Joel sat motionless, his head pounding from the concussion.
His vision blurred, and the ringing in his ear was as sharp and unrelenting as in the one already dulled by partial deafness.
Marlene’s voice drifted to him, incomprehensible, a distant drone. She was undoubtedly speaking with focus and intent, imploring him to listen, but the meaning of her words slipped past him. In the end, it didn’t matter. Deep down, Joel knew she was right.
He had grown so close to Ellie on their journey—a bond forged in blood, fear, and survival. Together, they had confronted dangers most couldn’t imagine, let alone survive. Though they bore the scars—physical and emotional—they had endured.
Ellie.
She wasn’t the same girl who had cracked jokes over bad puns and marveled at the world’s remnants. She had grown up too fast, forced to become something no child, no person, should ever have to be.
But Joel wasn’t the same either.
He stood, his movements slow and deliberate. Marlene stopped speaking, and the guards at her side immediately tensed, their hands gripping their weapons.
Joel raised his hand calmly, motioning for them to lower their guns.
His voice, when it came, was rough, the words scraping out against the emotion clawing at his throat.
“We… we have to wake her. Tell her.”
He hesitated, the enormity of what he was saying weighing on every syllable.
Marlene’s eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face before tears welled in her eyes. Relief mixed with shock, and for a moment, she was speechless.
Joel’s agreement caught her off guard. She had hoped for this, yes—but not like this. She had expected a fight. Screaming. Resistance. Perhaps even bloodshed. With Joel, she’d prepared for the worst.
But Joel wasn’t focused on Marlene. His mind was elsewhere, consumed by a memory that haunted his every step.
The soldier.
The cold, detached order: “Yes, sir.” The weighted pause before the trigger was pulled.
Sarah.
Her lifeless, bloodied body in his arms, still warm.
Of all the memories he had of his daughter—the way her laughter lit up a room, her stubbornness, her loving heart—this one eclipsed them all. That moment, orchestrated by someone distant and abstract, had stolen everything from him. It wasn’t just her death but the helplessness, the loss of control.
He would never feel that way again.
Joel turned to Marlene, his face hard but his eyes raw. He saw her confusion, her grief, her guilt. He knew those feelings well.
“Marlene,” he said, his voice steady. “We have to wake Ellie.”
Marlene blinked, his words snapping her back to the present.
“We… I have to tell her,” he continued.
She considered pushing back, but something in Joel’s tone—his sheer force of will—stopped her. She didn’t understand the bond between him and Ellie, the promises they had made. She only knew Joel, and what he was capable of.
Finally, she nodded.
“Yes, Joel. I’ll take you to her now.”
The walk through the hospital was silent, the halls stark and sterile. Joel’s mind worked at a furious pace, cataloging every detail: stairwells, fire escapes, guard rotations, equipment. If it came to it, he could fight his way out. Even if it cost him his life, he could get Ellie out first.
But that wasn’t what held him back.
He didn’t want to live. Not since Sarah. Survival had been instinct, not choice, and when he’d failed to end his life, he’d hated himself for it. Ellie had given him something to fight for—but now, with this decision looming, that purpose was slipping away.
When this was over, Joel resolved, he would finish what he’d started years ago.
At the end of the hallway, Marlene stopped and turned to face him. Her tear-streaked face betrayed her turmoil.
“I thought you’d fight me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Every step, I expected you to attack. I even hoped you would. It would’ve been easier than this.”
Joel’s expression darkened. His voice was low, simmering with controlled fury.
“Fuck, Marlene. We—”
She cut him off, shaking her head.
“I know, Joel. I know. We have to.”
She pushed open the door to the scrub room, and Joel followed.
Inside, the air felt oppressive, heavy with the weight of what was about to happen. Through the window, Joel saw the surgeon and nurses moving around Ellie’s unconscious form. His throat tightened.
The room wasn’t as sterile as it should have been—a passing observation he couldn’t ignore. His mind cataloged every detail, a blessing and a curse.
The surgeon stepped forward, his hands trembling.
“What are you doing here? The lives we’ll save—don’t come any closer—”
Joel cut him off with a roar.
“Wake her!”
The surgeon hesitated, looking past Joel to Marlene.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “Wake her.”
