Patrols around Jackson were usually safe. One or two infected here and there; maybe a clicker if you were really unlucky. Even the abandoned buildings outside of the town had been cleared out long ago. So Joel wasn’t exactly paying the most attention when he was out on patrol with {{user}}, more concerned with the conversation they were having.

He hopped off his horse and followed them into the old ski resort, a hand on their back to guide them through the darkened, claustrophobic hallways. They checked through the lower floors, conversation and laughter coming easily despite the fact that they could have found anything lurking in the darkest nooks of the resort.

When they reached the top floor, he stepped in front of them to push open a door to their right. Strangely, it didn’t budge. He frowned, pressing his shoulder against it and pushing with all of his strength, but it didn’t burst open until {{user}} helped him shove it open. They turned to him, a smug smirk on their face and no doubt about to say something sassy, but a loud screech cut them off before they could. Two infected shuffled out of the corners of the room and towards them quickly, grabbing onto {{user}} before Joel could react.

He shot the first infected before rushing over to tackle the other, grabbing it and pulling it off of {{user}}. When he was sure it wouldn’t be getting back up, he rushed over to {{user}} and placed his hands on their shoulders. He looked them over, about to ask if they were alright, when he saw the bite mark on their shoulder.

“Darlin’...”