[24] Elias Voss

Have you ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle before?

There was something strangely liberating about the first few seconds. The wind rushing past, the road opening ahead, the feeling that everything around you had become a blur, while you simply sat there and let it carry you forward. It was also around then that you started to understand why helmets existed, no matter how nice the wind felt through your hair.

Celeste had already lowered her head behind the rider, leaning forward and keeping her upper body tucked in as much as possible. Even with the windshield taking some of it, the air still pushed hard against her shoulders and tugged constantly at her clothes.

Ethan, on the other hand, had apparently not figured that part out yet. He was still sitting almost completely upright behind her. Celeste only noticed because he kept shifting around, occasionally leaning to one side as though trying to see past both her and the rider. Every time he did, the wind caught him properly and seemed to shove him backwards again.

"Can you even hear me?!" he shouted.

Celeste didn’t answer.

She wasn’t sure he was talking to her anyway.

A second later, something struck him in the face.

There was a brief silence behind her.

Then— "Pff—fuck!"

She glanced back before she could help herself.

Ethan was wiping furiously at his mouth.

"I think something flew into my mouth."

Celeste turned forward again. Normally, she might have laughed. The thought almost came with the reflex, some tiny twitch at the corner of her lips that disappeared just as quickly.

She still hadn't forgotten the way he had left her back there.

How quickly he had disappeared when things went wrong.

Another small speck struck him.

"Oh, come on."

Celeste lowered her head further behind the rider.

Ethan coughed behind her, spat something onto the road, then muttered something she couldn't hear.

She didn't ask him to repeat it.

For once, she didn't really feel like talking to him.

It wasn't much longer before the rider finally began to slow.

Celeste felt it before she understood what was happening. The bike's low electric thrum softened with the speed, its sleek, turbine-like whine descending into something quieter as the force of the wind eased enough for her to lift her head without immediately regretting it.

They had left most of the commercial stretch behind.

The road narrowed into an industrial access road running along the backs of several old warehouses. Loading bays opened onto a shallow concrete yard to one side, their metal shutters pulled down. A delivery truck sat crooked across two bays farther along, its rear doors hanging open, but there was nobody around it.

No infected either. At least none that Celeste could see. Somehow, she found herself trusting that the rider had already checked.

The motorcycle turned into the loading yard and coasted beneath a concrete awning before coming to a stop.

Celeste's ears were still full of wind. Even after the bike fell silent, she could almost feel the road vibrating underneath her.

The rider planted both feet on the ground.

Ethan climbed off first.

He did it far too quickly, stumbling a step when his legs touched the ground, one hand immediately going to his mouth again. Celeste loosened her arms from around the rider's waist and stared down at the pavement beside the bike. Getting on had been easy enough when someone else had helped her up. Getting off was another problem.

She shifted her weight carefully and swung one leg over. The moment her injured foot touched the ground, pain shot up through her ankle. Her knee buckled.

A hand caught her around the waist before she fell.

Celeste sucked in a breath.

For half a second, she found herself pressed against the rider's side, one of their arms holding her upright while she tried to get her good foot properly underneath herself.

"I've got her."

Ethan was already beside them.

His hand closed around Celeste's arm.

The rider looked at him.

Even through the helmet, there was something about the silence that made Ethan's grip tighten.

"I said I've got her."

Celeste looked between them.

The rider let go. Ethan immediately pulled her closer. Not roughly. If anything, he was being too careful with her, one arm going around her back as though she might collapse the moment he stopped supporting her.

Celeste steadied herself against him.

"I can stand."

"You nearly fell."

"My ankle hurts."

"I know."

There was something strange about the way he said it. Not angry. Not quite, just too quick. Like the answer had already been decided for her.

Celeste didn't have the energy to argue.

The rider had already turned away from them.

They crouched beside the motorcycle, checking something near the rear wheel before standing again and looking down the access road.

Ethan watched them.

"So where are we?"

No answer.

"Hey."

The rider looked back.

"Where did you bring us?"

"Somewhere quieter."

Their voice sounded different without the engine and wind swallowing half of it.

Lower than Celeste expected.

Ethan glanced around.

"And then what?"

The rider didn't answer immediately.

Their attention moved instead to Celeste.

More specifically, to the way she was keeping most of her weight off one foot.

"What happened to your ankle?"

Ethan answered before she could.

"She hurt it earlier."

The rider looked at him.

Then back at Celeste.

Celeste hesitated.

"I twisted it."

"When?"

"Today."

"Can you move it?"

