And all of it under one roof with perfect weather year round. Discover the Destiny USA experience and plan your next visit at www. For over 40 years, Pyramid has lead the industry by combining the best elements of traditional retail with world-class dining and entertainment, all under one roof. Songs: Bieber's Transitional Hit". Chart Watch. Retrieved 16 May Recording Industry Association of America. Retrieved 15 October Retrieved 13 September Ricardo Da Force — Stayin' Alive".
Retrieved 5 March Retrieved 17 March Retrieved 26 November Retrieved 8 February Retrieved 9 February Retrieved 10 May Archived from the original on 11 October ARIA Charts.
Retrieved 8 December Retrieved 12 December Retrieved 2 December Disque en France in French. Archived from the original on 7 March Archived from the original on 17 March Stichting Nederlandse Top Retrieved 3 December Recorded Music New Zealand.
Archived from the original on 3 April Music Week. Retrieved 24 October Trance — Staying Alive" in French. Retrieved 12 November Bundesverband Musikindustrie. Retrieved 2 November Recorded Music NZ. Select Silver in the Certification field. Universal Music Group. Chicago Tribune. Retrieved 25 April Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. Bee Gees. Melody Saturday Night Fever. Here at Last Bee Gees Live One Night Only.
Book Category. Bee Gees singles discography. Namespaces Article Talk. Views Read Edit View history. Help Learn to edit Community portal Recent changes Upload file. Download as PDF Printable version. UK 7-inch vinyl single. Disco  . Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Belgium Ultratop 50 Flanders . Europe Eurochart Hot . Finland Suomen virallinen lista .
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Other than vinyl, why should you care about mono? At low frequencies, playback from any single point, diminutive device is essentially monaural. Also, small sources usually cannot reproduce the bottom octave at all and many begin to roll off below Hz. She stands, shoulders relaxing, and sets off with an easy gait for the abandoned sawmill, tucked between the meadow's edge and an evergreen forest. At last, she was free. With every step, Joel fell further and further behind, a strange satisfaction taking root.
She could do this without him and didn't need his protection. Of that much, she was certain. Wood smoke intermingles with the crisp sweetness of autumn leaves. The sawmill is dusty and quiet as Ellie passes it, a gradual slope rising behind it, enclosing her in a dense pine forest. By the light of the moon dappled between the boughs she makes out a winding trail, marked by wayward stones and stick paths.
It wasn't the first time Jackson's youth would sneak to the woods, and from the looks of it, it wasn't going to be the last. Many twists and turns soon reveal a towering bonfire, bright orange scattering the shadows of trees in all directions. She catches silhouettes dancing, wrestling, and embracing by firelight, recognizing only a few faces in the dark. They tilt their heads in greeting as she approaches, a silent acknowledgement.
She doesn't know them, but they know her. Ellie snags a mason jar of moonshine stolen from the mess hall and finds a spot leaning against one of the hefty boulders situated around the bonfire. She chews on her lips, now tingling, a complete fly on the wall to the small crowd singing and gossiping the night away. Who knows who and who knows what are the center of every teenager's world.
Ellie watches them sneak into the seclusion of the bushes or make out in the broad firelight. It's all wildly trivial for an otherwise calm autumn evening. Ellie smirks and just swigs her drink. She doesn't get hammered like some of her the other kids, who almost stumble into the bonfire, or slur her words so hard no one can understand what she's saying. No, she drinks enough to relax the tension in her shoulders and feel the warmth spread in her chest, but still feels the pistol tucked in her waistband.
Crazy nights like these make people forget what monsters reside beyond Jackson's walls. Sometimes, she would like to forget, too. And so her eyes linger on the way they walk and talk, hypnotised by the teenage drama unfolding in front of her.
She thinks about mimicking them, striking up a conversation on the fly or maybe cracking some bad puns, but it never feels right. A tall silhouette approaches her, and a boy turns to lean against the boulder with her, cheering his mason jar to hers. Her smirk widens with the sarcasm. Every single moment has all led up to this. He pauses, first glancing at Ellie, and and then to the group on the other side of the fire. He clears his throat. What do you think of her? Jesse discreetly points with his glass at the girl at the center of the group's attention.
She's easily the newest face, but it's one that all of Jackson already knows: Dina Woodward. She had shown up on a late September evening, right when the sun was setting and the leaves were beginning to change color.
