"The station's not too far from here," announced Aasim, "just through these trees." 

"I know it's a long shot, but you never know what you'll find these days." You lowered the map you were intricately scrutinising, "Train stations used to have vending machines, right? Maybe we'll get lucky with one of those; grab a few of the water bottles, see if any of the food's edible."

"Hopefully." Agreed Aasim. Demeanour diverting, he added passive-aggressively, "We would've found out earlier if some people weren't so uptight."

Marlon studiously watched his feet: guilty.

"Aasim." You sternly told off, "I've already had to deal with Mitch, I'm not in the mood to deal with you."

Aasim looked over his shoulder to you. "Oh yeah, Ruby told me about that before we left," of course she did, "said he tried to punch you."

"He did," you clarified, "so I put him on his ass."

"Nice one." Chuckled Aasim, "I know Mitch doesn't have any morals but trying to punch women? That a new low." Settling into a natural silence filled with the birds' symphonic singing.

The sun delicately peeked through the canopy, leaf patterns blocking the afternoon's orange. The grass gleaned a vibrant green, healthy as your feet brushed through it. The trees embodied their usual heightened glory, guardians to your escapades. 

It wasn't long until the three of you emerged from the forest, a wide gravel track crunching under your feet as an old rickety wooden building was bestowed upon you. Averting your gaze between it and the map, you asked, "Is that the station?"

"It is." Aasim replied. 

"Anti-climactic," you folded the paper, tucking it securely in your back pocket, swapping it for your knife. Each of you had an old gym bag slung over your shoulder in hopes of the best. They reeked of dust, infected with time's toll. The vibrant red of Ericson's had faded to a flushed pink, drained with the absence of school pride. The previously black straps were a murky grey, the fabric fraying and tearing. 

Before you was a desolate building worn with time. Slabs of wood were scattered jaggedly against the windows, some having lost balance and collapsed. The roof of the building lacked the occasional tile: a result of decay. Adjacent to it was a rectangular shipping container tainted with copper rust, the white writing chipped off. Corrugated metal lined the perimeter (an everyday essential). A bell hung beside you. "Friendly? Ring the bell." Read Aasim.

"Should we ring it?" Questioned Marlon, nervousness laced in his voice, "By the looks of things, these guys are long gone."

"Best to check." You rang the bell, its chime alerting any inhabitants. "Hello?" You called out; not too loud, not too quiet. Silent, you waited, ears tuned in to any irregular sound or any sound of life. You waited... and waited... "No one's here." You concluded, marching towards the building, Aasim and Marlon trailing behind. 

The area was long abandoned, the defences rusted and the grass overgrown. "(Y/N)," Marlon called for your attention, "look." He pointed to a vegetable patch barricaded by a fence. Glancing at Aasim, you and Marlon went to investigate, soon discovering the crops were long overgrown and rotting, dingy shades of brown and yellow, lacking life.

"Shit." You huffed.

"Maybe there's more inside?" Marlon speculated positively. 

"Maybe." You said, turning on your heel. Climbing up the stairs to the porch, Aasim fiddled with the door, "Locked?"

"Yeah," he panted, "we need to find a crowbar or something."

 "Or kick it down." Suggested Marlon.

Harshly, you pressed the door, surveying the force of the lock. Shocked, Aasim suddenly gasped, "Holy shit," you looked over your shoulder, "when did you lose your finger?"

"Got hungry, munched it off." Shrugging, you returned to the door, "No, one of the guards on the boat cut it off."

"What the fuck? Why?" Eyes wide, Aasim couldn't help but ask. Plagued by guilt once again, Marlon focused on the floor, desperately evading eye contact.

"I tried to protect Brody; they didn't like it." Stepping back from the door, you concluded, "I'll kick it down." The boys retreated back. With a swift determination, you drew a deep breath, tensing the muscles in your leg. You focused on the obstacle before you and without hesitation, launched your foot towards the centre of the door, the force of the kick reverberating through the air. The door shuddered under the impact, the lock giving way with a resounding crack. Splinters of wood flew as the door swung open, revealing the unknown that awaited on the other side. "C'mon." You said nonchalantly, sauntering in.

