Lopez & Rosie Scavenging Mission (Patreon)

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the gaps in the camper van, gently nudging Lopez awake. It was July 5, 2012, another day in a world overrun by the infected. The warm, breezy morning held a deceptive calm. Lopez lay there momentarily, Jaime's peaceful, giant frame beside him. Carefully, he slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb Jaime's slumber.

Lopez stepped out of the van, dressed quietly in jeans, a Colorado Rockies T-shirt, his National Guard hat, and boots. The junkyard sprawled around him, a maze of scrap and survival. As he trod softly towards the main house, he caught sight of Rosie. Her fiery red hair was unmistakable, even from a distance, as she lay on a bench outside the garage.

"Morning, Rosie," Lopez greeted, his voice low.

Rosie, her eyes half-open, sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Lopez? What're you doing up so early? It's barely 6 AM."

Lopez shrugged, a half-smile on his face. "Just thought I'd get an early start, you know? Scavenging and stuff."

Rosie studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp. "You're not just scavenging, are you?"

He avoided her gaze, looking out into the distance. "Just the usual rounds," he said, but his tone lacked conviction.

They made their way to the armory inside the main house, a room filled with the necessities of their new reality. Lopez picked out an M4A1 carbine rifle and an M1911, handling them with practiced ease. Rosie, on the other hand, grabbed a Uzi.

"I'm thinking of going alone today," Lopez said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Rosie, loading her Uzi, didn't look up. "What time do you think we'll be back?" she asked, her tone casual.

Lopez raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Yeah, we. Jaime's planning a barbecue. Can you believe we missed July 4 yesterday?" Rosie chuckled, her eyes finally meeting his. "I don't want to miss out on the ribs."

Lopez sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Rosie's relentless spirit, even in the face of the apocalypse, was something he admired. "Alright, Rosie. Let's make sure we're back for those ribs."

---

Lopez and Rosie set out westward, the morning sun climbing higher as they navigated the treacherous landscape. Lopez's mind was focused on the task at hand – finding the Forest Rats, a group he suspected was holed up in an old furniture store on the northern end of Sapphire Lake. Rosie, however, seemed to have a different agenda.

"So, why do you think Sean called them 'Forest Rats' anyway?" Rosie asked, following closely behind Lopez.

He sighed, his eyes scanning the horizon. "I don't know, Rosie. Maybe because they scurry around like rats?"

Rosie chuckled. "Maybe they just really like cheese."

As they reached the eastern shore of Sapphire Lake, the serene landscape was disrupted by a comical scene – a couple of zombies, sluggish and clumsy in the mud, were ineffectually chasing a possum. The small animal, far nimbler than its pursuers, darted into the water and swam away, leaving the undead grasping at thin air.

"Looks like dinner escaped," Rosie said, drawing her knife.

"Focus, Rosie," Lopez warned, even as he suppressed a laugh. They approached the distracted zombies from behind.

In a swift, silent motion, Lopez plunged his knife into the back of one zombie's head while Rosie did the same to the other. The creatures crumpled to the ground, lifeless once more.

"That was almost too easy," Rosie said, cleaning her knife on the grass.

Lopez nodded, his gaze returning to their surroundings. "Let's keep moving. Stay sharp."

They continued along the shore, the sun casting long shadows over the water. The landscape around Sapphire Lake was a mix of serene beauty and post-apocalyptic desolation, a reminder of the world that once was. As they neared the northern side of the lake, they came upon a mundane and extraordinary sight in these times – two women washing clothes at the water's edge.

The younger of the two women immediately caught Rosie's eye. She was an African-American woman around Rosie's age, with a striking presence that was hard to ignore. Her skin was a rich, warm brown, glistening slightly in the sunlight. Her hair, a cascade of tight curls, was pulled back into a practical yet stylish ponytail, revealing the graceful line of her neck.

Her features were striking and vivid – high cheekbones framed her face, while her full lips and eyes, alight with fierce determination, added to her expressive countenance. She was clad in a well-worn T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of the band Gold Rust, which hugged her torso, accentuating her toned arms. This was complemented by a pair of shorts, revealing the strength and athleticism of her build.

In her forties, the older woman worked alongside the younger one, her movements more measured but equally adept. She seemed to carry the wisdom and weariness of the world in her eyes.

Rosie's gaze lingered on the young woman by the lake. "Let's go say hi," she said, excitement in her voice.