Everything about her had a radiance. Maybe it was her olive skin or the bright patterns on her clothes, her choices based more on expression than practicality, an archaic concept in the post-apocalypse. The people of Jackson took to her instantly, inviting her to their family meals and welcoming her to sing in their church hymns. And Dina was more than happy to help in return, already picking vegetables from the communal gardens or thread weaving with Jackson's elderly few.
She had become the town's favorite pupil overnight. Again, Ellie shrugs but switches her stare into the bottom of her empty glass. Her cheeks are hot and she's not sure what from. She blames the booze.
Well, that wasn't true, she did have an opinion, but…. Ellie opens her mouth to respond, but doesn't. She slowly slides of the rock and to her feet, straightening.
In the midst of dancing and laughing, someone had brought out an acoustic guitar. The steady strumming rose above their voices, the bonfire, and the whole party altogether, echoing into the night.
He marches through the gathering crowd about to join in on a song. He snatches the guitar by the neck. He towers over a younger boy with an intimidating glower. The boy jumps to his feet, pushing his face into Jesse's. No one's seen a Clicker in months. They're gone. Chill the fuck out.
Jesse's lips remain a tight, straight line. When the boy makes a grab for the guitar, he jerks it out of the way and chucks it into the bonfire. The small crowd swarms around them like crows egging on clashing bulls, one of them sure to kill the other and hoping for scraps. But Jesse is tougher and stronger, swatting away the hits and shoving him back. Jesse punches him in the nose and the boy's head knocks back, blood spurting freely down his front.
Jesse follows through with a punch to the gut. The crowd diminishes with a few disappointed groans and booing, unsurprised at Jesse's victory. He ignores them, wiping his knuckles on his jeans, and returning to Ellie with a smug grin.
I told the others we shouldn't invite them. You want another? He mock salutes her and strolls over to the crate of moonshine, the crackling bonfire and teenage murmurs resuming. The mason jars rattle and clink as he rummages through them for a full one, when something long, low, and awful moans from deep inside the forest.
A rhythmic thumping like horse hooves thunder over the lively chatter. One by one, voices wane at the sound, heads turning every which way to find its source, a slew of panicked whispers circling through the crowd.
Ellie's skin prickles, her adrenaline from before now hammering blood in her ears, every muscle tightening. This isn't happening. It couldn't. Ellie can't see which way they are coming from until they surge from the shadows, a guttural caterwaul crescendoing over the horrified scream of her peers. The Infected, a whole pack of them, reach out with pale, blistering arms and broken fingernails at the crowd, scattering in every direction.
Ellie pulls the pistol from her waistband and points at the Runner coming straight for her, pinning a bullet to the shoulder and a quick second to the neck, cutting it down with an animalistic squeal. It collapses to the autumn leaves and still twitches as Ellie sprints past it.
She spots Jesse squaring off against two Runners. He brings his knuckles to lips, boxer-style, and jabs the first one right in the teeth, pivoting quickly and punching the second before it can touch him.
But the first one whips back and Ellie chucks her moonshine at it, the glass shattering on impact. In the same moment, Ellie snatches the the guitar sticking out of the firepit, crashing it over the Runner's head. Embers explode on impact and she inhales the burning flesh and fungus, hitting it again and again until the wood breaks and it crumples over in a smoky, bloody mess. The woods are a dark, twisting labyrinth, the familiar dirt path lost in the leaves and shadows.
Ellie runs, trying to keep step with Jesse, his longer legs bounding past her, leaping over fallen trees with ease. Her lungs burn as she sucks in the frigid autumn air. A stitch swells at her side, but she doesn't slow, a Clicker literally on her heels. She barely hears Jesse shout ahead of her before he dodges to the left. Ellie skids behind him.
Her sneakers slip on the muddied leaves, ankle twisting and losing balance, and she tumbles down a steep ravine in the opposite direction. The forest spirals around her in varying shades of black and blue, hands flailing for anything to grab onto, barreling over roots and stones. She finally crashes to the bottom with a solid thud, icy water seeping through her flannel, everything still spinning. Her whole skeleton screams in protest as she pushes herself up, but she has to get on her feet, has to get away from the Clicker galloping down the hill after her, alien face splayed open and snarling.
She stumbles on her twisted ankle as searing pain shoots up her whole leg. Suddenly, the Clicker veers away from Ellie, lured by another body on the ground.
A girl screams, throwing fistfuls of dirt and stone like buckshot, backpedaling on the ground. Ellie tears herself from the stream, roaring at her own body and clenching her switchblade, sprinting after it. The Clicker swoops in on the girl as Ellie grapples it from behind, her weight the only thing holding it back. The Clicker barks and howls, thrashing in her grasp, claws tearing at her arm. It crackles and sucks in dying breaths, but it still thrashes, bucking Ellie off.