The doctor stammered but eventually nodded, signaling the nurses to act. They moved quickly, turning off the anesthetics and preparing Ellie for consciousness.
Joel moved to her side, his hands shaking as he took hers.
“Ellie, it’s me,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
Her eyes fluttered open, her voice groggy but laced with panic.
“Joel? What the fuck—where are we? What happened?”
He swallowed hard.
“Baby girl, we made it. We’re at the hospital. You’re… you’re the cure.”
Her eyes widened, her confusion quickly turning to dread.
“Joel, what do you mean?”
His voice cracked as he continued.
“They can make a cure, Ellie. But… it’s going to kill you.”
The room froze. The weight of his words crashed down on Ellie like a tidal wave.
“No!” she screamed, thrashing against her restraints. “No, Joel! I want to live! Get me out of here!”
Joel gripped her hand tighter, his own trembling with the force of holding himself together.
“Baby girl, you said it yourself. This can’t be for nothing.”
Ellie’s voice cracked, raw with anger and betrayal.
“Fuck you, Joel! Fuck them all! I don’t care—I want to live!”
Joel let go of her hand, his face a mask of pain. His voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“Ellie… you’re going to save everyone. That’s who you are. That’s your gift.”
Her struggles weakened, her voice trembling with desperation.
“Joel, please… no…”
Joel stayed by Ellie’s side, holding her down as her body went limp, the anesthetic reclaiming her.
Her tears streamed down her cheeks, and his fell to meet them, mingling into a bitter river of tragedy on her pillow.
The room was silent save for the rhythmic beeping of the machines. Joel sat there, hand still pressed to her chest, trembling. He stayed this way for what felt like an eternity, lost in a whirlwind of grief, anger, and a hollow ache that burned through his core.
Finally, he stood, his movements heavy, like a man dragging himself from his own grave. He wiped his face with a shaking hand, then turned toward Marlene, who stood frozen by the door, her expression a mixture of sorrow and fear.
Her eyes, still glassy with unshed tears, locked onto his.
“Joel, you need to step away now,” she said softly, though her voice wavered.
Joel didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed, cold, and far away.
Marlene moved closer, her steps cautious, like she was approaching a wild animal.
“Joel…” she began again. “This is hard for all of us, but you need to leave before—”
“Give me a handgun,” Joel interrupted, his voice hoarse but steady.
Her eyes widened in alarm.
“No. You’re too emotional—too dangerous—”
Before she could finish, Joel surged forward, slamming her back against the wall. His forearm pressed into her shoulder as he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
“I’ll show you dangerous.”
Marlene shuddered but didn’t resist. She nodded to one of the guards, her breath shaky. The guard hesitated, his grip tightening on his weapon, but Joel’s dark, unflinching glare made him falter. Slowly, he handed over his sidearm.
Joel took the gun without a word and turned it over in his hands. For a moment, it seemed like he might lower it—or even hand it back.
Then, without warning, he pivoted and fired.
The shot rang out like thunder in the confined space. One of the guards crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. The sound echoed in the sterile room, and for a moment, no one moved.
Marlene stared at Joel, her face pale and tear-streaked. She took a step forward, her voice trembling.
“Joel… please. This doesn’t have to—”
Joel cut her off with a growl, his voice low and raw with rage.
“This isn’t for her. It’s for me.”
He didn’t wait for her response. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the operating room, his boots heavy against the tiled floor.
The hallway stretched before him, lined with stunned guards and staff who parted instinctively as he passed. His steps didn’t falter, his head high, but his face was a mask of anguish.
No one dared stop him.
The farther he walked, the heavier the silence became. The weight of Ellie’s sacrifice, of his betrayal, pressed down on him with every step. Each corner, each door, each shadow seemed to echo her words, her screams.
When Joel finally reached the exit, he paused. The cold air hit him like a slap, sharp and biting, but it wasn’t enough to shake him.
For a moment, he stood there, staring at the horizon. The world outside was just as broken as it had been when he entered the hospital—no quieter, no kinder. But it was emptier now.
Joel gripped the pistol tighter. He walked into the open air, leaving behind the sterile hallways, the grief-stricken Marlene, and the hollow, lifeless shell of what he’d hoped to protect.
The sun hung low in the sky, but to Joel, it felt like midnight.
Mathew James Ford 