Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles regarded himself in the mirror and wondered why it was that his hair always grew so fast. He shrugged and reached for the shaver before buzzing off the hair that hadn’t been there a couple of weeks ago. He finished up his morning routine; wash and shave face, brush teeth, dance like a lunatic whilst getting dressed, before her headed for the door to his apartment and sauntered downstairs to work. From where he stood at the foot of the stairs, he could observe most of the shop front, still shrouded in half-dark as he revelled at the fact it took exactly 17 steps from his apartment door to his place of work. The best commute he'd ever had. The small smile that had come to rest on his face remained there as he tapped the screen of his phone allowing the light synth of yet another 80s playlist to begin filling the early morning silence.
The shop opened at 9 AM on a Monday and the time was. Stiles checked his watch. Perfect. Twenty minutes to go before flipping the sign. He made a circuit of the shop, giving a gently tug on each blind as he went and watching as each one fluttered towards the ceiling, coming to rest in a neat little roll. The smile drooped on Stiles’ face a little when he saw the state of the weather outside. Light showers, the news had said. Only need a light jacket, the news had said. Torrential fucking downpour, Stiles muttered to himself as he sighed and went back to bopping his head to the next track on his playlist that had begun to play, its jaunty rhythm putting the pep very much back in his step. No rain was going to rain, literally or figuratively, on his parade today.
The bopping had continued and was ongoing when the clock above where Stiles had plonked himself behind the cash register hit the 8 o’ clock mark; which Stiles only actually knew because his phone lit up as his alarm bee-booped at him to let him know it was showtime. The door was unlocked, the sign was flipped, and stiles had barely had chance to do one final check of the cash register before the bell above the door jingled signalling his first customer of the day. He looked up with a smile sunny enough to ward of the rains outside.
“Hey Miss Wright, what can I do for you today?” Stepping from behind the counter to help the woman store her umbrella in the coat rack he had by the door.
“Y’know Stiles dear, I’m perfectly capable of putting my own things away” She mused, shaking her head to herself as she removed her heavy coat with a smile, placing it onto the coat rack before turning back to him. The woman was sprightly for her age, but Stiles had known her for the majority of his life and couldn’t help but be polite. He shrugged an apology of sorts before giving her a small side-hug and returning to his seat behind the counter as she wandered the small store. Miss Wright didn’t often buy plants from his shop; Stiles knew she most likely just came for the company and to get out of the quiet of her empty house. Stiles also knew that Miss Wright came into Stiles’ shop more often than not to keep up on a bit of the town gossip.
“Stiles dear, do you have any of tea you brewed last time I popped in? Or was it the time before? Burdock and something or other was it?” She ambled into view from around one of the shelves carrying a small tin bucket filled with dirt.
“Oriental chai and burdock Miss Wright. I do have some still definitely, I’ll put some onto brew,” He said, stepping into the back as he did so. He once again admired his modest set-up as he did so. Stiles often got a hankering for a cup of herbal tea or some strong coffee throughout the day and so he had setup a little countertop behind the cash register, at the foot of the stairs to his apartment. He clicked the kettle on to begin boiling water before he sat down to fill Miss Wright on the week’s town gossip. Mr and Mrs Squires had finally settled their messy divorce and so Mr Squires had last been seen hastily packing clothes into the back of his car before leaving town. Repairs to Mr Cartwright’s fences had been finished a few days prior after coyotes or foxes or something had broken into his farm to steal his chickens. That alone took a couple of hours as Stiles recounted the whole messy proceedings of the Squires’ divorce. And lastly, a new deputy had started working with Stiles’ dad down at the sheriff’s office just today. Miss Wright’s eyebrows raised at the last part.
“A new deputy, huh? Have you met him yet? Is he handsome? Too young for a lady of my age but I’m sure he’s a suitable age for yourself Stiles.” She teased, making a blush start high up on his cheeks. He turned his back on her for a moment to put bags in cups and pour water from the kettle over them as he spoke,
“Yes, Miss Wright, I have met him. His name is Jordan, Jordan Parrish. I sat in on the interview with my Dad since everyone seems to be taking leave or moving away recently.” He brought the cups back through and set one down on the counter in front of his companion, one eyebrow lifted slightly in an expression Stiles had come to know very well over the years.
“But is he handsome Stiles? Is he dashing? Did he take your breath away the moment you saw him?” She bawled dramatically at him. Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle at her theatrics as he sat down, and she took up her teacup in her hands. She blew softly on the tea with her looking up at him as she did so. Expectantly. Waiting. Stiles just blushed again.
“Okay fine, yes he’s handsome Miss Wright. And yes, he’s quite dashing. But no, he did not take my breath away on first sight and I did not swoon over him by any means. I like to think myself more composed than that.” At that she chortled, a warm sound low in her chest that reminded Stiles of sunny days on her porch and homemade lemonade.
“Why Stiles, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you composed outside of this shop in all my years dear,” She continued to chuckle to herself before taking a sip of her tea. “Oh, this is definitely the tea from last time dear. You must tell me where you get it from it is simply wonderful. But enough of my teasing, do you think perhaps this Parrish is of your persuasion?” She questioned with a small wink.
“You know you’re allowed to say the word Miss Wright. But honestly, I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to.” He responded fondly, still never quite getting why Miss Wright had a hard time saying the word gay. Must be a generation thing.
“Well Stiles,” She said, taking another gulp of her tea “If he does turn out to be” At this she lowered her voice to a conspirational tone “Gay, you must let me know the next time I’m in.” She downed the rest of her tea in one big gulp and set her teacup down on the counter. She trundled over to the coat rack to collect her things and Stiles ducked into the back. When he reappeared, she had put her coat on and retrieved her umbrella and was standing by the counter patiently. The bucket. Stiles had completely forgotten she actually wanted to purchase something he was so used to her not buying anything. He sidled up to the counter himself and set a box down on the counter next to her.
“This is the tea you like Miss Wright. I figure it saves you trailing all over town in this weather.” He said, nodding to the rain which was running in sheets down the windows. She smiled a thanks before thrusting the box deep into her large coat pockets. Once the tea was in there, she fished out some money to pay for her bucket of dirt. Daffodil bulbs. Then once Stiles had handed her the change, she bid him farewell and turned to head back out into the deluge.
As she made it to the door, another figure bounded down the path, stopping briefly outside the shop before opening the door, nearly knocking Miss Wright backwards when the wind pulled the door clean out the newcomer’s grasp. Miss Wright made a surprised sound as she stepped backwards to avoid the door and Stiles made his way from behind the counter to offer his assistance to the newcomer who was now fumbling with the door. He had just gotten to Miss Wright when their visitor managed to get the door shut and turned to face the pair, letting his hood fall down in the process. He turned to Miss Wright first,
“I am so sorry ma’am the wind just took the door clean out of my hands please forgive me; are you hurt in any way?” He asked, scanning her face for any signs of distress. Miss Wright simply cocked her hip slightly whilst she looked him up and down with a small smirk on her lips.
“Why young man, you don’t think I’m too old to take a few surprises every now and then do you?” She spoke with the same teasing tone she had used with Stiles earlier and the man blanched a little before she cracked up and he let out a nervous chuckle.
“Deputy Parrish, this is Miss Wright. Miss Wright, this is Deputy Parrish” Stiles butted in, hoping to lighten the nervous air that the deputy had developed at thinking he had offended the woman for a moment. Parrish turned to Stiles and then back to Miss Wright whilst she just turned to Stiles and fixed him with a shit-eating grin unlike any Stiles had ever seen.
“So, this is Deputy Parrish is it? Well now, I’ll leave you boys to it, see you soon Stiles. Deputy.” She eased the door open slightly and turned to Stiles with a wink before heading out into the rain. Deputy Parrish just turned to Stiles with a slightly dazed look in his eye.
“Will she be alright out there on her own?” He asked with a concerned look splaying across his face.
“Oh yeah she’ll be fine, she hardy stock that woman. So, what can I do for you deputy, I’m guessing you’re not on a lunch break run to buy some plants?” Stiles had made his way to one of the cupboards lining the walls to grab a watering can and some fertilizer for the plants, but also to hide the intense blush he could feel burning his face at Parrish’s being here.
“Well actually Mr. Stilinski –“
“Please, call me Stiles”
“Stiles. Uh, the Sheriff, your dad, thought someone should bring you some lunch since its pretty crazy out there with this weather.” Stiles turned, watering can in one hand and bag of fertiliser in the other to see Parrish pulling a bag of what must have been food out of the backpack Stiles hadn’t even realised he’d been wearing. Stiles swore inwardly at his dad trying to set him up with the deputy, and not doing a great job either evidently.
“Uh, sure thing, just plonk it on the counter whilst I sort some stuff out and I’ll eat it when I’ve done, thanks.” Stiles moved down the nearest aisle to him, getting right to his work. He had expected a little shout of goodbye and the ring of the bell as the deputy left but heard no such noise. He set his watering can down before moving back out into the space by the counter. The deputy was stood there, hands in his coat pockets as he looked around the room. “is there anything else you needed Deputy?” Stiles enquired, trying not to sound rude but sure it hadn’t come out that way.
“I was sort of wondering if maybe I could eat lunch here, it’s a twenty-minute walk back to the station and I don’t really fancy it in this weather.” The Deputy obviously felt awkward asking by the blush on his face and the way his hand scrubbed the back of his neck. Stiles was slightly dumbfounded but thought fuck it why not. He told Parrish to hang his coat on the rack and grab the seat behind the counter whilst he got to work on watering the plants. Once he was finished they headed upstairs for what could only be an awkward lunch.

Chapter Text

Derek was stalking through a derelict building site when the familiar ping of a text notification broke the silence. He cursed himself for not remembering to put it on silent as he chased a shadow through the weaving streets of New York. He hoped whoever he was chasing hadn’t heard and was still lurking around somewhere close by. This was the best lead he’d had on Cora since coming out here four years ago. Her scent was stronger now he was in the construction site. He’d been tailing a shadow for nearly three hours and was almost ready to give up when he saw movement again, something. No, someone, dashing between shipping containers up ahead. He moved quickly. Quietly. Willing his phone not to chime again and that whoever it was didn’t need him too urgently. He thought of Erica and Boyd back in Beacon Hills and thought if it were anything important, anything dangerous, he’d pick it up through their pack bond. Though he hadn’t seen them in a good few years now, he was sure he’d still be able to feel the pull of their distress. The shadow moved again, and he could make out more now he was closer. Someone smaller than him, slight in frame. Could be Cora. The figure was clad head to toe in loose black clothing though, so it was hard to tell. He needed to get closer somehow without them knowing he was there. He edged forward, between the shipping containers and as he rounded the corner the figure was there again. Close. Too close. He growled and reached out as the figure whirled into him, turning and pinning them against one of the containers. His claws had extended, and he heard a yelp of pain as they broke fabric and skin. The figure was struggling but slumped still once they looked at Derek’s face. Their face was completely covered, only their eyes visible.
“Cora?” Derek asked tentatively. The other person didn’t move. Only stared. “It’s me, Derek.” The figure still didn’t move, just watched his face. Derek grew impatient and, using one arm to keep the person pinned still he used his other to pull the mask they wore off the hood of their jacket down with it. Cora. It was her. He let go and allowed her to slump to the ground where she just watched him. She opened her mouth to say something but seemingly thought better of it. Derek crouched in front of her and grasped either side of her face.
“Cora are you okay? Why won’t you say anything? You know who I am. Say something!” Derek began to sob as Cora just looked back at him blankly. He vaguely registered the pinging of his phone again. And again. Getting more rapid in succession. He was still staring at Cora as the pings became none stop, his phone vibrating in his pocket like it was about to take off. Cora still stared blankly. Derek made to lift her up but she opened her mouth again. Hopeful Derek stopped mid-movement, but no words came out of her mouth, just thick black liquid that poured out of her mouth and pooled about her feet on the floor.
Derek stepped back in horror and watched as Cora’s eyes welled with the same black liquid and spilled it down her face, marring her pale skin like tar. It was everywhere and it kept coming, from her nose, her ears. It soaked her clothes and drenched the ground around her, but Derek couldn’t stop watching her. His phone continued to ring. And ring.
And ring.
Derek jolted upright in his small bed, tears staining his face and still shaking the last of the nightmare from his sleep addled brain. He scrambled for his phone and pressed to answer before even registering the caller.
“Uh, hey, who’s this?” He spoke gruffly into the phone still trying to compose himself.
“Uh, it’s me dumbass, what the fuck man.” Erica’s retort came down the phone “You’ve been kinda silent on us the past couple days and me and Boyd just felt some insane pull on the pack bond, and you wouldn’t answer your damn phone. You okay?” She sounded genuinely concerned underneath her harsh words and Derek couldn’t help but yearn to go back home.
“Just a nightmare Erica, nothing to worry about really. Still haven’t found Cora. I’m thinking maybe it’s time for me to come home.” He mumbled. He heard Boyd jumping up and down in the background and chuckled a little.
“Listen Derek, there was another reason I called besides you are freaking us out. Me and Boyd also think it’s about time you came home. Sooner rather than later preferably. Things have started getting weird around here lately. The weather has been getting crazier. And the people are too man. There’s something not right. There keeps being a sort of surge of supernatural energy that’s coming in waves. Deaton thinks maybe there’s something pretty big on the way, but he won’t tell us what it is in all his mystery.” She rambled at him down the phone. He could hear Boyd making ghost noises in the background at the mention of Deaton’s name and he would’ve let out a huff of laughter if not for Erica’s words.
“I’ll be on the next plane home Erica, don’t worry. Tell Deaton to keep an eye on whatever it is and any other supernatural beings he’s aware of in Beacon Hills.” He hung up the phone before she had a chance to reply and started packing as soon as he did. He still couldn’t get his freakish nightmare out his head and just kept replaying the image of the black liquid pouring out of Cora in his head before he forced himself to forget about it for now and focus on getting home to the pack he knew was alive.

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Stiles and Parrish, or Jordan as he kept reminding himself, now he had been told to call him that, had made their way up the stairs and Stiles had ushered him into his apartment. After a very quick scan of the entryway and what he could see of both the kitchen and the small living room, there was no need to panic that Jordan was going to think he was a slob. Aside from the leftover pizza still hanging out in the box on his couch. Shit. They moved into the kitchen/ dining space and Stiles offered Jordan a drink. Pro host skills achieved.
“Just a glass of water if that’s alright by you.” Stiles nodded in the affirmative and poured Jordan a glass of water and one for himself before unpacking what his dad had sent him for his lunch. Nothing marvellously unusual for his dad, just some local takeout. Stiles unpacked the bag onto the dining table and grabbed some cutlery before plonking himself down in the seat opposite Jordan.
They ate mostly in silence save for the rain pattering against the kitchen window and the faint sound of the old clock in Stiles’ living room. Stiles kept stealing glances at Jordan and he was certain Jordan was doing the same. All was going well until they both stole a glance at the same time and Stiles nearly choked on his food.
“So, um, how are you enjoying your first day on the job?” Stiles asked once he had recovered his composure. Jordan considered him for a moment before he responded.
“Well, I’m currently sat eating lunch with my bosses son in his flat. Not exactly what I thought my first day would be by any means but I’m getting used to this town’s weirdness.” Stiles agreed that it wasn’t a typical first day at a new job, but he was glad of the company if he was honest. “Not that I don’t mind the company,” Jordan continued “I’m not very used to a quiet lunch.” Stiles vaguely recalled that Jordan was in the military for some time before he came to Beacon Hills and wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t used to quiet lunches. They continued to look at each other once Jordan had stopped speaking, Stiles trying to figure out what to say next, but his usually overactive mind seemed to have gone to sleep at that moment. He could feel the blush creeping to the surface of his cheeks.
“Excuse me, I’m just gonna run and use the bathroom.” Stiles let out with a breath as he pushed his chair back and made his way out of the room. Once the bathroom door was shut safely behind him, he looked in the mirror and cursed his stupid blush for being so visible. He knew this was going to be an awkward lunch. Why had his dad set him up like this? What did he do now? He had no idea what to say, or what Jordan would want to talk about. Gods he didn’t even know if the man was gay for Christ sakes what a nightmare. He took a breath; he could do this. Somehow.
Stiles returned to his seat and they continued eating. The conversation flowed slightly better this time around and after Stiles had gotten them both their second glass of water and all the food was finished, he was pretty sure he would get on well with Jordan. He seemed like a sweet guy and was actually intelligent unlike all of his exes. If the deputy turned out to be gay and interested, Stiles could totally see it working. He left the bathroom with the intention of super subtly manoeuvring the conversation in that vein to Jordan answering his radio. Stiles totally didn't eavesdrop or overhear anything with regards to the traffic accident that had happened on the other side of the town. "Hey, sorry I'm gonna have to shoot off. Work. You know how it is". Stiles nodded in response as he took his seat back at his kitchen table. "Oh yeah don't worry about it I get it. I'll come down and let you out, I should probably crack on today anyhow". Stiles felt his response effortlessly covered up his mild disappointment as he led Jordan back through the shop to the front door. The weather outside was just as horrible as it had been twenty minutes ago. "I'll see you soon I'm sure Stiles, thank you for lunch" Jordan waved as he headed back in the direction of the town centre, leaving Stiles to shut the door and return to finishing his lunch.

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Lydia sat bolt upright, flicking her head around to see she was still in her room. More nightmares, honestly the past few nights of not sleeping properly were starting to affect her mood. Her breathing heavy, she took a moment to allow herself to come round properly before rolling out of bed. She shook her head to dispel the rest of the bad dream and with it the feeling of dread. She grabbed her phone from her bedside table as she slipped out of bed and wrapped her silk robe around her before checking her calendar to find, as she already suspected, that she had plenty of time before her brunch date with Stiles, who would probably be late anyhow. She slid her feet into her comfy slippers and padded to the kitchen still groggy from sleep. Coffee was going to be a necessity after that dream. Maybe she should cut down on the caffeine before bed. She shrugged and flicked the coffee machine on, and the the television. As always the news looked to be regular fear-mongering about an animal escape or some other nonsense. She turned around at the bleep of her coffee machine telling her that her drink was ready and took as sip as she made her way to the sofa.
"-- unsure as to the truth behind these claims but we'll keep you updated if and when we receive more information. now onto our next story --" Lydia's phone started buzzing so she paused the news anchor and chuckled at the peculiar facial expression she'd caught him in before answering the call.
"Allison, hey, I thought you were still out camping with your Dad are you back in town already?" The other line was just static whilst Lydia took another sip of coffee and frowned. "Allison, are you there?" More static. Lydia looked at the screen to check it was Allison who had called, it was, before putting the phone back to her ear "Allison are you trying to fuck with me because it is waaay to early in the mo-" A loud high pitched ringing cut Lydia off mid-sentence before the line went dead. Lydia tried to call Allison back twice but only got her voicemail. Well that was weird, have to talk to her about who her provider is because that was terrible signal she threw her phone down on the sofa next to her and continued drinking her coffee whilst she unpaused the news to listen to a story about the rising pigeon problem in New York.

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Stiles awoke to the grumbling of his stomach and the sounds of birds outside his window. The weather looked lovely and sunny today which was an odd contrast to the torrential rain of yesterday. Yesterday. His lunch with Jordan had been rather abruptly ended after the deputy had gotten a call on his radio. He hoped the incident hadn't been too bad and rather selfishly that his path might cross with the deputy's again soon.

He rolled out of bed with a groan and trudged over to his bedroom door to go make himself some breakfast. A big pot of tea was just what the doctor ordered and he felt slightly less dead and slightly more ready for brunch with Lydia once he'd fed himself. After a very quick scroll through Grindr assured him that his small town still had no other gays, except one new blank and faceless profile with no information other than being 'New to Town'. Helpful. He left his phone on the table and his dishes in the sink and went to get dressed.
Brunch had become a monthly occurrence for Stiles and Lydia ever since they first went to a drag brunch in New York a couple of years ago, sometimes they invited Allison along too but she was usually busy off with Scott being disgustingly in love. Call him a cynic but there was no need to dry-hump each other in the street. He was completely unbiased and him being incurably single and Scott being mildly homophobic when he came out had nothing to do with that. He was halfway into his jeans when he heard a banging at the door downstairs. The closed sign was right there and he'd left a note on the door saying that the shop was shut today. He pulled his jeans up the rest of the way and fastened them before throwing his way oversized old t-shirt he used as pyjamas on and heading downstairs to see who was causing such a racket at 9 in the morning.

He was surprised to find when he got downstairs, that it was Erica banging on his door. Now Stiles knew Erica, she worked for Lydia and was lovely whenever they had chatted but she wasn't someone Stiles expected to be banging on his front door when there were two really clear signs saying he was closed. He unlocked the door and cracked it ever so slightly in order to see what it was she wanted.
"Hey Erica, everything okay at the shop?" She stood there staring him at looking a little dazed. "Erica? Are you okay?" Her gaze snapped to focus on him suddenly and she barged past into the shop.
"Is Lydia here? I need to talk to her now" Erica whirled around, taking in the shelves of pots, plants and other garden items before settling back on Stiles. "Where is she?" Stiles opened the door a little wider, the smell of late spring drifting through the opening as he took a step towards Erica.
"Lydia isn't here, though I'm not sure why you think she would be it's her day off she's probably still sleeping, have you tried her phone?." Stiles moved towards the door to close it only to find Boyd now filling the space, looking rather worse for wear. Something was definitely off here. "Oh fuck, Stiles get back!" Erica shouted as she noticed Boyd in the entryway. He barely had time to process Erica's warning before Boyd lunged for him, knocking Stiles back into one of the shelving units and sending several pots crashing to the floor. not the chrysanthemums dude I just got those restocked Boyd lunged for him again but this time overbalanced and landed at Stiles' feet. "Erica what the fuck is going on?" Stiles asked in a slight panic as he backed away to the counter which Erica had positioned herself behind. "I don't- I don't know Stiles he was fine yesterday. He got mugged on the way home and woke up with a fever and now this!" She was visibly shaking as the two of the watched Boyd clamber to his feet and turn to face them. Stiles now noticed that what he thought was a red t-shirt was actually just a very blood soaked t-shirt. "Umm, Erica who's blood is that?" "At least two customers, definitely Mrs Timpson, you know the lady who always complains that we offer alternative milks?" Stiles nodded vaguely at her panicked ramblings and tried to think of how they were going to get passed the frankly giant man curse Boyd's love of the gym between them and the exit. Stiles began to formulate a plan of attack when Boyd let out an incomprehensible gurgle and charged the counter. Someone screamed, it might have been Erica, it might have been Stiles, probably both who knows. "Upstairs, upstairs, go go go holy fuck" Stiles let out all in one breathe as he scrambled for the door and half-dragged Erica up to his flat. He looked back as he shoved her through the upstairs door long enough to witness Boyd hit the counter with full force and flip over it in a scene that would have been cartoonishly comical had he not been in a state of intense panic. Stiles heard a sickening crack as he turned to throw himself through the upstairs door and locked it behind him.

As Stiles got his bearings he noticed that Erica was pushing his sofa towards the door and that there was a small patch of blood soaking into his pant leg. He gagged slightly at the thought and moved to the side so that Erica could barricade the door with his sofa. She also had blood splattered across her cafe uniform and looked paler than usual.
"Hey so we should probably get cleaned up you can um, you can take some of my clothes if you want and then we can call my dad and get him to come figure out what is happening. Erica?" Erica had stopped moving and, facing away from Stiles he couldn't get a good read of her face. He took a step toward her before she let out a yelp and her whole body flinched as though she'd shocked before collapsing onto the floor. Stiles rushed to see if she was okay. She was breathing but unconscious.

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Thirty miles away, on the road back to Beacon Hills after a thoroughly uneventful flight back from New York, Derek was driving the familiar tree-lined roads home when he felt a blinding pain across his entire body, whiting out his vision and ripping a scream from him as he tried to maintain control of the car. He tried in vain to stay on the road as he felt the bond sever as one of his pack mates died only to careen off into the embankment, the car flipping as it did so and plowing into a tree.

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As Lydia drank her coffee, she could hear the regular morning sounds of the apartment block and outside. Mrs. Olson clomping around in her heels getting ready for work, Mr. Bennett chastising his dog for yet again soiling on his expensive rug. Mrs. Reading screaming bloody murder in the car park. Now that is not usual. Lydia made her way to window quickly and looked out to see Mrs. Reading pinned against here by several other people who appeared to be oh god that’s a lot of blood. Lydia dropped her mug as she watched mouth agape as more people crowded around Mrs. Reading, slowly tearing her open. The news still broadcasting in the background had moved on to an urgent broadcast about several incidents of violence and apparent cannibalism across California. Lydia heard a gunshot somewhere in the building and several more screams from the floors below. She hurried to her front door to double-check she had locked it the night before. Locked. She propped one of her dining chairs below the door handle and took a moment to regain her composure.
“Fucking hell, guess I’m gonna be late for brunch.”
Now, of course Lydia had seen all the horror films, she was best friends with Stiles. Don’t get bitten, aim for the head. Supplies. She needed to get supplies and get herself together if she had any hope of surviving. If they were already in the building and the surrounding area then she should really try to not be in the apartment building for very much longer. Right. Boots on. Cargo pants on. Long sleeved top on. She looked in the mirror as she tied her back and it was not lost on her how she looked like she was cosplaying Kim Possible but hey, she never got eaten by zombies so maybe it’s a sign. Plus cargo pants are back in, who said she couldn’t be fashionable during the end of days. Bit dramatic Lydia I’m sure this will be sorted soon, just got to survive the initial panic. Hopefully. But logistically Lydia knew that was unlikely, again, she’s seen the films and she knows how it goes. She packed some spare clothes into her backpack and grabbed her leather jacket before walking back out to the kitchen. She needed to pack some food if she was going anywhere. Where exactly was she going to go though? Her mum was across the country at some conference, Stiles’ glass-fronted shop was hardly the place to hole up and wait for help. But Stiles wouldn’t stay at his shop. He’d be trying to get to his Dad. Sheriff’s Station it is then. At least there’d be better means of protection.

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Virginia Wright loved her garden. She had maintained a beautiful garden at her small house in Beacon Hills for almost 30 years. She had planted a peach tree to remind her of home when she first moved in and it had grown into a beautiful specimen and made her famous around town for her cobbler. Virginia Wright also liked to sit out on her porch swing and read a book when the sun was out. Which is exactly what she was doing this morning, enjoying the much better weather compared to the rain the previous day. She had been a little distracted from her reading this morning on account of the increased amount of sirens she could hear in the distance. Lizzie Bennett was just giving Mr. Darcy what for when a car rounded came barrelling down the street far too quickly and spun into her garden, knocking her peach tree to sit at an awkward angle.
Now Virginia Wright was a very patient woman, she had waited 50 years for her shitheel husband to die and leave her with enough money to retire comfortably on. She could put up with a lot but she had grown that tree from a sapling and it was now looking rather, well, fucked as Stiles would put it. She snapped her book closed and clambered out of her seat to go give the driver hell, but also to make sure they weren’t actually dead. Can’t suffer the consequences if you’re dead asshat. She was just coming to the passenger side door when it sprung open and revealed two seemingly very alive people in the front seats. Neither had seatbelts on so it was a wonder they hadn’t come through the windscreen but as Virginia made to start yelling at them and pulling them out of the wreck the passenger lunged for her, knocking her backwards onto the floor and sending her book tumbling off into her vegetable patch. She could see the driver of the car crawling across the middle consol to drag herself out of the vehicle as the passenger clambered to her feet in front of her.
“Well now, are you out of minds! You could have killed someone and you think swinging for me as I try to help you out of the wreck you two caused is the correct response? I’ve a good mind to shoot you where you stand honestly, you see that tree I grew that for thirty damn years!” Virginia found herself welling up slightly as she yelled. That tree meant a lot to her, the only thing she had to remind her of home when her husband up-rooted them without warning. The passenger took a stumbling step towards her as she pulled herself off of the ground and dusted herself off.
“Bloody hoodlums, you wait until the police get here.” At that exact moment a cruiser came round the corner. Well that is the best timing I have ever seen.
Distracted by the appearance of the police car, Virginia didn’t notice the driver flop out of the vehicle nor was she prepared for the passenger to throw herself at her.

Chapter Text

Jordan had spent much of his morning responding to the constant calls over the radio growing in frequency and severity as the hours ticked by. Having no partner had initial been a benefit he had thought but now he was beginning to regret it as this town he was hoping to call his new home devolved into chaos around him. The quiet of his cruiser was not the fun kind of silence he liked. He had been patrolling for a little over a half hour and trying to calm his nerves in the welcome lull of calls when a car barrelled across the road in front of him and down a nearby street. He heard the crash before he got round the corner and didn’t even bother with switching his siren on. Swinging round the corner he could see that the crash looked pretty serious and the homeowner seemed to have come out to help. Although the smoke coming from the front of the car was concerning for all involved. He pulled to a stop in front of the house just in time to see someone from the car throw themselves onto the homeowner. I swear this was supposed to be a much calmer gig. Stepping out of his car he cocked his handgun and quickly made his way over to the garden where he found both people thrashing about on the ground, seemingly fighting for control of the situation.

“Sheriff’s Department both of you put your hands where I can see them.” He shouted as he raised his gun to point at both people. He looked down noticing some movement to find another person from the car slowly crawling towards him, an odd gurgling sound coming from her throat. “Ma’am please stay still you may be injured.” He tried to call in the situation on his radio but was met only with static. He turned his attention back to the two people on the floor to find that the homeowner had managed to grab a garden trowel. He was about to yell out to drop the weapon when she lodged the trowel into the neck of the other person, rolling them off of her in the process. Holy fuck I was not prepared for a homicide today.
“Ma’am drop the weapon and let me see your hands!” He yelled again, raising his gun to point at the head of the woman. She pulled herself off the ground and turned to face him, hands in the air as she did so.
“Well good afternoon to you too Deputy Parrish, these folks seem to have destroyed my peach tree. And this one got rather grabby,” Jordan stood mouth agape as Mrs Wright of all people placed the trowel down on the steps of her porch. “Now close your mouth Deputy you’ll catch flies. Our friend there seems to like your trousers.” She nodded towards the person on the floor who Jordan now noticed had a good deal of there insides rather outside of where they should be. “Must’ve got caught on the gear stick when it was dragging itself out of the car.” Mrs. Wright had begun making her way up onto her porch now and Jordan was at a loss for words as he shook his leg from the person’s grip.
“It? Mrs. Wright this woman is clearly injured we need to call an ambulance.”
“Deputy I don’t think that woman is alive. Now I’m no doctor but I’d say if that crash didn’t kill her then having that many of her organs trailing through my begonias certainly has. Now come inside before anymore of these folks turn up on my lawn.” She made her way to her front door and turned to let him in.

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Stiles was still knelt on the floor trying to wake Erica up. She had collapsed nearly two hours ago and despite partially coming round a couple of times was still pretty out of it. He’d propped a pillow under her head and got a wet cloth for her forehead after she started burning up. He’d never seen anything like it. He knew from Lydia that she used to have seizures but they had somewhat mysteriously stopped quite a while ago. He went to go re-wet the cloth and noticed that her skin had become cold and clammy rather than feverish. Okay well that is not good. He felt for a pulse on her wrist and panicked a little when he couldn’t find anything.
“Fuck fuck fuck oh god.” He scrambled for his mobile and punched in 911. He could feel his throat tightening but forced himself to breathe through the panic as he waited for his call to connect. It didn’t. It didn’t connect. 911 doesn’t just NOT connect. Now he was starting to properly panic. So far today he’d been attacked by someone who had, apparently attacked at least two other people and was maybe dead at the bottom of his stairs. And now there was another dead person in his flat. This is how people end up in prison Stiles. At that moment Erica bolted upright and looked around with a panicked expression on her face. Stiles dropped his phone at the shock and took a couple of steps back from her.
“Stiles, what happened where are we where’s Boyd?” Erica’s voice sounded hoarse like she’d spent a few decades smoking. Her eyes kept roaming the room, never really settling in one place.
“Hey Erica its okay you’re in my flat. You collapsed after we got up here to get away from—” Boyd was downstairs possibly dead but Stiles wasn’t really sure how to say it.
“Boyd. He attacked us. He attacked me.” Erica sat down on the sofa pushed against the door, her voice seemed to lose some of its hoarseness and her eyes settled finally on Stiles. “Stiles he bit me.” At that Stiles took another step back and bumped into his bookshelf. Now he’d seen like all of the films, read all of the books, spent so many hours researching online it was a little unhealthy. It kinda sorta maybe was reading as a zombie situation, but Erica’s reactions were not what he would expect at all.
“Ummm, how, um, when did he bite you? Like how long ago?” Erica looked at him confused and took a moment to think before she answered.
“When he attacked the customers” She rolled up one side of her shirt to reveal a bite mark on her side. “I was trying to pull him off of them when he turned on me. I don’t understand what’s happening. I thought he was fine because I could still feel him but—but that went away when we got up here.”
“You could feel him? Anyway, I don’t know if he maybe broke his neck coming over the counter when we were on our way up here.” Stiles chose to ignore the odd phrasing, not the time to start picking apart semantics when the woman was clearly in a bad way. She tried to stand up from the sofa but quickly sat back down, face pained.
“Stiles this shouldn’t be here.” She looked down at her side and placed her hand next to the wound which was looking quite inflamed.
“Well I mean a person bit you Erica, that’s not really supposed to happen as standard.” Stiles was still stood against the bookshelf whilst he wracked his brain trying to formulate a plan of what he was supposed to do. On one hand maybe Boyd had just had a mental break and Erica would be fine if they got her to the hospital. On the other hand, the longer he stayed with her the more danger he was in.
“No Stiles, this should have healed already, it's been like, maybe an hour?”
“Umm, you were out for like, two hours Erica.”
“Fuck okay, something is really wrong then this shouldn’t even be a scar.” Stiles was very confused at this point, how was she expecting a wound that bad to have healed that quickly? What was she like some sort of supernatural creature? Well if we’re starting to believe the whole zombies might be real line of thinking Stiles.
“Maybe we ought to get you to the hospital? I tried ringing an ambulance before but the line didn’t connect for some reason. I’m sure they’ll be able to patch you up there.” Erica tried to stand again and managed to stay up for a little longer this time. Stiles went to take a step towards her to support her when she vomited on the floor. Now, Stiles has seen vomit in a lot of colours, god knows he saw plenty of it when his mother was sick but it was never this colour. Erica looked down at the pool of almost black liquid soaking into Stiles’ floor.
“Stiles, I don’t feel so good.” She looked up at him then, her eyes had gone bloodshot and her entire face had changed, looking almost wolfish. The black liquid had stained around her mouth and she took a step towards Stiles, an almost groan coming from her mouth. “Stiles please, help me” she pleaded, she took another shuffling step towards him as he looked on in horror before she crumpled to the floor in a heap. Well now I definitely need to leave, if that isn’t dead I don’t know what is.
Stiles skirted around Erica’s body and grabbed his backpack, shoving spare clothes and tins of food into it. He grabbed his first aid kit from the bathroom and was about to head back out when he heard a gurgling sound coming from his front room. He cracked the bathroom door and peered out to see Erica stood up.
“Erica, are you okay?” He called out softly. Her head whipped around and it was clear she was very much not okay. Stiles squeaked as she barreled down the corridor. He locked the door shut as she slammed into the wall next to it. He looked round in a panic for a weapon and quickly realized he was not fighting off a zombie with nail clippers. Erica slammed into the door causing it to rattle in its frame and Stiles backed away to the opposite wall. He grabbed his backpack and looked around for anything he could use. Oh fuck I’m gonna die alone in my bathroom. I don’t wanna die in my bathroom damnit that’s such a shit way to go.