The undead's guttural gargles disrupted the silence, awoken by the ruckus. The pair was securely bound to two chairs situated beside one another. Their skin peeled and disfigured with decay, death glazing over their eyes, tainting remnants of life. With a courageous stride, you marched towards the corpses, grip fastened around your knife. Quickly and efficiently, you plunged it into their skulls, an unsavoury crack resounding. Blood spurted from the wounds, coating the blade in a sticky claret. The sun glinted against a small rusted key, retrieving it, you hummed curiously.

Attention shifting from the (broken) water fountain he was absent-mindedly pressing, Marlon asked, "What's up?"

"It's a key." You stated, carefully scrutinising the metal.

Observing a table blanketed with the remnants of a large meal, Aasim suggested, "Maybe it's for the front door?" Nodding beside you, he added, "Or that one there?" Your gaze followed his indication, leading you to a locked door next to the bars of a ticket booth. 

The building wasn't massive, only housing a long, wooden table, some cabinets and whatever resided in the neighbouring room. It stank of dust, the particles forcing an uncomfortable stuffiness. Beams of light seeped through the cracks of wood, illuminating the room. The table Aasim investigated revealed the essence of prior life, jars empty, plates scraped clean, cups scattered about. "Homemade beans," Aasim lifted a full jar triumphantly, tucking it into his bag, "might be more where this came from." 

"If there isn't, we might have to eat the rest of (Y/N)'s fingers." Marlon tried to joke with an awkward grin, his humour falling flat. He attempted to play it off with a chuckle but was shot down by Aasim.

"She only lost it because of you, y'know?" He glowered. 

Tapping the locked door with your foot, you ignored their spat, not sparing a single glance. Aasim wasn't wrong, but on the other hand, you knew Marlon was unaware of the inner workings of the Delta - so you opted for silence, instead fiddling the rusted key between your fingers. 

Hoping for the best, you fixed it into the lock, twisting it. Your heart joyfully jolted as a 'click' indicated the door's unlocking. "Nice." You whispered, entering the room. It was small and engulfed in a cluster of discarded items. An empty cot was pressed against a wall surrounded by dingy cabinets. In the centre was a dishevelled mattress, the corner of a stamped metal hatch peeking out from beneath. You called over Marlon and Aasim as you shoved the mattress out of the way. 

Taking initiative, Aasim raided the cabinets in search of food meanwhile Marlon crouched beside you. "There must be food in there." He said, "If not, I'd wager it's definitely something important."

"Hopefully." You knocked on the door, silently waiting for a potential reaction.

"Why did you knock on it?" Aasim frowned.

"In case there are walkers inside." You explained, fingers grazing the handle. As you concluded there were no signs of the undead, you reeled it open.

Your heart ceased to beat as a grenade dropped. "Get outside." Your command was instant as you dove your hand in to disarm it. You had caught a glimpse of a stash of food too good to lose - this was worth the risk. 

Aasim stammered. "(Y/N), no-"

"Fucking stand outside!" Bolting, Aasim yanked Marlon by the shirt collar, slamming the door as they dashed for shelter. Panic tightened its grip around your chest. The cold metal of the grenade felt foreign and deadly in your trembling hands. Every second was a grim reminder of impending doom.

Your fingers fumbled with the top, desperately trying to recall the intricate steps to disarm the explosive. The knowledge seemed to slip away, replaced by a rising tide of fear. Time was an enemy and you were losing the battle.

The seconds blurred into a chaotic dance, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The world around you seemed to fade as the grenade became the sole focus of your existence. In that moment, the line between life and death hung by the thinnest thread.

Suddenly, a realisation struck you like a lightning bolt - a crucial step, a missing link in the chain of survival. With renewed urgency, you threw yourself into the disarming process, but uncertainty gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. Would it work? Could you cheat death?

As the final twist approached, the room seemed to hold its breath, the grenade frozen in time. The world narrowed to that tiny, deadly device in your hands. And then, an unsettling silence settled, broken only by the echo of your heartbeat. Shoving the device into your stomach, you formed a ball to weaken the potential blast, counting down the seconds.

3... 2... 1...

A/N: Friendly reminder there are only 3 more chapters left after this one.. ;)