I traveled through the roads of Jackson Township on a sturdy mountain bike with Daisy seated behind , her arms wrapped securely around my waist. The afternoon sun cast darkness across the abandoned streets as I pedaled with enhanced speed and endurance that my virus abilities provided.
I was pedaling so fast that I was genuinely concerned about breaking the bike’s chanical components, but the sturdy fra was holding up remarkably well under the stress. Maybe I should have taken one of our salvaged motorbikes instead, but a simple bicycle offered significant advantages when navigating through debris-filled streets and narrow alleyways. If we encountered infected or other threats, the bike’s maneuverability could an the difference between escape and disaster.
Daisy seed genuinely surprised by the speed I was maintaining, her grip tightening around my waist as we took corners and navigated obstacles that would have been challenging at normal speeds. Her cheek was pressed against my back, and I could feel her breathing slightly elevated from the combination of speed and anxiety about what we might find at our destination.
"Are you okay, or do you want to slow down a bit?" I asked over my shoulder, concerned about her comfort and safety. The last thing I needed was for her to get motion sick during our rescue mission.
"I... I’m fine, please continue," Daisy insisted, though I could hear the slight tremor in her voice that suggested she was pushing through her discomfort out of concern for Ivy.
I nodded and maintained our pace, weaving through the increasingly familiar streets that led toward the pharmacy district. The route took us past several landmarks I’d morized during previous scavenging expeditions—an abandoned gas station where I’d found useful supplies, a collapsed overpass that required careful navigation, and the remains of a small shopping center that had been completely looted during the initial outbreak.
As we approached the pharmacy, I began slowing our speed and scanning the area for any signs of danger or unusual activity. The building looked exactly as I rembered from my previous visit with Rachel—partially damaged but structurally sound, with evidence of previous scavenging activity but no obvious signs of current occupation.
"There," I said, pointing toward a narrow alley that ran behind the pharmacy building. "That’s where we’ll look first. If Ivy was being cautious, she would have used the rear entrance to avoid being seen from Infected and dodge them maybe."
I guided the bike into the alley and imdiately spotted a familiar figure standing near the pharmacy’s back door.
Thank God. There was a possibility she wasn’t there and went sowhere else after all.
Ivy was there, just as we’d hoped, but sothing was clearly wrong with the situation.
She stood motionless with her back to us, wearing her usual practical clothing—dark pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and the white dical coat she’d salvaged from one of our earlier pharmacy raids. Her hands were tucked into the coat’s pockets, and her posture suggested soone who was lost in thought rather than actively searching for dical supplies.
"Miss Ivy!" Daisy called out as I brought the bike to a stop about twenty feet away from her.
Ivy turned toward us slowly, and I imdiately noticed sothing that made my enhanced senses go into high alert. There was blood on her clothing—dark stains on the sleeve of her shirt and what appeared to be scratches or wounds on her neck.
"Ivy!" I shouted, dropping the bike and rushing toward her with panic rising in my chest. "What happened? Are you injured?"
"Nothing significant," Ivy replied in her characteristic stoic manner, but I was already examining her injuries with growing alarm.
"This doesn’t look like nothing," I said, gently grasping her arm to get a better look at the wounds. "Were you attacked? Did infected get into the building sohow?"
The injuries were concerning but didn’t appear to be bite marks from infected creatures. The wounds on her arm looked more like deep scratches or cuts from sharp objects, and the marks on her neck had a similar pattern. But the amount of blood suggested these weren’t minor injuries from moving through debris or broken glass.
"I need to check if you’ve been bitten," I said, my hands already moving toward the buttons of her shirt with dical urgency overriding normal social considerations. "If there’s any chance of infection..."
Please don’t tell that...
"Ryan, stop," Ivy said calmly, but I was too panicked to listen imdiately.
I opened her shirt enough to examine her upper torso and neck especially for bite marks, my heart racing as I searched for the puncture wounds that would indicate infected contact. But her skin, while bearing so minor scratches, showed no signs of the devastating injuries that infected attacks typically caused.
"I don’t see any bites," I said with relief, though I was still concerned about the wounds she had sustained. "But these cuts are deeper than they should be from normal scavenging activities."
"What happened to you, Miss Ivy?" Daisy asked, her voice filled with worry as she approached us cautiously.
"I injured myself while searching through the pharmacy’s storage areas," Ivy replied with the sa emotionless tone. "So of the shelving had sharp edges and debris that I didn’t notice in the dim lighting."
I wanted to scold her for taking such risks, but first I needed to treat her injuries properly. "Why did you co here alone?" I asked while examining her wounds more carefully. "I’ve told you repeatedly that if you need anything, I’m willing to help with supply runs or whatever else you require."
Ivy looked at with an expression I couldn’t quite interpret. "You still haven’t agreed to fulfill my first request," she said matter-of-factly.
I froze in embarrassnt as I rembered exactly what she was referring to. Ivy had asked, with her characteristic clinical detachnt, if she could observe one of my intimate encounters with the won in our household. She’d claid it was for educational purposes, but the request had been so unexpected and inappropriate that I’d been avoiding the topic entirely.
"What request?" Daisy asked with innocent curiosity. "If Miss Ivy asked for help with sothing, I’d be willing to assist if I could."
"There’s no way you’d be willing to fulfill this particular request," I said hurriedly, heat flooding my face as I tried to redirect the conversation. "It’s not... it’s not sothing that you might be able to do...."
But Ivy approached Daisy with renewed interest, as if intrigued by this unexpected developnt. "Are you serious about being willing to help?" She asked. "Because that would require... have you already had sexual relations with Ryan?"