Erica slammed into the door again, cracks appearing in the woodwork. Stiles looked towards his window and figured it was his only real option. He pushed it open as far as he could and became very aware that he was not sliding through the small upper section of the window. Well, I don’t think im getting my deposit back anyway. He pulled the lid off of his toilet cistern and paused long enough for Erica to slam into the door again, some of the wood starting to splinter off.
“Fuck it.” He muttered before launching the cistern lid at the window. It went straight through and he could hear it clattering down the two stories to the alley floor below. Using a towel he cleared out the rest of the glass in the frame and started climbing out. Thank god for narrow alleyways, and lots of pipes. Here’s hoping they were made to support the weight of a whole person.
Stiles had one leg out of the window when Erica slammed into the door again and the door and the frame surrounding it exploded. He just had time to swing himself out of the window and clamber onto the nearest pipe before she lunged for the window, narrowly missing his leg.
“Fuck that all the way to hell and back.” Stiles looked down briefly into the alleyway “Fuck this also, why didn’t I take up climbing.” He grumbled as he began making his slow descent from his bathroom window whilst Erica, or what used to be Erica, gurgled and grunted above him.

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Lydia had pulled a duffle bag from the depths of her cupboards and begun packing into it any non-perishable food she had in her flat. Along with this she emptied out her medicine cabinet and shoved in some spare clothes. Realising she was probably going to be on the road quite a lot and really wasn’t sure when she’d next be able to eat, she then proceeded to cook up some of her more perishable foods for a final meal in the comfort of her home before she headed out.

Her final meal was less than peaceful, she’d cooked up a storm and was enjoying her thrown together take on chow mein as more gunshots rang out in the building and outside in the surrounding areas. I honestly did not know this many people in town had firearms Jesus. As much as she felt tense, she was still a great cook and so her meal went down relatively well. She stared at her bags as she ate and came to the conclusion that she should re-pack. She divided up the food and medical supplies between her backpack so that if she got separated from the duffle bag at least she wasn’t completely out of supplies. She had enough food to last her a few days which should be more than enough time for her to get to the Sheriff’s Station even with the inevitable delay of their being literal flesh-eating monsters roaming the town. Right. Time to leave. Lydia gathered up her things and, arming herself with her butcher’s cleaver Thank god your mother paid attention to your culinary obsession Lydia she made her way to her front door and readied herself to head out into the chaos.

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Derek came too slowly, the sunlight stinging his eyes as he did so. He could already feel his skin knitting itself back together as he slice through his belt with one claw. He landed on the roof of his car with a groan. He could smell smoke coming from the car and flinched a little at the unwelcome memories it brought. Not a good sign. Looking around he could see that there were several pairs of feet nearby the car, shuffling slowly in the direction of the town. The car was royally fucked so there was no way he was getting out of the crushed doors. Windscreen it is then. He dragged himself clower to the windscreen and spun himself around to kick it out. Crawling from the wreckage he found that all the pairs of feet had turned to face him. Oh now they want to help the car crash. However, one whiff of the air told him that there was nothing friendly or helpful about the people slowly closing in on him. The fact that many of them were missing large chunks of flesh in various places also supported this theory.

As the nearest person too him lunged toward him Derek took a half-step back before slashing his claws across their neck. They fell to the floor briefly but almost immediately began getting back up. The people smelled like death and damp. Corpses. Though they seemed to be very much alive. Zombies? Derek took a swipe at several more people close by, removing their heads from their bodies. That stopped them moving. Well thank god for nerdy ex-boyfriends I suppose. He took a look at the remaining zombies closing in on him and altered his stance a little in preparation to attack.

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Stepping out into the corridor, Lydia gazed around and was slightly surprised to see very little disturbance. Huh, not entirely like the movies I suppose. The area closest to her flat seemed to have been pretty undisturbed, that is until she rounded the corner leading towards the stairwell and found herself confronted with two very dead bodies on the ground and a lot of blood on the walls and floor. Plant pots had been overturned, several windows were smashed, and the lift doors kept trying to close on a disembodied leg. That. That is a lot more like what I was expecting. Lydia took a deep breath and flexed her grip on the cleaver before making her away across the small landing to the top of the stairs. She heard a wet gurgling sound and pulled herself beside a vending machine as a zombie emerged from where she had just been standing. It looked around the space vacantly, a constant groaning sound coming from its throat. Lydia stayed as still as she could, barely breathing as the zombie made its way further into the space. It was a step away from being able to see her when somewhere deep in the building someone screamed. He zombie’s head snapped to one side and it barreled off down another corridor. That was close. She left her hiding place and started picking her way down the stairs, keeping check of the route in front of her and behind her to ensure she could escape if necessary. One floor down, only 6 more to go, hurray for apartment complexes.

She had made it down two floors before she encountered her next zombie. She heard it before she saw it and was thankful that they weren’t as conscious about being quiet as she was. As she made her way down the steps it came into view hunched over the corpse of someone Lydia didn’t recognise. She tried her best to quietly make her way onto the next portion of the staircase but while looking at the zombie to make sure it wasn’t looking at her she accidentally knocked a half-broken pot, sending a chunk of it clattering down the stairs. It looked up at her and she recognised it as Mrs. Lennon one of the caretakers, albeit with less hair and a missing ear. Lydia dropped her duffle bag to the ground as Mrs. Lennon scrambled to her feet and charged at Lydia.
Swinging her cleaver out in front of her, Mrs. Lennon keeled to one side with the force. Lydia stepped back as Mrs. Lennon righted herself, revealing a gash across her chest and throat now pouring with blood. Mrs. Lennon simply found Lydia and charged again. This time Lydia widened her stance and twisted herself to one side as Mrs. Lennon approached, swinging the cleaver at the base of her skull. A wet crack echoed in the space followed a sick squelch as Lydia pulled the cleaver back. Mrs. Lennon slumped to the ground. Lydia breathed a sigh of relief which was short-lived as another zombie rounded the corner and set its eyes on Lydia.

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After moving inside, Jordan was surprised at the speed at which Virginia moved throughout the rooms, packing various bits and pieces into a satchel bag which she slung over one shoulder and a large backpack which she handed to Jordan once it had been filled with various tin cans and a bevy of medications. She tied a piece of string to her glasses and looped it over her neck, scraped her hair back into a tight bun and had slipped into some hiking boots before Jordan had had time to really process the gravity of the situation outside. In a few hours it would be dark and those things would still be roaming the streets. He hadn’t heard anything over the radio in a while and his last contact with the sheriff had been when he had gone to the hospital to have his lunch with Nurse McCall.

Virginia snapped her fingers near his face to pull him out of his worried musings. She was looking up at him with a determined glean in her eye.
“Now Deputy, things are going to rack and ruin out there and I’m not foolish enough to think that the government is going to be sending help anytime soon so we’re going to need to work together to get out of this. You have any family in town?” She had tucked the trowel into a work belt she’d strapped to her waist over top of her dress and looked far more ready to take on the world than Jordan felt.
“N-no I moved here alone, my only family is on the other side of the country.” Virginia nodded resolutely.
“Right, and its just me here. Other than the Stilinski’s I keep to myself. So, we have each others backs and we’ll get through this mess. Understood?” This time Jordan it was Jordan who nodded. A scream somewhere out in the streets caused both of them to jump.
“Do you have any information on the rest of the other Deputies? What is the Sheriff saying?” Virginia was asking the right questions but Jordan had absolutely no answers.
“Um, well the radio has been pretty dead for over an hour now and I haven’t heard from the Sheriff since this morning when he left to go take his lunch with Nurse McCall at the hospital. I think probably our best bet is to get to the station. At least there we’ll be better supplied and its far more secure.” Jordan finally put the backpack onto one of his shoulders. Virginia was already moving towards the front door. She turned back to him as she reached for the handle.
“So, we get to your car, hightail it to the station and wait there to see if anyone else makes it. If I know Stiles he’ll be heading there as soon as he gets wind of all this to look for his Dad. Hopefully the Sheriff and the other Deputies have been able to get back there as well, though knowing Noah he’ll still be out there helping people.” And with that she opened the door. Jordan followed after her as she stormed across her garden, skirting around the bodies on the floor as she headed directly toward the cruiser.
Jordan noticed that there were several more people on the street now looking very similar to the people from the car. They turned and began heading toward them as they moved across the street and they were just getting into the cruiser as the first one got close enough for Jordan to feel a little bit of adrenaline. He stuck the key into the ignition and span the car round, spinning round the corner and narrowly avoiding the people as they made their way into the middle of the road. Right then, to the station.

Chapter Text

Lydia blanched slightly at the sight of another undead neighbour and took a step back, nearly tripping over a fallen plant. The zombie began moving towards Lydia, and she noticed that it was considerably slower than Mrs. Lennon on account of one of its legs looking like it had been crushed, bone visible beneath the flayed muscle and skin barely holding onto the body. Seeing this, she took a moment to breathe before she strode across the landing space and brought her cleaver down onto the zombie’s head. She heard a crack and used the momentum to push her assailant to its knees. She used her foot for leverage to help her pull her weapon free of skull and noticed that the zombie was still moving, now writhing on the floor but with decidedly less coordination. She crouched slightly and brought the weapon down again on the zombies neck, stilling it finally. She stood and took a step back, allowing herself to breathe again and shaking out the adrenaline she had built up. She wiped the blade of her cleaver clean on the fabric of the zombies shirt before grabbing her duffle bag again and making her way to the stairwell.
She had made it down two more flights of stairs before her next undead encounter. This one she heard before she saw, shouting as she made her way down the stairwell causing her to slow her footsteps. As quietly as she could Lydia rounded the corner which would bring her to one flight away from the basement entrance. One more flight you can do this Lydia. She rounded the corner onto the landing space. Fuck okay, maybe not. In front of her, she could see Mr. Bennett desperately trying to fight off a group of zombies. It looked as though several had already managed to bite him and more were coming from the surrounding corridors in response to him shouting for help. Lydia backed up slightly so that she wouldn’t be seen and briefly weighed her options. She could try to help Mr. Bennett but, using Stiles’ film knowledge, she figured since he’d already been bitten he was as good as dead already. Was it worth risking her life to save one that’s already doomed? Was it worth risking her life to put him out of his misery? Shit shit shit.
Backing away from the scene and back up the stairs, Lydia made her way to the previous floor’s landing and slumped against the wall. She could feel the panic trying to creep its way into her mind. Think Lydia think. There has to be another way out. Her building had several staircases but they were across the building and down various long corridors which just screamed trouble. The enclosed spaces of the stairwells were slightly more defensible as there would ideally be less zombies in them than roaming the corridors and hidden round corridors. They felt more like one of Stiles’ stupid dungeon games than the corridors which Lydia supposed were more akin to the scary maze games she had played with Stiles once. Only these are much much more real.
She looked around the landing space she was in and briefly felt herself getting emotional at the whole situation. She had really liked these apartments, she had felt at home here. Safe. Her eyes fell on the emergency exit sign above a fire alarm. Bingo. The sign had an arrow pointing left which meant she would have to go into the corridor. But seeing as all the floors were identical she knew it wasn’t too far to get to the emergency staircase which led all the way down into the basement. She took a step towards the sign but stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound of a door slamming down another corridor and the sounds of footsteps running in her direction.

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It was not lost on Virginia how ominous it was that they hadn’t bumped into any traffic so far on their way to the Sherriff’s Station. Beacon Hills was a relatively sleepy little town but there should’ve still been traffic. She glanced down at the time displayed on the cruiser’s dashboard and vaguely noted to herself that there should have been a decent amount of cars on the roads with parents doing the school run. They turned a corner and she heard Jordan swear. Looking up she could see that this street had quite a few more zombies milling in the road than the previous streets. It made sense, Virginia thought, as they were nearing the centre of town where the bigger shops were. Jordan swerved the car to avoid having to run the zombies down It’ll wreck the underside of the car and then we won’t be going anywhere Jordan had said when Virginia had initially proposed just driving through them. They made it through the street and Virginia audibly gasped at the amount of figures in the road.
Jordan pulled the car to a halt as they took in what must have been a sizable amount of the townsfolk outside the supermarket, none of them looking all too human. A cluster of the zombies had surrounded a nearby phonebox and Jordan could just make out the sight of two people trapped inside, trying desperately to keep the door closed.
“Jordan that’s a lot of not-quite-people”
“There’re people trapped in that phone box Virginia we can’t just leave them” Jordan wasn’t looking at Virginia as he spoke, checking instead that his handgun and shotgun were loaded and ready to go, he affixed the shotgun across his back with a strap and made to unlock the car door when Virginia grabbed him.
“Young man if we’re doing this we are doing this the right way. If you go in there guns blazing you’re going to get yourself killed and possibly those poor folks in there. Let’s be smart about this.” Virginia proceeded to lay out a plan which involved Jordan luring the mass of zombies away, since he was faster than Virginia and significantly more armed. She would get the people from the phone box and pick off any stragglers with her pitchfork. Once they were back in the car Jordan would double back and they’d be on their way. Simple plan.
Or it would’ve been, if another group of zombies hadn’t spilled out of the supermarket once Jordan had already led off those out in the road. Virginia moved as quickly as her old legs would carry her, picking off a couple of zombies with a pitchfork to each head as she made her way to the phone box. Opening the door she found a woman and young girl who couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11.
“Hi there folks, here to get you out of here but we gotta move quickly now there’s more of ‘em coming.” She took the woman by the shoulder and pulled them both out into the street. Dispatching another zombie on their way to the car, Virginia turned to find the mother flagging behind. The young girl was holding her mother’s hand and trying to get her to move quicker to avail. Virginia backtracked to them. “Are you okay love, we really do need to hurry.” The group of zombies had noticed them now and had begun to pick up pace heading towards them. The woman took a shaky breath inwards, and Virginia could hear a wheezing choking sound.
“Sh-she’s not sick Miss, promise. She just needs her medicine but we couldn’t find any in the shop and then the people came” The little girl’s voice came out in a strangled panic as she tried to coax the woman forward “C’mon ma we have to keep going we’re nearly there.” The zombies were starting to get a little too close for Virginia’s liking so she took the girl’s other hand and began to move her behind her.
“Now then my love, why don’t you run to the car and wait in there for me and my friend Deputy Parrish hmm? I’ll help your mother get hurried along and we’ll be with you in just a tick.” The little girl looked at Virginia with panic and hesitated before nodding resolutely.
“Please take care of my ma.” And with that, she was running toward the cruiser.
Virginia put her arm around the woman who’s knees had begun to sag. Her hoarse breathing was getting worse by the minute and Virginia would’ve laughed at how much it sounded like the undead behind them had the undead behind them not been close enough for to hear the similarity. She managed to get the woman another couple of steps forward before she collapsed to her knees. Fuck. Virginia turned to see how close the zombies were and stabbed at one with her pitchfork before using it to impale the stomach of another and drag it away from the mother who was now trying to crawl towards the cruiser. The pole of her pitchfork snapped causing Virginia to overbalance and land herself on her knees.
Jordan had just come round the corner but pulled himself to a stop at the scene in front of him. Virginia and a woman were on the floor. There were zombies everywhere. At least the girl has made it to the cruiser. He rushed into the fray and took down the two closest zombies with his handgun before bending to help Virginia to her feet. She pulled out her trowel and moved Jordan to one side to shove it up through the neck of one that had gotten a little too close behind him.
“Jordan she can barely move. She can’t breathe and the girl said she needs medicine that none of us have.” She shoved her trowel into the head of another nearby zombie and took a step back as Jordan did the same.
“We can’t take all of these out, I’ve only got so many bullets and we still have to make it to the station.”
“And as much as my trusty trowel has worked so far I don’t fancy our chances getting to the station with just this as our defence.” The pair took another step back and were now in line with the mother who had come to a stop and was struggling to gasp air into her lungs. She looked up at Jordan and Virginia with tears wetting her face.
“P-plea--… He-elp…. Her…” The mother wheezed again and laid back against the floor, clawing at her throat. Virginia turned and took down another two zombies as they closed in. Jordan opened and closed his mouth before he turned to Virginia.
“She isn’t making it to the car but we can’t leave her to be eaten alive. Let’s spare her that at least. You go back to—”
“I will do it Jordan. You go look after the girl and make sure she doesn’t see. More gunshots will attract more of these and I don’t think it’ll help for her to hear you shoot her mother.” Jordan nodded his acquiescence and made his way quickly back to the car.
“Hey there, so we didn’t catch your name” Jordan buckled himself in and turned the car to face away from the scene and turned to keep the girl’s attention facing toward him.
“Olive, m-my name’s Olive. You’re Mr. Parrish right?” The girl had tear tracks down her face but was trying to look stoic, a look which was uncomfortable on a face so young and that Jordan did not miss from his military days.
“Well it’s nice to meet you Olive. I’m Deputy Parrish yes, but you can just call me Jordan.” Olive nodded at this information.
“I-is your friend helping my ma? Is she coming with us? Please don’t let the bad people get her” The little girls voice was becoming scratchy with tears that she was trying hard to keep at bay.
“I’m really sorry Olive, we couldn’t help your ma without her medicine. She um, she isn’t going to be coming with us.” Viriginia arrived at this point, Jordan noticed that the trowel was cleaner than it had been all day. Jordan turned the ignition and started them on their way as Olive broke down into incomprehensible sobs in the back seat.

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Lydia pulled herself upright and prepared to start swinging her cleaver when a man came careening out of one of the darkened corridors and nearly ran right into her. He stopped short and looked her up and down.
“Bitten?” Lydia shook her head “Good. Do you know the way out of here because I moved in like four days ago and I was still getting my bearings and now I’m completely lost and there’s fucking zombies everywhere man”
“Well I know the way out but would you keep your damn voice down before you get us killed.” Lydia snapped as quietly as she could. The man took a breath before speaking again, notably quieter than before.
“I’m Mason, by the way. And you are?”
“Lydia. Emergency staircase is this way. It takes us to the basement so you should be able to get out that way. Keep up.” And with that Lydia set off towards the corridor that would be her ticket to safety. She was not about to be slowed down by some random man who had to be told not to raise his voice whilst people were being eaten alive in the same building as them.
They made it to the staircase without issue despite Mason continuing to whisper to Lydia about various trivial things he had noticed whilst making his way through the building, including a dead cat he saw on the 7th floor. Eventually she shushed him when she thought she heard a noise. Mason looked around and clearly hadn’t heard anything. She heard it again, a mechanical whirring sound.
“Is that the—” Mason was cut off by a rather chirpy ding as the elevator nearby them opened up and large group of zombies fell out into the corridor only a few feet from them. Lydia swung at the closest one and managed to take down another as the rest of the group noticed them. Mason had taken two steps back and was frozen against the wall.
“Mason, a little help would be appreciated!” Lydia shouted at him as she slashed at another of the zombies. They were beginning to get a little close for comfort and one grabbed onto Lydia’s arm as she tried to take down another. A third got close to her and went to bite her neck and Lydia could hear herself screaming before the zombie simply disappeared. And then another. And another. Until she was left facing a corridor of corpses. Her brain refocused from the panic to find Mason asking her if she was okay, holding a fire axe in one hand.
“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Thank you for that I thought you were going to let me die there.”
“Sorry that was such a close call I just… froze. Won’t happen again. Shall we?” He gestured to the emergency exit door and Lydia nodded before shakily entering the stairwell followed by Mason. That, Lydia Martin, was far too close for a repeat.

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The daylight hours were waning, and Stiles was regretting his decision to buy property across town from the Sheriff’s Station. Walking across town would have taken long enough but he was trying to keep to back roads and alleyways to avoid the literal undead roaming the streets. As the hours passed more and more seemed to be appearing which did not bode well. He just hoped his Dad was okay and had made it back to the Station in one piece. One alive piece. He had maybe two hours of daylight left to make it to the Station before he’d have to find someplace to barricade himself in for the night which he did not fancy doing with nothing to defend himself with.
He had just exited one alleyway, checking for zombies as he did so and was sprinting across the street to another quiet-looking side street when someone grabbed his arm. He let out a very embarrassing squeak that he would deny to the grave before throwing a punch at who or whatever had grabbed him. His assailant let out a slight oof sound that Stiles had heard before. He looked up to be met by all to familiar dark eyes, dark brows, dark hair. Derek.
“You’re in New York.”
“That’s your first thought? You just punched me Stiles.”
“Well I’m sorry but I don’t if you noticed the dead bodies wandering the street but you can’t be sneaking up on people during an apocalypse Derek.” Stiles crossed his arms at this point before realising they were literally stood bickering in the middle of the street. “Let’s get off the street come on the Dentist’s is round this corner and it’s probably the safest place I’m gonna find tonight”.
“Stiles we’re fine. I’m heading to the hospital. I need to find out what’s happened to Erica and Boyd.”
“Erica and Boyd? How do you know something happened to them?” Derek gave him an odd look at this.
“I um, I felt something happen, how do you know something happened to them?”
“Oh, um, it happened in the shop. Erica was, she was really panicked and then Boyd attacked us and basically they both ended up being zombies and I had to climb out of my window but I think Boyd is dead. Erica was, un-dead when I left. What do you mean you felt it Erica said she felt Boyd too. Derek have you joined a cult because I warned you about—”
“No Stiles I haven’t joined a cult you—I’ll explain everything later. You’re right we should get you off of the street.” And with that Derek took Stiles by the arm and began striding in the direction of the Dentist.
“Derek would you—Derek I can walk by myself you don’t need to manhandle me I’m pretty capable thank you.” He wrestled his arm free of Derek’s grip and looked at him. They had made it to the front door of the Dentist.
“Just wanted to make sure you got here in one piece.” He looked to one side, and then the other, and then anywhere but at Stiles.
“Well whilst I appreciate the thought I’m not a damsel in distress Derek. I can handle myself quite fine by myself. Have been doing for nearly a year now I’ll remind you.” Derek flinched at the end of Stiles’ sentence.
“Stiles I—you know I didn’t want to leave you, you could’ve—”
“What uprooted my entire life to follow you round the country looking for someone we have no confirmation is actually alive?” Stiles could feel his voice raising slightly and tried to keep a lid on it. He was not about to get eaten because of an argument about his ex abandoning him to go ghost hunting.
“Stiles I told you I had a feeling she was out there.”
“Seems like you have a lot of feelings Derek. Shame they didn’t seem to be there when you decided to leave with not even 24 hours notice. That’s worse than most of the landlords I’ve had.”
“I know Stiles and I’m sorry—”
“Dude we are in the middle of an apocalypse. The dead are walking the streets. You can be sorry you fucked up our relationship another time. Right now let’s just not die today and go inside.” With that Stiles turned and made his way into the shop. The door was thankfully open otherwise that would’ve been the most embarrassing exit of all time. He heard Derek traipse in after him and start shifting things to barricade the door. Stiles on the other hand went looking for something to make a bed out of and to see if he could pilfer the place’s medical supplies.

Chapter Text

“So um, what is it you do then? For work I mean.” Mason had been quietly rambling as they made there way down the emergency stairwell. The main lights had gone out in here too and so they moving slowly in the dim green glow of the backup lighting.
“Well I used to run a coffee shop in town but I don’t think business is going to be doing so well if everyone’s been dead, or dead but still moving.”
“Well hey maybe could serve brain smoothies or something.”
“Seriously? Really not the time.” Lydia stopped mid-step as she heard something below.
“Shit yeah sorry, bad joke. I have a tendency to just say things without really—” Lydia slapped her hand across Mason’s mouth and pushed up against the nearby wall. There was the sound again. Like something scraping or dragging against concrete. It didn’t sound as though it was getting closer although neither did it sound like it was moving further away.
“Be. Quiet. Please” Lydia hissed out. Mason just nodded as she moved her hand away and started back on moving slowly downward. They would make it to the basement, and then they would go their separate ways. She just had to get to her car in one piece.
As they reached the bottom of the staircase Lydia could see that the door leading into the basement area and underground car park of the block was open and that the ominous scratching sound was just a piece of tarpaulin that had gotten stuck on the door and found itself blowing back and forth in the wind. She sighed with the small relief that it wasn’t anything to add yet more danger to her trip and made her way to one side of the doorframe. There she stood listening. She could feel Mason beside her as she peered round the edge and into the basement. Like the stairwell, the light was dim, though the small windows set near the ceiling did allow for a slightly better view than they currently had.
“Looks pretty empty” Mason spoke into the space as he moved around Lydia to also look through the doorway.
“Yeah, maybe a little too empty. Unless everyone who could make it already left and no zombies at all have made it down here. Which seems rather unlikely. Just stay alert.” Mason nodded at this and raised the axe he was holding into a more ready position as they made their way into the basement. Now just to get to my car. Does Mason even have a car I really should’ve asked that.

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Stiles had fallen asleep surprisingly quickly after setting himself up on one of the couches in the waiting room. As the sunlight had filtered through the half closed blinds that morning, he had rolled over to try and get a little more sleep before his alarm went off. This was disturbed, however, by him rolling off the side of the couch and landing on the floor with a thud. He looked up to find Derek watching him from the other side of the room with a slight smirk on his face. Oh right, the world ended.
“Don’t you dare—”
“I wasn’t going to” Derek held his hands up innocently and Stiles couldn’t help but crack a smile. It was almost like it used to be. Stiles flailing about with all the grace of a reversing dump truck with no tires and Derek there to pick him back up and put him back together with his disarming smile.
“Hey so um, what’s your plan, now that… you know…” Stiles pulled himself up off the ground and sat himself down on the couch. It had been a surprisingly comfortable sleep. Waiting room couches, who knew? “I’m heading to the Station, hopefully Dad will have made it there and I’m going to need to be more equipped if I’m going to head to Lydia’s from there to check she’s okay. You’re welcome to come with.” Derek shifted from where he was sat and went to peer through the blinds.
“Ah. I’m actually planning on heading to the hospital to—”
“Are you insane!” Derek turned to look down at Stiles as he continued, whispering very intensely at Derek. “The hospital is the worst place to be right now Der, did all the movies we watched teach you nothing? Supermarkets, hospitals, town centres. Worst places to be in the initial outbreak and you’re going to just charge headfirst into the danger? Plus you said that was for Erica and Boyd and there… Sorry.” Stiles deflated a little under Derek’s glare.
“There’s someone else there I need to get Stiles. Erica’s younger brother works there. He would’ve been on shift when all this started and I can feel him so that means he’s probably still there and hopefully still alive alive and not just… half alive. I can’t leave him.”
“What do you mean you can feel him? Erica kept saying that before she… turned. I feel like I need some sort of explanation please.”
“Right. Well it's maybe best you sit down. It’s kind of a long story.”
Stiles did just that as Derek explained about him and his family being werewolves before they were mostly burned to death in a tragic, and almost definitely planned, house fire. How he, Erica, Boyd and Louis (her younger brother Stiles had never heard of) were a ‘pack’. Derek went on to explain pack bonds and how he could feel those in his pack, and that’s how he knew that Cora was still alive, out there somewhere.
“So that would explain you jetting off to New York with no notice.”
“You seem very calm about this Stiles”
“Dude, my mum believed in some funky stuff when I was younger and the dead are literally walking to Earth. This information is not the weirdest thing to happen this week and in the grand scheme of things is fairly tame. So all four of you are… werewolves?”
“Well Louis isn’t, he never took the Bite. He was Pack enough for me to be able to feel him and recognize his scent.” Stiles nodded vaguely at this.
“Well, I get it. You’ve gotta go to your family like I’ve gotta got to mine.” Derek moved across the room to kneel in front of Stiles.
“Maybe… wait for me at the Station? I’ll come find you and then we can figure all this out together. I can help us survive.” He took Stiles’ hand in his and Stiles looked up to find him face to face with Derek, eyes as entrancing as ever. That could work, maybe they could work, maybe things hadn’t changed all that much. But as much as Stiles tried to kid himself that Derek’s plan made sense, it just didn’t. Stiles had his family to worry about, and that didn’t include Derek anymore.
“If you get to the Station whilst I’m still there then sure. But that doesn’t change what happened between us and where we are now. I’ve changed Der, I had to move on to keep going. That alongside an apocalypse, I don’t know if we could go back to how things were even if we tried.”
Derek nodded and stood back up, slowly letting go of Stiles’ hands. He tried to hide the tears in his eyes but Stiles knew him better than that. He cleared his throat and went about collecting his gear and the supplies he had managed to break out of locked cupboards. No point in starting a conflict now when we might never see each other again. Stiles stopped as the realisation hit him. We might never see each other again. He shook his head and carried on packing. That’s just how the chips have fallen Stiles.
Packing their respective belongings went smoothly and quicker than either of them probably wanted. They were used to being in spaces together and moved around each other with practiced coordination. They were just heading for the door when Derek put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder to stop him.
“Hey look, we um, if I don’t make it to the Station before you move on…” Stiles looked up at Derek and could see the tears there again. “What I’m saying is, can I kiss you? One more time, just in case this is goodbye.” Stiles could feel himself getting emotional, throat tightening at the thought that he might actually never see Derek again. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out so he just nodded instead. Derek cupped his cheek in his hand, ducking his head down to press his lips softly to Stiles’. It felt exactly like Stiles remembered, Derek’s lips soft and warm, his stubble grazing gently against him. He could’ve stayed there, in that moment, reliving every time they had kissed before, all day. Eventually, they both pulled away. Stiles swiped at his eyes and noticed the tears trailing down Derek’s face.
“I love you Stiles.”
“I love you too Derek, good luck out there.” Derek smiled at him, and with a shaky breath Stiles turned and walked out of the Dentist’s and into the early afternoon sun. Once the door had closed, Derek sank to his knees and sobbed.

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Mason had managed to remain pretty quiet as they made their way through the car park. It appeared as though it was definitely empty considering the enormous silence that surrounded him and Lydia. But he managed to keep his ramblings under wraps just in case. Until they reached where his car should have been and he let out a rather loud—
“What the fuck!” Lydia’s head whipped round expecting danger or some other disaster to find Mason wandering in a circle.
“Mason, what the hell, what’s wrong?”
“M-my car. My car should be here. Like right in this spot.” He looked around confused before walking to the end of the row of spaces and recounted how far they’d come “Yeah it should definitely be here I always park here.”
“Hmm. And s=you’re sure you wouldn’t have parked it in another space?” Mason nodded at this before plonking himself down onto the floor.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck indeed. Let me find mine, maybe I can drop you off somewhere? Where were you headed anyhow?” Lydia turned to walk toward where her car was hopefully still there and listened as Mason scrambled to follow behind her.
“To meet up with my sister Annie. She lives across town but she should’ve been working today. I’m just hoping she managed to get back alright.” Lydia let out a small sigh of relief as her car came into view.
“Okay, well that’s my car. Whereabouts does your sister work? I should be able to drop you there before I go to find my friend Stiles.”
“Oh, she’s a deputy for the Sheriff’s department.” He looked at Lydia from the other side of the car where he was waiting to open the door. Lydia looked at him slightly dumbfounded.
“As in you want me to drive you to the Sherriff’s Station?”
“If that’s not too far out of your way. And look, we have a boat down at the Marina. If you give me a lift I’m sure there’d be room on the boat for you and your friend if you wanted to circle back and meet us there?” Lydia unlocked the car and they both got in.
“My friend Stiles is the Sherriff’s son so I’m sorta heading to the Station regardless. A way out of town does seem like a good deal though, I might have to take you up on that. Now buckle up let’s get on the road.” Lydia turned the key in the ignition and they were on their way, leaving behind her lovely apartment and heading out into the chaos that had begun to unfold on the streets of Beacon Hills.