The blade pulses as if she had stabbed it in the heart, not the brain. Saliva drips warm and viscous from its jaws, whimpering and wounded, the incandescent glow of its eyes and fungal frills fading as it falls. Ellie shoves the dead body off her, lying flat on her back, the night sky seeming to slow its spinning above her. Someone calls out to her but she can't hear them, a persistent ringing in her ears.
A slim hand reaches down to her and suddenly, it's Dina Woodward tugging her back to her feet. A Runner flails downhill, bellowing at its find and panting rapidly. Feeling floods back into her hands as Ellie snatches her pistol and firing point-blank at the Runner. A bullet punches into its shoulder, enough to make it stumble but not fall.
Ellie pivots and sprints behind Dina, dodging trees and bounding over rocks, the night stealing the very breath from her lungs. Dina's ponytail whips behind her as she makes another sharp turn. Ellie drops to her knees, dirt and leaves biting into her skin, sliding under the tree.
A Clicker on her heels impales itself on the sharp branches and screams in agony, other Runners using its carcass to vault over. Sweat stings Ellie's eyes, but she, too, can see the white glow of Jackson's spotlights, coming closer with every winded stride. She musters up a burst of speed, legs burning, when she nearly crashes into Dina, peering over the ledge of a seven foot gap. She backpedals. With a running start, she launches over the gap, stumbling briefly upon landing.
Dina still doesn't move. A Clicker shrieks and Dina hurls over the ledge. Unlike Ellie, she falls short, crying out as she clings to dangling tree roots and kicking at the earth for footholds. Ellie reaches over the edge. Dina reaches, but the moment their fingers touch, a Runner throws itself across the gap at Dina, catching her by the ankles. Ellie points her pistol past the flailing girl and shoots, the Runner's head knocking back with a spray of dark blood.
Ellie lays her pistol down and yanks Dina up with both arms, shifting her weight to the back to fully help her over the ledge. Both girls scramble backwards, terrified and out of breath, watching the dozens of Infected pace and yowl, unable to reach them. Ellie's heart sinks, glancing up at a full moon instead of Jackson's spotlights.
She doesn't dwell on it. The tortured howls of the Infected fade as they run until they can't anymore, limp legs taking them down into a ravine not unlike the one they just came from. Tall, yellowing grasses sprout between the spaces of cottonwood trees, and a tangle of willows hunch over a small stream.
Dina, doubled over with her hands on her knees, shakes her head. At least, I don't think so. First time or not, there was nothing careful about running around in the woods outside of Jackson. She knew that. Joel was going to be furious. Ellie's pounding heart only starts to slow as she sucks the blood from her split lip.
To say that Dina was one of the most popular girls in Jackson was an understatement. She was welcomed and adored everywhere she went. None of that mattered out in the wilderness. Ellie scans the top of the ravine they came from, waiting for the telltale click or groan of Infected, but nothing comes. Do you know where we are? They have to get back to Jackson.
She rests on a large rock jutting out over the stream, unlacing her shoes and massaging her twisted ankle. He would know what to do.
And then we can follow that to the Dam. Dina shakes her head and grimaces. Crawling through dank, flooded sewer pipes? Scrambling across collapsing rooftops with barbed wire below? But the wilderness… The wilderness was something else, a tightness gripping the place between Ellie's shoulders, an instinctual fear of the dark and unknown.
Hey folks, hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Long Way Back! They're a really lovely community. Thank you for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter! Ellie lays her knife and pistol out in front of her. Alongside them, she sets down two bobby pins, an old yellow Bic lighter, and a lined piece of paper folded into quarters.
Dina's name is scrawled in pencil on the front of it. Their combined inventory isn't much, but it's a start. Ellie picks up the lighter, shakes what little fuel is inside of it, and flicks the rusty button on top.
She tries it two more times before an orange flame pops out. She releases the button and sets it aside, taking her knife and pistol back. The rest belongs to Dina. She blows her shivering hands and glances up at the top of the ravine. We won't be able to see anything in the dark, anyways. If we can get up somewhere high, we can figure out which direction to go. It is, after all, how she and Joel managed to trek across major cities. The path there didn't matter as much as a general direction did.
