The Last of Us: Survival

Chapter 164 164: Tracy

Looking at Tracy standing in her doorway without a care for appearances, Bryan's mouth twitched. He genuinely couldn't reconcile the woman in front of him with the sharp, athletic soldier she'd been before the QZ.

He rubbed his shoulder where she'd punched him and gestured at the bags slung over his back. "Brought you some stuff. Let's talk inside."

"Oh—right."

Only after their "warm" greeting did Tracy notice the bags. She glanced left and right down the corridor, then stepped aside and waved him in. "Get inside, quick. Standing out here with all that—you trying to make me a target?"

Bryan shrugged and squeezed past her into the room.

The moment he stepped inside, he froze.

In the far corner, a crude cross fashioned from rebar stood upright. A man—shirtless, gaunt, and skeletal—was lashed to it by all four limbs, his body sagging forward, eyes shut, head drooping. The dark circles around his eyes were nearly black.

If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, Bryan would have assumed he was looking at a corpse.

He set down his bags slowly and turned to Tracy, eyebrows raised. "Uh... what's going on here?"

Tracy shut the door behind her and waved dismissively. "Ignore him. Just some thief who broke in a few days ago. Tried to rob me and have his way with me. So I tied him up there as punishment."

She walked past Bryan, dropped into a reclining chair, and began rocking it lazily.

"Have his... way with you?"

Bryan's expression went peculiar. His eyes swept over Tracy's generous figure. Robbery he could understand—they regularly brought food here, and anyone paying attention would have noticed. And before, back when Tracy had been lean and sharp-featured, he could see someone targeting her that way. But now—well, then again, beggars couldn't be choosers in this day and age.

"What are you staring at?" Tracy caught his look and bristled. She shot upright, grabbed a cushion from the chair, and hurled it at him.

"Easy! Easy!" Bryan snagged the pillow out of the air and raised his hands in surrender. He found a spot to sit. "So what exactly did you do to him? He looks half-dead."

Tracy settled back into her recliner and picked up a chunk of bread from the side table, chewing as she talked. "He snuck in and picked my lock in the middle of the night. Woke me up. So I made him go three days and three nights without sleep. Teach him a lesson he won't forget."

That explained the death-mask eye circles. Three days without sleep... brutal.

Understanding the situation, Bryan stood up, walked over to the man, and knocked him out cold—putting him out of his misery for the moment. Then he turned his attention back to the task at hand and began unloading canned food from his backpack onto the table.

"I figured you'd be running low right about now, so I brought some supplies. Hide them well. If someone finds this stash, you're the one who'll pay for it."

"Yeah, yeah. You get more long-winded every year."

Tracy's eyes lit up at the sight of food. She jumped to her feet, lifted her cot, and revealed a storage compartment beneath it. One by one, she tucked the cans inside.

Once everything was stowed, she patted Bryan's shoulder with a satisfied look. "Good kid. Guess all that time I spent looking after you wasn't wasted."

You? Looking after me? Bryan rolled his eyes internally but kept the thought to himself. He genuinely couldn't fathom how she'd become... this. It wasn't just the weight—her entire personality had shifted.

When Tracy had her bed squared away again, he spoke up. "I'm planning a get-together for everyone soon—sometime in the next few days. If you've got time, come."

"Absolutely!" Her face lit up like a kid at Christmas. She was going stir-crazy in this warehouse. "I've always got time. Just let me know when."

"Good."

Bryan checked the time. It was getting late. He consolidated the remaining bags, tucking Sarah's things at the bottom and covering them with the children's clothing.

Tracy eyed the small garments. "What's with all the kids' clothes?"

Zipping the bag shut, Bryan replied, "Just brought a child back from outside the QZ. Chinese kid. Doesn't speak the language, and he's too young for school, so I'm looking after him for now."

"Huh?"

Tracy stared at him in open disbelief. "Since when does a cold-blooded little schemer like you adopt children?"

Others might not see it, but Tracy had watched Bryan for years. Behind that easygoing smile and pleasant demeanor, the kid had a pragmatic streak a mile wide. Not a bad person, exactly, but certainly no bleeding heart. Voluntarily taking in a child was... unexpected.

"What do you mean, cold-blooded?" Bryan shot her an irritated look, but then conceded: "The kid's a bit... special."

"Ha! Should've said so from the start." Tracy nodded as if this confirmed everything she already knew. "You never do anything without a reason. So what's 'special' about him?"

"Not sure yet. I need to observe him a while longer before I can say."

He shouldered his backpack and picked up the remaining bag. "Getting late. I should head back."

A flicker of reluctance crossed Tracy's face, but she didn't try to stop him. "Alright. Be careful out there."

"Mm."

...

After leaving Tracy's quarters, Bryan headed for the checkpoint and the walk back.

At the checkpoint, the bags drew the usual attention. Standard procedure: open and inspect.

Bryan presented his credentials. The soldier on duty, seeing the ID marked him as military and the bag contained nothing but children's clothing, gave it a cursory once-over and waved him through.

Back at the barracks, walking down the corridor toward his room, Bryan squeezed the bridge of his nose between two fingers—fatigue finally catching up—and pushed open the door.

"Bryan!"

The shout hit him the instant the door swung open. A figure came barreling toward him.

He barely got the bags down in time to catch the charging body in a quick embrace, then held the newcomer at arm's length for a proper look.

Sixteen, maybe seventeen. Clean buzz cut. A white button-down shirt that showed off a reasonably fit build. Five-foot-seven, with a handsome face that probably had every girl in school sneaking glances.

Bryan ruffled Allen's hair with a light smack. "You're practically an adult. What's with the running tackle? Act your age."

"C'mon, it's been almost a month! I missed you, man." Allen scratched the back of his head, unbothered. Bryan was only two years older, but years of guidance had cemented him firmly as an older-brother figure. "You have no idea how boring school is with just me in it."

"So boring you became the school's resident kingpin?" Bryan recalled what Sarah had told him and couldn't resist the jab.

Allen's face flushed instantly. He cleared his throat and waved a hand with exaggerated nonchalance. "I mean, y'know, when you've got free time, you collect a few followers, mess around a little..."

"You're something else."

Bryan poked Allen's forehead with a chuckle, picked up the bags from the floor, and walked inside.

Meanwhile, Sarah emerged from the storage room carrying cuts of fresh meat and mushrooms. When she saw Bryan in the doorway, a warm smile spread across her face. She set the food on the table, walked up to him, and began straightening his rumpled clothes with practiced, wifely ease.

"Welcome home."

...

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