It was like the movies. Lydia had never seen so much chaos in the streets anywhere other than in the movies she had watched with Stiles. And sometimes on her own. So sue her she liked an apocalypse film. Weaving through the broken down and abandoned cars would have been difficult enough but the moving obstacles that were the zombies and the people trying to evade them added a whole other level to maneuvering down the road. Making it out of their neighbourhood was an ordeal, which lessened slightly as they made their way into the main section of town. With the wooded area of the preserve bordering one side of the road and a small row of shops on the other, There were half as many vehicles and people on the road and so Lydia sped up slightly, hoping to get where they were going with a little more haste.
And they would have probably made excellent progress too. A few streets away from the Station, heading through an intersection, an 18-wheeler came barreling round one corner towards them. Mason screamed and Lydia wasn’t far off doing the same, she spun the wheel to one side to avoid the truck but unfortunately didn’t manage to pull it back quick enough to right the car and keep them on the road. They crashed through the barrier at the side of the road and flipped over the incline, tumbling down through the trees until they came to a sudden stop against one of the larger trees. Holy fucking shit am I dead. Lydia tried to undo her seatbelt to get out but felt the car creak and move so chose to stay still instead. Her vision had gone pretty fuzzy and she looked over at Mason to find him out cold. Please don’t be dead. And with that, everything went dark.
The last thing Lydia heard and felt as she slipped out of consciousness was a large explosion somewhere above her.

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Alan Deaton was what you would call a superstitious man. He was aware of supernatural beings and events and so felt he was prepared for the vast majority of situations. It wasn’t often that he was caught unawares by something. Now, the zombie apocalypse was not high on his list of likely events so when he got into work that morning he thought it was going to simply be another run of the mill day. His assistant Scott rolled in a little later than usual looking a little out of breath.
“Deaton, something’s up there’s like riots or something going on in town, all looks like its getting a bit crazy.” Deaton hummed as he half listened to Scott ramble on about the riots and half-focused on his schedule for the day. It wasn’t set to be too hectic but enough to keep them both busy for the day.
“Sounds intense, Scott. I’m sure whatever it is will blow over and the Sherriff’s department will have it sorted in no time. In the meantime would you mind doing the lunchtime feeding? I just need to go make a call, my sister has not stopped ringing me all morning so must be important.” He walked into the back as Scott huffed slightly and went about sorting the feeds. He never did like doing the grunt work. His sister picked up after only one ring. She sounded frantic.
“Alan, Alan where are you?”
“I’m at work Marin, what is the matter?”
“You have to get out of town Alan, it’s not safe to stay there.”
“What are you talking about Marin there’s been no supernatural activity here in months even the Hale boy has left town. What could possibly be so dangerous that I have to actually leave—”
And then a funny thing happened. You see walls and ceilings are supposed to stay pretty fixed in place. So Alan Deaton barely had time to register the wall to his office coming towards him and definitely didn’t have time to process his sister shouting about the undead before he was thrown across the room to land by his now upturned desk thoroughly unconscious.
Scott had a better vantage point from the front of the clinic where he had finished feeding all the animals in their care to come out to a scene of chaos that had unfolded out front of the vets, there were people, and bits of people, all over the road. Cars littered the street and Scott watched as a truck came out of nowhere, nearly hitting a moving car. Unfortunately, said car then careened off the road and down the embankment. This distracted Scott long enough that he just had time to throw himself into one of the back rooms as the truck then crashed headfirst into the row of shops which housed the Vets.

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Lydia came too with a start. She looked to her right to find that Mason was already awake and looked to only have a slight cut on his forehead. He looked about as dazed as she felt but given the amount of flips her car just did she figured that was probably standard. She looked out of the windscreen to find the ground at an angle it really shouldn’t have been at, realising with growing concern that they had slid quite a ways down the steep embankment leading down into the preserve, and the only thing currently keeping them from falling further was the tree the car was jammed against. Well this is not ideal. Mason groaned and undid his seatbelt before Lydia had time to fully assess the situation. She froze as the car also groaned and shifted slightly to one side. She tried to undo her own belt but found it stuck. She struggled with it a little more whilst Mason slowly got his bearings before fumbling around for her cleaver. Fuck it. I am not dying on this hill. She cut her seatbelt and slumped forward against the steering wheel. She could more clearly see the drop below them through the windscreen and glanced to see Mason had also realised their position.
“We have to get out of here”
“Yeah no shit Mason I’m not dying today and neither are you. We need to move at the same time though otherwise, the car is going to tip. Grab what you can and let’s move.” And they were off. Very slowly off, both trying not to sway the car as Lydia grabbed her cleaver and Mason grabbed his axe. God knows how neither of us were cut to ribbons in the actual crash. Small miracles I suppose. And then came the doors. Lydia managed to get hers open right away but Mason’s didn’t want to budge. The movement started the car tipping slowly to one side.
“Mason we have to go now.”
“The door is stuck, Lydia!”
“I am aware! Fuck it, I’m gonna jump and then you come out right after me okay?” And she jumped, she. She landed with a thud and rolled a little, grabbing hold of a nearby tree root to steady herself. Mason jumped over the centre console and dove out of the car as the tip started to move faster and they both watched, Lydia with a fistful of Mason’s shirt, as the car cartwheeled the rest of the way down into the preserve. Lydia could smell smoke from above them now they were out of the car and faintly remembered the explosion as they landed against the tree.
“Whatever is up there I don’t think it’s going to be pretty.”
“Well we can’t stay here all day, let’s get moving.”

Chapter Text

Scott slowly opened his eyes to take in the scene around him. The room he had thrown himself into had remained mostly intact but as he made his way to the door which was now little more than a splintered doorframe, he could see how much damage the truck had done. A good portion of the vets was gone and because of the angle the truck had hit the shops at it had continued through into the adjacent units. Smoke was emanating from one of the other units and what Scott could only assume was the truck itself. He needed find Deaton, it was not safe to be anywhere near these buildings right now.
“Jesus. Deaton? Deaton!” Scott made his way to where the door to Deaton’s office used to be. The pile of rubble in it’s place was not a very promising sight but Scott continued to shout for his boss as he moved what rubble he could.

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Deaton came to slowly, he felt groggy, like he’d been woken up from a half finished dream. He looked around his office. Or he would’ve done if there had still been an office to look around. The small space he was in seemed to be what was left of the room, with a section of the roof being supported by the collapsed walls keeping him from being crushed. He pushed himself into a sitting position and was met with agony when his leg throbbed in pain. He had one leg pinned under a filing cabinet and from the level of pain he reckoned it was probably definitely broken.
“Well, that’s not good,” He said to no one in particular. He could faintly hear Scott shouting his name but his head hurt so much he wished he’d just be quiet so he could think. He took a deep breath before shouting back. Hopefully, that was enough for Scott to hear him. Focusing his energy he summoned all of his strength, and that of a few otherworldly creatures, to shift the filing cabinet. He was doing well until Scott shouted again and he lost his concentration, the cabinet dropping back onto his leg. He let out a cry as he felt the already broken bones grind against each other.

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The drive to the station had been silent aside from the sniffles from Olive in the backseat. Jordan pulled into the car park behind the building and was thankful that the rest of the drive over had been uneventful aside from dodging various debris and bodies in the road. He put the car into park and turned to face his two passengers. Virginia discreetly wiped some tears from her face. Jordan tried to keep his face neutral.
“Alright folks, we’re here. I’ve got my keys on me, I’m guessing someone will have locked up. We’re gonna leave the car and head straight for the door. Olive, you stay between me and Virginia okay?” Olive nodded slightly whilst looking at them both. Virginia reached back and squeezed the girl’s hand.
“Hey, it’ll be okay sweetie, we’ll take care of you. Nothing is going to hurt you.” Olive nodded a little more resolutely and wiped her face with the sleeve of her t-shirt before unclipping her seatbelt. Jordan stepped out of the car first, checking the area as he did so. It all looked clear enough but he didn’t want to be exposed out here for too long.
“Coast is clear folks, let’s make a move.” He was beginning to feel like he was back in the military and could feel the familiar itch of panic in the back of his throat as the others got out of the car. Olive grabbed Virginia’s hand and they made sure she was between them as they walked quickly to the back door of the station building. Jordan couldn’t help but hope friendly faces met them as he fumbled with the lock, it would be nice to have some more backup.

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Deaton was attempting to lift the cabinet off of his leg a second time when part of the wall moved and revealed Scott’s panicked face on the other side of the rubble. Scott was shouting too him but he was too focused on pushing all of his strength into lifting the cabinet to hear him. With one last surge he pushed the cabinet up high enough to free his leg from under it and roll to one side to avoid in crashing back down onto his already shattered leg. He re-focused and as his senses also refocused he became aware of the smell of smoke permeating the air and the distant sound of screams somewhere outside. Scott was now frantically trying to pull more rubble out of the way to get to him as he began to drag himself towards the growing gap in what was left of his office wall.

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Scott let out a sigh of relief when he finally managed to clear a hole in the rubble big enough for him to haul Deaton through. He propped him up against a more stable wall to give him a once over, determining that aside from his severely messed up leg, there was nothing else particularly wrong with him.
“Okay, we should probably get out of here. People are eating each other” Scott said this with a straight face and Deaton balked at his calmness.
“Eating each other? Scott did you hit your head or something don’t be ridiculous!” Alan moved to get a better look outside of the building and through the growing haze in the air he could see that Scott was right. People had indeed begun eating each other. The roads were chaos, vehicles up-turned and bodies littering the street. How long had he been out?
“Not that long Deaton, though we should get moving.” Scott grabbed Deaton under one arm and lifted him to his feet. Agony shot through Deaton’s leg as he instinctively tried to put weight on it and Scott tried to place a hand over his mouth as he half walked and was half dragged out into the street.

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Having got the door open, Jordan had made his way into the back corridor of the Station, Virginia and Olive close behind him. He heard the door shut behind them with a click and began moving towards down the corridor towards the main front room. As he went he opened the doors to the various side rooms, checking for his colleagues, any survivors, or anything less friendly. Having done a full sweep of the station he came back to where Virginia and Olive were stood waiting by the back door.
“Well, everything looks clear. We should be good to set up here and hold down the fort for a while. I’m sure there’ll be others getting back anytime now and we can put together a proper plan.”
“Right, lets get that sorted then. Olive, sweetie, how about you go see if you can find something we could use to make some beds so you can have a little rest, hmm?” Virginia gently pulled her hand from Olive’s and smoothed it over her hair before Olive darted off to look for something bed-adjacent. She began wandering around the room herself looking through cupboards, and pulling all the window blinds shut as she continued speaking to Jordan. “I can’t help but wonder what this situation might do to such a young mind. I’m honestly not sure what to do with a child in this situation Jordan.”
“Me either Virginia, but we can’t leave her behind so I guess we’ll have to figure it out. What we need is a plan.”
“Hmm, well I’m not finding anything of use in these cupboards, just lots of files and half-finished paperwork. We need something to defend ourselves with, things to eat and drink. And we should probably see about boarding up these windows to prevent anything from getting in should it try.” Jordan nodded at this, she was right, if they were going to hole up here and wait for other survivors it would be logical to make it a defensible position.
“Right, there should be some tools in one of the supply closets. I’ll go and check the armory to see what we’ve got to work with and then we can do a little pull together of any food and drinks left here.”
“That sounds like the start of a plan. I’ll go find those tools.”

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“Scott we, we need to slow down I can’t walk” Deaton was half shouting half pleading as Scott marched out of the building and slowly picked their way across the rubble and fallen bits of building. Tears streamed down his face as the moved and he had all but given up walking, the pain was just too much.
“Alan please be quiet I’m trying not to get us killed here. I know you’re in pain but if you can just keep quiet till we get off the street we’ll be fine.” The unnerving calm in Scott’s voice and his robotic demeanor was doing nothing to calm Deaton. He had read about people with shellshock or odd behaviour as a result of trauma but this was scary to witness and seven moreso to be at the mercy of. Scott didn’t stop moving though, not until Deaton’s leg caught against a large piece of rubble and he let out a scream. “Alan please, please be quiet” His hand was over Deaton’s mouth again but Deaton just kept screaming, the shattered bones were pressing against flesh and one may or may not have been visible.
Scott looked around to see that the zombies had quickly begun to close in on their position, with Deaton’s continued screaming not helping the situation. He stood up from where they were, pulling Deaton with him. “You’ve killed us Alan, you’ve killed us they’re going to kill us” He was now dragging Deaton through the rubble, Deaton screaming behind him as every bump sent shockwaves of pain up his leg. Scott stopped. Deaton looked around blearily, wondering why he had paused as the zombies began closing in again. Scott lifted him up and turned him round to look into his face. Scott looked terrified, panicked, and somehow still calm. “I’m really sorry Deaton, but I don’t want to die” Deaton opened his mouth to respond as Scott pushed him backwards into a section of broken building, rebar spearing through Deaton’s torso. His screams filled the street as Scott broke into a run in the other direction, zombies swarming towards the noise to begin tearing at his flesh.
Scott would not die. He had to get to the hospital. He had to find his mum. He was not going to die.
Somewhere behind him the truck burst into flames, the fire slowly consuming what was left of the buildings.

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Lydia and Mason had spent a few hours making their way back up the embankment. After a couple of close calls where loose rocks had nearly sent them tumbling towards the now smoking car below them, they made it over the ridge and the road came back into view.
“Holy fu-“ Lydia clamped her hand down over Mason’s mouth to prevent making any noise as they both stared at the scene in front of them. There were zombies everywhere and it became evident that Lydia had indeed heard an explosion, if the steadily burning buildings in front of them were anything to go by.
“We need to go now. The Station is that way about two blocks or so. We need to be fast and we need to be quiet. If we keep moving and cut down anything in front of us we should be fine” Lydia whispered to Mason before taking her hand away from his mouth. His face set into a determined frown and he nodded his assent. They both made there way through the broken fence and as they began to weave their way through the carnage, dodging zombies as they went, Lydia couldn’t help but recognize the disemboweled corpse of the vet who had saved her dog the previous summer impaled on some nearby rubble. No time to stop and ponder his situation, she moved resolutely on with Mason close behind her.

Chapter Text

Scott rounded the corner and the hospital came into view. He was nearly there. He just had to get into the hospital and find his Mum and then they could leave and they’d be safe. He was halfway down the street before he noticed the military personnel in the area. One of them noticed him and took stock of his dishevelled appearance and turned their gun towards him.
“Put your hands up and stay where you are!” Scott stopped where he was and raised his hands up as instructed. He was not going to die so close to finding his mum. The man with the gun made his way towards Scott slowly.
“I-I’m not infected, I haven’t been bitten or scratched or anything please I just need to get to my mum” The military man had stopped a few feet away from Scott now and was looking him up and down. He had a few bruises and his clothes were a little torn up from the incident at the vets and there was some of Deaton’s blood on him from dragging him out of the building but other than that he must have looked fairly normal. The military man must’ve thought the same because he lowered his gun slightly and took another step toward Scott.
“C’mon kid let’s get you properly looked over and off of the streets. We’ve set up a cordon round the hospital and a quarantine zone for folks like you who are turning up looking for somewhere to stay safe. You said you’re looking for your mum?”
“Y’yeah she’s… in the hospital and I really need to get to her” Scott couldn’t think why he’d chosen to omit the fact that his mum worked at the hospital in that moment but he did. His now escort towards the hospital nodded at his words as they veered off towards a fenced in area in which Scott could see a queue of people in varying states of distress slowly making their way towards a series of tents. Quarantine.
“Hey what did you say your name was, Sir?”
“Corporal Jones, how ‘bout yourself kid?”
“Scott. How long have you guys been here? You must’ve gotten this quarantine area set up pretty fast everything seemed fine this morning.”
“Maybe here kid, but this has been brewing for a few weeks now. The first reports came out of New York maybe two weeks ago?”
“Damn, well at least there’s help here now I suppose. You guys must have arrived just in time.”
“Let’s hope so kid. Here, you head through that gate there and follow the queue round, they’ll check you over and run some tests, make sure you’re clear. They’ll tell you were to go from there.”
“Thanks Corporal Jones.” Jones mumbled a ‘your welcome’ before he turned to head back to his post. Maybe they were going to be fine. Maybe everything would work out okay. The military were there and everything was pretty well organised. Something in the back of Scott’s mind was trying to tell him something about Stiles’ advice but he shut that off pretty quickly. He didn’t want to think about Stiles, all his advice was warped by his… perversions.

-------------------------------------------

“We’re not going to be able to stay here for long Virginia”
“I know but we have to hold on. Like you said, you’re people will be trying to get back and I’m almost certain that Stiles will be on his way as we speak.” Jordan didn’t look convinced, and he was right, they had already been low on food and after being there for nearly a full day things were looking pretty dire. Virginia sighed and moved away from the desk they’d been sat at to go and wake Olive. Despite everything the girl had managed to sleep pretty soundly through the night. At least she would be well-rested ahead of whatever the world decided to throw at them next. Virginia shook her shoulder gently to wake her, and was surprised at how calmly Olive woke up. She herself had woken with a start that morning.
“Morning sweetie, did you sleep okay? Feelin’ hungry?” Olive yawned and stretched where she was laid down and nodded sleepily. “Alrighty, I’ll see what I can rustle up for you. She shared a look with Jordan before she went to see what they had left. They were going to have to leave to find food if they planning to stay here any longer. Hopefully other people arrived soon with more resources otherwise they were a bit screwed.
As Virginia made a meagre breakfast for the three of them, Jordan did something of a perimeter check, making sure that all of their barricades on the windows were intact, that all of the external doors were still shut and locked. Satisfied that nothing had managed to get in, or from the looks of it tried, through the night. He went and settled on a chair by the front door to begin his self-imposed lookout. They had left a small gap in the boards they had put up so that they would be able to see out of the front door in case any survivors came. This way they’d be able to see them approaching and geta bit of a heads up if they looked infected or on the way out. Jordan felt pretty happy with their fortifications and very loose plan and thankful for his training.
A few hours into his lookout Jordan heard a noise, he perked up from where he had slumped comfortably in his chair -no he definitely was not falling asleep- and peered out of the gap in front of him. He couldn’t see anyone in front of the door or in the area out front of the Station. He stood up to move closer to the door and have a closer look when he heard the noise again. THUD. He turned around as Virginia hurried into the room, pulling Olive with her.
“There’s someone at the back door.”

-------------------------------------------------

He was growing impatient. This damn queue was taking forever and he needed to get inside to find his mum. What if she’d already left? What if she’d already been killed? No, no. Scott calmed himself, she wouldn’t have left without him. He was all she had after Dad left. And she was smart enough to not get killed. But she needed him to look after her once they left the hospital. The queue moved again and he was shunted forward by the similarly impatient people behind him. He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times to calm his anger. Now was not the time to be causing a scene but he really wished that folks would stop shoving him forward, he could quite clearly see when thing were moving.
Off to his left he heard gunfire and turned to see some of the military personnel gun down a person? Zombie? Who knew at this point. A nervous murmur rippled through the quarantine area and once again the line moved forward slightly. Somewhere nearby he heard a man start shouting. He couldn’t make out what he was saying but someone else joined in and soon the two seemed to be shouting at each other. He made out the words ‘wife’ and ‘leave her alone’ before the queue in front of him was shunted backwards and he nearly fell into those behind him.
“Hey watch it man we’re supposed to be going forwards are you dumb!”
“Sorry, sorry, I got pushed from in front, I don’t know what’s going on”
“Yeah well watch where your stepping next time” The man looked like he was going to say something else but a gunshot far closer than previous made him shut his mouth. Scott turned and could just make out a pool of blood and a corpse between the legs of the people in front of him. It became clear as the queue once more moved forward and Scott eventually had to step over the man that the other guy had decided to put an end to their argument, swiftly. He looked around at some of the other people in the line with him. How many other people had weapons? Why hadn’t they been checked on the way in? He had no way of defending himself. More anxious murmurs ran through the crowd as Scott tried not to panic and more gunfire to his left rang out across the otherwise quiet afternoon.

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Stiles was exhausted. He was running on little sleep and barely any food. After leaving Derek he had tried a bunch of different routes to get to the Station but had been cut off by zombies or people who had clearly lost their minds and were killing each other instead of the zombies. So much for the strength of humanity. Coming out of yet another alleyway, he could see that his route ahead was clear. It had been almost a full day since he left Derek and he was still a good distance from the Station. Derek could have gotten there and left again by now. Hell Lydia had probably already made it there. He gulped at the thought. She wouldn’t have left without him right? He needed to move quicker. The way ahead seemed clear. He could avoid the main junction by hopping some garden fences and then he’d only be a few streets away. Sorted.
Barrelling out across the road, he swerved around a couple of bodies on the floor and was halfway up the first garden fence when he heard gunfire. Not stopping to check if the shooter was friendly or not he kept climbing. Stiles was, of course, known for his elegance and so it was a complete shock to everyone -literally just him- when he landed in a pile on the other side of the fence. At least there had been a bush underneath to somewhat break his fall. Brushing leaves from his pants he got himself right way up and moved quickly through the garden to scale the next fence. He paused briefly at the top to see he only had two more to go. Nice. He moved to haul himself over the top and felt something whizz past where his shoulder had just been. Okay, not a friendly shooter fuck. He once again landed unceremoniously in the next garden and who has a patio right next to the fence Jesus. Now he was gonna have a bruised ass; and not the fun kind of bruised ass.
He got to his feet once more and heard a bullet thunk into the fence behind him. Maybe scaling the fences isn’t the best idea. Back onto the road it is, yay. Working himself up to a light jog, Stiles made his way surprisingly easily passed the next few houses and to the corner of the block. He was now two streets from the station. So close he practically smell the disgustingly burnt coffee. Home stretch Stiles. Let’s go. He took a pause to catch his breath and then set off jogging again.
Holy shitting fuckballs that’s a lot of zombies god damn. Stiles re-routed as he came round the corner literally two streets away from the station and tried to look for somewhere to hide. There was a house nearby with the door broken open but looking otherwise intact and Stiles figured it would have to do and he would just hope that nothing had spotted him. He’d let the absolutely enormous crowd of zombies pass through the street and then he could get to the Station. This was a minor set-back. Admittedly the list of minor set-backs was beginning to grow quite quickly but Stiles took a deep breath as he moved the door to at least partially cover the hole where it should’ve been and then made his way upstairs where he locked himself in the nearest bathroom. Great, stuck in another bathroom.
Outside he could hear the ominous groaning as the crowd got closer. This is why we don’t run Stiles. Exercise kills folks, stay in bed. He peered out of the window onto the street below. Hopefully none of them had seen him enter the house and he’d be decently safe staying put. He saw two women exit one of the houses up the street and sprint up the road away from the crowd. He watched them as far as he could see from his restricted viewpoint but heard more gunfire coming from that direction. It didn’t look like either of the women was carrying a weapon. Shit people have really lost it.
He kept watch as the crowd of zombies took over the road in front of the house. They were passing relatively calmly, though he wasn’t exactly sure what they were following. Him alone couldn’t have caused that many to move in this direction. Distantly though, hard to head over the din of groaning, he could hear gunfire coming further back into town. The Hospital. A pang of worry ran through Stiles and he hoped that Derek was okay. Or that the gunfire wasn’t coming from the hospital at all and was coming from somewhere totally different that was in that direction.
Gunfire closer to him caught his attention and he shifted his eyes to where a large group of military personnel were coming up behind the crowd of zombies. The zombies had made their way mostly up the street and clearly the military had given people a good amount of hope because Stiles watched as several families exited their homes to try and find safety with the military folks. Stiles then watched in enraptured horror as the military didn’t stop shooting and actively aimed for the people who got closest to them, gunning down humans and zombies alike. One family tried to retreat with their hands up but were caught up from behind by the zombies who had turned at the sound of the gunfire. The street had become a mess of bullets and bodies and Stiles was stuck still with shock as the gunmen finished off the rest of the crowd. Stiles decided that perhaps it was a good idea to get moving as soon as possible and avoid running into any military folks.

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Jordan positioned himself near the door, handgun at the ready. They had hidden Olive away under one of the desks in the hopes that that would give her a little extra safety if whoever was on the other side of the door turned out to not be friendly. Jordan could hear the pounding on the door and make out woman’s voice but not the words. It didn’t sound like one of the other deputies. He motioned for Virginia to stay back as she crept her way down the short corridor. She reckoned they just open the door gung-ho and use the element of surprise. Jordan had wanted to keep the door between them and whoever was out there for as long as possible. He was about to shout back when another voice joined the woman on the other side. They were speaking much quieter and so he still couldn’t make head nor tail of what it was that they were saying. He heard the lock click and the handle started moving downwards. Fuck fuck fuck. He backed away from the door quickly and positioned himself squarely in the middle of the corridor to cover as much of Virginia and the rest of the Station. The door swung open.

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Stiles figured he would be waiting a little while for the military to clear off of the street so that he could carry on with his journey. Needing something to distract his mind from what he just saw and feeling the need to do something useful with his time rather than sitting in the bathtub, he moved away from the window and made his way downstairs. It would probably be wise to try and stock up on some food as he was currently ever-so-slightly starving and super thirsty. He checked the taps first and they seemed to still be running fine so he drank the cold water until he got brainfreeze and then hunted around for some water bottles. He filled those up and set them to one side. They’d last him a while. Food next. He sat on the floor of the kitchen and opened up one of the tins he had brought with him. Canned peaches. Not super nutritious but hey he didn’t keep a whole lot of canned food in his apartment. Fresh food was his go-to. Or takeout. Usually takeout. At least peaches didn’t need heating. He was scared to make too much noise in case something or someone heard and came to investigate.
Sat there, on the floor of that house, eating peaches from a can, Stiles felt strangely okay. Like, the world totally wasn’t going to shit outside. In that moment, he was just a man with his peaches. It’s the little things, yknow. A gunshot somewhere off in the distance broke his quiet reverie and he had to stop himself from thinking too hard about his Dad, Lydia, Miss Wright, Derek. Hell even Parrish crossed his mind, he couldn’t imagine the Deputies were having an easy time of it protecting people currently. He just hoped that the people he cared about made it out safe. A selfish thought, he was aware. But considering he just watched the army of all people gun down a bunch of innocent families he figured he’d be absolved a little selfishness by whatever god or gods were out there watching the shitshow unfold.
Standing from his space on the floor, he knocked back the peach juice. Sweet, sweet nectar of the gods peach juice. He ransacked the cupboards in the kitchen and the small conservatory at the back of the house and rustled up a proper weatherproof jacket he was certain would come in handy. A much sturdier backpack (thank the lord for outdoorsy people), and several more cans of food; hotdogs, hotdogs, and a lone tin of beans. The stuff of kings, truly. He took a brief look out of the back windows to see if maybe he could chance the garden route again but caught a glimpse of something shiny moving in an upstairs window a few streets away and figured it probably wasn’t worth it. He liked his head attached to his shoulders.
Checking the front windows he found that he still had some time to kill. The military had mostly made their way up the street but he figured why ransack only half a house. The games completionist in him felt itchy at the thought. And so he made his way upstairs. He peeked into one of the bedrooms and ascertained that the pink walls and sparkly bedding meant he would not find a decent change of clothes in that room. He moved to second door and pushed it open slowly. And froze. There, huddled on the bed, was the family that must have lived here. The three bodies were curled up close together and it was only as Stiles took a step into the room that he noticed the gunshot wounds in all of their heads, and the pistol still in one of the parents’ lifeless hands. He puked. All over the floor. He wiped his hand across his mouth as he stumbled backwards into the corridor and pulled the door shut. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to see it but it was still there when he shut his eyes and his face felt suddenly very clammy. He crawled to the bathroom along the carpet and forced his brain to take in the scratchy texture of it and the hideous shade of green. Who has a green hallway carpet. He made into the bathroom and filled the sink with cold water before plunging his face into it. The temperature shock made him gasp, pulling back coughing on the water and trapped air. He took a shaky breath.
“I need to leave” He said to no one. Sat on the toilet he took a moment to steady himself. And another moment to make sure he wasn’t going to vomit again. And then he looked out of the window. All clear. He made his way downstairs, packed everything into his bag and left the house. He didn’t stop or look back until he made it round the corner. He needed a fat nap, or maybe several shots of tequila. Probably both.

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As the door opened Jordan mentally prepared himself for whatever he was about to do. A blonde woman in a yellow sundress stumbled through the door carrying a large duffle bag and squeaked, dropping the bag, when she saw Jordan aiming the gun at him.
“What, what is it” Said the other voice as the door was pushed further open and the other woman moved to get in front of the first. Lomas. Deputy Lomas. Jordan recognized her from the morning briefings. He holstered his gun.
“Deputy Lomas! Thank god, sorry about that we weren’t sure who was going to walk through the door. It’s great to see a familiar face at last.” He stepped towards Lomas who was in the process of re-holstering her own weapon and reassuring the woman with her that he was safe.
“You too Deputy. Parrish right?” Jordan nodded. “Good to see someone else made it back, you said we? Have the others got back safe? Is the Sherriff here?” Jordan’s smile slipped from his face.
“I am afraid not, Lomas. By we I mean myself, Virginia here, and a little girl, Olive, who we rescued on our way over. I’ve not seen the Sherriff or anyone else since the other day.” Lomas didn’t look pleased at the news and he didn’t blame her. It was beginning to weigh on his mind as well.
“Well hey, why don’t we grab the rest of the stuff from the truck before anything else notices we’re stood here with the door open and then we can do proper introductions, huh?” The other woman finally spoke. Lomas let out a small sigh before allowing herself to be manoeuvred out of the door by the woman.
“Well, I’ll go see if we’ve any coffee left for our new friends and let Olive know we’re safe. Why don’t you go help them with their bags and such?” She moved back into the main room of the Station a Jordan made his way out of the door and towards the truck where Lomas and her companion were unloading. Lomas gave him a small, almost smile and a barely there nod as she passed him on the way back to the Station. He made his way over the woman in the sundress whilst keeping an eye out for any potential assailants.
“Need a hand with anything?”
“Oh that would be grand thank you, Parrish was it?”
“Please, Call me Jordan, and you are?”
“Oh, sorry, Sophia, Sophia Connor. I’m Annie’s partner.”
“Oh you’re part of the Sherriff’s department? I didn’t realise without the uniform”
“No no, nothing like that, I’m a musician. I’m Annie’s romantic partner.” She chuckled a little and Jordan could feel himself blushing at his mistake.
“Oh, right yes that makes more sense with the no uniform. Sorry, foot-in-mouth, I’m not the greatest at making conversations. Anyways, what do you need me to carry?”
“Oh if you just grab that last bag that would perfect. We didn’t come with much. But we brought some food and a little water. I’d just done our weekly shop when things started going sideways so plenty that needs eating before it starts to spoil and we have to deal with the cans.” She sounded so sunny despite the circumstances that Jordan could almost forget that they were in the middle of an apocalypse. He grabbed the bag and began the walk back to the Station, hearing the truck’s lock click on as Sophia got further away.
They had set everything down in the canteen and done introductions and Olive was currently helping Sophia and Virginia organise things like food and water. Sophia had suggested they do a full inventory to take stock of what they had so they could attempt to ration things if the plan was to stay. That way they would know how long they could feasibly stay for before they had to leave. Jordan thought this was a fantastic idea and couldn’t help but notice the way that Lomas, Annie, smiled whenever Sophia spoke. He completely ignored how it made him think of a certain missing someone in favour of focusing on what Annie was trying to tell him.
“So yeah, there was a bunch of us Deputies, Sherriff Stilinski, and a few other civilians we had picked up along the way. We were making our way in this direction when we stumbled onto some military group. We tried to approach them but they just started taking potshots at people. I tried to get as many people out as I could but most were injured or got separated in the fray. I ended up with one woman who was bleeding out, Deputy Alms and another dude who was already a nervous wreck before that. I didn’t see if the Sherriff made it out but he was trying to shield people, firing back even.” Jordan sat down. If the military was just firing on people then something had gone seriously sideways and they probably needed to get out of town before they came to the station.
“Well we certainly can’t be stayin’ here for too much longer then.” Virginia had paused her stock taking with Sophia to join Jordan and Annie by the table. “We have Olive to think about now Jordan, we made a promise.”
“I know, I know, we’ll come up with a plan don’t worry. We just need to sit tight for a little longer. How did you get back here then?”
“Well with the military just opening fire on people I figured everything was going to shit. I relieved myself of duty and made my way back home to grab Sophia. I figured we’d come here in the hopes that some of the others had made it back and then make a plan. Couldn’t leave her behind. Though I suppose its just us here now, and we don’t have too much of a plan.”
“Not yet hun, but we’ll think of something. At least we’re here, and we’re safe for now.”
“For now.”
“That’s right, and given what we managed to bring with us, I’d say we’re good here for another few days before we have to start thinking about finding food, maybe two days if we’re thinking about travelling somewhere out of town.” Annie’s inventory certainly gave them a little more time at the Station which was good in case anyone else arrived. Jordan hummed in agreement.
“Well that settles it then, we’ll sit tight here for another couple of days and see if anyone else turns up. We keep emergency bags packed and a watch on the front at all times. First sign of the military we get the hell out. How’s the truck on fuel?”
“Yeah there’s plenty in the tank, enough to get us to the next town over if we need.”
“Perfect. I think we have something of a plan there folks.” Sophia looked pleased, Annie looked not displeased, Olive had joined them at the table and seemed to be following what was happening, Virginia didn’t look totally convinced but Jordan hoped she wouldn't take long to get on board with the plan. They all needed to work together for things to pan out in the right way.

