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His idiot best friend went and got himself lost.

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. He could be dead by now instead of missing, but Cole’s choosing to assume that’s not the case yet, or there’s nothing to keep fighting for.

Never got along with Wade most days, but he’s still the only family he’s got left and considering the world’s gone to shit in the last few weeks, there’s never been a better time to appreciate that.

Except Wade got distracted by a woman and followed her out on a supply run into the fallen streets of DC.

Instead of appreciating anything, Cole’s just angry.

He warned him not to let his dick lead the way, but not even a pandemic that has the dead rising was enough to stop Wade from chasing a skirt.

Cole’s come up empty in his search every day for the last week.

Spent longer than usual combing the streets tonight out of sheer frustration and lost track of time.

When the sky runs pink, it’s a sign to pack it in.

He’s not sure if the dead cluster worse after dark.

No one’s sure of anything yet, but there’s plenty of reason to get back to the apartment he’s been squatting in before it’s too late.

And if he can’t find his best friend soon…his brother, then he’ll have to make some hard choices about fo llowing their plan alone. Shit’s only getting worse in the city and he doesn’t intend to get trapped.

Cole catches sight of a woman up ahead, the first live person he’s seen all day. Just last week, they were all in a panic, screaming and falling over each other.

This one runs away from him before he can try to stop her.

Not that he thinks she’d be useful. Wade’s a needle in a haystack.

He’s only going through the motions to feel like he’s doing something.

Gives up trying to follow the girl after a few moments of token effort, watching a streak of pink hair disappear around a corner just in time to hear a blood-curdling scream at the edge of a subway entrance.

It’s distant and high-pitched, almost like a kitten…or a baby.

What the hell would a baby be doing in the fucking subway, he thinks with annoyance. What kind of parent drags their kid into a place that’s sure to hold plenty of the dead? Even if it doesn’t yet, all that racket’s a good way to attract them.

Not his problem.

He’s got shit to handle that doesn’t include taking a detour on a suicide mission.

His feet still end up on the steps, though. Curiosity gets the best of him when he knows it shouldn’t. The last thing he needs is to actually find a baby. What would he do with one? It would be a giant neon sign painting a target on his back.

Maybe he’ll get lucky and it’ll be a kitten after all. That he could handle.

The first landing is clear, but only because all the rotters are clustered at the bathroom door a couple of yards away, trying to break inside for a tasty baby-sized snack. He fucking knew it. Those shrill cries are honey for a swarm of killer bees and even if he wanted to help, it’s too late now .

No way he could take out the dozen blocking the entrance. There’s sure to be more coming from deep within the tunnels, slowly ambling toward their destination. He needs to get out of here and put this behind him. It’s a shit situation, but he can’t save everyone.

Can’t save anyone.

Slowly, he turns to leave. They haven’t spotted him yet, and he’s got a clear shot back up top, but then another pitiful cry slices through the air, so terrified and angry like every newborn he’s ever heard on TV. He stops in his tracks.

If there’s a baby, maybe there’s a mother, too. She’ll either turn soon and eat her own offspring or she stuffed the poor kid in the bathroom in hopes of saving it, and she’s long gone already.

Fuck.

He’s about to do something as stupid as Wade chasing after a girl he met last week.

Cole aims his gun for the trash can at the far end of the subway and pulls the trigger to knock it to the ground, attracting the buffet-goers.

It works like he thought it would and they all abandon the bathroom for an easier target, passing him where he hides out of sight on the steps.

Without hesitation, he rushes behind the group and opens the door, unprepared for what he finds on the other side.

At first, he thinks they’re all dead. There’s blood coating the floor and splattered across the ugly green wall tiles.

It’s hard to tell who’s actually alive, but then the baby in its mother’s arms begins to squirm and scream.

The woman crushes herself to the wall, trying to protect her child while begging for mercy.

He rushes in because he’s got no damn choice.

The rotters are already coming back. He can’t leave now, not when someone’s just given birth on this bathroom floor and he’s guessing that happened sometime after she stabbed the man a few feet away that’s still reaching a blood-coated hand in their direction.

“It’s alright,” he says, shutting the door and flipping the broken lock that only dangles loose again. “Not gonna hurt you.”

