Fragile Hearts [DANGEROUS FELLOWS]

⚠️SEVENTY-FOUR: KILLING ZOMBIES FOR GOOD⚠️

To be honest, you weren't even really sure how you'd ended up here.

Lawrence always had a way of spinning your mind in circles with his words. Things would half make sense, or be just complicated enough that you couldn't fully understand what he meant. Either way, with you so busy trying to decipher what he was trying to say, it seemed he could coerce you into anything simply by acting like you'd already agreed with it.

So when you found yourself in the lonely basement, it was already too late to object.

"I would tell you to make yourself comfortable, but that really isn't possible down here, is it?" Lawrence joked lightly, going over to a table.

The room looked a lot different than when Zion had first led you here. Most of the weapons were taken down, stowed away carefully in boxes or duffel bags, and the metal tables had been pushed together in pairs for different uses - one table for books, one for non-perishable food, and et cetera.

The most eye-catching part of the basement, however, were the papers.

The room was filled with them, so many that you almost felt dizzy. On the walls, the tables, even on the floor, stamped with dark shoe prints. Some of them were filled top-to-bottom with neatly written notes, others covered in hectic, barely legible scrawl that looked almost manic.

Most unsettling of them all were the few pages that were filled with drawings, etched dark with graphite and ink, all scratchy lines and dark shading. There were mostly maps, and diagrams of buildings, but what caught your eye most were the drawings of creatures. Bugs, animals, and even a person, all in various stages of decomposition. The detail was almost sickening to look at, and you quickly averted your gaze... but not quick enough for Lawrence to miss you staring.

"Sorry about the mess in here," he apologized, frowning a bit. "I used to be a lot more organized. Guess I get lost in my own world these days."

He offered a kind look, and for some reason you felt safer lingering by the stairs.

"Did you want to show me something?" you asked, recalling your conversation with him as he swept you down into the basement. "Conversation" was generous, as it had mostly been one-sided. Lawrence lit up at this, nodding quickly.

"This way," he said, waving you over, inviting you deeper into the creepy, creaky basement.

You tried to avoid stepping on any of the papers, especially the ones with glaring eyes, as if they would suddenly come to life and leap out of you. Lawrence, however, seemed as unphased as ever, leading you to the back of the basement.

"As it is now, we don't have many effective ways to fight against the infected," he began, sifting through a messy pile of pages on one of the tables before landing on one, laying it out for you to see.

You peered down curiously, almost reeling back at the sight.

An extremely detailed sketch of a zombie being burned, its rotten flesh turning to ash and its face twisted in agony.

"We have Zion's crowbar, Ethan's bat, my taser, and... Well, your gun," Lawrence listed off, sounding almost cheeky. "They're well enough for keeping small zombies at bay. But when it comes to hordes, or the mutations..."

"We don't stand a chance," you finished quietly, growing solemn as you reminisced on the day the group lost Jay.

Lawrence nodded, giving a smile.

"I've been making meticulous observations on the undead," he reported, pulling out some more papers and reading them. You couldn't have read his writing if your life depended on it.