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The queue continued to move agonisingly slowly, and people grew increasingly impatient. Gunfire was coming from the military personnel holding the perimeter more frequently now and Scott was trying his best to stay calm. He started to mentally plan his route through the hospital and how he was going to locate his Mum. She had moved about a few times in the past weeks, so he was unsure which floor she would be on. He was certain though that he could find her. The queue moved forward once more before a scream for the perimeter caught everyone’s attention. As they watched, the military gunned down a larger group of people. People who looked like they were still people and not zombies. People began to panic.
“They’re shooting people! Maybe we’re next! We have to get out of here” Went up several shouts from different people. The queue was quickly devolving in its organisation and Scott watched as the pushy man from earlier shouldered past him, dragging his wife behind him and physically moving anyone who stayed in his way for too long. He heard another gunshot nearby that left his ears ringing and he turned see a woman drop to the floor. As the rest of the queue shoved forward, people began to stumble over each other, some were crushed underfoot, and some were killed because they were simply going too slow. Scott tried to move with the flow of the crowd and stay upright but it wasn’t long before he felt himself stumbling, and then he was on the ground.
He turned his head to one side long enough to lock eyes with a woman who had already ben trampled. He was not going to die. Not today. He started crawling forward, elbowing peoples ankles and weaving his way through people’s legs whenever they slowed. The chaos of shouting above him was loud and no one seemed to notice him worming his way along the floor. He was not going to die. Someone grabbed him from behind and he turned to find that woman from before, looking decidedly more grey, had grabbed hold of his ankle and was trying to pull herself on top of him. She let out a rasping groan and Scott let out a yelp before kicking her in the face. She let go long enough for him to squirm away from her slightly and someone must have noticed him shout because he heard someone above him shout that was a zombie in there with them. Guns began firing. People started trying to run. Someone dropped a knife which landed near Scott. He reached out to grab it and nearly got his hand crushed before he reached for it again and managed to take hold of it. Turning back to jam it into the eye of the woman who had gotten herself back up and moving. The military had funneled them all into a small space, but Scott was not about to let that stop him from moving forward. Armed with the small blade, he kept on with his crawl. Sweaty, covered in mud, and tired, he began slashing at the legs around him to make more space for himself. He heard the people crying out and felt the blood as it soaked into the ground below him but he kept moving. He was not going to die. Not when he was so close to finding his Mum.

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He stank. He’d be walking the entire day with barely any sleep. Killing the undead was more of a workout than he’d anticipated, especially as more and more of them seemed to be roaming the streets. He kept having to re-route and double back on himself to avoid people or the military who appeared to be getting quite liberal with their gunfire. He might be more durable than the average human but he wasn’t invincible. The last thing Derek needed was to be incapacitated long enough for one of the undead to take a bite out of him. Stiles’ films had never mentioned undead werewolves but if his story about Erica and Boyd was anything to go by it probably wasn’t a good thing.
He was tired. In places his clothes were caked in blood and his leather jacket was scuffed to all hell. The hospital slowly came into view as he made his way down the final stretch of road. He could see the quarantine zone that the military had set up, but with all the blood and gunpowder he couldn’t smell to see if Louis was still nearby. He watched as another group emerged from a side-road walking towards the quarantine zone. There weren’t any dead immediately near them and they all seemed to moving in a normal human manner. Under everything all the other smells, Derek could tell that none of them were infected. And so he watched with a little shock as the military cut them down. He took a half-step back. So the military definitely weren’t friendly. Noted. He turned to go a different route and heard a cry from the quarantine zone. It looked as though a fight of some sort had broken out, the military had begun to turn to go see what the issue was, presumably. Derek took the opportunity to move quickly down the street and towards a small side alley near to the hospital grounds. All he needed to do was scale a wall and then he could find a back entrance to get in. Simple enough.
And it was. Scaling the wall and making it into the hospital grounds anyhow. He could hear more shouting coming from the other side of the building where the quarantine had been, punctuated every now and then by screams. Seems like the military didn’t last particularly long. Huh. Maybe Stiles’ films weren’t as far-fetched as Derek had originally thought. As he moved through the outdoor area behind the hospital he searched for a door, or a window, hell even a vent, that he could get into in order to gain access to the building. No such look so far. He heard footsteps approaching from his left and turned to be met with a rifle.
“Don’t move. How did you get back here? Are you bit?” The man sounded a little shaken and Derek guessed he had just watched his squad getting torn apart.
“No bites here, but would you mind not pointing your gun at me? Seems your lot have gotten a little trigger happy the past couple days and I’d rather not have to kill you.” The adjusted his stance and looked him up and down. Derek could hear the slow movement of footsteps heading in their general direction but figured he had a while before anything made it to where they were.
“A-are you threatening a member of the US military?”
“No, I’m telling you, if you don’t lower your weapon and let me get on with what I need to do, I will tear you to pieces.”
“With what? You don’t even have a weapon” At this, Derek made a show of letting his claws out and bearing his fangs a little.
“I manage just fine without one thanks.” The man took a step back from Derek and re-aimed his weapon as if to shoot. Derek had grown very bored of the situation and the undead were only getting closer. He grabbed the barrel of the man’s rifle, snatching it from his hands and tossing it behind him. “I am running out of patience, move out of my way or help me find a way in.”
“Why would I help you? I don’t even know what you’re trying to do here”
“I’m here to get my friend’s brother and get the hell out of here. Now, you don’t currently have a weapon. So you can help me, I can end you right now, or you can wait for the undead coming this way. Choice is yours.” The man turned to look in the direction of where he had come from. It didn’t take him long to weigh up his options.
“Right. Well. There’s a door over this way. Um, do you know where you’re going once we’re inside?”
“Yeah something like that.”
They made it through the door and Derek barricaded it behind them with some nearby boxes, the other man looking a little shaken still.
“Dude, there’s like, a lot of heavy stuff in those boxes how are you moving all that?”
“I workout.” Derek moved down the corridor, stopping intermittently to check they were going the right way. Not long now.
“So. You’re looking for your friend’s brother? Where’s your friend?”
“She didn’t make it”
“Oh. Sorry man. I’m guessing you were close?”
“I promised I’d look after her brother if anything happened to her. So yeah.”
“Right right. So hey what did you say your name was man?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh.”
Derek let the silence linger as they made they way through yet another half-dark, slightly damp corridor. Finally, stairs. Now they could make their way up the building and find the floor Louis was on.
“Derek. My name is Derek. Yours?”
“Jones. Anthony Jones. Corporal. Though most folks just call me Jonesy.”
“Right. Jonesy, let’s go find my friend.”

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It had taken them the rest of the day to get across town on foot, stopping regularly to try and find food or water in the now abandoned houses which surrounded them, but Lydia and Mason had finally made it. The Station. She let out a sigh of relief as it came into view and heard Mason do the same. She held out hope that Stiles was already in there waiting for her.
They moved slowly, with Mason keeping watch behind them to make sure nothing caught them unawares, though with the sun quickly setting it was becoming a little difficult to be quite so sure the shadows weren’t moving. It wasn’t lost on Lydia that the nearby streetlights weren’t on, something must have knocked out the local power grid. There were no lights on in the Station, though she assured herself this was either because of the lack of power or a purely tactical move to hide their whereabouts.
“Shit, Lydia, we’ve got company” Lydia groaned inwardly. They were right there, so close, could they really not have a break from all of this? Apparently not. She turned to see at least twenty zombies shambling towards them, though it sounded like there were more nearby.
“Jesus, okay. We can’t take them all on. I’m gonna try the door, you get rid of anything that gets too close.”
“Right. How do we know there’s anyone in there again?”
“There’d better be otherwise we’re running, which I really don’t have the energy for right now.” She jogged over to the front of the station and knocked on the door, trying to peer through the glass. The boards preventing her from seeing in the door or the windows told her that someone had to be inside. She heard Mason take down the first zombie behind her and knocked a little louder on the glass. And then tried knocking on the window. As the group got closer and Mason had to take down more and more zombies she began pounding on the glass of the door. Someone had to be inside, they had to be. She heard a gunshot behind her and turned to see a zombie drop to the floor just next to Mason, and then another, and another.
“This way!” They both followed the sound of someone’s voice round the side of the building where another person waited, firing on the zombies that were following them. In the half-light, Lydia saw that it was one of the deputies and, as they reached the back door of the Station, saw Mason embracing another she recognized as Lomas. Mason’s sister. Both of the deputies bundled them inside, closing and locking the door behind them before the remaining zombies could follow them in.
“Christ that was close.” Lydia let out a breath and squat to the floor while she re-composed herself.
“Well, we’re just glad we got you both in time. We tried the front door but go figure none of us actually have the key.” Lydia looked at the woman speaking as she stood, and noticed that an older woman had joined the group near the back door, a child stood hesitantly behind her. But no Stiles. Or his Dad.
“Is Stiles here? Where’s the Sherriff?”
“Neither of them have made it here yet. Why don’t you grab a chair, you guys hungry? We haven’t got tonnes but we can whip you up something decent if you’ve been travelling a while.” Lydia nodded and Mason voiced his assent as the man ushered everyone towards the front of the Station where there was more room for everyone to sit. He switched on a couple of camping lanterns and put them on desks around the the room so they weren’t in total darkness. “I’m Jordan by the way, newly former deputy I guess. This is Virginia, and this is Olive. You must be Mason?” He turned to Lydia then “And you are?”
“Lydia. Lydia Martin. Im good friends with Stiles. He always said if anything catastrophic happened we were to all meet at the Station and then figure out a plan. If he isn’t here then he must be on his way.”
“I was with the Sherriff and a group but we got separated by military gunfire. Not sure if he made it. Lomas by the way, or Annie, also former deputy.” She shook Lydia’s hand as she finally pulled away from the tight side hug she had kept Mason in since they had arrived. “And this is my partner Sophia. Thank you for helping my brother get here.”
The older woman, Virginia, asked if they needed anything specific before she went off in the direction of the canteen to try and get some food put together, hoping that the stove would still work with the power out. Lydia sat quietly as the others got themselves resettled. Stiles hadn’t made it. Yet. There was still plenty of time. Right?

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Chapter Text

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Scott looked a mess when he made it into the hospital. He was covered in blood, to the point that his clothes were sticking to him uncomfortably and his trainers squelched quietly on the floor as he made his way down the corridors in search of his mum. Despite the situation, the hospital was surprisingly quiet. Scott paused a moment to see if he could hear anything but there wasn’t even the typical beeping of hospital machinery he had grown used to when he had visited his mum before. Weird. He caught sight of himself in the doors of an elevator and decided he should probably find a bathroom to clean off in, maybe a lost property bin. Didn’t want anyone mistaking him for one of the undead.

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They had been gathered around the table all morning, intermittently breaking off to use the bathroom and when things got a little heated. Despite them all having the common goal of survival, no one could settle on a plan of action for their next steps that would best ensure that. It was infuriating.
“Well we need to leave soon otherwise we’re going to run out of food, and who knows how long the water is going to last.”
“I get that Virginia, but we’ve got my truck, we can always stay here and start doing supply runs if we need to.”
“I don’t know Annie, how defensible is this place? Jordan?”
“I’d say it’s pretty defensible, though if any more survivors turn up we’re going to be on top of each other quite quickly. I think this is a good temporary solution but we need a more long-term plan.”
“That’s what I was saying, what happens when the military comes looking for more people to kill off?”
“I don’t think that’s likely Mason, they’ve probably gotten out of town by now.”
“That sounds like wishful thinking Soph, I don’t think we’re that lucky. What’re you thinking Lydia?”
“I’m thinking we can’t leave without Stiles.” Annie left the table with a huff, Sophia following after her. Virginia’s mouth set in a thin line. Lydia was well aware she was really pushing the point and that they needed a logical long-term plan to keep them all alive, but she was also aware that there was no way Stiles wouldn’t make it. He was coming, and they were going to wait.
“Sweetie I know you want to wait for him but we need a plan. The food isn’t going to last forever and we need to save some for travelling if that’s what we’re going to do. I don’t want to leave without him either, but the longer he’s out there, the less chance he gets here.”
“He’s not dead Virginia, that man is not likely to die in this kind of situation. Trust me.” Virginia sighed and walked away from the table to go check on Olive. Lydia looked at Jordan, her arms crossed and hip cocked to one side. She was not backing down. They just needed to give him a little more time.
The radio Jordan had been fussing with all night crackled into life, to everyone’s surprise. He turned the tuning dial a couple of times before it settled on a station, a voice filling the room. Annie and Sophia came back into the room at the new noise.
“—out of Sacramento. Repeat. The military has a safe zone. For any survivors, there are flights leaving out of Sacramento. Rep –” The radio crackled again before cutting out, only the odd word coming through as the person continued to repeat the broadcast. Jordan looked at Lydia.
“Well then,” Annie spoke into the silence “We need to be on one of those flights. How long would it take to get there?”
“With all the cars that will undoubtedly be on the roads, it’ll take forever.” They all spent a few moments pondering.
“Oh, Annie, what about your uncle’s boat?” Everyone turned to look at Sophia, who was smiling at the rest of the group “Yeah Annie’s uncle has a boat down at the Marina, I think it would fit everybody. If we could get there we could travel down the river. Far less cars in the way.” Jordan scratched the back of his head in thought. It was certainly a better plan than using the roads. Quicker too.
“Annie, do you think that would be okay with your uncle?”
“Yeah I suppose so, I can’t see why he would mind.”
“Well then, that sounds like a plan” He turned to Lydia as he continued speaking, “I say we give it another day. Wait for anyone else to get here. In the meantime, we can start packing up everything we need to take with us and making sure we’re all rested up. Then we head for the Marina. Does that work for everyone?” The rest of the group nodded their assent, as did Lydia. It was the best plan they had, but it meant that Stiles was running out of time.

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It hadn’t taken him too long to find his mum after he had cleaned himself up and gotten changed. As he made his way up through the floors the familiar noises of the hospital grew louder and Scott realized that they had probably moved a lot of the patients and staff to the upper floors as a precaution. Though all those sick and dying people in a smaller space surely couldn’t be a great idea. His mum had, to no-one’s surprise, been overjoyed to see him but had still been busy working on making sure things were running smoothly; she had however made sure to find Scott somewhere to bed down for the remainder of the night with the promise to wake him if anything happened.
He had slept soundly despite everything, waking feeling refreshed and rolling over to find a glass of water, toothbrush and toothpaste having been placed on his bedside. He washed up in the staff quarters’ sink and open the door to all the chaos of the hospital. It certainly sounded and looked like things had gotten worse during the night. There were more patients now, and more staff hurrying to-and-fro pushing beds, shouting orders to other staff and generally trying to maintain some level of efficiency. Scott looked around for his mum but couldn’t see her anywhere and turned to go see if the receptionist might know where she would be when he bumped into someone. The someone looked up at him and began apologizing, and Scott couldn’t help but feel like he recognized his face.
“Christ I’m so sorry I—Scott? Scott McCall right? Glad you’re okay. You’re not injured right?” The man, a whole head shorter than Scott looked him up and down, scanning for injury.
“No no, I’m okay. I’m just looking for my mum.”
“Oh Melissa is doing rounds on another floor at the moment, she’ll be back in maybe a half hour? I can find you somewhere to get settled if you need?” The man seemed to be waiting for an answer as Scott scanned around the space again.
“No I’m okay here, thanks. Mum got me set up on a bed in this bunk room so I’ll just wait in there a while.”
“Alrighty, well I best get back to it. Good to see you.” The shorter man hurried away, ticking things off and scribbling notes on the clipboard in his hand. Scott tried to place his face as he meandered a little ways down the corridor. He wandered through some double doors into a waiting room and found several military members making their way through a set of doors across from him. One of them walked up to the older lady at the desk and began barking orders to his men whilst he tried to see if they could spare a bed for one of his squad mates. Scott looked back at the doors where two men carried a third between them. The whole lower portion of his leg had been severed and he looked barely conscious. He heard the leader of the group say something about a bite and a field amputation before he back through the doors he had come through. The hospital suddenly seemed like the worst place to be and he had no idea which floor his mum was on.

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Stiles was sick of walking. His feet hurt. His stomach kept rumbling at its emptiness following what he saw in the house. But he could see the Station. It looked pretty quiet. There were a few zombies ambling around but nothing of note otherwise. He scouted round the back of the building and found a few more zombies. Plus one of the cruisers and a truck he didn’t recognise. So someone had made it at least. He really hoped it was his Dad. He desperately needed a hug. Or Lydia, god he was hoping she had made it across town okay. He dispatched the zombies near the door and tried the handle. Locked. And he didn’t have his spare key. He was very conscious of making a whole lot of noise though so hesitated before knocking. Hopefully there wasn’t anyone nearby to shoot him or eat him.

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Derek and Jonesy had found a spot to lay low and get some rest for the night before setting off on their journey up through the hospital. Derek had been very wary of using the elevators despite Jonesy’s protest that it would be much quicker and the electrical systems would still be working. Derek had insisted they use the stairs. They made it up onto the third floor where they found zero signs of life when they heard a lot of noise from outside. Peering out of one of the windows, Derek could see that a horde of zombies had been attracted to the chaos happening in the quarantine zone outside the hospital, and were now beginning to overrun the perimeter of hospital. It wouldn’t be long before they made it inside. Derek needed to find Louis, and quickly.
“Jonesy, we need to move quickly. Go call one of the elevators.” Jonesy was very happy to do so and hurried over to the bank of elevators while Derek continued looking out of the window, tyring to plan a new escape route. The ding of the elevator brought him out of his head and he and Jonesy bundled in. Derek punched in the number of one of the higher floors and just hoped the universe was on his side for once.

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Lydia had woken up in the Station feeling less terrible than the day before. She smelled less awful too thanks to the very cold shower she had managed that morning. Sitting around and getting to know the others, she almost passed the noise off as just her hearing things, but then there it was again a little louder. Knocking. She gasped as she stood and ran towards the back of the building, everyone turning to look in her direction having not heard the noise themselves. She came to a halt in front of the door and prayed to whatever gods were listening that it was Stiles on the other side of the door before flinging it open.
And there he was. The closest thing she had to a brother. He looked exhausted but he was in one piece and alive. He grinned like a fool when he saw who had opened the door and she dragged him inside, barely getting the door shut behind them as she wrapped him in the tightest hug she could muster.
“Lydia—can’t breathe—help—” She let go of him and scanned him up and down, looking for scratches or bites.
“Please, please tell me you’re okay and this isn’t you turning up just to die in a few hours because I will be so mad if you do Stiles”
“I’m fine Lyds really, no one’s been using me as a chew toy don’t worry. Is it just you here?”
“Well Stiles, as I live and breathe”
“Virginia! Oh am I glad to see you. Where’s Dad?” Stiles’ smile fell as Lydia moved him towards the main room they had set up camp in. He looked around at the other faces in vain. Nope. No Dad.
“We were with him Stiles. The military opened fire on a bunch of us and we got separated. We didn’t see him go down but we didn’t see anyone else make it out either. I’m sorry bud.” Stiles flopped into a nearby chair as tears rolled down his face. Well fuck, now he’s an orphan.
“Guys what’s all the racket is everything okay?” Jordan rushed into the room wrapped in a towel, hair still dripping from the shower. The group parted and Stiles came into view, stopping him short. “Stiles you made it. We—I’m so sorry you’re Dad isn’t here.” Stiles nodded but didn’t say anything. Annie coughed and Jordan remembered he was in just a towel as he made eye contact with Stiles again. He could feel himself beginning to blush. “Um, right, well, if there’s no emergency in here I will go get dressed.”
“Jesus I did not anticipate him being that ripped under there” Lydia muttered as he left. Stiles snorted and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

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Derek praised a god he firmly didn’t believe in when the doors opened out onto a floor that was teeming with activity. He then very firmly unpraised said god when he realized that the activity seemed mildly panicked, even for a hospital in the apocalypse. He looked around and grabbed the collar of a dark-haired young man rushing by. It took him a second before he realized it was Stiles’ ex-bestfriend. Scott.
“Oh. You’re here. Figures. I’m trying to find someone. You seen a blonde guy running around here? Small. Works here so probably in scrubs or whatever.” Scott huffed as he removed Derek’s hand from him and looked him up and down with a look he had seen him throw Stiles once or twice.
“Derek. Yeah I spoke to a guy who looked like that a while back. Trying to find him myself, he knows where my mum will be. He your latest conquest?” Derek sputtered as Jonesy stepped in front of him.
“Scott. Glad you made it in okay kid. Why don’t you just tell us where you last saw him. Now isn’t the time for animosity. Things are kinda going to shit out there.” Derek was briefly confused at the man’s recognition of Scott but he got Scott talking so thought little more of it as they began moving through the crowds of people in the hallways. He kept surreptitiously scenting the air and he could tell that they were close by now. Somewhere on one of the lower floors he thought he could hear gunfire. They were running out of time.

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Chapter Text

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Jordan had just about managed to pull himself together and pull on considerably more clothing than he had previously been wearing when he walked back out to where everyone was sitting. Stiles was getting to know Mason and Sophia, Lydia firmly against his side. Virginia was speaking with Annie in hushed tones in one corner; strategising, Jordan assumed. He looked around for Olive and found her absentmindedly doodling under one of the desks. He crouched down next to her to get a better look.
“Hey, Olive, what’re you up to down here?”
“Just drawing, I don’t have a picture of ma or my house to remember them so I’m trying to draw them. I think I’ve got ma’s nose…” She turned to show the piece of paper to Jordan. It was, surprisingly not bad.
“That’s really good Olive! It’ll be good to have something to remember her by. We’ll have to find you something to keep it safe in while we’re on the road okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.” Jordan scratched at his growing stubble. He could do with a shave.
“So, I think we might be setting off pretty soon now Stiles is here. You need a hand getting packed up and ready to go?”
“I can manage, I am 12 you know.”
“Alright alright, just let me or Virginia know if you need anything.” He gave her a slightly awkward pat on the shoulder before he got to his feet and made his way over to where Virginia and Annie were standing.
“—we cannot give the kid a weapon Annie are you out of your mind?”
“All I’m saying is she needs to be able to protect herself if it comes to it. We can’t leave her unprotected.”
“I’ve gotta say Virginia I think Annie might be right.”
“Jordan if you give that girl a gun—”
“Woah okay calm down, no one is giving her a gun. There are some knives, with sheathes, we can give her one of those. We all need to be protected in case we get separated. And she’s 12, I’m sure if we explain to her it stays in the sheath unless it's an emergency she’ll be able to do that.” Annie seemed pleased enough with this answer and Virginia seemed a bit less defensive. It was a compromise. Jordan just hoped it was a good decision.

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Chaos had officially broken out in Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, people were running and crying. Folks arguing with doctors and other people. Derek had taken up the front of their little band of three and was striding purposefully through the masses, shouldering people out of his way and glaring at anyone stupid enough to try and get in his way. He must have looked menacing enough because they’d had no trouble so far.
“I think maybe he went that way, Derek” Scott piped up from behind him. Derek span left as they reached the corner and they were met with a stairwell. He sniffed the air less than subtly, dispensing with his previous discretion as someone’s screaming echoed down the frenzied corridors. Up.
“We’re going up, stay close folks. Scott, don’t be an idiot.”
“Wha—when have I ever—”
“Just. Don’t.” Scott closed his mouth as he fell in line behind Derek, Jonesy taking up the rear as they made their way onto the stairwell. There were several screams from above and the sound of running. No gunfire in the direction they were headed though which calmed Derek’s nerves ever so slightly. As they made their way out onto the floor above, Derek found that the full force of the chaos hadn’t made its way this far up the building yet. It was only a matter of time though.
“Do we split up?” Derek rolled his eyes as Scott spoke. Clearly, he hadn’t paid attention when he and Stiles were still friends. Although, it was a great opportunity to get rid of him. He let out a small huff of air.
“No, we stick together. That way no one gets lost and we’re not running around trying to find each other in a panic. Let’s try the left corridor first and with any luck we don’t have to go down the other.” Scott nodded and Derek could practically feel him glaring at the back of his head as they walked further into the corridor. He tried to exude an air of calm, no sense in causing a panic up here before it naturally got here. As they walked towards the examination rooms, he could hear shouting and a woman’s voice.

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Packing up their belongings hadn’t taken all that long, their camp had been pretty measly. Jordan had advocated staying an extra night to let Stiles get some extra rest but Stiles had assured them that he would be fine so long as he didn’t have to drive and could sleep in the car. That having been settled, they decided they would head out as soon as everything was packed. The weather was dry, if a little windy, and so they all bundled into their respective vehicles ready to set sail. Or, ready to drive for a bit and then set sail. Hopefully. With the cruiser having less room for supplies, most of their stuff had gone into the truck with Sophia and Annie, who were joined by Mason. Jordan was driving the cruiser, with Stiles napping shotgun; Lydia and Virginia in the back with Olive sandwiched between them.
Before they left, Jordan had presented Olive with a small hunting knife in a little sheath. Everyone knew that she had it and he had told her in his least military-sounding serious voice that it was a big responsibility and he needed her to listen and only take it out if it was absolutely necessary. She nodded at him and pinky swore she would. He took that as her taking him pretty seriously and hoped it stuck. His inexperience with kids was not helpful at all and Virginia seemed to be more in the mind of coddling her. No one else in the group had much in the way of experience with children so it was really going to take a village to keep her safe.
The ride was calm enough, once they managed to get out of Beacon Hills proper. Stiles had quickly settled down into a nap and Jordan couldn’t help the small smile on his face at the gentle murmurs coming from beside him. He glanced up into the rearview mirror to find Lydia staring at him knowingly. He coughed and focused back on the road.
“So um, anyone know what this motel is actually like?”
“I’ve only ever seen it driving in and out of town, to be honest. In all honesty, I thought it was abandoned.” Lydia was stroking Olive’s hair as she spoke, who looked like she was begrudgingly enjoying the comfort.
“Well, it isn’t quite abandoned. I know the owners, or owner now I suppose. Jeremiah Finch. He ran that place with his wife for goin’ on 50 years until she passed away. It's fallen into disrepair since then but as far as I know, he’s still there. I’m sure he’ll recognise me, we were lovers once” Lydia scoffed at this. “It’s true! After my husband died, Jeremiah showed me a great deal of affection. We had one hell of an affair. And then I gave his wife one hell of a whoopin’ when she got tired of pretending she didn’t know.”
“I did not take you for that sort of a woman Virginia.” Jordan was blushing profusely in the front seat and Olive was cringing deeply. Lydia seemed vaguely amused by the situation.
“You mind your tone Jordan, it wasn’t anything seedy thank you very much. Just two folks who weren’t supposed to fall in love. But we did. I’ve lived a much longer life than anyone in this group. I don’t regret many of my decisions.” Jordan hummed as they passed a mile marker with a faded sign for the motel on. They’d get there before the sunset so that was good at least. He didn’t fancy exploring a dusty old motel in the dark.

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Derek shoved the door open, knocking one person to the side in the process. Louis was standing behind a woman who was currently shouting at a man in military uniform, with a couple of others stood in the room. Between Derek and Louis stood a bed with a very injured-looking soldier lying on it. There was a lot of blood and a lot of missing flesh and bit wounds. Not good. He heard Scott’s intake of breath and figured the woman must be his mother. Hm. The soldiers stopped shouting at the woman to look at the door where Derek was.
“Sorry to intrude, but we need those two.” He pointed at Louis and the woman. Louis recognized him immediately and made to move but the gun suddenly pointed at his head and stopped him in his tracks. Scott’s mum moved an arm in front of him protectively and she took a step towards the man in front of her.
“I am telling you now, there is no way I can treat injuries that extensive, and by now whatever infection is causing all of this is well into his system. He has enough painkillers in him that he isn’t feeling anything let alone pain. Now please, you need to let me and my colleague leave. There is nothing more we can do.”
“I told you, you ain’t leaving until you’ve fixed him!” The man with the gun was hoarse from shouting and Derek was growing impatient. He motioned for Louis to stay where he was as Jonesy pushed forward into the room.
“Sergeant, I think you should listen to the nurse. People who get bitten aren’t waking back up themselves and he’s pretty far gone already. I think it's time we fall back and maybe try to get these people out of here. All hell is breaking loose downstairs. As if on cue someone screamed down the hallway and Derek glanced to the side to see people starting to run from where they had previously been sat. Time to go.
“Louis get down!”
Several things happened as Derek shouted. The man on the bed who Derek had already smelled was firmly dead, decided to be significantly less dead and launched forward off the bed and into his fellow men. Derek unleashed his claws and tore into the man holding the gun, disarming him quite literally. Scott’s Mum and Louis clambered over the bed towards the doorway where Scott was standing doing a fantastic impression of a lemon. Derek grabbed hold of Jonesy to pull him towards the door just as the recently un-deceased man bit into his shoulder. Jonesy screamed in agony as he fell to his knees and Derek looked on in shock as the man was slowly ripped open by the other military folks who had risen a lot quicker than the first. Louis grabbed his arm from behind and dragged him towards the door.
“Holy shit, holy shit. Derek, Derek we gotta go c’mon.” Derek came to his senses and slammed the door behind them. Scott was hugging into his mum who locked eyes with Derek.
“Derek, great to meet you. We need an exit that isn’t the front door.”
“Melissa, likewise. Follow me. We can stop and get my car keys on the way unless you came with a vehicle?”
“I did not no, lead the way.” They moved with haste as the noise of people being massacred behind them grew. Sounded like they had just got there in time as Melissa led them to a service staircase.
“We don’t use these anymore what with all the lifts so it should be pretty quiet. Louis, are you okay?”
“Yeah I’m good, or I will be once we get out of here.”
“Okay, good. You have your security pass right?”
“Yeah, it’s in my pocket. Why?”
“Here, swap with me. I just need to grab my stuff from the breakroom. You go and get as many medications as you can carry from the supply cupboards. Whatever you think we’ll need.” They shared a brief pause as they swapped keycards, and then the hurried pace returned. Derek was keeping up just fine but he could hear Scott’s breathing becoming laboured. “Scott sweetie, inhaler.”
“I don’t have one with me Mum. Left it at work.”
“Shit. Okay, you go with Louis, you’ll get one there. Grab spares. Derek honey, you’re with me, this way.” She was truly a woman on a mission and barely stopped long enough for Derek to squeeze Louis’ shoulder in a silent goodbye as they split off down a different corridor. “Meet at the third-floor bunk room Louis!” she threw over her shoulder as they disappeared out of view.

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Eyes peeling open slowly, he looked around. It was nighttime and though he couldn’t make out much, he did know that the fire had died down significantly because all he could make out was that there was nobody around. A light breeze drifted by him and he turned his head to the left, and then the right. He had a god-awful crick in his neck and a stabbing pain in his shoulder. That being said he also had an almighty stomach ache. He tried to move from where he had woken up and found himself stuck. Feeling around he found the piece of rebar sticking through his shoulder. He felt further down to his stomach, or where his stomach should have been. Instead, he could see the contents of his middle splattered about the floor in front of him, mostly dried and attracting flies. The memories of how he had ended up there flashed before him and he wondered why it was that he had still woken up, mostly unphased by the injuries that should have killed him. At the very least he should be in an unimaginable amount of pain, and yet as he pulled his shoulder forward he found himself sliding off of the rebar with little more than a slight hiss as it dragged back through him. He stumbled forward and then listed to one side, catching himself on another piece of rubble nearby. Oh right, his leg was still broken. He looked around for Scott but realized with slight sadness and a lot of anger that he had left him there to die. Thrown him to the wolves… undead? He looked at the spot where he had been and decided to not question why he had woken up or what it all might mean and rather focus on what he was going to do with this apparent second life.
Alan Deaton was a man of many talents, talents which he had honed and practised over quite a few decades. Talents he was proud of but quite reasonably didn’t show off to every Tom, Dick or Harry. He felt for the spark inside him, the source of his innate ability for what most called ‘magic’, and used it to begin repairing his leg, healing the puncture in his shoulder, and literally reeling back in his intestines from where they trailed on the ground. Alan Deaton was also not a man to be fucked with. Scott’s last words to Deaton had been that he didn’t want to die, and as Deaton’s body became whole again and he began to move more steadily through the literal rubble of his life of the past 30 years, he made a silent promise to himself that he would make sure he did. Scott McCall would regret the day he murdered Alan Deaton, and he would most certainly die. Now time to find the bastard.
Scott had a tendency to leave his things at work, and sometimes he would leave a change of clothes there for when he was on shift. Cats have a tendency to defecate when they’re stressed so it made a lot of sense. His locker was also decidedly easy to find, Deaton noticed, it was one of the few things still standing and in decent shape as he picked through the contents of the ruined shops. He also found a few of his own things and so changed out of the tattered clothing he had been wearing and into something a little less exposing. Now he was no werewolf, so tracking wasn’t his best skill, but with a little time and effort Deaton had no doubt he would be able to track down the little shit who tried to murder him and dish out the comeuppance he was deserving of. So with one of Scott’s t-shirts in hand, he stalked off into the night – headed in the direction of the Hospital.

