The girl slows down to a stop on the path, taking a deep breath through her nose, watching Benji brush past her to take front. Words are at her throat, but she bites her tongue. No matter how much Kisa says she can take care of herself, he will always feel the need to be the first in the line of defense. She's almost certain it stems from how long they've known each other and wanting to preserve that. Sweet in theory, impractical in the apocalypse. There's no sense in arguing about it, though—at least, not right now. They're burning enough daylight as it is.
"Okay," she agrees. "No barging in. But I'll be right behind you." She exchanges a look with him that she hopes tells him she's just as concerned about his safety and well-being as he is about hers. Then, she follows suit. Her palms are buzzing with dehydration, the sort of swollen feeling her skin gets when she's near depleted her energy. There'll be water up in the station, though, she knows it.
A minute or so later, they approach the base of the tower, and if you can believe it, it's much larger up close than it already seems when you're far away. A good perimeter around the tower has been plowed down and filled with gravel and sand. For the most part, it looks untouched, except for the small flower bed nearby with practically diminished crops. If she had to guess, Kisa would say whoever lived at this outpost was here for most of the year; no one else would undertake such an arduous task as gardening.
The pair begin to ascend the stairs, each hollow drop of their boots against the wooden steps echoing in the quiet air. Some creaks here and there, but nothing to suggest the wood has rotten. Kisa holds onto her rifle via the strap on her shoulder while her other hand grabs onto the railing, propelling her forward when the steps get too tiring.
Wordless up to this point, Kisa and Benji arrive at the door, finally. She gulps, exchanging a look with him, hating that he is probably going to insist on going first. When they slowly open the door, they're met with...
But also, a horrid, rancid smell, a mixture of decaying bodies and something putrid. Kisa immediately coughs, flinching back against the railing of the small porch around the outpost. She holds the back of her hand up against her nose and squeezes her eyes shut, body adjusting ever so slightly to the scent. "What the heck is that?"
They dare to step further into the outpost. Then, there it is, clear as day. A rotten, dead-body-nearly-skeleton, presumably belonging to whoever held this post in the past. There's a moment, after they realize, where Kisa waits for any sounds. If the person's dead, they could come back to life as a biter. But she's heard that if you end it a certain way, that whole reanimation thing won't happen to you...
Dread fills her stomach as they walk ever closer to it. She sees a note on the table right where the body's sitting. An old plate with some spoiled, half-eaten beans is on the table, too. They must have tried to eat one last time, maybe they couldn't stomach it anymore, she doesn't know.
"Dearest Maria," Kisa reads the note aloud.
"If you find this, that means I'm dead. I'm sorry that I couldn't find you and Noah. I was in contact with the southern outpost for a few days but haven't heard anything back since this all started. It's getting worse and worse. I hope we can be together again someday. I'm sorry. Love, Mason."
She glances over at the body and, in his hand, she sees a pistol. Facing it now, she can see the blunt force trauma that the bullet did to Mason's jaw, and up through to his skull. Her stomach grumbles with something unpleasant. She's going to throw up. || @endingsfated