Lopez shook his head firmly. "Too dangerous. We don't know who they are or what they're capable of."

"But they're just washing clothes. Come on, what harm could it do?"

Their bickering went back and forth, their voices rising unintentionally. The two women at the shore turned their heads to the sound of the voices until they spotted the pair of survivors.

"Why not?" Rosie asked, pointing at the two women. "They may not even be part of the Forest Rats. You're overreacting."

The older woman reacted first, running along the shoreline and calling, "Help! Help!" In a flash, she grabbed a rifle from a pile of gear and aimed it straight at Lopez and Rosie.

"Take cover!" Lopez shouted, pulling Rosie into the tree line.

The older woman fired her rifle, but the shot went wide, splitting the bark of a tree.

"She's not even using it right," Lopez muttered.

The younger woman was frantically gathering their belongings, preparing to flee. But their shouting had attracted unwanted attention – several infected staggered out from the surrounding area, drawn by the noise. They were few in number but burst from the tree line, arms raised and moans carrying across the lake.

Seeing the zombies, Rosie popped up from cover. "We have to help them!"

"No, we need to go now," Lopez yelled at her.

The young woman reached into a backpack and pulled out a claw hammer. As the first infected approached, the woman swung and connected with the tip of the hammer against its skull. Blood flew in a wide arc, and the zombie fell sideways, splashing through the lake's surface.

The other woman fired her rifle, this time aiming at one of the zombies that had gotten too close to the younger woman. But her aim was off, and the bullet disappeared into the forest.

More infected emerged from the tree line, at least a dozen. Rosie couldn't hold back. She burst cover, her Uzi blazing. "Hey! I'm Rosie!" she shouted to the younger woman in the pauses between gunfire.

Bullets from the submachine gun made a line across the narrow strip of field between the woods and the lake, cutting through the legs of the infected. As they crawled towards the younger woman, she struck out with her hammer, bringing it down on the backs of their skulls.

"Hey there, nice hammer!" Rosie shouted to the young woman, who only flashed a look of surprise back at her.

Lopez realized the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. With infected closing in, he had no choice but to engage. He raised his M4A1 carbine, the rifle feeling like an extension of his resolve. In quick succession, he fired short, controlled bursts into the advancing crowd of infected. His shots were precise, each one finding its mark with lethal efficiency. Alongside him, Rosie's Uzi sang a deadly tune.

Just as they seemed to be gaining the upper hand, more shouts echoed from the depths of the woods. The older woman, her eyes wide with alarm, frantically waved her hand toward the unseen figures moving through the forest. "Over here! It's two of them — a man with a rifle and a woman with some kind of machine gun," she yelled, her voice laced with panic.

In response to her call, bullets began to rain down around them, thudding into the earth near Rosie. Lopez's instincts kicked in instantly. He lunged towards Rosie, his movements swift and decisive. Grabbing her, he began pulling her back towards the relative safety of the treeline. As they retreated under a hail of gunfire, Rosie threw a cheeky grin over her shoulder.

"I like your shirt, by the way!" she shouted to the younger woman, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Lopez, half-carrying, half-dragging a protesting Rosie, plunged into the safety of the trees.

---

Time seemed to blur as Lopez and Rosie navigated through the dense forest, the chaos of the lake encounter fading into the background. The sounds of the forest, a mix of rustling leaves and distant animal calls, gradually replaced the echoes of gunfire and groans of the infected.

"You know, Rosie," Lopez finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with frustration and amusement, "you really know how to ruin a day. Just to say hello to some girl."

Rosie replied dreamily, "But, Lopez, you saw her. She was beautiful. I hope I get to meet her again."

Lopez shook his head, unable to suppress a quiet laugh at Rosie. "Only you, Rosie, only you."

As the familiar sight of the junkyard came into view, a sense of relief washed over them. Rosie turned to Lopez with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, want to go out again tomorrow? "

Wiping sweat from his brow, Lopez glanced at her. "Alright, 7 AM sharp. And no more detours to say hi to pretty girls, okay?"

Rosie squealed with excitement. "I can't wait to see her. I think she waved hello to me."

As they passed through the gates of their makeshift sanctuary, the duo stepped into the familiar confines of the junkyard, their minds already racing toward the possibilities of tomorrow's venture. The day's challenges were behind them, but the promise of a new day lay ahead with all its unknowns and potential encounters.