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They had made it. Just as the sun was setting they rolled into the car park of the old motel and it certainly did look abandoned. Jordan shook Stiles’ shoulder gently to wake him but he still startled awake, looking around in a panic at the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay. Its Jordan. We’re at the motel.” Stiles took a deep breath and seemed to refocus on the world in front of him a bit more before unfastening his seatbelt. He slid out of the car with a light blush on his cheeks and it wasn’t long until they all stood in front of the entrance, Olive clustered between them all. They all looked a bit dishevelled and they were all definitely tired as Virginia led them all into the small lobby. All of the lights were out and in the dying light of the sun, shadows were thrown in odd shapes across the floor and walls.
“Very Bates Motel,” Stiles mumbled as they all filtered in. In the distance a door slammed, making Olive jump and grab hold of the nearest hand, which happened to be Stiles’. He looked down and squeezed hers in return.
“Bates Motel?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen Psycho? Alfred Hitchcock? Jordan shook his head smiling and Stiles huffed and gave him an exasperated look.
“And now the world is ending and I can’t even make you watch all the best movies. Just my luck.”
“Think yourself lucky, it’s a very long list.” Lydia patted Jordan on the shoulder as they made their way further into the Motel. The layer of dust on the Reception counter top told them that it had certainly been a while since anybody had been there, and Stiles was stupidly tempted to ding the little bell sat on top of it but reminded himself that they were in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Being quiet was pretty key to not dying.
Virginia had made her way behind the counter and was fiddling with the staff door, they needed to get in there to try and get some room keys so they all had somewhere to sleep. Annie and Sophia were assessing the best way to get the vending machine open to add some extra bits and pieces to their food supplies. Lydia and Mason had set to work dismantling furniture with Mason’s axe, Olive helping them sort the remnants into piles for boarding windows, and piles for use as firewood. Stiles had spent some time judging the various bits of artwork on the walls and had proceeded to stand in front of the large bookcase in the corner of the room. The selection was… dire.
“See anything you fancy?” Jordan said as he sidled up beside him.
“Well there’s three copies of the New Testament next to Fifty Shades so I’m really feeling what it was like to be in Alexandria in its heyday”
“This is the height of culture Stiles. Fifty Shades sounds interesting though what’s—” Stiles smacked Jordan’s hand as he reached to pick the book off of the shelf.
“I would not recommend. At all.”
“That bad?”
“I’ve had so many bad experiences because of it.” Jesus Stiles, TMI much?
“I.. have no clue what you mean by that but I shall take your word for it. Oh hey, the Northern Lights, always a good one.”
“You’ve read Phillip Pullman?”
“Yeah, we only had the first one on base though and I never got around to reading the others, shame there’s still only the first one here.”
“Hmm, Motel book collections are never very good. I still can’t believe you haven’t seen Psycho. What about Nightmare on Elm Street? Night of the Living Dead?”
“Nope. Sorry Stiles, horror films were never really my thing.”
“You know, you can really go off a person” He looked at Jordan with a sly smile. Jordan grinned back at him, a slight blush colouring his neck.
“Bingo!” Followed by a loud crack, was heard by everyone in the lobby as Virginia got the door to the back room open. Lydia was the first to join her.
“How’d you manage that then?”
“You underestimate me, Lydia. Plus, there was a crowbar under the counter. I guess Jeremiah didn’t feel too safe out here on his own.” She shrugged, and the crowbar lay on the floor behind her. Stiles figured it would make a decent weapon. Pretty bat-adjacent. Virginia and Lydia started handing out room keys from the back. They tried to all keep together but ended up with one room a little farther from the rest, on the other side of the dried-up swimming pool.
There was very little argument on rooms, Annie and Sophia would bunk together, with Mason joining them as he didn’t want to leave Annie’s side for too long; Virginia was going to look after Olive for the night and Lydia volunteered to help, giving Stiles a knowing look that he returned with a glare. That left him and Jordan. God, he hoped there was more than one bed.

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Melissa set a punishing pace as they made their way through the halls towards the break room. She navigated the maze of hallways like a pro and Derek was sure if he had to make his way back on his own he would be lost after two turns. Now and then she would stop and listen at a corner and then turn them a different way to avoid the screams they could hear on the floor. The fact that they had become less frequent was not lost on Derek and he wondered whether that was a good thing or not. Probably not.
“Right, here we are” Melissa swiped her keycard by the door and it beeped to let them know it had unlocked and she hurried Derek inside before pushing a chair in front of the door. “It won’t hold much back but at least it’ll give us warning and a little time to brace ourselves for whatever might be coming through.” Derek hummed his agreement as she began grabbing her things, along with several pieces from what looked like a communal fridge.
“Is there um, anything you need me to grab while we’re in here?”
“Actually yes, those two lockers there had Maria and Agnes’ things in. They were down in the quarantine zone today. I think we can probably assume they aren’t coming back to collect their things.” She swallowed as she finished speaking and Derek set to work going through the lockers. He felt a bit weird going through their personal effects but found a few packets of Tylenol that would probably come in handy. Nothing else useful, just pictures of family and phones they probably wouldn’t be able to charge again. He pocketed the painkillers.
“Derek, I know we haven’t seen too much of each other since, well, Scott and Stiles’ falling out. But I hope you know that I’ve got your back here.”
“That’s good to know Melissa. It doesn’t make up for what Scott did and what Stiles went through but I appreciate it. I’ve got your back too. I’m sure we’ll get through this.”
“Do you know where Stiles will have ended up in all of this? That boy always had a plan for everything.”
“I saw him actually, before heading here. We were holed up in some old shop but he was heading to the Sheriff’s Station. The plan was for everyone to meet there and then move out if there was any kind of large-scale disaster.”
“Smart kid. Probably the most well-armed place in town. Most likely place that John would’ve gone to as well.”
“Yeah.”
“Well. Once we’ve got the car, we can try the Station. Maybe they’re still there and waiting for survivors?”
“Maybe, I don’t think Stiles was waiting around for me even before all of this went down though.”
“Well, it can’t hurt to try, hon. C’mon, let’s get moving and find the boys.” She slung her handbag over one shoulder and cracked the door open, looking for any sign of movement in the corridor before she moved out.

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Mason was setting himself up on the fold-out bed in the family room they had snagged. Annie and Sophia were just bidding Virginia and Olive goodnight from the doorway whilst he fluffed the stiff motel pillows as best he could. At least they weren’t sleeping rough, and at least the pillows weren’t too dusty. The door clicked shut and he turned to the others as they began settling in for the night.
“So we should talk about strategy right?” Annie eyed him oddly as she laid her pistol down on the bedside table.
“How do you mean?”
“Annie, you remember Uncle Al said he was taking a fishing trip right?” Her face fell as she sat on the bed, the timings dawning on her.
“Fuck is that now?”
“Yeah, when we saw him last week he said next week which is this week Annie. What if he’s still out on the river when we get there? What do we do if there’s no boat?” He was trying to be very quiet but also didn’t want to understate the level of fucked they were if the boat wasn’t there.
“Shit. Yeah, um, I’m not sure.”
“Well if your uncle Al’s boat isn’t there I’m sure we can find another boat to get us where we’re going. It’s not the end of the world. Or, well, I suppose it is but you know what I mean.”
“Soph, I don’t think any of the other boats on the Marina could hold that many people for that long. It’s quite the journey down the river.”
“Oh, well then here’s hoping your uncle only went out for a day or two.” The atmosphere in the room had gotten a lot heavier. The three of them bedded down for the night. They’d need all the rest they could get for the journey ahead of them. Mason prayed that the boat was there until he eventually fell asleep.

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Louis was moving as fast as he could with a wheezing Scott beside him. And then behind him. And then a few steps behind him. He was getting slower and slower as they made their way through the corridors towards the room where they would find what he needed. They had passed a few panicked people on the way, running or trying to find somewhere to hide, but luckily no zombies. Scott stumbled to a stop, supporting himself on a nearby wall. Louis came to a halt and backed up to where he was.
“Hey. Why don’t you stay here and I’ll go on ahead. There doesn’t seem to be much activity here and worst case scenario you can hole up in one of the exam rooms till I get back.” Scott nodded weakly and Louis pressed on. As he was nearing the supple rooms he bumped into one of the older nurses he vaguely recalled was named Beatrice. She smiled at him as they neared each other.
“Louis, hey, are you okay? Where are you headed?”
“Oh hey, Beatrice right? I’m just heading to the supply room to grab some stuff. I’ve got a friend with asthma who’s having an attack and we need spare inhalers. And then we’re getting out of here. Are you with people?”
“No, I’ve just been trying to help people where I can. Want me to go make sure your friend is okay?”
“That would be great, thank you, Beatrice. And hey, you can always tag along with us if you want.” She patted his shoulder and gave him a small smile as he pointed her in the direction of Scott. Right. Medication. Antibiotics and painkillers were probably going to be most necessary. And then inhalers.
He was surprised when he let himself into the supply room at how well-stocked it was. It looked as though no one had raided the cabinets, and in the quiet away from the chaos he knew was ravaging his small town, it almost felt as though nothing had changed. It could be any normal day. He grabbed an empty box by the door that must’ve been from a delivery and started filling it with every painkiller and antibiotic he could find. He threw in as many inhalers as would fit and closed the top of the box. He popped one of the inhalers into his pocket to give to Scott for the way back and was halfway out the door when he heard a scream from the corridor where he had left Scott.

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Scott had been standing where Louis had left him when an older woman approached him and started talking to him quietly. She seemed sweet enough and she was rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back which was helping to keep him calm. His breathing was getting worse and he just hoped that Louis would be back soon with his inhaler so he could get back to his mum. She was still murmuring to him when the first zombie came round the corner, followed by another, and then another. She moved him back towards one of the exam rooms and tried to keep him from panicking. But all Scott could think was that they weren’t moving fast enough. They weren’t going to make it in time. The zombies were close enough now that he could smell them and she wasn’t moving him fast enough. He let out a panicked wheeze and elbowed the older woman to one side, moving past her to heave himself towards the door. He tried the handle and the room opened. He didn’t turn back as he heard the woman scream as the zombies reached her, instead shutting the door and resting his back against it. He wasn’t going to die. He had to live.

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When Louis came upon the scene he nearly vomited. Beatrice lay on the floor, one hand still spasming as several zombies feasted on her. He set the box in his hands down on the floor and reached for a stray crutch that someone had dropped nearby. Wielding it like a bat, he knocked the zombies back, stabbing the foot of the crutch into the eye socket of each one in turn. The noise made him gag, but he kept going until none of them moved. He looked down at the mess that used to be Beatrice. There was no helping her so he returned to pick up the box. An exam room door opened nearby, and Scott crawled out gasping for air. Louis knelt to give him the inhaler.
“Scott, Scott what happened? Christ, are you okay?” After a few puffs of the inhaler and a moment to catch his breath, Scott replied shakily.
“I—I didn’t want to die.” Louis wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but noticed on a second look at Beatrice’s corpse the gash on her head and the blood marking the nearby windowsill that looked remarkably like they weren’t zombie-related.
“Right. Well, let’s get moving. We need to get back to Derek and your Mum.” He stood up, pulling Scott with him as they made their way back in the direction they came. Louis took one look back over his shoulder at the scene behind them and started to wonder just how little he knew about Scott McCall.

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Lo and behold, there was one bed. Stiles cursed the universe as he walked into the room. He turned to Jordan who was turning a little red at the realization. He began stuttering through a sentence about how he would sleep on the floor before Stiles cut him off.
“Jordan, it’s fine. We can share the bed. There’s enough room for both of us.”
“A—are you sure? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Jordan, the world is ending, I think uncomfortable is just part of our every day now.” Jordan hummed and nodded slightly as he placed his bag down on the bedside table. Stiles’ mouth opened again before he had time to fully form his next thought “Plus, I can think of far worse people to share a bed with.” They locked eyes and Jordan turned bright red. Fuck. Stiles turned around to grab his stuff from his bag to go get changed in the tiny en-suite bathroom.
“I, um, I also don’t think you’d be—or um, I’d like to—um, never mind.” Stiles hurried into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He could hear Jordan muttering to himself and shuffling around the room. He got changed as quickly as he could, hopefully, they could just go to bed and it wouldn’t be deeply awkward. He unlocked the door and stepped back into the room to Jordan mid-way through getting changed. He froze, staring at the wide expanse of Jordan’s back and the way his muscles moved as he pulled a tank top on. He had changed into a pair of loose track pants and Stiles realised he was catching flies when Jordan turned round and saw him.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you come back in I figured I’d just—”
“No no, you’re okay no problems here nope.” It was Stiles’ turn to blush as He made his way round to his side of the bed. He could feel Jordan’s eyes on him as he did so and was very conscious of how much he did not look cool or sexy in the faded too-big hoodie he had grabbed from the lost and found before they left the Station.
“Well, hey, I’m pretty beat so I’m gonna get some shut-eye if you don’t mind me switching off the torches?”
“Not at all, I should probably also sleep. It’s been a long few days.”
“That it has.” They both slid into their respective sides of the bed and the warmth of Jordan lying on the other side of the bed was a slight comfort as he tried to relax into sleep. “Goodnight Stiles.”
“Night Jordan. Sleep well.”

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Chapter Text

5 days after leaving his house to avoid being murdered by his best friend’s former employee, Stiles awoke to the gentle spring sunshine filtering in through the blinds of the motel bedroom he was in. It was the best sleep he’d managed since everything had to shit. Even better than his night spent back sleeping in the same room as Derek. He curled up under the duvet and closed his eyes against the sunlight, maybe if he just ignored the world long enough it would go back to normal. Eyes shut, he rolled over in the bed and let out a small squeak when he bumped into something warm. He opened his to find Jordan blinking sleepily at him. Oh right. He’d completely forgotten about the other man in the bed with him and scooted himself back to his side of the bed. Jordan smiled at him and stretched before letting out a yawn.
“Sleep well then?”
“Honestly, better than I have in a while. Always do sleep better when there’s someone else in the bed with me.” Stiles felt whatever he was going to say catch in his throat. His eyes may or may not have taken a roaming path over Jordan’s shoulders and arms as he sat up in the bed. The way they flexed and moved may or may not have stirred something in Stiles. So sue him it’d been a while. He coughed when Jordan looked back down at him and rolled himself, in the most graceful fashion ever, out of the bed. The notion that he could write poetry about how the colour of Jordan’s eyes looked in the sunlight were pushed firmly to the back of his mind as he busied himself with getting ready for whatever the day was going to bring. From the looks of outside, it was still decently early. More importantly he couldn’t see any zombies so it looked like they had picked a pretty safe place to bed down for the night. A banging downstairs broke the peaceful morning though and he slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door.
“Hey, hold up. It’ll be safer if we go together.” Jordan placed a hand on his shoulder and he steeled himself from turning around. He was not about to have a hapless love story in the middle of an apocalypse. Even if his crush on Jordan was gaining traction in his brain. He stood restlessly by the door while Jordan changed in the bathroom (Was Stiles disappointed by this? The best waterboarders couldn’t get that information out of him) and by the time Jordan was ready to go Stiles’ fingers were tapping at the straps of his rucksack incessantly. He threw Stiles a small smile as they opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.

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Lydia had slept surprisingly well. So much so that she had woken up early and headed down to try and put together something of substance for them to make a breakfast with. Thank god for Sophia’s grocery shopping. The kitchen in the Motel seemed to work, just about, and so she had set to work prepping an early morning feast for everyone. She was mid-way through buttering some toast when the banging started. She jumped so hard she dropped the knife she was holding, butter splattering across the floor. She listened by the kitchen door briefly before poking her head out into the adjoining dining room. There didn’t seem to anything of immediate danger but she knew better than to let her guard down. She grabbed one of the knives from the kitchen, figuring it would probably be a better idea than the cleaver she had been using. And stupidly left in the bedroom. She crept out into the dining room and listened for the banging again. It had been pretty loud so it must have been something close by. And here she thought they were going to have a peaceful breakfast.
Mason came barreling into the room, closely followed by Annie and Sophia. They all had various weapons drawn and were ready to fight something until they saw Lydia in the middle of the room.
“Lydia. Everything okay?”
“Honestly I’m not sure. I’m guessing you all heard the banging too? I was just making some breakfast for us all.” Annie crossed the room towards one of the windows. Heavy blue curtains hung in front of them all, so the room was cut up by stripes of sunlight peeking through the gaps. She pushed one of the curtains to the side and peered out.
“I see movement, there’s definitely someone out there. Doesn’t look like a zombie though.”
“Are you sure, love?”
“Positive, that’s definitely a person.”
“Well that’s good, right? More survivors can’t be a bad thing.” Lydia looked at Sophia appraisingly. Clearly she hadn’t seen like, literally any survival movie ever. They needed to warn the others, whoever it was outside could be a threat to all of them. Annie was still by the curtain watching for more movement.
“It looks like whoever it is, they’re on their own. So the potential threat is low. Unless they’re the decoy to draw us out. There could be more waiting in the treeline.” Mason shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
“Well, why don’t me and Sophia go and wake the others and then we’re better prepared. You and Lydia stay here and keep watch. If they try anything raise the alarm and we can make a break for the cars.” Lydia looked over at Annie as they left the room.
“Guess we’re the frontline then.”
“Seems like it. I’m not worried. Honestly this woman looks a little worse for wear and it looks like she’s almost out of arrows.”
“Arrows?”

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They had reconvened at the break room as Melissa had instructed without further incident. The look on Louis’ face told Derek something had happened but when they made eye contact he knew not to bring it up then. Whatever had happened seemed to have put Louis on-guard and so Derek kept a quiet but watchful eye on things as they made their way back into the dim hallways of the hospital. Derek had no idea what the time was but was well aware of how tired everyone looked, and that there was early morning sun filtering through the windows they did pass. They had made it through the night, but all of them could do with some rest.
Making it to the car was uneventful, and he felt Louis slump against his shoulder as they stood waiting for Melissa to fish her keys out of her bag. Derek could feel the heaviness in his own eyes making his vigilance harder to keep up. Once the car was unlocked they all clambered inside. Melissa in the driving seat, Scott riding shotgun, and Louis and Derek piled in the back with the box of medicines they had salvaged. Derek wanted to ask Louis what had happened while they had been separated but figured it would be best to wait until they could find a quiet moment somewhere a little safer. Scott had fallen asleep first, and it didn’t take melissa long to join. That left Derek and Louis sat in the back seat. The underground car park was still shrouded in darkness, very little of the daylight making its way to them. There, in the dim green of the emergency lighting, Louis’ head fell to rest against Derek’s arm as he also fell asleep. He tried to stay awake to keep watch for as long as he could but eventually drifted off himself, hoping that nothing would find them and cause them any bother until they were all ready to get moving again.

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Stiles and Jordan had made it halfway down the corridor when Mason and Sophia appeared at the other end. Clearly they had come to find the others. It didn’t take them long to rouse Virginia and Olive. As they made their way back downstairs towards the dining room, the banging began again. This time accompanied by shouting. They couldn’t make out what the person was saying through the walls but they were being very loud which probably wasn’t a good thing for anyone. Lydia and Annie were coming back through to the Reception as they all entered the space.
“Now just what exactly is going on?” Virginia said loudly, trying to take stock of the situation.
“There’s somebody outside who seems to want to get in, and now she’s yelling.”
“Well she needs to be quiet, stupid girl will get us all killed at this rate. What’s the plan, Jordan?” Everyone turned to Jordan expectantly. He was still trying get a full grasp on the information that had been given to them. They had no idea who this woman was, nor did they have any way of surveying outside to see if she was alone or with a group. If she had already attracted zombies it might be too late in which case they would need to run for the cars and make an escape. The pressure of everyone staring at him and expecting him to make the decision made him feel a little queasy and he tried to regulate his breathing.
“Let her in,” Everyone’s gaze shifted to Stiles at his interjection. “What? There’s only one of her, and she won’t try anything with this many of us. Even if she’s with a group they won’t want to risk her life. But I highly doubt it. If they wanted what little we have they could’ve just broken into the cars in the night. I think she’s just someone who needs help, so…” He strode over to the front door and started moving the furniture barricade out of the way. Jordan was quick to join him with Lydia not far behind. Soon enough they were hauling open the door and Stiles was walking out into the sunshine followed by Jordan. Lydia stood in the doorway holding the door open.
“Hey, miss! Do you need help?” Jordan shouted to the woman who was a little ways down the front wall trying to peer into the windows. She turned in their direction and Stiles took off running. Jordan felt Lydia barrel past him towards the woman screaming. It didn’t take long until the three of them were laid on the floor laughing and, as Jordan walked up to them, crying. “Um, are you all okay?” Lydia scrubbed tears from her cheeks and looked up at him.
“This is our good friend Allison. She’s good to come inside.”
“Right then, Let’s get you all up off the floor then and get everyone fed. Lydia I smelled bacon when we came down?” She was dusting herself off as she got herself up and offered her hand to Allison.
“You certainly did, come on Alli let’s get you something to eat.” They set off walking towards where a couple of the other’s had made their way out of the door to see what was going on. Jordan offered Stiles his hand, which he took, smiling. Jordan pulled to help him up, but overshot the effort which resulted in Stiles stumbling into him. Jordan wrapped one arm round Stiles to stop them both from toppling over.
“Sorry about that, don’t know my own strength.” He chuckled as he pulled his arm from round Stiles.
“Clearly.” Stiles looked him up and down in a way that made his body tingle before they set off back towards the Motel, and breakfast.

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Derek was pleasantly surprised when he cracked one eye open hours later, to find that they were all still alive in the car, and that nothing had bothered them. He was even more surprised to find that for the first time in a long time he hadn’t been plagued by nightmares as he slept. Even with Stiles, holed up in the little shop, he hadn’t been able to sleep and had instead focused on keeping watch. He blinked open his other eye and looked down to find Louis curled up on the seat with his head resting in Derek’s lap. Derek could feel heat rising in his face, so he gave the smaller man a gentle prod in his side. Louis rolled over where he was laid and slowly opened his eyes, looking straight up at Derek. The panic in his face was almost comical and Derek watched him go bright red as he shot upright coughing.
“Shit, sorry, um, sorry”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it honestly.” Derek was trying to hide his own blushing, and thanked the heavens that Louis had decided to look out of the window as he adjusted the awkward stirring in his jeans. Praise be to the morning glory.
Melissa awoke at the noise they had made and looked around the car, making sure everything was okay and they were still safe. It had to have been about mid-day. It wasn’t a full nights sleep but it was better than nothing. They briefly discussed a plan of action. Derek still wanted to get back to Stiles so he suggested the Sheriff’s Station. Erica was about all the family Louis had, the rest having abandoned them a long time ago. Scott and Melissa similarly had no other family in Beacon Hills, though Melissa and John had been quite close back when Scott and Stiles were friends. So they decided to head to the Station, figuring there was safety in numbers even if there might be some tension there between Scott and Stiles.
Melissa shook Scott awake and gave him a brief outline of the plan before putting the keys into the ignition. He suggested he drive since she had been working the whole day before and should probably get some extra rest. She thanked him as they switched seats, and then they were ready. Time for them to head out into Beacon Hills and see what had become of their quiet town overnight, as the Hospital and military were overrun, and the dead took over.

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Chapter Text

Virginia had taken charge of getting Allison settled, checking her over for injuries and, most importantly Virginia added, bites. Lydia had protested at this but with Virginia’s insistence that it was for the safety of the group and Allison's reassurance that it was fine. Lydia slunk off to cook everyone breakfast.
“So, you’re good friends with Stiles?”
“You could say that yeah. We got to be friends when I started dating Scott. We grew a little distance when they fell out but we’ve gotten closer again just recently.”
“Ah well, it’s always good to have people you’re close to in times like these.” Virginia had finished checking her over and bandaged up the few large cuts she had with what little first aid they had. “Well, those bandages should help keep things cleaner. I’ll show you to one of the rooms so you can rest a while if you need”
“Thank you Virginia, I really appreciate this. I’m just glad I found you guys when I did, don’t think I could’ve managed another night out there on my own.”
“Well, you’re with friends now dear, much safer here than out there. Though we’ll be setting off again soon for the Marina. Couple of the folks downstairs have a boat and we’re hoping to get to Sacramento.”
“Why, what’s in Sacramento? I would’ve thought big cities would be too risky?”
“A way out. Ther’re planes taking folks to a safezone. It’s our best shot out of this mess.”

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Making their way out of the car park, Derek would have confidently described the scene as apocalyptic. There were bodies everywhere and from what he could see the military unit that was meant to protect the hospital was either dead or undead. Scott turned the vehicle in the direction of the Station. He hadn’t said much in regards to the plan but he had agreed to it so Derek just hoped that everything would be fine. Louis had been silent in the back of the car since they had set off and Derek hoped it wasn’t because of their awkward position waking up. Though he couldn’t shake the feeling it was because Scott was driving.
They took another turn onto a busier street where there was quite a collection of zombies gathered, trying to get at a survivor stranded on top of a car. He was shouting and trying to wave them down as they got closer. Derek unbuckled his seatbelt and prepared to get out of the car, they could definitely save the man without too much risk to their own lives if they moved fast enough. But Scott plowed on through a couple of the zombies and onwards toward their destination. Derek turned to watch the man fade into the distance through the rear window.
“Scott we could have saved that guy.”
“No, too risky.”
“Scott there was only a handful of zombies and we’ve all handled ourselves pretty well this far why don’t we tu—”
“I said it was too risky, Derek. What, do you expect me to risk my mum’s life for some random stranger?”
“She would have been fine Scott!”
“You don’t know that Derek!”
“Well wake her up and let’s ask her, huh? I’m sure your mum, the nurse, would have definitely left a man for dead.” Melissa did open her eyes at this, blearily looking around.
“I am driving this car Derek! I am in charge here. And I am not dying for some idiot who got himself stuck on top of a car.” Scott put his foot down, speeding up and barreling through another stray zombie in the road. Derek sat back in his seat as Melissa rubbed Scott’s arm and tried to calm him down. Looking over at Louis confirmed Derek’s suspicion that something had happened the night before in the hospital. They needed to get out of the car as soon as possible.

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Lydia had put together a pretty fantastic breakfast for them all. Evidently running a coffee shop was great for improving one’s cooking skills. Stiles still remembered the first time Lydia tried to cook for him when they were still in high school, and the several days he spent on the toilet immediately afterwards. Everyone had dispersed pretty quickly after thanking Lydia for the food. They needed to get packed up again to hit the road. They wanted to try and get to the Marina before dark and ideally find the boat so they had somewhere relatively safe to bed down. Stiles had volunteered to help Lydia clean up, he was regretting it.
“So, Jordan seems nice.”
“Yeah he’s pretty cool.”
“Indeed, and he seems pretty good at being in charge.”
“Yeah I suppose he’s got good leadership skills. Probably from the army or something”
“Mhmmm, the army. I do enjoy a man in uniform”
“You and me both, Lyds” Stiles had started absent-mindedly wiping down the tables, getting a little lost in thought. He didn’t notice Lydia walk right up behind him.
“A-ha so you do fancy him!” He nearly jumped over the table in question and stepped around Lydia to head back into the kitchen.
“Jesus Lydia, no, I don’t fancy him”
“Stiles you can’t lie to me remember, we have the best friend bond” She followed him through into the kitchen carrying a pile of plates and bowls. She set to work wiping off as much of the leftovers as possible. Sure the world was ending, but that didn’t mean they had to stop being tidy people.
“Yeah, whatever”
“And you do like a man in uniform. If I recall all your crushes before Derek were guys in uniform.”
“That’s not true”
“Come to think of it, is there a male deputy that’s worked for your Dad that you haven’t had a crush on?”
“Lydia!” He launched a cloth at her head which got a yelp out of her before she started laughing and launched it right back.
“It’s true! Do you remember Deputy Barron?”
“Lydia I was 15”
“Yeah, and you were like head over heels for that guy you were obsessed.”
“Oh shut up, that was just a dumb puberty crush”
“Mhmmm, Jordan is a big boy crush”
“I don’t have a crush on him”
“Stiles, it’s fine if you do. I get it, he’s all tough and mysterious. You like that in a guy.”
“I mean, yeah I guess. I’m not falling for someone in the bloody apocalypse Lydia I don’t think that’s conducive to survival.”
“But Stiles have you seen the size of his arms” She draped herself dramatically across one of the sideboards and Stiles couldn’t help but burst out laughing
“God, you’re so dramatic.”
“But seriously though”
“They’re absolutely massive Lydia its insane”
“Honestly, if you don’t go for it I might just get a feel of those biceps”
“Lydia you pervert!” This earned him a sponge to the forehead as he turned to face her.
“I’m not a pervert Stiles, I’m a woman with needs.”
“Yeah, yeah”
“And I needs to feel them biceps” She started cackling at herself and Stiles set off laughing again until they were both sat on the floor with tears in their eyes. Allison walked in to find them both in this position.
“Do I want to know?”
“Stiles has a crush”
“I do not”
“Stiles!”
“Fine okay yeah I do”
“Ooooh tell me everything!” Allison joined them sitting on the floor for a recap of all the details.

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They had made it the rest of the way to the Sheriff’s Station in a dead silence. As soon as they pulled up Derek got out of the car. He checked the perimeter and was shortly joined by Louis as they walked around to the back of the building to try and get in. It looked pretty abandoned.
“So, we should talk” Derek muttered as they moved towards the back door.
“Look I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to—”
“About Scott.”
“Oh.” Derek looked at Louis briefly to find him blushing furiously. He turned around and tried the back door. The fact that it was unlocked was more than a little concerning. Melissa joined them at that moment, closely followed by Scott.
“We ready?” They all nodded before making their way inside.
It definitely looked as though someone had been there. The inside of the windows were all boarded up, and there was the remains of a camp of sorts set up in the main room. It looked as though everyone had left though given the distinct lack of supplies in the building. Scott very quickly returned to the car, deeming the trip a waste. Melissa stuck around a little longer but left after she noticed Derek moving towards the Sheriff’s office.
“Just, let me know what you find in there okay?” Derek nodded to her as she turned to leave, ignoring the tears gathering in her eyes. He stepped through the door into the room. Empty. Stiles definitely wasn’t here and it didn’t look like anybody else was. As he moved around the room a slip of paper stuck to the computer caught his eye.

Derek,
I made it here in one piece. There’s some other survivors here – including Lydia! Dad hasn’t made it yet and we don’t think he will. You’re also not here. I hope that you’re okay out there, or here if you’re reading this. Anyway I don’t have much paper but we’re moving out pretty soon. There’s planes heading out of Sacramento and we’re gonna try make it there. I hope I’ll see you again. But if not, try to move on with your life and be happy Derek. Build yourself something new now. It’s all any of us can do.
Stiles

He stood staring at the note for a few moments before he pulled it from the computer and re-read it three times, tears welling in his eyes. Stiles had left. He knew he should just be glad that he was alive but now he was on his own again. Sacramento was miles away and the likelihood of him ever seeing Stiles again grew smaller with every day. Now he knew how Stiles had felt when he’d left for New York. At least Stiles had given Derek a goodbye. He scrubbed the tears from his face and was still standing in the office when Louis cleared his throat in the doorway. Derek turned to face him.
“Hey, sorry. I switched one of the radios on. There's an emergency broadcast talking about a safe zone.”
“Where?”
“It doesn’t say but there’s planes taking people there from Sacramento and a bunch of other airports. What do you think?”
“It’ll be risky. Could be our best bet though.”

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Allison shared Lydia’s opinion that he should totally go for it with Jordan but something in Stiles was holding him back. Perhaps it was seeing Derek as everything was going to shit, knowing that he was (hopefully) still out there. Alive. Either way, Stiles knew that his main priority was keeping himself and the people he cared about alive. That meant them all getting to Sacramento in one piece. But first, boat. Once they had all stopped giggling about Stiles’ crush and how undeniably hot Jordan was, Lydia had gone with Allison to pack what little she had with her into one of the vehicles, and Stiles had gone to see if there were any spare clothes in the lost and found for her so she had some spares. He’d noticed that although her and her Dad had gone camping for quite a while, she had arrived with just the clothes she was wearing. And also quite notably, without her Dad. Stiles hadn’t said anything yet and had already concluded that the worst case scenario was also probably the most accurate. He’d ask her what had happened at some point, but perhaps best to wait until they were somewhere a bit more permanent, and safer.
As they finished packing the rest of everyone’s things into the cars, Stiles made the executive decision that they should all switch around in the vehicles, give everyone a chance to get to know each other better. So Lydia was driving the police cruiser, with Jordan riding shotgun and Allison in the back sandwiched between Mason and a crate of food tins. Stiles was in the passenger seat next to Annie, whilst Sophia occupied Olive in the backseat by reading to her. She was partway through a Roald Dahl book and the characters had just managed to escape from the peach being eaten by sharks. Stiles couldn’t help but smile as he listened.
“She’s always been good with kids” Annie whispered next to him, glancing into the rearview mirror to lock eyes with her partner briefly.
“Yeah. I always wanted kids but, well, I suppose the likelihood is low now. How about you?”
“Hey, never say never Stilinski. If the world can end it can begin again. Me, I never wanted kids until I met Soph. She brings out my soft side”
“You have a soft side?” She thwacked his shoulder across the centre console.
“You’re a little shit Stiles. You mention my soft side to anyone and you die you know that right?”
“God why are all the women in my life so domineering”
“And the men in your life aren’t?” It was Stiles’ turn to punch her in the shoulder.
“Annie!”
“Am I wrong?”
“Well no but still. Lydia gives me enough shit about it. How do you even know, actually I don’t need to know that.”
The redhead in question was, at that moment, chattering away to Allison, explaining how her and Mason had made it to the Station and what they had faced on the way there.
“So yeah that’s our little traumatising adventure. How about you? What happened out there?”
“I um, I’d rather not go there if it’s all the same Lyds. Don’t think I can spare anymore tears.”
“Oh, right, sorry Alli.” They drove on in silence after that. Jordan locked eyes with Mason in the rearview a couple of times but neither of them made an attempt to start up a new conversation. Lydia must’ve gotten bored because began rifling through the glove compartment a few minutes later.
“What’re you looking for Lydia?”
“Well do you not keep any music in this thing Jordan? There’s a CD player you have to have something to—aha!” She held the case aloft victoriously. Mason leaned forward to get a better look.
“Is that… Madonna?” Lydia pulled the case back and looked at the cover.
“Huh, I did not have you pegged as a Blonde Ambition kind of man Mr Parrish. You’re full of surprises.”
“Well, yeah, some of her songs are really good You can’t argue that.”
“I am not arguing with you one bit my dear” Lydia fishes the CD out of the case and pressed it into the slot. She cranked the volume up just enough for them to enjoy the music, but not loud enough it would attract the wrong kind of attention. They sped along the road as the opening lines of Express Yourself filled the car and Lydia smiled to herself. Maybe it wasn’t quite the end of the world.