She’s unconvinced.

“ Please. Please. Please.” She cradles the child to her chest like he might rip it away, a kitchen knife gripped tight in her other hand. She’s ready to use it, but clearly hoping he won’t test her.

“Only trying to help. You can’t stay in here. They’re swarming on the other side.”

Her pretty blue eyes dilate and glaze over before she can reply. Dammit, she’s about to pass out or die right in front of him and this shit isn’t what he signed up for.

Cole barely has time to catch the baby before it rolls free from her arms as they go lax on the dirty floor.

‘ Lucy,’ she gasps on a painful breath.

Has to be the kid’s name, he assumes, watching her mother slump unconscious against the wall. He presses a careful finger to her pulse, surprised and relieved to find it still beating. That’s the best news he’s gotten all day because what would he have done alone with a baby?

A kid needs her mother. Not some random stranger that swooped in at the last second.

The scratching at the door starts up again, and he groans, trying and failing to shush the screaming child, who’s picked up another impressive chorus.

The woman in front of him is a mess. Her long dress is bunched up to mid-thigh, revealing blood from the birth coating her legs. The placenta lies a few feet away, half eaten by the man on the ground with a knife wound in his head.

Cole doesn’t try to clean her up. Not in the business of groping women he’s never met or even ones he has. If she wakes up, and god she better wake up , then she can do it herself and if she doesn’t, he’ll have a lot worse to worry about.

He does, however, grab a towel from his pack and bunch it up under her head. Can’t leave her passed out all crooked. Gonna cause a crick in her neck later.

“Shhhh. Shhh. You gotta quiet down,” he whispers to the baby, who’s got no intention of following instructions. She’s brand new and already fighting for her life right along with everyone else on this sorry planet.

“Your momma will wake up any second now. Feed you. Get you taken care of.” He does his best to clean the gunk off pink skin with paper towels from the dispenser and wraps her up in his only spare shirt dug from the bottom of his bag.

Looks healthy, like she took every ounce of nutrition her mother ate. The baby is chubby, but the woman on the floor is thin enough that he wouldn’t have known she was pregnant if he didn’t have the evidence in his arms.

“She’ll wake up and it’ll all be just fine,” he soothes. “Just fine. Lucy? That’s your name?”

She blinks up at him, her little brows already knit together like she can’t fucking believe the bullshit she’s been born into.

Cole likes babies. Kids. Animals. They’re kinder than adults.

They don’t judge or dismiss and he’s always had an easier time with this group than he ever did with his own peers.

At least he thought so, but Lucy isn’t having his attempts at calming her, continuing to fuss and yell and stirring up a commotion outside.

Her tiny fist grabs his pinky finger and something idiotic comes out of his mouth a second later.

“I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

Like hell he will. What the fuck is he thinking?

He doesn’t need the hassle.

It’s not his baby.

He’s never seen this woman before in his life.

He’s off the hook when it comes to keeping them safe. Yet here he is in a subway bathroom playing instant father anyway. Wade would have a field day with that. He’d laugh his ass off and then some.

Cole slides down to lean back against the sink cabinet in a lone spot not covered in gore, rocking this baby that’s not his while staring at that woman he doesn’t know.

Bruises ring her wrists in fingerprint indentations, crawling up her arms in angry purple dots.

She’s got a busted lip and some sort of burn on her bare feet, and all of that could’ve come from anywhere these days.

Plenty of ways to get hurt, with plenty of assholes still roaming the streets ready to do the hurting if the dead don’t get you first, but he suspects it’s not that.

Knows because he’s had similar injuries and it didn’t take an apocalypse to earn them.

He wonders if it’s that fucker in the corner who did it.

No one is sure yet if those who turn still think . If they do, then this one was a special kind of evil for his first thought to be how much he wanted to eat his family. He deserved that kitchen knife she shoved into him.

Finally, the baby begins to quiet, nestling into the curve of his bent arm with a yawn .

How is he going to feed this child if her mother doesn’t wake up? Baby formula was the first thing cleared out, along with toilet paper. There’s not a single store in a five-mile radius that hasn’t been looted clean, and he knows because he and Wade have been there already.