I stared at her hand, hovering there like an invitation.
She held it out so casually, like this was normal like we weren't standing in the middle of nowhere with God knows what crawling out of the woods behind us.
Her fingers, pale and still, cut through the cold air like she didn't even feel it, like reaching for me meant nothing.
"Why?" I asked, confused, my voice a little shakier than I wanted it to be.
"I'll protect you," she said. "Unless you'd rather keep panicking alone."
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
"I need to find my parents," I said, mostly to remind myself why I was still standing. Why I hadn't collapsed yet.
She nodded once. Like that explained everything.
Then, without even thinking, I took her hand. It was colder than I expected, rougher too. Her grip was firm not comforting, but strong. The kind of grip that said don't slow me down.
She didn't ask for my name. Didn't give hers.
Instead, I looked her dead in the eye and asked, "You're not gonna screw me over, right?"
It came out more desperate than I'd meant, and I hated how small I sounded.
She gave the faintest laugh.
"You don't look worth the trouble."
That stung but weirdly, I believed her.
I glanced away, still holding her hand. I didn't even know what to do anymore. I wasn't even sure if I should trust her.
I was just trying to keep my legs from giving out.
"But who knows?" she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Maybe if we find a nice, isolated shack, I'll keep you warm at night."
I stared at her, frozen.
I yanked my hand out of hers and ran.
I didn't wait for her to react. My boots scraped against the platform's edge as I bolted, almost slipping on the frost. My lungs burned, my legs didn't know where they were going. I just knew I had to get away from her from that tone, from those pale, unreadable eyes
"Hey!" she called out behind me. "Where do you think you're going?"
I didn't answer.
The cold wind hit my face as I jumped over the railing and landed hard on the gravel by the tracks.
Pain shot through my ankle and I stumbled, but I didn't stop. I winced, took a breath, and kept moving.
The old control booth was just ahead small, rusted, and probably falling apart, but it was the only place I could run to.
I reached the door, pulled it open, and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind me. My hands were shaking as I found the lock and clicked it into place. It didn't feel secure, but it was all I had.
My breathing was loud in the stillness, and the air inside was awful, damp, dusty, and full of a strong metallic smell.
It made my stomach turn.
I turned to the control panel. Dust covered everything and the buttons looked rusted, some with barely any writing left. I didn't know how it worked. I wasn't trained for this. Still, I started flipping switches and pulling levers, hoping something would happen.
Nothing did.
The panel didn't respond.
I stood there, hands still shaking, trying to figure out what to do next and then, outside, I heard a sound, a voice drifted from outside, too calm for the situation.
"You don't even know what you're doing in there, do you?"
The trains were never coming. This station had been dead for years just like everything else out here.
The realization knocked the air out of me. My knees nearly gave out. I leaned hard on the panel, heart pounding like it was trying to climb up my throat.
I was trapped and she was still out there.
"You're an idiot," she said flatly. "These trains haven't run since the first outbreak. Not that you'd know."
She stepped inside like she belonged there, brushing past me like I wasn't even a threat. Her eyes flicked to the dead console with a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Told you it wouldn't work."
I scoffed and turned to face her fully.
"You always act like you know everything, or is that just part of the freak show act?"
She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Sensitive much?"
"No, just done with strangers acting like they're better than me when the world's rotting outside." My voice was low, sharp. "You want to keep talking down to me, or you gonna pull your weight?"
"I'm pulling more weight than you can handle," she said. "I'm the reason you're not already dead."
I stepped closer. "You really think I needed you dragging me around like I'm some stray dog?"
"You looked like one when I found you,"
I stared her down. "Next time you lay a hand on me like that, you better mean it."
A pause. The smirk faded into something colder. Assessing.
"Is that a threat?"
"No," I said. "That's a warning."
She tilted her head, clearly entertained now.
"Tough guy routine. Cute. Hope that mouth keeps you alive when they come."
I stepped back and glanced at the busted panel. "I don't need cute. I need answers and if you're not giving me those, stop wasting my time."
She studied me. That same detached look, like she was cataloging my rage. Then, with a small exhale that might've been a laug.
"You've got fire. That'll either get you killed, or keep you going."
"I'll take my chances," I muttered.
Outside, the wind howled. The air smelled like metal and ash.
"I hope you're ready to get your hands dirty," she said, already turning toward the exit. "The city's gone, and the monsters aren't the only things hungry."
I followed, jaw tight. "Let them come."
She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow raised again. "Good. I was starting to think you were just another broken boy."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to.