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They had all bundled back into the car and hit the road again. There was nothing of use in the Station for them to take with them and so they hadn’t stayed there long after deciding that trying to get to Sacramento would be their best plan. The risk would be high but the idea of being able to get out and to a safe zone was the deciding factor. Derek was still a bit skeptical about the whole situation and knew that getting there would be more than just the average road trip, but he acquiesced that he had no better plan. And that was how they found themselves barreling along the road, Beacon Hills having long faded into the distance.
Louis found himself kicking rocks not too long after they had passed the sign wishing them happy travels and a thanks for visiting Beacon County. Scott had decided that they should raid a nearby gas station before it got too dark to see by and they had to bed down for the night. He had decided that Louis should stay outside and watch. Louis was not overjoyed at this situation but preferred it to being in a confined space with Scott for longer than he absolutely had to be. He could really do with getting Derek alone to tell him about—
“Hey, how’re you holding up? See anything interesting?” Louis startled as Melissa appeared out of nowhere.
“No, no, nothing really. Saw a squirrel a little while back but that’s about it. It’s weird how quiet everything is now. You reckon there’ll be many more survivors?”
“I’m sure there will be. And think about it, once we get to Sacramento we’ll be able to start rebuilding. Maybe in a few years things can go back to some semblance of normality?”
“Yeah, maybe. Hopefully.”
“Chin up, Louis, its not the end of the world” She finished with a wink and bumped her hip into Louis’ before heading back towards the car with the bundle of supplies she had in her arms. Louis really did appreciate having Melissa with him. A familiar comfort he had grown accustomed to during his long shifts at the hospital – he just couldn’t understand how she’d managed to raise someone so dangerously selfish. He had just gone back to kicking the small rocks littering the parking lot when he heard a noise that was definitely too big to be a squirrel. He span round looking for the source of the noise to find two women coming down the road, one pushing a wheelbarrow ahead of her – carrying a rather injured looking man. He began to back away from the edge of the lot hoping not to be spotted but they younger looking of the women spotted him and came bounding towards him.
“Please, please you have to help us. It’s my Dad he’s broken his legs and, well, the hospital was overrun and we only just made it out but we don’t know what to do.” She was clearly panicking and Louis took another step back. He was just about to speak when Derek came out of the shop.
“Hey back off!” Louis could hear his footsteps thudding across the lot towards him. The girl backed up at the sight of him and what Louis now assumed was the girls mum put the handles of the wheelbarrow down to get between the girl and Derek. Louis remained in the middle of all this.
“Hey, Derek, it’s fine I think, they just need some help. One of their people is injured.” Derek’s footsteps slowed as he got closer and saw the wheelbarrow.
“Oh. Right. Sorry, can’t be too careful. Here why don’t we get you all inside and we can see about helping you. Louis here and Melissa were both nurses so you’ve bumped into the right people.”
“Oh that’s brilliant news. Come on ma these people can help us.”
“You alright Louis?”
“Yeah I’m good, just surprised to see more people I guess. I don’t think Scott is going to like this.”
“Me either, but he can’t make all the decisions for our group. Regardless, let’s see what we can do to help before we have to move on.”

Chapter Text

A surprise to absolutely no one, Scott was not pleased about the new additions joining them at the gas station. They were all stood around a table in one of the back rooms, Melissa and Louis assessing the new man. All except Scott, of course, who had muttered something about Louis being too soft before huffing out to ‘keep watch’ outside. Derek felt a distinct urge to punch him, which he could foresee becoming a regular urge. Once Melissa had ascertained that the man was not infected – no bites, no scratches – Derek pulled the two women to one side.
“So, sorry again about outside. Proper introductions. I’m Derek.” He stuck his hand out to shake the mother’s. She instead pulled him into a crushing hug that knocked the wind out of him.
“Ellen, Ellen Parquet. And this is my daughter Bonnie.” She pulled away, and Derek turned to the daughter. She did shake his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Bonnie.”
“Just Bo is fine, and likewise. Thank you for bringing us in. I know it wasn’t a unanimous decision.”
“Yeah, Scott is… an interesting character. I think he just wants to keep his mum out of danger.” Ellen and Bo shared a brief look. Derek could smell their anxiety, but at this point, everyone he encountered was smelling pretty strongly of anxiety.
“Well, make yourselves at home I guess. Not sure how long we’ll be here, but hopefully we can get your husband back on his feet soon.”
“Here’s hoping. he’s done nothing but complain since getting injured. He hates not being able to help.”

Scott had been pacing by the side of the road. He was so angry. He couldn’t look at any of them. Why did they not understand the situation they were in? The world was ending and everything was trying to kill them. They shouldn’t be trusting strangers. He needed to get his mum. They needed to leave. They were going to leave. To hell with the others, they would only endanger him and his mum.

-----------------------------

As their little convoy trundled along the road, Lydia smiled as everyone bobbed their heads along to end of another Madonna song. They were on their second listen of the album and everyone had begun singing along. She had her reservations about the plan, but she was beginning to feel hopeful that the chaos would soon be over. They would get to the safezone and begin to process and move on from what they had all endured over the last week.
“Lydia” Mason called from the backseat as the intro to Material Girl began. She paused the CD before calling over her shoulder.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Could we maybe find somewhere to pull over soon? I could do with a bathroom break.”
“Honestly me too, I’ll pull over as soon as we find somewhere.”
“Thanks.” She hit play on the CD again and as the synth filled the car once more she began her look out for somewhere for them to pull over. She spotted a sign for a gas station up ahead but as they sped along they could see a figure pacing by the side of the road. A sense of dread settled in Lydia’s stomach as she considered pulling in, and so she sped up as they got closer rather than slowing down – her uneasy feeling only passing once they were well past the gas station.
“Hey, could we have not stopped there? Sure they wouldn’t have minded us stopping just to use the bathroom.” She shook her head.
“No. Very bad vibes.”
“Bad vibes?”
“Yeah, not sure, but there was definitely something off.” Mason turned to look at Allison.
“I tend to trust Lydia’s instincts, she has a way of being right about these things.” Mason just shrugged and settled back into the music to distract himself from his full bladder.

As they barrelled past the gas station, Stiles briefly wondered why they had sped up suddenly but put it down to the figure out front giving Lydia the creeps and continued his conversation with Virginia and Annie about the plan for when they arrived at the Marina. Annie had a good idea of where her uncle’s boat should be tied up, but Virginia suggested that they should also prioritise supplies as they were going to be on board for at least a full day, maybe several, depending on how fast they were moving. Stiles had suggested that perhaps the most sensible option would be for them to find the boat first and then split off into groups to scavenge for supplies. Virginia conceded. They were coming up on a much older gas station with a small diner attached. Evidently, this one passed the Lydia test as the car in front of them began to slow and turned into the lot.

--------------------------------

Melissa and Louis were setting the man’s, Ellis’, leg. They had established that only his left leg was broken, the other was just a sprained ankle. He was going to have a hard time walking for quite some time and all they could do was hope that he healed well and didn’t accidentally endanger himself or anyone else in the meantime. They had wrapped his sprained ankle and were just preparing the best splint they could in the situation – two narrow metal shelf arms and plenty of bandages – when Scott burst into the room.
“We’re leaving” Everyone looked at him in confusion. “Mum. Come on.” He went to step around the table towards his mum but Derek blocked his path.
“Scott, what are you talking about?”
“Me and Mum are leaving, I have to keep her safe and you’re all more danger than you’re worth. I can’t let you put us at risk.”
“Scott, honey, we’re fine. We’re safe here.” She had paused what she was doing and now stood holding the parts of the splint. Louis was beside her holding more bandages.
“You don’t get it Mum, these people are liabilities. I have to keep us safe.”
“Scott, we’re safe here. Just let me finish here and we can talk properly okay?”
“No! They’re not going to keep you safe. Only I can keep us safe!” Louis flinched at Scott’s raised voice. Ellen and Bo had shifted closer to the table where Ellis lay, dosed up on some of the painkillers they had. Derek was still stood firmly in front of Scott.
“Scott. Take a walk. You need to calm down. We’re all working together here.” Scott just looked at him.
“Mum. I’m not staying here to die with these people. I’m leaving. You’re coming with me.”
“Scott, I can’t just leave these people. They need my help.” He lunged across the table, grabbing hold of her arm. Melissa yelped. Derek grabbed hold of Scott’s shoulder and began trying to dislodge him from his mum. Louis froze, with Ellen and Bo taking a step back in shock.
“You’re coming with me! I don’t want to die!” Melissa was trying to free her arm from Scott’s grip, tears streaming down her face.
“Scott, stop please! You’re hurting me!”
“I’m saving you!” He reached to grab her other arm as Derek gave his shoulder a strong tug. His grip slipped, and he fell back into a cabinet. Derek squared his shoulders as Scott got to his feet. He lunged for Derek, who swatted him to the side, shifting the table across the room.
“You don’t want to do this, Scott.” Derek’s voice was a growl, a warning. Scott got back to his feet, but his face had become an eerie mask of calm.
“Fine. Stay here and die if you want. I’m leaving.” He walked out of the room with a casual air. As though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Derek turned to the others. Louis remained frozen where he was, bandages still in his hand. Melissa had dropped to sit on the floor, quietly sobbing and cradling her arm where bruises were already forming.
“What the fuck just happened?” Came Ellen’s voice from the other side of the room where she was making sure Ellis, still on the table, was okay. Bo was watching out of the doorway Scott had left through.
“Not a clue, but it looks like he’s gonna take one of the cars.” Derek’s head whipped to the doorway.
“Like hell he is.” He bolted past Bo and out into the car park, grabbing hold of Scott as he was getting into the driver’s seat, throwing him to the floor. “And where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m not staying here to die.”
“That’s fine, but you’re not putting the rest of us in danger.”
“You can’t stop me. I don’t die here.” Derek furrowed his brow.
“You are not leaving us here with no way out, Scott.”
“I am. I will cut you down if I have to, Derek. Not like you’re gonna stop me, are you?”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Oh, I know how soft your type are fa-“ Derek’s fist connected with Scott’s jaw before he could finish, and Scott fell limply to the floor. He listened for Scott’s heartbeat. Still alive. Good. He turned back to main building as he dragged Scott across the lot by his arms, Louis and Bo watching him. Bo just nodded before heading back inside. Louis’ face a mixture of fear and something else he couldn’t quite place.

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“Hey, how come we didn’t stop in at that last place? Are we already past trusting strangers? That’s usually season 2 territory at least.” Stiles called to Lydia as everyone disembarked from the cars.
“Bad vibes she says Stiles.” Mason responded as he hurried off towards the diner. Annie quickly followed. Better that none of them go racing about on their own.
“Oh. That bad a vibe Lyds?” She only nodded as she grabbed a bag from the car. “Cool. Well let’s see what this place has to offer.” He took a step towards the diner but Allison stopped him.
“We should think this through. Best not to go in unprepared.” Stiles weighed up her statement before turning to the group.
“Right. Yes. A plan of attack. Jordan, Lydia, do you want to see what you can find in the shop that we can take with us? Virginia, Allison do you want to check the Diner? Sophia can you check on Mason and Annie I’m not sure where they ran off to. Me, I’ll stay here with Olive. Oh, actually I can try get fuel from the pumps.” Everyone nodded and began busying themselves with grabbing bags and containers and slowly the group dispersed. Not before Jordan walked over.
“Do you know how to shoot?” Stiles eyed him warily.
“Yeah, Dad made sure I knew how ages ago. Why?”
“Good” He pressed his gun into Stiles’ hand. “Since you’re our lookout. Use ‘em wisely we haven’t got that many bullets.” Stiles nodded his thanks and turned to make sure Olive was ready, fully ignoring Lydia stood nearby with her hip cocked.
“Come on Deputy, let’s get to breaking and entering.”

Sophia rounded the back of the diner and immediately turned around. Mason was stood with his pants round his knees and she had seen way more than she ever wanted to.
“Hey, sorry Soph, I really had to go.”
“No worries, darlin’ we were just a little worried when you both darted off like that. Think we’re tryin’ to not have anyone going off on their own, y’know.” Annie stood beside her, chuckling.
“I’m guessing there’s some kind of plan of action? What’s our job now that you know we’ve not been eaten, just that Mason has a weak bladder.”
“Hey, I do not have a—”
“Nothin’ really. All the jobs have been dished out, so I guess it’s up to us. Could go help Virginia and Allison in the Diner?”
“Sounds good. Who’s watching the front?”
“Stiles, and Olive, but I don’t feel like that counts.” Annie looked at her with a slight look of shock “Hey, he was dishing out the jobs, it wasn’t me.” Annie just shook her head.
“That boy is a menace. You two go help in the diner. I’ll go make sure Stiles and the kid don’t kick the bucket.” Annie trusted the younger man to keep himself safe-ish but had very little faith that he could manage that whilst also distracted by childcare. She chuckled to herself as she made her way in the direction of the forecourt. Maybe he’d make a good surrogate father, though. Who knows?

They had found a few bits, but not much. Most of the food was perishable though enough of it was still good to eat that Virginia figured they could at least have a decent evening meal that didn’t eat into their slim stock for travelling. Allison’s leg was healing up decently but Virginia had still put her on sorting duty after she had hissed in pain when she stepped on a loose tile and stumbled a little. She had just finished sorting through the tins that Virginia had been passing her when Mason and Sophia entered through a side door. Virginia briefly stuck her head out and assessed that the situation was safe before she went back to hunting through the cupboards.
“How’s things in here then Allison?” Mason rubbed his hands together as he looked around at the diner. Its faded leather seating and yellowed countertops were exactly as he had expected, and the crooked blinds cast shadows at odd angles across the surfaces, giving the whole place an eerie quality that totally wasn’t present on account of the end of the world. He shivered slightly.
“Not bad, I’ve been stuck on light duties because my leg played up. Could use some extra hands taking these out to the cars though.” She nodded towards the crates of tins she had sorted. “It isn’t a whole lot but it’s certainly better than nothing. Virginia said there’s enough in terms of perishable stuff to have a decent meal here though if you want to let the others know? We’ll start prepping it as soon as we’ve got all this packed away.”
“That sounds grand Allison, we’ll take care of these. Come on Mason.” She lifted one of the crates as Mason propped the side door open with a small stool. He followed her out with another crate, and with that they got a little supply chain set up back to the cars. Allison sat pondering their current situation and wondered briefly where Scott had ended up in all of this. She had after all been his girlfriend, not that he’d been much of a boyfriend. Even so she hoped that him and his mum were safe somewhere.

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Melissa and Louis had finished setting Ellis’ leg in a splint. Derek had tied Scott to a pipe in the back room of the gas station. Melissa had refused to go into the room since but had at least stopped crying. Derek sat outside the front of the store with his head in his hands. All he wanted was to go back to normal. All he wanted was to see Stiles. If he hadn’t left then maybe things would have been different? He certainly wouldn’t have been stuck trying to figure out what to do with someone who had clearly gone off the rails because of the stress.
“Hey, how’re you holding up?” Louis spoke quietly as he plonked himself down next to Derek. He’d been pretty quiet since the whole incident with Scott.
“I feel like I should be asking you that. You really froze up back there.”
“Yeah. I, um, don’t do too great in high-pressure situations admittedly. I’m not useless but yeah I have a tendency to freeze.”
“We should really work on that.”
“Probably. Anyways how’s your hand?”
“Oh it’s fine. I’ve punched harder things than Scott’s thick skull.” Louis let a small huff of air. “Just trying to figure out what we do next. He’s just going to pose a danger to everyone but we can’t exactly leave him, he’s all the family Melissa has.” Louis nodded at this.
“Certainly a bit of a conundrum.” They stayed there, sat in a comfortable silence, watching the clouds drift by overhead. Derek caught a whiff of rain on the horizon. Everything looked remarkably calm despite the tense knot he could feel in the back of his neck. God he hated that kid.

Bo had been scavenging in the gas station. Working systematically she had so far found enough half-decent food to feed a person for maybe half a day. Not ideal. On the plus side she had found plenty of tampons so they were set for that eventuality. And maybe nosebleeds if She’s the Man was to believed. She briefly pondered the efficacy of tampon blood absorption while she rifled through drawers. Her hand landed on something solid and, shifting some papers to the side, uncovered a handgun. That could be useful. She had no idea how to shoot but she had a sneaking suspicion that Derek did. She moved the papers back to cover it and carried on with her hunt for more supplies. The ideal find would be the keys to the small van at the back of the property.

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Lydia had picked the lock of the shop’s front door with an ease that concerned Jordan. He didn’t know a whole lot about her, or any of the group for that matter. He had gathered enough to know that she was definitely capable, enough for him to trust her to watch his back anyhow. She also had a softer side, this he had mostly seen while observing the way she interacted with Stiles. Not that he had been really watching him, or them, just that he had noticed him, them. In passing. On several occasions. Maybe.
It was as he pondered Lydia and Stiles, and then Stiles and the rest of the group, and then just Stiles, that he meandered through the aisles of the shop picking up items that could be useful here and there and putting them into the basket he had picked up by the door. ‘We’re not actually shopping’, Lydia had said but he had shrugged and said something about old habits. He had stopped his meandering and had been staring off into space when Lydia appeared beside him and let out a scoff.
“Hoping to get lucky Deputy?”
“What!?” He looked at her and then back at the shelves he had stopped in front of. Sexual health. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Nothing to be embarrassed by, it’s the end of the world Jordan. Best get your rocks off while you can. Though who you’ve got your eye on I’m not sure.” He could feel himself turning beet red as she sauntered further down the aisle, looking over the feminine hygiene section and chucking a few things into her bag.
“I’m not—I wasn’t – Lydia I just—” She stood up from zipping her bag and looked at him with a smile.
“Honestly Jordan, no judgement. I say go for it.” She turned with a wink and he watched as she moved to the counter and began rustling around in the drawers behind it. He turned back to the shelves in front of him. He made sure Lydia wasn’t looking before shoving some condoms and lube into the very bottom of his rucksack. He promised himself it was for the likes of Annie and Sophia, or maybe they could trade it with other groups. He let out a cough when an image of pale skin with constellations of moles under his hands flashed when he closed his eyes.
“Right I think we should head back Lydia! There isn’t much of use in here anyways.” He walked towards the front door.
“I disagree there, look what I’ve found.” He turned to find her spinning a key round her finger. “Reckon it’s for the liquor cabinet?” It very much was for the liquor cabinet.

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Melissa and Ellen had taken to pacing by the edge of the road, keeping watch for any other passing vehicles, any other survivors. Ellen was confident that more people would mean more safety, but Melissa had her doubts as to the goodness of people. If her son, her wonderful caring son, had snapped under the weight of all this chaos, then she had little hope for the rest of humanity. Scott had always been such a kind and caring young man. He spent his days caring for and saving animals. Watching him unravel so quickly was eating away at her and knowing that he was tied up in the gas station only made it worse. Part of her wanted to untie him, but a larger part of her was afraid of what he might do if she did. She could still feel her arm throbbing from where he had grabbed her and knew that the bruising was only going to get worse.
“So anyways yeah, that’s how me and Ellis met. How about yourself? Husband? Wife?” Melissa was pulled from her thoughts by the question and took a moment to catch up to what Ellen had asked her.
“Oh, no. Scott’s Dad hasn’t been in the picture for a long while. Truthfully he was a bit of a prick.” Ellen nodded.
“I know that feeling. My first husband was a nightmare.” Melissa hummed thoughtfully. “So, probably a touchy subject but um, what’s the situation with your boy? I guess I’m asking if we’re safe sticking with you guys.”
“I’m honestly not sure. I’ve never seen him like this. He was a vet before this so I don’t know. I’m scared he’s just… snapped. But I don’t know how to fix that.”
“I see. And the other two?”
“Louis worked with me at the hospital. He’s a good kid, rocky upbringing but honestly he has a heart of gold. He had a sister but I gather she didn’t make it. Derek’s a character. The gruff standoffish exterior hides a big heart. His boyfriend used to be very close with Scott actually.”
“Oh a gay! Bonnie’s gay too ! Oh that’s brilliant, we never really knew many gays in our hometown and we really hadn’t been in Beacon Hills too long.” Melissa chuckled at her enthusiasm. Derek was going to loathe the energy levels from Ellen but she could tell it was well-meant.
“Well hey, at least they’ll have something to talk about.” They reached the corner of the lot and turned around to begin their walk back to the other corner. They had a lot to figure out here.

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The gas station pumps were surprisingly still running. Stiles had been shocked and then jumped around giddily as he filled up both of the vehicles. Olive didn’t seem to fully understand how great it was but joined him in doing a silly jig around one of the pumps until they were both giggling. Once the cars were filled he proceeded to fill up several fuel containers. Would they need them? Hopefully not but it couldn’t hurt to have them. If nothing else they’d be good to trade. Maybe for food. He was getting pretty peckish and could only hope that Virginia and Allison had found a decent supply of non-perishables. He wasn’t the biggest fan of tinned food but honestly it was better than starving. A homecooked meal would not go amiss though. He blinked out of his reverie as he finished filling the last container.
“Alright Olive that’s the last one. Let’s get these loaded up.”
“I can help!” He looked at her and shrugged
“Sure just be careful they’re pretty heavy.” He grabbed one of the containers and waited as Olive lifted one of the others with basically her whole body wrapped round it. By the time they put them down next to the car she was panting.
“That was great work Olive. Let’s take a break yeah?”
“I’m fine. I want to help.” She huffed out between heavy breaths.
“I know sweetie, but they were pretty heavy and my arms are tired.” She looked at him confused but settled next to him anyway.
“Olive, do you like books?”
“Oh I love books!” She perked up at this “My favourite is James and the Giant Peach. I’ve read it three whole times.”
“Damn that’s impressive, and that is a good book you’ve got good taste.” She beamed proudly as she shuffled to sit in front of him.
“Yeah, we go to the library all of the time and I get to pick out a new book each week. Sometimes two if I’m really good.” She spoke with her hands and Stiles could see a little of his younger self in her slightly erratic movements. Her smile dimmed as she finished speaking.
“Hey, hey, you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just I used to go with my mum. But she couldn’t come with us.” Stiles nodded. He didn’t know the full story but figured there was a reason she wasn’t here with a parent.
“I’m sorry Olive. Maybe, if you like, we can try and find some more books? I’m sure your mum would like it if you kept reading.” She smiled a little and nodded. Stiles was starting to like this kid and made a mental note to pick up any books he found that might be good for her to read. He looked up at the sound of footsteps to find Annie walking across the forecourt towards them.
“Well it looks like you two are hard at work.”
“We’re taking a break, Stiles’ arms are tired.” Annie quirked her eyebrow at him and he threw one hand dramatically over his face.
“Stiles is just a lazybones.” She picked up the other two containers on her way over and got them into the boot of the car. “We’re gonna need bigger vehicles at this rate”. Stiles stood up and agreed that they were certainly looking quite full.
“Well our next stop is the marina so hopefully we won’t have need of them after that. Plus hey more fuel is better than no fuel.”
“Well, that’s true enough.”

------------------------------------

The hospital was a mess. It had just about burned itself out, a smouldering shell of what it once was. Small fired dotted the wreckage as crowds of zombies milled around outside. Deaton walked out of the shattered main doors still holding Scott’s t-shirt. He had definitely been here, and not all that long ago. He tried to feel which way to go next but the smoke was clouding his senses. He spotted a family clambering over some of the rubble to escape the nearby zombies and sidled over to them, sapping the life out of each of them and leaving their bodies for the undead to feast on. The longer he spent time post-death the less the zombies seemed to bother him. Their groans were becoming an almost comforting background noise. He felt the life from the people trickle into his arms and fill the rest of his body. Power. His tanks refilled, he could sense much clearer the direction Scott was in. Taking a deep inhale of Scott’s t-shirt, he stalked off down the road leading away from the centre of town – a bloodhound seeking its prey.

------------------------------

Back on the road, en route to the Marina, Stiles was staring out of the window. He and Jordan were in the front again, with Olive and Virginia in the back – both of them napping. Stiles’ brain was feeling restless, partially because of all the travel and partially because of his interaction with Olive. She seemed to be taking the whole ‘end of the world’ situation very well, especially considering how she lost her mum. He let out a small huff of air. Hopefully, once they got to Sacramento, they’d be relatively safe. Though who knows how far the outbreak might have spread by now? Hopefully, the movies weren’t entirely accurate, and they’d be able to get out of Sacramento and to a safe zone in one piece.
“Hey so I was thinking,” Jordan piped up from next to him. “We don’t know all that much about each other so maybe we should do like, an icebreaker?” Stiles turned to face him. Jordan was smiling slightly and kept glancing over in his direction.
“Umm, sure, I haven’t done icebreakers since I started high school so you can pick. Want me to wake up these two?”
“Nah, let them rest its been a crazy few days – we should all get whatever sleep we can.”
“Cool, so, what’re we playing?”
“20 questions?” Stiles rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “Hey its good game you just have to be creative with the questions.”
“Pfft, okay. If you were a tree, what tree would you be?”
“Ooh see that’s a good question.” Jordan sat in thought for a moment. “Okay, got it. Ash.”
“Why Ash?”
“Its strong, durable, according to some superstitions it has protective capabilities.” Stiles hummed at this response.
“So, versatile?” Jordan choked, going bright red.
“Umm, yes, I suppose it is. Okay, What’s your favourite memory?” Stiles sat in thought for a little while until Jordan looked over at him.
“Oh. Um, I think gardening with my Mum when I was a kid. She got me into gardening and I guess that’s why I ended up opening the plant shop.”
“That sounds awesome. I don’t think I’ve heard you mention your mum before now?”
“Yeah, she passed away when I was still pretty young” Stiles turned to look back out of the window. He tended not to think too hard about his mum, the memories still painful even now – especially those towards the end of her illness.
“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tread on anything sensitive we can chat about something else. Its your turn for a question anyways.” Stiles smiled at the out Jordan gave him rather than prying.
“Okay, did you have any pets growing up?”
“We actually didn’t. We couldn’t really afford to have a pet as well as the rest of us so it was just people in our house.”
“That’s fair enough. I fed a stray cat one summer until it disappeared. We had a spate of pet disappearances that year actually which was spooky.”
“Hmm that is weird. Maybe a predator in the area?”
“Maybe.” Olive stirred in the back seat, murmuring something about her mum as she shifted to one side. Stiles looked back at her and smiled at her leaning into Virginia’s side, settling back into her sleep.
“Oh I have one, favourite actor or actress?”
“Oooh man that’s a hard one, I think I’d have to say—” The car in front of them came to a halt so Jordan pulled over.
“Hold that thought. Let’s see what’s happening.” He unbuckled himself and stepped out of the car, checking his surroundings as he went.
“Are we at the boat yet?” Olive stretched herself in the backseat rubbing her eyes. Virginia blinked awake and took stock of the surroundiings.
“I’m not too sure, let’s get out and have a check shall we?” The three of them clambered out of the car, gathering with the rest of the group.
“Well, this is the Marina.” Annie turned with a grand wave at the scene before them. It certainly was the Marina, there we no mistaking that. The large amount of boats very much gave that away.
“Yeah, small issue though, how do we get in?” Around the entrance to the Marina, and disappearing off to either side, seemingly around the entire area, was a high chain link fence. The gate chained shut in front of them. Fuck.

Chapter Text

The chain-link fence was taller than it had any right to be — at least twelve feet, topped with rusted loops of barbed wire, and padlocked with a chain that looked more solid than most of their current morale.
“This is bullshit,” Lydia said flatly, kicking a rock against the cracked pavement. “Who exactly were they trying to keep out? Pirates?”
“Or keep in,” Mason muttered, eyeing the dark stretch of marina on the other side. The marina sat at the edge of the river like a forgotten memory — boats swaying lazily, the wind whistling through masts and sails. It was almost peaceful. Almost.
Olive clung to Virginia’s side, sketchbook pressed to her chest like a shield. Annie stood with her arms crossed, eyeing the gate, the boats, the fence line. Calculating.
Jordan tried the lock, rattling the chain. “No give.”
Allison squinted up at the top. “We could try going over.”
Annie shook her head. “Barbed wire up top. One wrong slip and you’re tangled.”
“Don’t love that for us,” Stiles said. “I, for one, like my internal organs to stay internal.”
“Wait,” Virginia said suddenly. “Over there.” She pointed to the far edge of the fence, where the metal dipped down into a collapsed drainage trench. The chain-link had bent and bowed from erosion, leaving a small gap near the ground.
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “That’s a crawlspace. Not an entrance.”
“Unless you’re Olive-sized,” Mason added.
“Or desperate,” Jordan said, already moving.
They reached the weak spot together. It wasn’t ideal — jagged edges of rusted wire curled like claws, and the space beneath was narrow, tight, and sloping into thick muck.
“Well,” Virginia said cheerfully, “we’ve squeezed through worse.”
“You maybe,” Lydia replied. “I have standards.”
Jordan crouched down and began widening the opening carefully, using the flat end of his knife to pry back the sharpest edges. “If we go one at a time, I can clear space as we go. I’ll go first, check the other side.”
“I’ll go last,” Annie said. “Cover our exit. Just in case.”
“Just in case what, exactly?” Mason asked.
“You know what.”
They didn’t have to say it. The possibility hung there like smoke: that something could be waiting inside the marina. That something could be watching. That once they passed through this fence, they wouldn’t all come back out. One by one, they went through. Jordan first, clearing the brush on the far side. Then Olive, with Virginia whispering steady encouragement the entire time. Then Lydia, muttering about tetanus. Then Mason, then Sophia, then Allison. Stiles went after that, eyes darting in every direction, heartbeat loud in his ears. When Annie finally crawled through and dusted herself off, the group was whole again. The marina stretched out in front of them, low fog creeping along the waterline, ropes clinking softly against metal poles. A graveyard of boats.
“Stay close,” Annie said. “No unnecessary noise.”
They moved forward as a unit. Behind them, the bent gate swayed in the breeze, creaking softly — like it was trying to warn them to turn back.
“Creepy as hell,” Mason muttered, adjusting the straps on his pack. “Like, end-of-the-world haunted. Good place for a sea monster to pop up and eat us.”
“Let’s stay focused” Annie said. She didn’t raise her voice, but it cut through the fog like a blade.
Mason gave a quick, mock-salute. “Copy that.”
They stood in a loose formation at the edge of the marina’s cracked concrete lot. Annie stepped up onto the warped dock and looked down both directions — scanning. Calculating. She moved like someone who didn’t hope the place was empty. She moved like someone who expected it wasn’t.
“All right,” she said. “Sophia, with me. We’ll take the lead and sweep cabin to stern. Lydia, take Mason and check the gear lockers. Look for anything flammable, portable, or edible. Weapons if we’re lucky. Allison — eyes up and down, cover our flanks.”
“What about us?” Stiles asked, gesturing between himself and Jordan. “Charming support duo reporting for duty.”
Annie didn’t skip a beat. “That side shed might still have emergency supplies. Check it. Quick and clean.”
Jordan gave a short nod, but before turning, he paused and dropped into a crouch beside Olive. She was sitting against a crate, sketchbook clutched tightly, eyes flicking from person to person like she was cataloguing exits. Jordan lowered his voice.
“Hey, you good?” She nodded once, eyes wide. No words — but her grip on the pencil loosened just a little.
“I’m not going far,” he added. “You stay close to Virginia. She’ll keep you safe.”
Olive didn’t look up, but her pencil moved again — a small, quick line. Then another. Her hand was steadier. Jordan stood, jaw tight, and glanced at Virginia. The old woman gave him a single knowing nod, already settling beside the girl like a human shield. Stiles, waiting a few steps away, watched the exchange without comment. Just tucked it away.
“Let’s go,” Jordan said, turning to Stiles.
“Guess we're on boat trash duty.”
Jordan raised a brow. “As long as we’re not on ‘bait’ duty.”
Virginia gave a low chuckle, standing nearby with Olive tucked beside her. “I’ll keep the chickadee out of the way. Just say the word if things go sideways.”
“Things always go sideways,” Lydia muttered as she adjusted her grip on the cleaver.
Annie gave one sharp nod. “Then stay alert. If it’s quiet, it’s lying.”
With that, they split off — boots creaking against the old planks as they moved toward their respective targets. The mist rolled heavier along the water’s edge, softening sound, turning even the mundane into something whispering and strange. Somewhere out on the water, a lone bird cried — a harsh, cracked noise that echoed like warning. And the docks swallowed them, one by one.

------------------------------------------------

Inside the small side shed, it smelled like salt, rust, and something worse. The roof had partially caved in on one side, and the light that filtered through the warped slats made everything look underwater and wrong. Stiles stepped over a busted oar and a collapsed metal shelf, the floor creaking beneath his feet.
"God," he muttered, fanning the air. "Why does everything smell like regret and dead fish?”
“It's a marina,” Jordan said. He was already kneeling beside an overturned storage bin. “That is the smell.”
“Fair.” Stiles crouched beside a tool locker, trying not to touch anything that looked even slightly slimy. “Still. Would it kill the apocalypse to give us one clean space?”
Jordan gave a quiet, amused exhale. “You’d complain if it smelled like flowers.”
“Only if they were evil flowers. Which, in this world, seems statistically probable.”
They worked in silence for a minute. Stiles found a flare gun — still functional, miraculously — a sealed can of peaches, and something that might have once been sunscreen. He dropped it all into his backpack with a dull clink. Jordan unlatched a rust-streaked cabinet and pulled out a first aid kit, still shrink-wrapped.
“Score,” he said, holding it up.
Stiles gave a small, genuine smile. “That’s like... post-civilization treasure.”
Jordan placed it gently on a cleared crate. Then he looked over, eyes narrowing slightly.
“You’re quieter than usual.”
Stiles shrugged, not looking up. “Maybe the mold in here’s finally doing something useful and killing my vocal cords.”
“Or maybe,” Jordan said gently, “you’re scared and pretending you’re not.”
Stiles stilled. Just for a second.
Then: “You ever think maybe I am scared, and just pretending better than I used to?”
Jordan didn’t answer right away. He crossed the room, stepping carefully over a broken coil of rope, and leaned against the opposite wall.
“That would still count as progress.”
Stiles looked up. Met his eyes. For a moment, the space between them felt heavier than the air.
“I keep trying to hold it together,” Stiles said quietly. “For Lydia. For everyone. Hoping Dad is okay. And I can’t tell if it’s noble or if I’m just... filling the space so I don’t have to feel anything.”
Jordan’s voice was low. Steady. “Maybe it’s both.”
Stiles laughed once, dry and tired. “Helpful.”
Jordan didn’t move. But there was something in his stillness — a kind of offering. He wasn’t trying to fix it. Just be there while it broke.
“I saw the way you looked at Olive back there,” Stiles said, after a pause. “Like... like you already lost her once and weren’t going to let it happen again.”
“I’ve seen what happens when kids don’t get protected,” Jordan said. “I won’t let that happen again. Not on my watch.”
Stiles stepped closer, fingers curling loosely at his sides.
"You always say stuff like that," he murmured. "Like you're already halfway to martyrdom. You know you don’t have to burn yourself down to keep us warm, right?”
Jordan’s eyes flickered. He looked like he wanted to say something — really say it — but instead, his hand brushed against Stiles’s wrist. Just a touch. Just long enough to make a point.
“I’m not the only one running toward the fire,” he said.
They stood there, inches apart. The sound of boots on dock wood broke the moment.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Annie moved down the boat like she’d done it a hundred times — back straight, eyes scanning, shotgun ready. Beside her, Sophia kept pace with quiet focus, blade drawn, boots soft against the warped wood. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. The boat was mostly empty and they worked quickly, tipping dead fish out into the water in an effort to reduce the smell or rot that permeated the air. The cabin below gave them better luck
“Water,” Sophia said, nudging a five-gallon jug with her boot. Still sealed.
Annie gave a sharp nod. “Better than nothing. There’s a few bits and pieces in these cupboards.”
They worked in practiced sync: Sophia checking compartments, Annie covering angles. Neither said it, but they both felt it — that creeping sense of wrong. It was quiet here. Too quiet.