Daisy froze entirely, her face cycling through several shades of red as she processed what Ivy was suggesting. "I... what... no, I haven’t..." She stamred, clearly overwheld by the direct question.
"Alright, enough!" I said, my face crimson with embarrassnt as I took Ivy’s arm and guided her toward the pharmacy entrance. "Let’s get you inside so I can treat these wounds properly."
The interior of the pharmacy was exactly as I rembered from my previous visit—partially looted but still containing significant dical supplies. I led Ivy to a clear area near what had been the consultation counter and retrieved my dical kit from my backpack.
Over the past months, I’d learned basic wound treatnt techniques from watching Ivy care for my various combat injuries. Now I found myself applying those sa skills to help her, using antiseptic to clean her cuts and gauze to create proper bandages.
"You’ve learned quite a bit from observing my work," Ivy comnted as I carefully cleaned the scratches on her arm.
"That’s because you always treated my wounds with such skill and patience," I replied, focusing on applying the antiseptic thoroughly. "Even when I ca back hurt from particularly dangerous missions, you never made feel like I was being reckless or stupid."
Ivy glanced up at for a mont of uncharacteristic silence, sothing shifting in her normally impassive expression that I couldn’t quite identify.
"Why did you really co here alone?" I asked again, my voice softer as I worked on bandaging her arm. "And don’t tell it was just for dical supplies."
Ivy turned her gaze toward the pharmacy’s front windows, staring at nothing in particular. "I wanted ti alone to think," she said finally.
I didn’t know how to respond to that admission. Ivy had always been one of the most self-contained mbers of our household, soone who seed comfortable with solitude and rarely expressed emotional needs. But sothing in her tone suggested deeper concerns that she wasn’t ready to discuss openly.
I wanted her to be happy, if that was possible for soone with her reserved personality, but I had no idea how to help her achieve that goal. And I certainly wasn’t willing to fulfill her voyeuristic request as a solution to whatever psychological issues she might be experiencing.
"This might sting," I warned as I moved to treat the scratches on her neck, applying antiseptic ointnt to the wounds with careful precision.
Ivy didn’t react to the potential discomfort, maintaining her characteristic stoic expression throughout the treatnt process.
"Would you prefer to go sowhere else?" I asked as I worked. "If you’re not comfortable at our house for so reason, we could help you find alternative accommodations. The Municipal Office has rooms available, or we could set up a private space for you."
Ivy remained silent for several monts before finally responding. "I’m fine where I am."
"You don’t seem fine," I said gently, studying her face for any signs of what might be bothering her.
After another long pause, Ivy asked sothing that caught completely off guard. "What are you planning to do with the alien Box once you’ve recovered the final stone from the Screar?"
The question startled because Ivy rarely showed interest in our strategic planning or the larger threats we were facing. Her focus typically remained on imdiate dical needs rather than long-term survival concerns. She rarely to never asked about what I had revealed back then.
"I’m hoping to use it to better understand the alien race," I replied honestly. "Maybe find out if we can use their technology as a weapon or defense against infected by sohow controlling or redirecting their behavior patterns."
"Since it was created by aliens, aren’t you concerned that using it might be suicidal?" Ivy asked .
She had a point yes, maybe it could backfire on .
"I do have concerns about the risks," I admitted. "But staying in the dark about their capabilities won’t help us prepare for future threats. The device might also give us location information about other alien weapons like the ones we found with the Frost Walker and Screar. We might prevent other deaths."
Ivy remained silent, processing my response .
"If you want to destroy it instead, I’ll consider that option," I said, watching her reaction carefully.
"If I asked you to destroy it, would you actually do it?" She asked, eting my eyes directly for the first ti during our conversation.
I thought about the question while continuing to clean her neck wounds. "I would destroy it after using it once to gather intelligence, if you truly believe it’s too dangerous to keep. Your dical and scientific judgnt has always been reliable."
"Why would you trust my opinion on sothing this important?"
I finished applying the antiseptic and looked at her directly, smiling at her lightly. "Because you’re an important mber of our group, and you’re soone important to personally. I trust your judgnt because I know you care about our collective wellbeing."
For a brief mont, Ivy’s eyes widened slightly, as if my words had genuinely shocked her. Her normally impassive expression flickered, and I saw sothing vulnerable in her gaze that I’d never witnessed before. Then she lowered her gaze, and a small smile spread across her lips.
It was just a small smile, but it was sothing I had never seen on Ivy’s face before. The expression was so unexpected and beautiful that I found myself frozen, simply admiring this rare glimpse of her emotional capacity.
But then Ivy raised her gaze back to her normal impassive state and asked, "Haven’t you forgotten what you need to do next?"
I found myself stumbling over my words, caught off-guard by the sudden return to her stoic deanor. Before I could formulate a proper response, Ivy stood up and began checking her bandages, apparently satisfied with my dical treatnt.
"We should return ho before dark," she said. "The others will be worried if we’re gone too long."
The return trip presented a logistical challenge since we now had three people and only one bicycle. After so discussion, we arranged ourselves with Ivy sitting behind and Daisy positioned in front, though the arrangent was clearly uncomfortable for everyone involved.
"This is so embarrassing," Daisy said, her face bright red as she tried to maintain her balance on the bike’s front crossbar. "I don’t know if I can manage this for the entire trip ho."
"Just hold on tight," I assured her, though I had to admit the seating arrangent was far from ideal. "We’ll take it slowly and make sure everyone stays safe."
"Y...yes...haa!"
It couldn’t have been more embarrassing and right after my face collided with her chest.
"S...sorry!" I apologised in hurry.
Daisy simply pushed back her glasses her face bright red.
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