Ch: 17 Blind-sided
Verse 1
Rachelle and Trace sat against the wall, their bikes leaned against them, as they waited for Erzabet to return from her scouting mission. They had a map of the city sprawled out in front of them, tracing their potential routes of escape.
"So what do you think, Trace?" Rachelle asked, her finger tapping the map. "Should we try to leave by the eastern tunnel or the southern one?"
Trace leaned in, studying the map intently. "The eastern tunnel has less traffic, so it might be less likely we'll run into any trouble. But the southern one is closer to where we need to be in the long run."
Rachelle nodded, considering his words. "Yeah, that's true. But there's a risk of getting cornered in the southern tunnel. We'll have to be really careful."
Just then, Erzabet returned, her eyes scanning the area as she approached. "I didn't see any zombies, but I did hear some commotion coming from the northern part of the tunnels."
Trace and Rachelle exchanged a look. "That's not good," Trace said. "We should check it out."
Erzabet nodded in agreement, and they all stood, readying their weapons. Tailor was still tinkering with the satellite phone, lost in concentration.
"Hey, Tailor, we're heading out," Rachelle called.
Tailor looked up, surprised. "Oh, yeah, sure. I'll just finish up here."
The three of them set off towards the northern tunnels, the sound of their bikes echoing through the empty passageways. As they neared the commotion, they could hear the sounds of a struggle and shouting.
They rounded a corner and found a group of survivors cornered by a swarm of zombies. The survivors were frantically trying to fend them off with whatever weapons they had, but they were clearly outnumbered.
Without hesitation, the four of them charged into the fray, taking down the zombies one by one. Rachelle's gun rang out in the enclosed space, and Trace's axe sliced through the air.
Erzabet was a blur of motion, darting in and out of the swarm with supernatural speed. The survivors looked on in amazement as the four of them fought off the zombies.
Finally, the last of the zombies fell, and the group was able to catch their breath.
"Thank you," one of the survivors said, panting. "We were done for until you all showed up."
Rachelle shrugged. "It's what we do. We're heading out of the city soon, though. Do you want to come with us?"
The survivors looked at each other, clearly considering the offer. "We'll have to talk it over," one of them said. "But thank you again. We owe you our lives."
With that, the four of them mounted their bikes and headed back to their makeshift base.
Erzabet was always one to be direct, but this time she was a bit more cautious. As she walked with Trace, she couldn't help but feel jealous of Tailor. She had seen the way Trace had been looking at him, and she couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something there.
"Trace, I have to ask," she said finally, breaking the silence. "What do you think of Tailor?"
Trace looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, do you like him?" Erzabet pressed. "As more than a friend, I mean."
Trace's cheeks turned a little pink. "Um, I guess I do," he admitted, "Why do you ask?"
Erzabet couldn't bring herself to say the truth: that Tailor was also into Trace. "Just curious," she said instead, hiding her disappointment.
Trace didn't seem to notice anything off. "He's just really cool," he said with a shrug. "And he's really good at what he does."
Erzabet nodded, feigning interest. "Yeah, I guess so," she said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.