Lydia was already halfway through a second gear locker, using bolt cutters to slice through rusted latches while Mason hovered nearby with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever and the focus of a concussed bird. She cracked open the metal door and immediately recoiled.
“Oh, gross.”
“What is it?” Mason asked, stepping forward like he wanted to see.
“Dead fish. And not even metaphorically.” She reached in with a gloved hand, plucked out a half-full box of marine flares, and dropped it in her pack. “Still usable.”
Mason whistled low. “You’re like, scary-good at this.”
“I was always good at scavenging,” Lydia said. “I just used to call it outlet shopping.” She paused, expression flickering.
Mason caught it. “Hey. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. Too quickly. “We just need to finish up and get out. This place is… giving me the creeps.”
Mason didn’t argue. He just stayed close, shoulders tight, fingers twitching round the handle of his axe.

Virginia sat on a bench near the dock’s main utility shed, legs crossed, pitchfork across her lap like royalty holding court. Olive was curled beside her, sketchbook propped on her knees, pencil moving in slow, quiet lines.
“You drawing me again, chickadee?” Virginia asked.
“No,” Olive whispered. “Drawing the water. It’s loud.”
Virginia tilted her head, listening.
To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like nothing. Just the slap of waves, the creak of the dock. But Olive’s voice had a way of making you lean in, like maybe you’d been missing something the whole time.
“Tell me if it gets too loud,” Virginia said gently.
Olive nodded once.
Across the dock, Allison kept watch from a slightly raised piling, eyes sharp beneath the hood of her jacket. Her fingers curled and uncurled near her quiver. Every few seconds, she scanned: dock, water, rooftops, shadows.
Everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
She glanced down at Virginia. “How’s she doing?”
“Calm. Just sketching away. A budding artist aren’t you?” She gently nudged her shoulder against Olive’s. Olive let out a huff, small smile twitching on her mouth.
Allison nodded. “That’s good, maybe we can all sit for a portrait while we’re on the boat?” Olive looked up at her and, after a moment’s consideration, nodded.

Back on the prow of the boat, Annie straightened suddenly.
Sophia caught it immediately. “What?”
“Movement,” Annie said, voice clipped. “Far pier.”
Sophia lifted the binoculars they had found next to the boat’s steering column, peering through the mist. Her jaw clenched.
“Four... maybe five. They’re headed this way but we’ve got a little time before they’re a problem..”
Annie’s hands tightened on her weapon. “We don’t want anyone getting cut off. Let’s get the others and get moving. We need to get the cars unloaded.”
And that was that. Annie and Sophia quietly raised the alarm and got everyone moving. Lydia used the bolt cutters she had found to open up the front gate so they could move the cars closer to the boat. It took them time to unload everything onto the boat and by the time they had finished they could hear the groans of the small group of undead heading towards them. Time to move.

-------------------------------

Bo had eventually found the keys to the van, which was great news for the group as it meant they’d all be able to leave the gas station together. The mood was surprisingly light as she worked on siphoning gas from the other cars with instruction from her dad. She had just finished filling the van’s tank when a ripple of cold passed through the lot. A heavy presence settled over the area, and Bo turned to see a man approaching the gas station. He didn’t look particularly threatening, but the predatory way he moved set off alarm bells in Bo’s head that had her looking around for a weapon. Instead, she found Derek.
“Deaton.”
“Derek.”
“You look like shit.”
“Oh? I hadn’t noticed” He looked down at himself for a moment before continuing “I’ve been a little preoccupied since I was left for dead.”
“Well, that’s nothing to do with us.”
“I believe it is. You have Scott.” Derek’s brows twitched
“Back off, Deaton, we don’t want trouble.”
“A pity, I do.” He flicked his hand and sent a pallet of charcoal bags towards Derek, which hit him with a thud but did little to deter him. Derek stalked towards Deaton and went to grab his arm. One moment, he was upright; the next, he was sailing through the air, crashing through the front window of the station shop in an explosion of glass. He disappeared with a choked grunt.
“Derek!” Louis sprinted to help without hesitation.
Ellen swore and grabbed hold of Bo, who had been standing still, watching the exchange. “We have to move, now. Grab your father and get him in the van. I’ll get the car ready to go.” Bo nodded resolutely as she helped her dad clamber into the back of the van, pulling the doors in behind them in hopes that it might shield them from whatever happened outside. Ellen looked around for Louis, but he had disappeared, presumably into the shop to help Derek. God help them, she hoped they made it out of here alive.

Inside the gas station, Melissa flinched at the sound — the crash of glass and the yells that followed. She turned toward the back room. Scott still sat there, arms tied behind him. He was alert now, looking around the room as his mum came towards him.
“What’s going on? What’s happening?”
"Come on," she hissed, cutting the cord. "We need to leave.”
“What’s –”
“Be quiet, Scott. We still need to have a long conversation when we get through this.” She hauled him up and manoeuvred him towards the back of the building.
Louis paid little attention to the figure of Deaton as he vaulted the frame, which was now severely lacking in window. He moved quickly through the store, following the path of destruction Derek’s body had made to find him slumped against a fridge, cracks in the glass radiating from where his head had made impact.
“Shit, hey, hey, look at me,” Louis said, crouching beside him. He grabbed Derek’s face gently, checking his eyes. “You with me?”
Derek groaned. “Yeah. Just… got introduced to a window.”
Louis gave a weak laugh. “Yeah, and a fridge, among other things. Your head is bleeding.”
“It’s fine, just give me a couple minutes.” Sing-song whistling came from the front of the store, and the bell above the door tinkled as Deaton casually entered.
Louis hooked an arm under Derek’s shoulder and helped him up. “Come on. We don’t have time.” Derek staggered once, then steadied himself.
“Thanks.”
“I’ve got you,” Louis said, voice low but firm. “Now let’s go.” They moved quickly in the direction of the back room, managing to avoid Deaton as meandered through the shelves whistling. They made it into the room to find Melissa pounding her shoulder into the rear exit door to no avail. She turned to face them with watery eyes.Derek took a deep breath and shook himself off before he motioned for her to step aside. He gave the door one solid kick and it flung open, bouncing on its hinges. Melissa and Louis both looked at him with a mixture of surprise and concern but followed him as he moved towards the door. Behind them the sound of metal tearing echoed as Deaton destroyed the shopfront looking for them. They all moved together, the door slamming behind them as they exited the building.
Around the corner, Ellen was already behind the wheel of the sedan, engine rumbling. Bo threw open the back of the van.
“Move, now!” They made it halfway there before the shop’s front sign — a rusting steel-and-wood monstrosity — came screaming through the air like a javelin. It struck the pavement ahead with a thunderous crack, sending all four sprawling. Before they could scramble up, Deaton raised his hand again — and Scott lifted off the ground, dragged backwards, heels scraping helplessly through dust and gravel.
“No!” Melissa screamed, taking off after him. Derek cursed and followed, overtaking her in strides. Scott’s screams echoed as he was yanked back into the ruins of the station. Melissa reached them just as Deaton raised his arm. With a cry, she brought down a tire iron across the back of his skull. He staggered, but only for a moment. He turned, eyes burning, and with a flick of his fingers, sent Melissa flying across the lot. She hit the hood of a rusted-out sedan, crumpling in a heap. Derek lunged from the side, claws flashing. He raked across Deaton’s chest and shoulder, drawing deep, unnatural blood — but it didn’t stop the monster. Deaton snarled and backhanded him into the side of the shop, cracking wood and bone alike. Louis moved to race toward him again but Bo kept a firm grip on his shoulder, keeping him near the van. Then — metal screamed again.
Scott, now cornered, watched as broken shelving rose like serpents. They twisted midair, and one drove straight through his abdomen, lifting him off the ground and pinning him to the charred back wall. He choked, gasping, eyes wild. “Please—Deaton, I’m sorry. I didn’t—You can’t kill me. I’m not supposed to die. I can’t die here. Please, I don’t die here!”
Deaton stepped close, the firelight rising behind him.
“Alas,” he said with venomous calm, “you whimpering sack of shit… yes, you do.” Then he lifted his hand once more — and the gas station caught fire. A wall of flame surged to life behind Scott, silhouetting his impaled body as the store began to collapse. Deaton turned, walking through the smoke like a god of vengeance. Derek had already crawled to Melissa. He lifted her limp form and began jogging towards the van, his ribs cracking back into place as he did so. He winced but kept moving. Fires and gas stations did not mix well and he didn’t much fancy going the way of his uncle.
“Get it started!” he yelled.
Bo and Ellen were already moving. Engines roared to life.
Deaton was sprinting towards the vehicles behind them, his burning silhouette bearing down on them. Derek kept a good pace but he could feel Deaton closing in behind them.
The station exploded.
A thunderous bloom of fire swallowed the building whole. The shockwave rolled outward, hurling debris into the air. Derek felt himself keel forward and rolled to protect Melissa’s body from the fall and then any debris. He looked up to where Deaton was knelt a few feet from where they had been stood. He turned to look right at Derek, the tire iron now sticking cleanly out of his head. Silence passed over the lot for a few moments, broken only by the crackle of fire and the choking sobs of those who had survived it – until the moans of the dead began to filter through, attracted by the noise of the fight. Derek heaved himself and Melissa into the van, pulling the doors shut behind them. Bo clambered through to the front of the van and slammed it into drive. The tires screeched as they peeled out of the the lot and into the night. Several smaller explosions rattled the van as the fire reached the gas pumps. Derek looked down at Melissa, dreading her reaction when she woke up.

------------------------------------

The boat drifted out into the inlet, the motor puttering low, barely enough to cut the current. No one spoke for a while. Just the sound of water slapping gently against the hull, and the wheeze of collective adrenaline crashing.
Stiles leaned against the starboard rail, hands braced, watching the dock shrink behind them. Jordan stood a few feet away, near the engine, keeping half an eye on the water and half on everyone else. Always scanning. Always ready. Lydia sat beside the emergency flare box, fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the metal lid. She didn’t look at anyone, but she was listening. Calculating, like always. Her knees were shaking. Allison moved carefully around the group, checking limbs and eyes and breathing rates. She stopped by Lydia, knelt down, and said nothing. Lydia didn’t look at her, just leaned until their shoulders touched. That was enough.

Annie sat at the helm, one hand steady on the wheel, eyes focused ahead. The boat’s rusted engine coughed and rumbled beneath her, threatening mutiny every few seconds, but she coaxed it forward like she was born on the water. Sophia stood to her right, watching the banks through binoculars. Quiet. Still. A human weather vane for trouble.
“Anything?” Annie asked, not looking up.
“Not yet,” Sophia said. “But the current’s pushing us faster than we want. We’ll have to anchor soon.”
“Not until we’ve got cover. I want trees. Or rocks. Something with a blind side.”
Sophia nodded. “Copy that.” They didn’t need to say more.

Virginia settled onto a coil of rope near the stern, boots kicked out in front of her, arms around Olive. The girl had curled herself into a tight knot, sketchbook open but forgotten in her lap. She was drawing something repetitive—loops, shadows, coils—but not really seeing it.
“Drawin’ doesn’t always work, chickadee,” Virginia murmured. “Sometimes the fear’s too big to fit on paper. That’s all right.”
Olive didn’t answer, but she leaned into her side, the tension in her shoulders slowly loosening.
“You did good today,” Virginia added after a pause. “You stayed sharp. You stuck close.”
Olive’s pencil scratched across the page again, slower now. She didn’t speak, but she started drawing again—this time something that looked like waves. Virginia rested her hand on the girl’s back and didn’t move it.

Stiles hadn’t moved since they’d cast off. Jordan approached slowly, his steps heavy but careful.
“You all right?”
Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, perfect day. Almost got eaten, tripped over dock slime, and now I smell like seaweed and trauma.”
“Physically, I mean.”
“I have all my limbs,” Stiles muttered. “And most of my pride.”
Jordan leaned on the railing next to him, watching the horizon. “You never answered by the way,” he said after a beat.
Stiles glanced over, wary. “Answered what?”
“Favorite movie star.” Jordan kept his voice light. “Back in the car. We got cut off.”
Stiles let out a breath through his nose. “Right. That.”
Jordan waited.
“Anne Hathaway,” he said finally. “I know. Unexpected. Shut up.”
Jordan didn’t. He just raised an eyebrow.
“She’s versatile,” Stiles said, defensive now. “Princess Diaries, Ocean’s Eleven, Catwoman. Now that woman’s got range.”
Jordan smiled, just slightly. “You rehearsed that.”
“No… maybe.” He rolled his eyes and looked back out at the water.
There was a beat. Then Jordan said, “I liked her in Interstellar.”
Stiles perked up slightly. “Yes! Okay, that one wrecked me. She’s in space, talking about love like it’s a quantifiable force of the universe, and I’m just sitting there like, yeah, sure, rip my heart out.”
Jordan chuckled under his breath. “You could’ve just said you like her.”
“Yeah, well. That didn’t feel sufficient.”
They let the quiet settle again, easy now. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. They stayed there — shoulders almost touching — eyes soft in the fading light. Two silhouettes in the fading light of the day, drifting away from the ruins of the life they’d known and towards, they hoped, a new semblance of safety.

Chapter Text

The fire had long since died down to ashes. Smoke drifted low over the water, mingling with the early morning mist that clung to the riverbank. Stiles sat with his back against a tree root, legs drawn up, eyes on the horizon. The others were scattered around camp in various states of half-awake. He was drinking a small cup of bitter instant coffee. Nowhere near as good as the coffee Lydia used to serve at the café, but it was the best they had given the current circumstances. In the quiet of the morning, with the sound of birds above and the gentle swishing of the branches above him, he could almost convince himself they were simply out on a camping trip of some sort – the kind his Dad used to take him on when he was a kid. Dad. The uncertainty of his Dad’s death gnawed at him. He could still be out there, alive, though the chance was highly unlikely. He had hope that he was still out there, and perhaps one day they would meet again.
Jordan returned then, from a short perimeter sweep, boots muffled in the dewy grass. He dropped a few scavenged branches near the cold firepit and nudged Stiles with his knee.
“Nothing out there,” he murmured. “Just birds. Maybe a raccoon with anger issues.”
Stiles hummed but didn’t look up. “Is it weird I miss the smell of real coffee?”
Jordan smirked, crouching beside him. “Not weird. Habits are strong forces. You good?” Stiles hummed again and finished off the rest of the cup, face scrunching at the powdery last mouthful. He was going to have to wash that away with some water.
Nearby, Lydia was rubbing her temples, hair tied up messily as she repacked her bag with first aid supplies and rations for the day. Sophia handed her a ration bar without speaking. Lydia took it with a grateful nod, and they sat together in silence eating. The quiet throughout the camp wasn’t tense, just quiet. And Stiles was thankful for the small mercy that they hadn’t been disturbed during their short camp here.
Virginia stirred the embers with the edge of her boot, glancing over at Olive, who sat cross-legged on a dry patch of tarp, sketchbook open, pencil moving in soft, slow loops. The girl had begun to open up to the others, but they were all acutely aware that it was going to take time for her to open up to them fully. It was hard to think that it had only been a few days since things had really gone downhill. The world before seemed so far away from where they were now.
“All right,” Annie’s voice cut through the stillness. She stood, brushing dirt off the back of her jeans and finishing off her own cup of coffee. “We’ve got another hour here. Eat, make sure we have all the weapons we need, and pack as light as we can. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a small town before dark to pick up some more supplies for the trip.”
She had gone over the plan with them all the previous evening as to how they were getting from the Marina to Sacramento. A winding path would take them south, down the Sacramento River and land them near the airport. Their first major stop would be the small town of Grimes. It had taken them a few hours to get there the evening before, and though the town was small, they were hopeful that it hadn’t been hit too hard by scavengers yet.

Jordan made his way across their small makeshift camp and crouched down beside Olive, voice low and gentle. “Hey. I want you to stick close to Mason today, okay?”
Olive frowned. “Why can’t I go with you?”
“Because I need you safe.” He offered a small, fond smile. “And because I know you’ll keep him out of trouble.” Olive glanced at Mason, who was halfway through trying to drink from a bottle of water with one hand while balancing a hatchet in the other. She sighed heavily, then nodded. “We won’t be gone long. But just in case... I want you to have this.”
Olive stared at the knife, then up at him.
“I’m not scared,” she said.
“I know,” Jordan replied. “But brave doesn’t mean reckless. Let me show you something.”
He reached down, picked up a stick, and held it upright like a slow-moving target. “If something comes at you, and you can’t run — this is what you do. You don’t aim for the chest. You go under the chin. Here.”
He gently touched the underside of his chin with the flat of the blade. “Sharp and straight. You don’t need to stab hard — just smart.”
She watched him carefully. No fear in her eyes. Just focus.
“Try it,” he said, handing her the knife.
She mimicked the motion — hesitating at first, but the second try was smoother. On the third, she moved fast and clean.
“Good,” Jordan said. “Grip it firm, stay balanced, and make sure you angle the blade up and away from you, okay?”
Olive gave a small, serious nod. “Okay.”
He rested a hand on her shoulder briefly, then straightened. “Mason’ll stick with you. You keep him out of trouble.”
Jordan gave Mason a look as he passed. Mason looked halfway amused, halfway nervous.
“I can handle one twelve-year-old,” he said. Then, under his breath, “Probably.”
Jordan shot him a warning glance and then followed the others toward the ridgeline, where Annie was already setting the pace. The group moved into the trees, shadows swallowing them one by one. It was a quiet moment. But Stiles caught it from across the camp — the way Jordan’s shoulders didn’t fully lower until Olive tucked the knife into her belt and went to sit beside Mason.

The mist hadn’t yet burned off when Lydia found Annie kneeling by the riverbank, checking the tension on her shotgun’s sling. Her movements were clean, mechanical — the kind of sharp efficiency that didn’t leave room for thought, only action.
“You don’t waste time,” Lydia said as she approached, arms wrapped around herself. Annie didn’t look up.
“Can’t afford to.” Lydia stood there for a moment, taking in the quiet ripple of the river and the hunched silhouettes of their group still half-sleeping against tree trunks and tarps.
“We’re not in a firefight,” she said eventually. “We have time.”
“Not for long.” That hung between them, weighty and undeniable.
“You sleep at all?” Lydia asked.
“Enough.”
“That’s not a real answer.”
Annie finally glanced over. “It’s the one I’ve got.” There was no edge to it — just worn-down honesty. Lydia took a breath.
“You always like this?” she asked. “Or just since the world ended?”
Annie’s mouth quirked — not quite a smile, but something close. “You don’t make it to thirty-five in law enforcement by being soft around the edges.”
Lydia didn’t flinch. “You don’t make it to twenty-four in Beacon Hills without learning when someone’s deflecting.”
Annie exhaled through her nose, looked back out at the water.
“There was a kid,” she said, voice lower now. “Rookie I was training. Connor. Fresh badge, shaky hands, always double-checking regs like it was a bible test. He was smart, though. Kind. Made terrible coffee.”
“What happened?”
“Routine call turned sideways. Guy inside was hopped up, paranoid, had a gun I didn’t notice he had. We tried to talk him down. He pulled his gun. I tried to get us out, but he fired before I had time to move. But I should’ve been prepared for it.” Annie's jaw tightened.
Lydia’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”
Annie nodded once, like that apology belonged to a hundred other things too. Silence stretched between them, only the hush of water and the occasional rustle from camp filling the space. Lydia knelt beside her, not too close.
“That explains the efficiency,” she said. “You’re always trying to stay one step ahead of everything. Of everyone.”
Annie glanced sideways. “I suppose.”
“You and Jordan make a good team”
Annie was quiet. “Thanks.”
“But we’re all in the same shit situation. Don’t be afraid to lean on the rest of us.”
Annie didn’t respond right away. Then she stood, shotgun slung back across her shoulder.
“I’ll try. Let’s get moving.” she said, brushing the dirt off her knees.
Lydia rose too. “Let’s get to it.”

----------------------------------------

The town Derek and the others rolled into looked like time had simply stopped — like it had been halfway through an ordinary day when everything went to shit. Cars still sat in driveways. Storefronts remained mostly intact, though dust had settled on the window displays like a second skin. A few signs swung lazily in the breeze, creaking in protest, and there was a faint smell of mildew hanging in the air — but no fire damage, no blood trails. Just stillness.
The library stood at the edge of a quiet main street, its windows fogged from the inside and its double doors jammed with age. Louis pried them open with a crowbar and a muttered curse, the noise echoing down the block like a gunshot. Inside, the air was stale but breathable. Shelves stood mostly upright, though some leaned with the weight of time. Pages littered the floor in gentle drifts, as if someone had opened a book and let the wind read it out loud. The structure held. It felt… empty. But not dead. They settled in quickly, moving on muscle memory now. No fire — too risky. Just battery lamps and a pile of blankets scavenged from the van. Derek took first watch. The others curled into corners and faded into silence.
Melissa hadn’t spoken since the gas station.

-----------------------------

Bo perched on the arm of a beat-up armchair near the front of the library, boot scuffing softly against the cracked tile. Her fingers were wrapped around the frayed drawstring of her hoodie, tugging it tight, then letting it go. Over and over. Ellen sat across from her on a splintered bench, rolling a strip of cloth through her fingers as she wiped down the edge of her folding knife. Not sharpening — just cleaning. Her hands were steady. Intentional. The kind of motion that kept her grounded. Ellis lay nearby, leaning against a toppled bookshelf with his coat pulled halfway over his face. He lowered it just enough to talk.
“You’ve got that look again.”
Bo didn’t look up. “What look?”
“The one that says your brain’s two exits ahead of the rest of us.”
Bo offered a faint, dry snort. “Maybe I’m just thinking.”
“Exactly,” Ellis muttered. “That’s the dangerous part.”
Ellen didn’t say anything, but her eyes flicked toward Bo — sharp, assessing. Like she was cataloguing how deep the unrest went.
Bo shifted her weight. “It’s too quiet.”
“Quiet should be good,” Ellis said, eyes closed again.
“Not this kind of quiet,” she replied. “Feels like something’s… waiting. I don’t know. It’s in the air.”
Ellen went back to cleaning the blade, but more slowly now. “You’re not wrong.”
Bo glanced up. “It’s not just nerves. It’s like everyone’s pretending they’re okay, but no one’s sleeping. Melissa hasn’t said a word since yesterday.”
“She just lost her son,” Ellen said simply. “Let her carry it how she needs to.”
“I know. It’s just—” Bo hesitated. “I keep looking around, waiting for the aftershock. Like we survived the big wave, but we’re still too close to the ocean.”
Ellis opened one eye. “Maybe we are.”
They all fell quiet for a few seconds.
Bo tugged once more at the hoodie string. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. We’re alive. But it doesn’t feel like winning.”
“It never does,” Ellen said. She didn’t look up. “Not in the middle of it.”
Bo swallowed. “I keep thinking about how fast everything happened. One minute we were just—loading the van. Talking. Then fire. Screaming. People breaking.”
Ellis gave a low grunt. “You never get used to it.”
“I don’t want to,” Bo said.
That surprised even her — the sharpness of it.
Ellen paused mid-motion, knife gleaming. “That’s good,” she said softly. “You hold on to that. Once it stops hurting, you’re either too far gone or already dead.”
The three of them sat with that for a while. No one filled the silence.
Bo let her leg swing idly. “You ever just… feel like something’s coming? Not a person. Not a horde. Just… something?”
Ellen looked over. “All the time.”
Ellis smiled faintly. “Means you’re paying attention.”

------------------------------------------------

Mason flopped down beside the long-dead campfire and started stacking twigs for no real reason. The embers had gone cold hours ago, and he was mostly just bored.
Olive sat a few feet away on the edge of a cracked plastic cooler, sketchbook balanced on her knees. Her pencil scratched faintly over the page in looping arcs.
“So…” Mason began, picking up a rock and tossing it between his hands. “You draw a lot, huh?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“Not that that’s bad,” he added quickly. “It’s cool. Mysterious. Very... tortured genius.”
Still nothing. She kept drawing.
He cleared his throat. “What are you drawing now?”
Olive tilted the sketchbook slightly so he could see — faint outlines of a boat, trees hunched along a riverbank, someone leaning on the railing. The details were sharp. Almost too sharp.
“Oh. That’s... that’s us.” He pointed at the figure by the railing. “Is that Jordan?”
She nodded.
“Nice,” Mason said, impressed despite himself. “I can barely draw a stick figure. Tried to sketch Allison once in middle school, and it looked like a haunted balloon.”
That got a small puff of air — not quite a laugh, but close.
Encouraged, Mason leaned back on his elbows, eyes scanning the treetops. “So… what’s your deal? Like, what did you do before all this? Were you a horse girl? One of those kids who can name every dinosaur?”
Olive gave him a look. Dry. Unimpressed.
“Okay, okay,” Mason said, grinning. “Serious question. Favourite ice cream flavour. It’s important, defines the soul.”
“Cherry,” she said softly.
He raised his eyebrows. “Ohhh. Interesting. You contain multitudes.”
Olive tilted her head. “What’s yours?”
“Peanut butter cup,” he said, with solemn reverence. “But not the kind with actual peanuts in it. That’s a betrayal.”
A pause stretched between them. The soft rustle of leaves, the distant call of a bird. It was peaceful in that strange, temporary way things got right before the world tilted sideways.
“You know, when I was your age, I was re-watching episodes of Buffy and trying to recreate the moves, thinking I was all cool and—"
Mason noticed too late. The groan came low and wet from the trees. He whipped around, eyes wide. One of the undead was stumbling toward them — gaunt, slow, dragging a foot and one limp arm. Its mouth opened and closed, teeth snapping in sick rhythm.
“Shit,” Mason hissed, scrambling to his feet. He lunged for the hatchet he’d left beside the firepit — but his boot caught the edge of the charred ring and he went down hard, shoulder slamming into the dirt.
The undead figure lurched closer, its clothing torn and scorched. It had only been a week since the outbreak and so if you didn't know any better you might mistake for a very badly injured person. But the haze in its eyes and the noise it made were anything but human.
“Olive—!”
But she was already moving.
She stepped forward, grip tight on the knife Jordan had given her that morning, just like he’d shown her. She didn’t hesitate. As the undead person reached out, she ducked under its swinging arm and drove the blade up beneath its chin. A wet snap. Then nothing.
The body crumpled beside the fire pit, half in the ashes.
Mason groaned, rolling onto his back. He looked between the body that had fallen next to him and Olive. “Holy fuck. Are you okay?”
Olive didn’t answer.
She stood still for a second, knife slack in her hand, eyes locked on the undead’s crumpled form. Her breathing was shallow — not panicked, just tight. Focused. She wiped the blade clean in the grass like Jordan had shown her, but her fingers trembled slightly.
Then, slowly, she walked back to the cooler and sat down. Her sketchbook rested beside her, forgotten. She didn’t reach for it. Didn’t open it. Her shoulders had curled inward, her chin tucked down like she was trying to disappear into herself.
Mason got to his feet, brushing off dirt and ash, and crossed over. He knelt beside her, voice gentle.
“Olive?”
She didn’t look at him.
After a moment, she whispered, “It was looking right at me. It- it was someone.”
Mason exhaled. “Yeah, it was once. But it wasn't a person anymore.”
She blinked fast, once. Then again. But the tears still came. Quiet and steady. No sobbing, no sound — just the silent unravelling of something too heavy for her small frame.
Mason didn’t hesitate this time. He sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in carefully — no squeeze, no pressure. Just presence.
Olive leaned into him, shoulders shaking against his chest. She hid her face in his jacket, and Mason let her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix it.
They sat that way for a while — still and small, the world narrowed down to this one quiet grief.
When her breathing began to settle again, Olive didn’t pull away. She just stayed close, legs drawn up on the cooler, hands curled loosely in her lap. The sketchbook stayed where she’d left it.
Mason shifted slightly, scanning the trees again. The body was still lying there, unmoving. No more sounds. Nothing creeping.
He looked down at her, eyes soft.
“We’ll keep watch,” he said, low.
Olive gave a tiny nod.

-------------------------------------------------------

Derek sat near the windows on the second floor, sunlight catching on his cheekbone. His shirt was pulled back, revealing skin that should’ve been torn open from the fight with Deaton. There was blood on the fabric still, but none on his body. Not even a scar. Louis leaned against the wall beside him, silent for a beat too long.
“You were bleeding,” he said finally. “I saw it.”
“I was,” Derek replied flatly.
Louis didn’t move. “And now you’re not.”
Derek nodded.
More silence. Then Louis asked, carefully, “Should I be worried?”
Derek looked over at him. “No.”
“But you’re not normal.”
“No.”
Louis took that in with a slow exhale. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. So what’s the deal, then? Radiation? Mutation? Government experiment?”
Derek huffed something like a laugh. “Werewolf.”
Louis blinked. “That… wasn’t on my bingo card.”
“Didn’t think it would be.”
There was another pause — not tense, just full. Like something was being processed. Louis’s brow furrowed.
“Is that how you survived all the shit you’ve been through?”
“Mostly,” Derek said. “Some of it was luck. Some of it was guilt.”
Louis shifted, leaned a little closer. “You saved Melissa. You didn’t hesitate.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
Derek hesitated. “Because I know what it’s like to lose people. To fail the ones who matter.”
Louis looked at him for a long moment. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t desperate. Just a spark, soft and sudden. Warm. Derek leant into it for a few brief moments before he pulled away, shaking his head.
“No,” he said, gently. “Not like this.”
Louis’s face tightened. “Because you don’t want to?”
“Because we’re both running on adrenaline and grief,” Derek replied. “And you’re Erica’s little brother.”
Louis’s jaw flexed. But he didn’t argue.
“You’re not wrong,” he murmured, looking away. “But you’re not right either.”
“Look I don’t—I don’t want to do this like this.”
Louis looked at him for a long moment before he let out a resigned sigh. “I’ll take first watch, go get some rest.”
Derek made to protest, but Louis put his hand up to silence him. Derek acquiesced and moved away, leaving Louis to settle himself in. It was the middle of the day, however, Derek had hardly slept since everything had kicked off, and he was beginning to feel restless.

---------------------------------------------------

The woods pressed close around them, full of wet leaves and the kind of quiet that made you think too long about what might be listening. Damp branches snagged at sleeves. The trail ahead curved low through the undergrowth, winding toward whatever they hadn’t seen yet. Stiles walked just off Jordan’s shoulder, hands tucked into his hoodie.
“So,” he muttered, “zombie hide-and-seek in the murder forest. Honestly? Five out of ten. Would not recommend.”
Jordan arched a brow. “You okay?”
“I mean, existential dread is the new normal, right?” He kicked a rock off the path. “I’m just recalibrating. My internal compass is stuck between ‘mild panic’ and ‘we die in the next five minutes.’”
“You’re doing better than that.”
Stiles huffed. “Thanks. I’ll add it to my résumé. Survived six consecutive days without crying in front of people.”
Behind them, Virginia walked quietly, her pitchfork cradled over one shoulder. She didn’t interrupt — not at first — but her eyes stayed on Stiles, reading the tension behind the sarcasm like it was printed in block font.
After a few more steps, she said, almost idly, “You always talk too much when you’re nervous.”
Stiles glanced back. “That is slander, Virginia Wright.”
“I’ve known you since you were a lanky twelve-year-old helping out at your mum’s gardenin’ club, and had a devastating crush on the debate team captain.”
Jordan tilted his head. “Ooh. Do tell.”
Virginia gave the faintest smirk. “He wrote her a poem. In Morse code.”
Stiles froze mid-step. “Okay, rude. That was supposed to be a secret between me, her locker, and the tragic remains of my dignity.”
“You had your mum teach you about iambic pentameters, sweetpea” Virginia said. “Hard to call it secret when your mum had to read up on rhyming schemes to help ya out.’”
Jordan covered a laugh with his fist. “This keeps getting better.”
“She had to Google the translation,” Virginia added. “And then had to ask your dad to confirm it wasn’t some weird threat.”
“It was romantic!” Stiles insisted, face steadily reddening. “Dot-dot-dash, whatever! Symbolism!”
“Mmhm,” Virginia said mildly. “Im half-surprised you didn’t try to propose to the girl using smoke signals.”
Stiles was beet red by this point. “Well, obviously not that would’ve set off the smoke alarms… Although maybe I should’ve learned how to send smoke signals.”
Virginia wheezed out a laugh, and Stiles turned to see Jordan with tears in his eyes from trying not to laugh. “Oh great, this is my legacy.”
“That is the most adorable nerd behaviour I’ve heard of.” Stiles elbowed Jordan in the side and whipped his round to glare at Virginia.
“See, Virginia, adorable.”
“Mhmmm if you say so,” Virginia’s tone softened. “I’m just glad you’re slightly less embarassin’ now.”
There was an affectionate, maternal love underneath Virginia’s barbs, dry and deep-rooted. One that had been there since Stiles had lost his mum and had continued to grow with them both.
Stiles exhaled and looked over at Jordan. “You ever done anything that mortifying?”
“Not with Morse code,” Jordan said, eyes warm. “But I did once have a proposal rejected in a busy restaurant so…”
Stiles snorted. “God. We’re both disasters.”
“I prefer to think of us as… recklessly optimistic”
“I like that phrasing.” Virginia just shook her head and upped her pace to catch up with the remainder of the group.
For now, they were laughing. And still walking.
That was enough.

