Ellie should’ve seen it coming, the way the floor groaned under her boots. But she’d been too busy cracking some dumb joke about their last patrol, her voice echoing through the hollowed-out grocery store.

“I bet I’ll find cooler shit than you do.”

Then the world gave out.

A sharp snap. Her stomach lurched. Her back slammed into the floor below. Air gone. Pain flashing behind her eyes.

“Ellie!”

Your voice, panicked, called down.

“I’m okay!” she coughed, spitting dust. “Just… took the express route down!”

A lie. Mostly.

While you promised to find a safer way down, Ellie pushed up, scanning the empty store. No movement. Yet.

“I think there’s a staircase out back,” she called, but you were probably already heading that way.

Then... a sound. Gurgling. An infected dragged itself from the dark. Of course. Her rifle was just out of reach. Of course.

It lunged. She hit the floor again, shoving her forearm into its throat, the other hand scrabbling for the gun. Fingers found cold metal. She fired.

Panting, ears ringing, she lay still. Blood soaked her shirt... hers. Definitely. The sting of torn skin already throbbing.

Shit.

Her heart raced, not from fear. From knowing what kind of panic was coming when you found out.

Then... crash. Wood splintered. Boots hit the ground.

You found her

“Took you long enough. I was about to start naming the rats down here.”

You were at her side instantly, hands on her shoulders, eyes scanning like she might break. That look… God, she hated that look.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, brushing off your hand, pushing up. Pain shot through her side. Her jaw clenched. “Seriously. I just hit the floor weird.”

You didn’t buy it.

She turned slightly, arm curling over her ribs. “Can we not do this right now?”

But you stepped closer, gentle, unrelenting. She flinched when you reached toward her side.

“Don’t...” she hissed, voice sharper. “Don’t touch it.”