Ethan shifted beside her.

"She said it hurts."

The rider ignored him.

Celeste looked down at her ankle.

"A little."

"Show me."

Ethan frowned. "Hey man, are you deaf?"

The rider finally turned their head towards him.

"Can she walk?"

"She can." Ethan looked at Celeste and shifted the bag off his shoulder. "Come here. I've got a bandage in my bag."

Celeste didn't move immediately. Her eyes dropped to the bag, then to the hand Ethan had already extended towards her.

The rider noticed.

"So she can walk?"

Ethan's expression tightened. "I just said she can."

Celeste shifted her weight experimentally. Pain flared through her ankle again. She caught herself before it showed too much, but apparently not fast enough. The rider looked down at her foot.

"That doesn't look good."

Ethan stepped closer. "She just needs it wrapped."

Before Ethan could do anything else, the rider stepped over and crouched in front of Celeste.

Ethan immediately stepped forward.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking it."

"You don't need to touch her."

That finally made Celeste look properly at him.

Ethan's face had gone tense. Not frightened. Something else.

The rider remained crouched. Celeste couldn't see their expression through the visor. But when they spoke, their voice hadn't changed at all.

"Then you check it."

Ethan paused. The rider waited. Celeste felt the awkward silence stretch between them.

"I know what I'm doing." Ethan looked down seriously at her ankle.

"Go ahead."

Celeste almost closed her eyes.

Ethan's jaw tightened, "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"..."

The rider reached up to the side of their helmet.

The clasp clicked loose, and the helmet came off with a hiss.

Celeste wasn't quite sure what she had expected.

Someone younger, perhaps.

Instead, the man underneath looked to be somewhere in his late thirties.

Short dark hair lay flattened beneath the helmet, framing a face that looked worn in ways Celeste couldn't quite place. An old scar cut across the bridge of his nose, disappearing slightly into the weathered lines around his eyes, while an extended goatee sharpened an already severe jaw. A few days' worth of rough stubble filled in the rest. A metallic choker went around his neck, its black lustre traced around the collar.

There was something practiced in the way he carried himself, a quiet steadiness that made the scar and tired eyes feel earned.

"You..." Ethan seemed to be studying him now, whatever annoyance he had been carrying momentarily replaced by something more cautious.

The man tucked the helmet beneath one arm.

"Staff Sergeant Elias Voss."

Ethan's expression changed almost immediately.

"EDF?" Ethan frowned. "You’re really with them?"

There was the slightest pause.

Just enough for Celeste to notice.

Voss looked at him.

"If you want anything more than my name," he said, his eyes narrowing in turn, "you’d better be prepared for what comes with knowing it."

Ethan went quiet.

Voss held his gaze for another second before looking back towards Celeste, as though the matter had already been settled.

"Can I check your ankle?"

Celeste nodded.

Voss crouched again. He supported her heel with one hand and pressed carefully around the swelling with the other.

"Ugh...!" Celeste flinched when his thumb reached the outside of her ankle.

"There?"

"...Yeah."

He eased off immediately.

"Can you move it?"

Celeste tried.

The motion barely started before the pain tightened through her leg.

"Not much."

"Any numbness?"

"No."

"Pins and needles?"

She shook her head.

Voss glanced at the bandage still hanging from Ethan's hand.

"Pass it, kid."

Ethan hesitated before handing it over.

Voss took Celeste’s foot gently and rested it across his knee. He checked the swelling once more, pressed two fingers briefly against the top of her foot, then began wrapping the ankle in a firm figure-eight, each pass neat and evenly tensioned.

Celeste watched his hands. He didn’t have to think about where the bandage went.

"Tell me if your toes start feeling cold or numb," he said, securing the end. "And don’t put your full weight on it unless you have to."

Voss gave the bandage one last check before lowering her foot carefully.

"Try standing."

Celeste braced herself and put a little weight on it.

The pain was still there, but dulled now. Manageable, at least.

"Better?"

"A bit."

"That’ll do for now."

He stood and handed the remaining bandage back to Ethan.

Then his attention shifted to Ethan's bag.

"You two out here alone?"

"No, Linda’s—"

Celeste stopped when Ethan looked at her.

It was only a glance, but enough to make her realise she had answered without thinking.

"We’re not alone," Ethan cut in.

Voss looked between them. Celeste could feel Ethan waiting for her not to say anything else.

"She’s injured," Celeste said anyway.

His eyes snapped back to her.

"Celeste."

"What?"

Voss’s attention shifted to Ethan.

