Remus let out a slight chuckle, enjoying when others rolled with his antics. "That's the spirit. And do you know what we do have?"

"What's that?" Janus asked.

Remus pulled the balisong from his pocket, flicking it open with a clink. "This! I could put on a knife show, shank an Infected, it's multipurpose." He spun the knife around before swinging at nothing, as if to demonstrate.

Janus rolled his eyes at the action, but a smirk crossed his face nonetheless. "I see, so that's where that was. Well, at least we aren't entirely defenceless."

Remus nodded, and the pair turned down an ally-- gravel crackling under their feet as they passed what was once a store. A large brick building painted a light beige with tacky red accents, making it all too apparent that those colours had been a part of the business's theme. Remus watched his feet as they walked, only looking up as the sound of the Infected met his ears.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered, and Janus nodded.

"It's coming from inside," he said, pointing at the building beside them. "I wonder what drove them all there."

Remus looked higher, past the ivy covered walls and up to a half-covered window that was just out of reach. A sign reading 'HELP. LIVING TRAPPED INSIDE.' was plastered over the glass, and he nudged Janus to bring it to his attention.

"Look up there," he pointed.

"Well, that answers that, I suppose."

He nodded, "What do you think the odds are that they haven't been torn to shreds yet, and that the sign is new?"

Janus paused, seeming to recall the similar question asked back in the woods, and how Remus took his overly light-hearted response. "They're not the kind of odds I'd bet on, that's for sure."