Ellie ties her sneaker back on, the pain of her twisted ankle subsiding into a dull throbbing that fades with use. She finds softball-sized rocks nestled along the stream's shore and arranges them in a tight circle. The woods rush with noise as she scrounges for kindling, snapping sticks in half and peeling bark from birch trees, placing it all in the center of the stone circle. In no less than fifteen minutes, Ellie brings a warm fire to life, a relief to her numb fingers. Dina sits on a pile of dead leaves with her arms around her knees.
She breaks a stick in half and chucks it into the fire. Everyone in Jackson came from somewhere; scattered souls all over the broken country sought peace within the settlement's walls, and escape the terror outside of them. Ellie had listened to their stories about dead families and loved ones lost to the infection or otherwise around midnight campfires and sullen poker tables. After a while, all of their hardships blended together.
They fought their way to Jackson and bore their own scars, physical or otherwise. They were tougher than they looked. The change in topic catches Ellie off-guard. She should have worn her boots. Ellie raises an intrigued brow. It had been a long time since she had played a game with anyone that wasn't looking to drink.
Though, Dina's sly grin does make her wish she could summon a jar of moonshine. We'll each ask each other a question, and we both answer.
No repeats, and no one word answers. Ellie's eyes narrow, but she can't fight the smile playing at her lips. So how do you win? Dina hums to herself, soft and berceuse. Ellie silently wonders if it's a song from long ago, like the ones Joel knew. She doesn't doubt that Dina would make a good singer, too. They're usually on a beach or in a field, I think. Sometimes there's a lady with an umbrella even though it's not really raining. I think I'd want to go there. Before the outbreak, of course.
I think in an alternate reality, I'd be on Broadway. Your turn. Ellie swallows. She suddenly wants to ask a thousand questions, but any one of them could bite her back. The real Ellie. What's she like?
And why did she save me? Suddenly, the words Ellie wants to say get caught somewhere in her throat. She looks away and shrugs.
This is stupid. I'm done playing. We should get some rest so we can get a move on when sunrise comes. A tightness knots in Ellie's throat. It could choke her, tears from buried memories blurring Dina's stubborn gaze and flames together. She blinks the tears back, glare softening, jaw clenched. Sam and Henry She doesn't wait to see if Dina's expression changes.
Ellie pushes herself off the rock, kneeling next to the stream. No matter how hard she washes or scrubs her hands, nothing could clean their blood from her knuckles or dirt from her fingernails. She cups the cold water and splashes it on her face, feeling too hot. She runs it through her hair, clumps of it sticking together with blood and mud. She only pauses when a pair of skinny-jeaned legs block the light of the moon. She hugs one elbow with her opposite hand. That's why they're not in Jackson with me.
Everyone thinks I'm great, but the truth is… I'm not. I'm a coward. If it was you and not me back there, Ellie, I… I don't think I would have saved you. I don't think I could have. I'm not like you. She had known Dina was there, but it was something else that startled her. It was the same reason her hands shook when she wasn't cold and why she couldn't sleep when she needed to, almost constantly anxious. She points at Ellie's right hand.
All the soldiers have it. Not the slightest. But my dad was, and my mom was a nurse. When I was old enough to push a crash cart, I was always helping out at the hospital. Thinking about the last hospital she had been in made her queasy. She holds out both of her palms to her. Ellie hesitates, searching Dina's rich, umber eyes for anything but kindness. Ellie bites her lips and hides her hands in her pockets, thumbs hitching on her belt loops.
A bad feeling wells in her stomach. Joel and Tess had only found out because a soldier had scanned her. She never told Sam or Henry.
A part of her kept hoping that if she told someone, she would be liberated from an awful truth. If Dina moved her sleeve at all, she would see the horrid, mutilated yellow scar tissue.
Again, Ellie hesitates, shoulders stiffening. We should get some sleep, anyways. Dina fixes her with a long, forlorn stare. She then stands, exhaling with her cheeks puffed out, returning to the place she had been sitting before.
Dina bends the tall grasses underneath her slender frame, pulling her arms up beneath her cheek like a pillow. She rests on her side with her back to Ellie and the dwindling campfire. Ellie sits with her back against the boulder. She pulls out her pistol, checking the magazine. Six bullets between them and the infected, if they returned. Not counting any bears, wolves, or lions they decided to prowl near. From here on out, every shot would have to count. Just like before.
She dreams of Joel driving and her riding shotgun in Bill's pickup. Steady rain showers flare through golden sunlight and dark clouds, falling onto the windshield glass. They cruise through the forested mountain valleys. A rusted green sign flashes by: 90 miles to Salt Lake City.
She looks away and back to the winding road ahead. They pass another sign: miles to Pittsburgh.Discover amazing music and directly support the artists who make it.