"Who is she?"

Ethan hesitated.

"...Our friend."

Voss gave a small nod.

"What happened to her?"

"...She hurt her leg too when all this started. It never healed properly."

"How bad?"

"She can walk. Just not for long."

Ethan folded his arms. "She’s safe where she is. You don’t need to know anything else... sir."

The last word came out stiff enough to barely sound respectful.

Voss looked at him for a moment, then back at Celeste.

"How long has she been alone?"

"A few hours."

Ethan’s expression tightened.

"Celeste."

She ignored him.

Voss slipped the helmet back on and fastened the clasp.

"And walking makes it worse?"

Celeste nodded.

"Then we’re going back," the muffled voice declared. "I’m giving you a ride back either way. I’m not leaving you stranded here."

Ethan stared at him for a few seconds.

His eyes drifted towards Celeste, then to the road behind them.

"…Fine."

He helped Celeste back onto the motorcycle before climbing on behind her.

"Hang tight. We're going faster this time."

Celeste tightened her arms around him almost immediately.

Ethan paused behind her. "How much faster?"

Voss lowered his visor.

"We’ll find out."

The motorcycle slowed as they turned into the mouth of a narrow service lane tucked behind another row of ageing buildings. The lane was barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other, hemmed in by stained concrete walls, exposed pipes and the backs of units whose proper entrances faced the road on the other side. Rubbish bins had been pushed against one wall, and old delivery crates sat where they had been abandoned weeks ago. Nothing about the place stood out.

That was partly why they had stayed here. Their shelter was farther down, behind an unremarkable metal door they had spent the past few days walking past as casually as possible whenever anyone else was nearby.

"There," Celeste said, pointing.

Voss guided the bike farther down the lane before bringing it smoothly to a stop.

Celeste’s arms had gone stiff around his waist.

She stayed there for a few seconds even after the bike settled.

Behind her, Ethan climbed off much more carefully than before, legs unsteady as he caught himself against the seat. His hair was a mess, his face pale, and several fresh specks were stuck across the front of his shirt.

Voss remained perfectly still at the handlebars while the faint electric whine beneath them faded into silence.

Ethan stepped around the bike and held out a hand. Celeste looked at it. For a moment, she didn’t move, but eventually placed her hand in his. The hesitation was small, but Ethan noticed. His expression tightened before he looked away and helped ease her off the seat, keeping most of her weight on her good leg.

Celeste pulled her hand back as soon as she was steady.

Voss dismounted behind them.

Ethan glanced towards the metal door farther down the lane.

"This is far enough."

Voss stopped. Celeste looked at him. For some reason, the suddenness of it caught her off guard. After everything that had happened, she had expected him to at least follow them to the door.

Instead, Voss simply gave a small nod.

"All right." He turned back towards the motorcycle.

Celeste’s lips parted, though nothing came out.

Voss paused beside the bike.

"There are two EDF shelters close by," he said. "Community centre three streets east, and the multi-storey car park beside the market. Both are active and taking civilians."

Ethan’s expression shifted. Only slightly. His eyes flicked towards the direction Voss had indicated, and for a moment Celeste could almost see the regret settling in. All that suspicion, all that pushing, only for the man to give them exactly the sort of information they had spent weeks trying to find.

Celeste looked at Ethan.

"We could—"

"No."

She stopped. Ethan turned towards her.

"We've heard enough stories, Celeste. People promising shelters. People saying they're EDF."

His voice had grown louder.

"We don’t know him. We don’t know if those places are even real."

Celeste stared at him.

"We should stay where we know we’re safe. The three of us."

The three of us.

She glanced towards Voss again.

He had already reached the motorcycle when he stopped.

"I was going to leave you some food," he said, glancing at Ethan's bag. "Looks like you managed to find some."

He opened one of the compartments on the bike instead and pulled out a small medical pouch.

"Take this. Painkillers, antiseptic, dressings. Should be more useful."

Celeste accepted it before Ethan could say anything.

"Thank you."

Voss gave a short nod.

Then he swung one leg over the motorcycle.

"I’ve never seen EDF use a bike like that," Ethan muttered. "Or a gun like his."

Celeste looked at him.

He was already turning away.

"Come on."

She glanced back one last time.

Voss had lowered his visor again.

For a brief second, his gaze settled on the two of them.

Then the bike moved. The electric whine rose softly before fading down the lane, leaving only the distant hum of the city behind.

Celeste stood there until the sound disappeared completely.

Only then did she turn and follow Ethan towards the door.