--------------------------------------------------

Derek shifted near the windows, casting a glance across the library floor. Melissa still sat in the corner, spine straight but distant — the kind of stillness that came with holding too much in. Her hands were folded in her lap, her eyes unfocused. They had all rested as best they could, taking watch in shifts, other than Melissa, who everyone had quietly decided they wouldn’t bother for the time being.
He walked over quietly, settling beside her without a word. For a moment, they just sat like that — two shadows in a room full of memory.
“I don’t blame you,” Melissa said. Her voice was quiet, but sure.
Derek looked at her, startled. “I didn’t—”
“You do,” she said. Not harsh, just honest. “You think if you’d been faster, stronger, something... he’d still be here.”
His throat worked around a response, but nothing came.
“I saw what you did,” she went on. “You fought like hell. You tried. We all did. And none of it was enough. But that’s not on you.”
He looked down at his hands. “I should’ve gotten him out.”
Melissa gave a small, humourless laugh. “You and me both. But he made his choices. Right up to the end.” She exhaled. “And that’s the part I’ll never stop hating — that it was a choice. Just not one we could change.”
Derek nodded slowly. “He was already gone before we knew it.”
Melissa reached over, placing her hand lightly over his. “Then let’s not let it take the rest of us with him.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It held space for grief, for guilt, for the things they couldn’t undo. But it wasn’t hopeless.
Across the room, someone stirred — the creak of old floorboards breaking the stillness. Derek squeezed Melissa’s hand once, then stood to take the next watch. As he passed the windows, the night stretched quiet and wide outside.
No threats yet. Just the weight of survival.

-----------------------------------------------------

Chapter Text

The library smelled of dust and old paper when dawn broke through the cracked windows. Shafts of pale light caught on toppled shelves and the nests of blankets the group had laid out overnight. Melissa crouched beside Ellis, who lay propped against a stack of books, his legs braced with splints. She peeled back the blanket covering him, hands steady but tired.
“Still attached,” Ellis muttered, grimacing as she checked the wrappings. “Gold star for me.”
Melissa didn’t smile. She adjusted the bandage around his shin with careful precision. Every touch was slow, deliberate. “No signs of infection, so far so good.”
She drew in a quiet breath, tightened the last knot, and stood. Her eyes lingered on him for a beat longer than necessary before she turned away. At the far end of the room, Derek hauled the last crate of supplies onto his shoulder, muscles taut under his shirt. He moved in silence, steps steady, eyes fixed forward. Louis watched him from the doorway, one hand on the frame, the other gripping his bag. When Derek passed him, the air between them tightened. Derek didn’t meet his gaze, but Louis didn’t look away, not after last night on the roof. There was an unspoken weight there — knowledge that shifted everything, even if neither of them had the words yet.
“Ready?” Ellen’s voice cut through the stillness as she folded the worn map and tucked it into her jacket.
Bo appeared at the top of the mezzanine stairs, yawning, her hoodie slung over one shoulder. “Road trip time.” She clapped her hands once, loud in the hush, and then went to fetch the wheelbarrow they’d stashed by the doors. Melissa helped Ellis into it with practised efficiency. He grunted, jaw tight, but didn’t complain.
“Chauffeur service, five stars,” Ellis muttered, settling in as Bo manoeuvred the handles.
Ellen led the way outside. Derek slid into the passenger seat of the car, silent as ever, his gaze fixed out the cracked windshield. Louis climbed into the backseat, leaning forward slightly as if the space between them wasn’t enough. For a second, Derek’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Caught him. Held him. Then shifted away. The engines roared to life, loud against the silence of the abandoned town. They pulled out, dust curling up in their wake, the library shrinking into the distance — just another relic left behind.

----------------------------------------------

The town felt as though it had been abandoned long before it actually was. Grimes sat nestled against the Sacramento River, several streets of low houses spread across gardens of various sizes. The sun hung hazy and low. No birds. No breeze. Just the distant sound of birds. Once they hit the bounds of the town the group split into two – heading towards the houses and the small market to see what they could find.
Annie, Lydia, Allison and Sophia moved cautiously down the narrow road between houses, weapons lowered but ready. The asphalt was cracked, overgrown with weeds pushing through. One bicycle lay rusted on its side in a driveway, its wheel still faintly spinning from some unseen breeze. Annie raised a hand, signaling stop. She moved up the steps of the nearest house, tested the doorknob — locked. Sophia slipped past her, crouched by a window, peering in.
“Clear,” she mouthed.
They entered quiet, flashlights sweeping through dust-thick air. Family photos still hung crookedly on the walls. A breakfast table was set for three. Lydia lingered on it for a beat too long. Annie opened a hall closet and paused.
“Batteries,” she said, holding up a sealed pack. Sophia checked the kitchen drawers. Mostly empty. Lydia opened the fridge without thinking — then immediately recoiled.
“Oh God, why did I do that” She quickly shut the door and backed away from the rotten odour that had entered the room.
“Hope,” Allison muttered. “It dies slow.”
They moved methodically, clearing room by room. In the bedroom, the bed was still made. Shoes neatly lined beside it. Sophia touched a dusty photo on the dresser. A young boy with missing teeth grinned out from beneath a Little League cap.
“People left fast,” she said.
“Or didn’t leave at all” Annie added, voice tight.
Meanwhile, Stiles, Jordan, and Virginia moved toward the market. It was squat and square, sun-bleached signs still clinging to the windows: Cold Drinks. Lotto. Batteries. Stiles adjusted his grip on the crowbar.
“This place screams ‘ambush,’” he muttered.
Jordan gave him a look. “Not helping the tension there Stiles”
“It so does though.”
Virginia gave a huff, barely audible. “You keep your yappin’ up you might get your ambush.”
“Sorry sorry I’ll be quiet.”
She just smiled, unbothered, as they reached the doors. One was already cracked open — wedged by an empty crate. Jordan pushed it with his foot, the hinges creaking loud in the silence. Inside smelled like plastic, mildew, and memory. The market was stripped of anything obvious — shelves overturned, the snack aisle a mess of mouse-nibbled wrappers. Jordan moved quietly, scanning for anything missed. Stiles picked up a can of peaches and gave it a shake.
“Still sealed. That’s the bar now.”
Virginia moved slower, more deliberate. She stopped at the back cooler, peered through the fogged glass.
“Water,” she called softly. “Two bottles. Might still be good.”
Stiles crossed over, hands in his pockets. “You think there’s a working freezer somewhere with leftover Ben & Jerry’s?”
“Dream big, sugarplum,” Virginia said, moving past him with a wink.

-------------------------------------------

The convoy, if there one van and one car could be called a convoy, moved slow, tires crunching over grit and broken glass. The van led, its engine rattling, wheelbarrow stashed in the back with Ellis propped against the side door, Melissa beside him. The car followed at a careful distance, Ellen’s grip steady on the wheel. Windows were rolled down to listen. The silence outside pressed in — not just empty, but hollow, like the world was holding its breath. Ellis shifted, his splints knocking softly against the van wall.
“If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend this is just a terrible road trip,” he said.
“Yeah?” Bo glanced at him, one hand loose on the wheel. “Then what playlist are we blasting?”
“Something loud enough to drown out my suffering.” Melissa adjusted his blanket, her face softening just a fraction. Ellis grinned at her and then leaned toward Bo.
“Remember Florida?”
Bo groaned immediately. “Don’t you dare.”
“Oh, I’m daring. Picture it, Melissa: August heat, no AC, the three of us crammed into our tiny rusted-our car, and Bo here —” he jabbed a thumb toward her — “throws a Slushie out the window. Except the window was rolled up.”
Melissa raised her brows, lips twitching despite herself. “Sticky?”
“Sticky?” Ellis snorted. “The car smelled like rotten grapes and purple for months, Ellen sold it in the end after three professional deep cleans couldn’t get rid of the smell.”
Bo thumped the steering wheel. “In my defense, I was seven!”
Ellis leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I still spent hours cleaning purple gunk off of you and the seats.”
Melissa let out the barest laugh, quiet but real.
In the car behind them, Derek sat shotgun, shoulders taut, eyes scanning every street they passed. Houses sagged inward on themselves, blinds drawn, toys abandoned in yards. Nothing moved. Louis leaned forward from the backseat, forearms draped over his knees.
“It’s too quiet.”
“Quiet’s good,” Ellen said without looking away from the road.
“Not this kind of quiet,” Derek muttered.
Louis studied him for a moment, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hands flexed against his knees as though trying to bleed tension out of his body. He thought about last night on the roof — the truth Derek had let slip, the rawness behind it.
Werewolf.
Louis couldn’t quite shake the knowledge. Couldn’t shake the speed of Derek’s healing, the way he moved, the way he seemed to look at people as though he knew what they were thinking. Louis wasn’t afraid. But he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with the knowing. Derek had been a mystery before. But was he less of a mystery now? He’d trusted Louis with his secret, should he return the act with his own secret?
Derek turned suddenly, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. Their gazes locked. Louis didn’t look away. Not this time. The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched — not a smile, not quite. Then he turned back to look at the road ahead.

------------------------------------------

Back at the house, Annie pushed open the door to the garage. Sophia followed, boots soft on concrete. The air was stale. One workbench, mostly cleared. Shelves half-full with paint cans and spiderwebs.
“Tools,” Annie said, pointing. “Crowbar. Maybe usable.”
Lydia lingered by a small side door that led out to the yard. She cracked it open slowly — just enough to see a swing swaying in the still air. The plastic seat knocked softly against the post. She shut it again.
In the house, Annie closed the garage and gave a low whistle. “Time to move. We’ve picked it dry.”
Lydia gave one last look at the hallway photo wall before stepping out onto the porch.
Sophia paused at the threshold. “You ever think about who they were?”
Annie didn’t turn around. “I try not to.”
The neighbourhood was too quiet — like the houses were holding their breath. Annie moved ahead of the others, hand on her weapon, eyes scanning windows and overgrown yards. Sophia flanked her on the left, while Ellen swept the right side with calm, mechanical focus. They’d cleared three houses already — empty, stripped, decaying. But even emptiness could be dangerous. It meant something had already come through. Or was still waiting.
“This one,” Annie said, nodding at a two-story colonial with warped shutters and a cracked front door.
Sophia took point on the entry, easing the door open with the butt of her knife. The smell hit them instantly — mildew, dust, and something faintly sour.
“Doesn’t scream ‘survivor central,’” Sophia muttered.
They moved through the living room quickly — peeling wallpaper, overturned furniture, kids’ toys scattered like forgotten memories. The kitchen had old food boxes, mouse droppings, and one broken window. Nothing useful. Nothing alive.
“Upstairs?” Lydia asked, already halfway to the steps.
Annie gave a curt nod. The floorboards groaned as they climbed. At the top of the stairs, a hallway stretched toward two bedrooms and a small bathroom.
“Check both,” Annie ordered. “Quick.”
Sophia took the first room. Lydia and Allison the second. Annie stepped into the bathroom — the mirror cracked, toothbrushes still in the holder. A half-used bottle of shampoo rested on the edge of the tub. Personal. Lived in. That always made it worse. She opened the cabinet and found a stash of gauze and antiseptic. Small wins. On her way out, she grabbed the shampoo and stuffed it into her bag. Wishful thinking, but hopefully they’d be able to have a proper wash-up at some point.
“Clear!” Sophia called.
“Same,” Lydia added.
Annie stepped back into the hall. “Let’s hit one more before we regroup.”
In the market, Stiles rooted behind the register, blowing dust off a tiny box. “Batteries. Maybe for a flashlight. Or a radio.”
Jordan ducked behind the back counter. “Hand sanitizer. Expired, but still good enough for cuts.” A crash echoed from somewhere deeper in the store. The three froze.
Stiles tensed. “That wasn’t me.”
Jordan raised a hand, gesturing for quiet. Virginia tilted her head, eyes narrowing. Nothing. Then a scurry.
“Just crazy rats” she said after a moment. “Or a possum. Could’ve knocked over a display.”
Stiles slowly exhaled. “One day it’s gonna be not rodents and we’ll all be too tired to care.”

----------------------------------------------------

The van slowed to a stop a few hours later. Up ahead, a two-story house stood at the edge of a cul-de-sac. Its curtains were still drawn, the lawn overgrown but not wild, there was a lack of carnage and debris around the house.
Bo eased out of the van as Derek made his way over. “Looks untouched.”
“Or looks too untouched,” Derek muttered, eyes narrowed as he scanned the windows.
Melissa shifted, already moving to check Ellis. “We’ll be quick. You’re not going anywhere.”
Ellis gave a mock salute from his wheelbarrow. “Scout’s honour.”
“You were never a scout,” Ellen proffered as she walked by the doors.
“No, but my brother was.”
“That doesn’t count, hon.” Ellen clambered into the back of the van to wait with her husband while Melissa went with the others to check the house.
The air inside the house was not stale, though, really it should have been. Dust motes hung in the light cutting through the blinds, but the expected film covering the surfaces of the house was missing. Shoes still sat by the door, neatly lined up. A child’s drawing was pinned to the fridge in the kitchen — stick figures holding hands beneath a lopsided sun. They all listened for any sound of movement but after a minute of dead silence, proceeded into the house.
Melissa headed straight for the cupboards, movements brisk, controlled. She found cans stacked behind the cereal boxes, their labels faded but intact. Her lips pressed tight, but her hands moved with purpose. Ellen swept the living room, checking the hall closets. The silence made every creak of the floorboards louder. Louis lingered in the hallway, eyes following Derek as he checked the staircase. Derek moved with quiet precision — the way his weight shifted before each step, how he froze to listen, every movement measured, calculated.
“Do you always move like that?” Louis asked quietly, voice pitched not to carry.
Derek looked back, brows knit. “Like what?”
“Like we’re being hunted.”
“Aren’t we?” Derek said simply.
Louis huffed a breath, halfway between a laugh and frustration. “You ever let yourself just… breathe? For five seconds?”
Derek’s eyes flicked over him. Something unreadable passed there — hesitation, maybe. “Not when people are depending on me.” Derek’s voice was low, steady — a soldier’s answer. Louis didn’t push right away. He leaned back against the banister, arms folded, studying Derek’s profile in the dim light.
“I get that,” he said finally. “Really, I do. But… it’s not just on you.”
Derek’s eyes flicked over, sharp. “Feels like it is.”
“Yeah, and maybe it always has for you,” Louis said, tone gentler now. “But you don’t have to carry it alone. Not anymore.” He shifted, lowering his voice further. “We’re all working pretty well as a team. Maybe you could let us in, just a little bit?” For a moment, Derek didn’t move. Just stood there. Something unreadable flickered across his face. Louis offered the faintest smile, not pressing further.
“Just… think about it. All I’m saying.”
The silence stretched. Then Derek gave the smallest nod — almost imperceptible, but it was there. Melissa’s voice carried from the kitchen, breaking the weight of the moment.
“Food’s good. A week’s worth, maybe more.”
Ellen appeared in the doorway, a bottle of painkillers in hand. “Nothing dangerous. Feels clean. We could bed here for the night if needed. What’re we thinking?”
Louis pushed off the banister and brushed past Derek as they headed back toward the others. But this time, Derek’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, like maybe he’d heard more than he let on.

----------------------------------------------------

The next home was ranch-style. Flat. Easy to clear. They split again: Lydia on the garage, Sophia through the back, Annie at the front. The door was unlocked. Annie slipped inside, scanning quickly. Dust. Rotten carpet. An old recliner marked with mildew. The hallway smelled of cat urine. In the bedroom, she found a half-packed go-bag in the closet — moldy, but still zipped. She opened it. Flashlight. Batteries. A flare. Someone had planned to leave. They hadn’t made it. She tucked the items into her own bag and backed out.
“Found a propane tank,” Lydia said when they met on the porch. “Still sealed.”
Sophia nodded. “We good to regroup?”
“Yeah,” Annie said. “Time to check that church.”
Jordan stepped lightly past a row of empty shelves, sweeping the beam of his flashlight across the remains of what once passed for a snack aisle. Most of the packaging had long since been gnawed through by rats or time, but a few cans still clung to hope in the far corner.
“Beans,” he muttered, nudging one with his boot. “Why is it always beans?”
“Because the apocalypse has a terrible sense of humor,” Stiles called from across the room. He was crouched near a small display freezer, trying to pry open the warped lid with a crowbar. “Help me with this?”
Jordan crossed over, planting his foot against the metal edge while Stiles leveraged the bar. With a shriek of rusted hinges, the lid gave way — revealing mostly frost-burned air and a shattered plastic bag of what might’ve once been ice cream sandwiches.
Stiles peered in. “Tragic.”
Virginia, meanwhile, was near the register, methodically sifting through drawers and behind displays. She found an old key ring taped under the counter and pocketed it. Her hands were sure and quick — the practiced movements of someone who’d scavenged more than her fair share of long-abandoned spaces.
Jordan grabbed a box of storm matches from a shelf and shook it gently. “Still sounds full.”
“Victory,” Stiles said, slipping a broken pair of sunglasses onto his face and striking a pose. “What do you think? Post-apocalyptic chic?”
“More like raccoon-chic,” Jordan replied.
Virginia didn’t look up. “Less posing. More searching.”
Stiles dropped the glasses with a sigh. “You used to be more fun.”
“I used to be younger,” she shot back. “Back when dumb boys didn’t trip over their own sarcasm and get eaten.”
Jordan smirked and moved toward a half-collapsed aisle near the back. He pushed aside a stack of broken crates and spotted a waterlogged first aid kit wedged between the shelves.
“Score,” he called, holding it up. “Could be useful if it’s not all mold and disappointment.”
“Bring it,” Virginia said. “We’ll sort it later.”
Stiles turned toward the boarded-up back wall, brow furrowed. “Hey, do you guys hear that?”
They paused.
A soft creak. Like wood shifting — or footsteps upstairs.
Jordan’s hand moved instinctively to his sidearm. “Stay close.”
Virginia rolled her shoulders. “Probably just the building settling.”
“Or ghosts,” Stiles offered. “Cursed snack aisle ghosts.”
But none of them were laughing. Jordan led them slowly toward the source of the sound. The back half of the market was darker. The ceiling sagged slightly above the storage section, and shelves sat half-toppled with boxes scattered like dropped dominoes. A few tinned goods remained untouched — dented, dusty, but sealed. Stiles moved quietly between aisles, flashlight beam cutting through the dim.
“Why is it always the back of the creepy store? Why can’t we ever find, I don’t know, a nice clean bakery with survivors who give away croissants?”
Virginia chuckled behind him. “You and you’re pastries, honestly.”
Jordan raised a hand, motioning for silence. His head tilted slightly. A dull clank echoed from behind a set of heavy, crooked double doors — maybe a stockroom. Muffled. Repeating.
Stiles whispered, “That wasn’t a rat.”
“No,” Jordan agreed. “It was heavier. Could be someone. Or something.”
He took a careful step toward the doors, gripping the pipe in his hands tighter. “We check it out. Quick, quiet. If it’s a horde, we bail. If it’s a person—”
“We help,” Virginia finished, stepping beside him.
Stiles muttered under his breath, “This is exactly how horror movies start.”

---------------------------------------------------

They had decided to stay at the house in the end, just for the night before they hit the road. Four walls and a roof was always going to feel more secure than sleeping in a car and after the gas station incident they could all do with a decent night’s sleep.
The smell of something warm drifted through the house — faint but grounding. Melissa stood at the counter, a dented saucepan simmering over a propane burner Derek had found in the loft space.. Ellen worked beside her, sleeves rolled up, dicing canned potatoes into smaller pieces with careful, deliberate motions.
“It’s not gourmet,” Ellen said lightly, “but I always said half of cooking is pretending you meant it to turn out that way.”
Melissa huffed something close to a laugh, the first sound of its kind anyone had heard from her since Scott. She stirred slowly, shoulders tight. “I got used to improvising meals after Scott’s dad left. It was the best I could do whilst working extra shifts. I used to make a stew like this in the winter. Scott said it worked better than medicine.”
Ellen’s hand stilled for a moment on the knife. “He was lucky to have that.”
Melissa swallowed hard, blinking down at the pot. “Doesn’t feel like luck now.”
Ellen set down the knife and leaned on the counter, her voice steady but soft. “I know it doesn’t. But this—” she gestured to the pan, the two of them side by side “—this is what gets people through. One meal. One moment. Then another. You don’t have to be okay right now. Just keep moving forward..”
Melissa nodded, eyes wet, and stirred again. She didn’t answer, but the silence between them felt less hollow.
In the living room, Ellis lay stretched out in the wheelbarrow, head propped on a folded jacket. His eyes were half-lidded, clearly fighting to stay awake. Bo sat cross-legged on the floor beside him, chewing a granola bar.
“You look ridiculous,” she said, grinning. “Like a pumpkin someone forgot to put away..”
Ellis cracked a smile. “I actually think my orange coat is rather dashing, thank you.”
“Mhm, sure thing, pumpkin man.”
“Pumpkins are a very good vegetable to have.”
Bo rolled her eyes, but her grin didn’t fade. She tossed him the rest of her granola bar. “Whatever. Here, don’t choke on it.”
Derek was by the window, keeping watch, Louis nearby but not saying much. The house felt almost like it could be a home again.
Then the sound shattered it.
A single gunshot, distant but sharp, echoed through the streets. Melissa froze with the spoon in her hand, eyes snapping to Ellen. In the dining room everyone else had stilled.
Bo shot upright. “That sounded close.”
Ellis, suddenly more awake, pushed himself up against the edge of the wheelbarrow. “Too close.”
Derek was already at the door, jaw set. “We finish fast. Load the food, meds, whatever we can carry. We’re not staying here.”
Louis met his eyes, reading the unspoken tension. “We’ll get everything loaded up.”
No one argued. The warmth of food and fleeting laughter was gone, replaced with the sharp edge of survival. It didn’t take them long to pack up what they had. Ellen made sure to bring the propane burner with them, though in their haste they left the kitchen in far more disarray than when they had arrived.

---------------------------------------------------

Lydia stepped over a broken child’s scooter as she emerged from the front of the second house. “Nothing useful in that one either. Whoever lived here packed in a hurry.”
Sophia hopped down the porch steps after her, tightening her pack. “Front door was off the hinges. Could’ve been looted weeks ago.”
Annie stood at the edge of the lawn, scanning up and down the empty street. “Where’s the market crew?”
Allison jogged up beside her. “I don’t see them. Shouldn’t they be in view from here?”
“They were supposed to check the shop and regroup,” Annie said, eyes narrowing. “If they’re not here…”
“They’re late,” Lydia supplied, already adjusting her grip on her weapon. “So we go to them.”
Annie gave a sharp nod and started walking. “Eyes up. They may have seen something we didn’t.”
Jordan edged the door open slowly. The hinges creaked, metal protesting. Light from Stiles’s flashlight spilt into the room — revealing a scattered mess of crates, a busted walk-in fridge, and a dark stain stretched across the floor. In the far corner, a large metal storage rack had collapsed. Something was trapped beneath it — moving slightly. A faint, shuddering wheeze.
“Undead?” Stiles whispered.
“Not sure,” Jordan said.
Virginia edged forward, squinting. “Not moving like one. That’s laboured breathing.”
Jordan moved fast then, yanking the pipe beneath the rack, trying to lever the weight. It shifted a few inches. Whatever was under it whimpered — human. Virginia dropped to one knee to help. “Let’s get this shifted boys.”
Stiles knelt beside her, heart hammering.
The street narrowed slightly as the houses gave way to cracked pavement and an old rusted bike rack outside the market.
“This town gives me the creeps,” Sophia muttered.
“It’s too preserved,” Allison said. “Like the apocalypse forgot this place.”
Annie reached the front window first and held up a fist for them to stop. “There’s movement inside. Left side, toward the back.”
Lydia’s eyes scanned the dust-covered glass. “Three shadows?”
Annie gave a small nod. “Could be them. Could be trouble.”
She drew her weapon. “Let’s not take chances.”

--------------------------------------------------------

The van rattled as it hit a crack in the road,, Ellis groaning from the back.
“Jesus, watch the suspension,” he muttered, shifting in his makeshift nest of blankets and jackets. His legs jostled in the wheelbarrow wedged between the van’s rear benches.
Bo twisted around from the passenger seat to check on him. “You complain more than the shocks do.”
“Because unlike the shocks,” Ellis said, wincing, “I can articulate pain.”
Bo smirked, leaning her arm against the window. “And I thought you were just cranky by nature.”
Melissa drove with both hands clenched on the wheel, eyes fixed on the empty road. Her knuckles whitened every time the shadows of burned-out billboards swept across them. Ellen sat in the middle seat, quiet, one palm pressed to the map spread across her lap. Every so often she would glance at Melissa, as if checking she hadn’t drifted too far inside herself.
“You need me to take the wheel?” Ellen offered softly.
Melissa shook her head without looking. “No. If I stop, I’ll think.”
Ellen didn’t argue. She just reached forward and turned down the volume on Melissa’s clenched grip by covering her hand briefly, grounding her, before going back to the map.
The car followed a short distance behind, Derek at the wheel. He scanned the road ahead like he expected it to lunge at them. Louis sat in the passenger seat, elbow propped on the window, fingers drumming against his thigh.
“Melissa holding up?” he asked, breaking the silence.
Derek’s jaw flexed. “She’s doing what she has to.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Derek’s eyes stayed fixed forward. “She’s strong.”
Louis studied him for a long beat. “You know, you don’t have to answer everything like it’s a tactical assessment. It’s okay to admit you’re worried.”
Derek’s mouth twitched, almost a smile but not quite. Louis let out a quiet breath, leaning back in his seat. The silence between them wasn’t empty; it was charged, carrying the things they weren’t saying out loud.
“So,” Louis said finally, voice low, almost swallowed by the hum of the engine. “You’re… a werewolf.”
Derek’s eyes flicked to him, sharp, unreadable. “Yeah.”
Louis swallowed hard, twisting the hem of his jacket. “That’s um, that’s cool.”
“Noted,” Derek said, eyes back on the road.
Louis exhaled slowly, gathering courage. His fingers fidgeted in his lap. “I… I should probably tell you something too. Before… before anything else happens.”
Derek didn’t look at him. “Go on.”
Louis’s voice tightened, but he forced it out. “I’m… I’m trans. That’s me. I’ve been… hiding it for a while, I guess, but you should know. I didn’t… I wanted you to know.”
Silence stretched across the van. Even the engine seemed to pause. Derek’s jaw clenched, then relaxed slightly. His fingers flexed on the wheel, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Trans man?” His voice was rough, low, testing the weight of the word.
Louis nodded, looking down at his hands. “Yeah. That’s it. That’s all I—well, that’s me.” The van fell silent for a moment longer, thick with tension. Then Louis hesitated, words spilling out before he could stop them. “Does… that… change, anything between us?”
Derek’s hand flexed on the wheel, his grip tightening for a second before he exhaled, slow, measured. His eyes flicked to Louis, sharp but steady, and something unspoken passed in the space between them.
“No,” he said finally, voice low, quiet but firm. “Not really. Not in the ways that matter.”
Louis blinked, relief and something else—a rush he couldn’t name—washing through him. The tension didn’t dissipate; it shifted—a subtle change in the air between them. Derek exhaled through his nose, softer this time, almost a chuckle buried in the sound.
“I… appreciate you telling me,” he added. “Really. That takes guts.”
Louis let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He stayed quiet, letting the moment linger, letting the unspoken connection linger, feeling seen in a way he hadn’t allowed himself in a long time. And for now, that was enough.

--------------------------------------------------------

Jordan strained as he wedged his shoulder under the edge of the fallen shelving unit. His boots scraped against the tile as he pushed, muscles bunching beneath his jacket.
“Almost—” he hissed.
Stiles braced beside him, hands gripping the shelf frame as it shifted with a loud groan. Virginia kept low, coaxing the person out inch by inch.
She was young — maybe mid-twenties, face streaked with sweat and grime. One leg was twisted awkwardly beneath her, ankle visibly swollen. Her breathing came shallow and fast, but her eyes were open, dazed but aware.
“You’re okay,” Virginia said, voice low and sure. “We’ve got you.”
The woman whimpered but nodded.
Jordan gave a final grunt and heave, and the shelf lifted just enough. Virginia dragged the woman free, pulling her carefully onto a torn mat in the corner.
“Broken ankle,” she said, already reaching for her pack. “No bite marks.”
Stiles leaned back on his heels, breath coming fast. “Great. Someone who might actually need our help and doesn’t want to eat our faces. I was starting to think that was extinct.”
The woman opened her mouth, like she was going to speak, but—
CRASH
The front door burst open.
Annie entered first, shotgun raised. Lydia followed with a sidearm in both hands. Sophia and Allison flanked either side, tense and sweeping the shadows. The moment hung sharp and tight — breathless. Then:
“It’s us!” Stiles shouted from the back. “Don’t shoot! We’re the ones with the injured person and the dazzling charisma!”
Weapons lowered slowly. Annie scowled as she crossed into the aisle. “You were supposed to stay visible.”
“We followed a noise,” Jordan said calmly, standing and wiping his hands on his jeans. “We found her trapped under shelving in the back.”
Lydia’s eyes scanned the injured woman, narrowing slightly. “Who is she?”
“No idea,” Virginia said. “Haven’t gotten that far yet.”
The woman coughed — dry and sharp. “Name’s Malia” she rasped. “I’ve been here... a few days. Got caught when one of the shelves came down.”
“Alone?” Annie asked sharply.
Mara’s expression turned wary. “I wasn’t to begin with, I am now though.”
Sophia knelt beside her, already pulling gauze from her med pouch. “She’s got a clean break,” she muttered. “We can splint it, maybe wrap her foot if we’ve got extra padding.”
Allison grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf. “Will this work?”
“Good enough.”
Jordan crouched back down next to Mara. “You got anyone out there? Anyone we should know about?”
Malia shook her head. “There were others... at first. A couple. Some other people. We had a small group. Some of them went west to check out the mill but never came back. We were meant to stay here to hold down the fort until they did. I was still waiting for them to come back, my mum was one of the one’s that went to the mill but…” She trailed off with the group still looking at her in silence.
“West is where the church is,” Annie said finally.
“Mill’s past that,” Malia added.
“We’ll stay on course,” Annie said. “But we go careful.”
Virginia rose, brushing off her knees. “We take her with us?”
Stiles looked at the woman — eyes tired but alert, fingers clenched into the edge of her shirt. “She’s not gonna make it alone.
“She can’t keep up on that foot” Sophia added.
“Jordan and I can get her back to camp between us if you four are good to check the church?”
Annie studied Malia for a moment, then nodded once. “We’ll rig a carry. If she pulls anything—”
“I won’t,” Malia said. “I’m not stupid.”
“Great,” Stiles said. “One new friend, no horrifying monster attacks. Honestly, today’s looking up.”
Lydia glanced toward the boarded windows. “Let’s move before the quiet runs out.”
As the group went their separate ways at the doors of the Market, Vriginia gave Stiles a long hug. “Now you stay safe out there.”

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Gravel crunched under the vehicles as they pulled onto the shoulder. Dust rose in lazy clouds, sparkling in the harsh midday sun. The pull-off looked like any other stretch of deserted road: a diner sign swung lazily on rusted chains, windows shattered long ago, and stripped cars sat like carcasses along the roadside Bo hopped out, ready to siphon what gas she could from the few other cars they could see. For a moment, the world felt almost ordinary, a rhythm of survival they all knew well.
Louis’s boots crunched over glass as he scanned the area. At first, nothing seemed remarkable. Then a glint caught his eye—something sharp in the shadow of a nearby truck. The hood was popped, engine exposed, but the truck didn’t look abandoned. Not really. He crouched to get a closer look. Inside, military-issue supplies were stacked meticulously: MREs lined the back in neat rows, a portable water purifier glinted in the sun, and a ration log lay on the passenger seat, pages bent as if read recently. Everything was in order, calculated.
Ellen joined him, crouching beside the truck. “This isn’t random scavengers,” she said, voice low, scanning the supplies. “Someone’s running things tight… disciplined. Careful.”
Melissa wandered closer, curiosity fighting caution. She froze when she spotted a small backpack tucked in the corner of the trucks open back, just visible under a tarp. She reached in and lifted it up to show the others.
“Looks like there’s children with them.”
Louis’ eyes went to the ground. The dirt was scored with boot prints—dozens, too many to count, all the same tread. He ran a gloved finger along one, frowning.
“Looks like military boots,” Ellen offered. “Maybe it’s other survivors?” She moved towards the truck next to Melissa and lifted up the corner of the tarpaulin. They both stumbled back, retching.

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Smoke curled faintly from the remains of the earlier fire — little more than a smear of ash on the stones now. The river moved slow and silent nearby, and a breeze stirred the tarp strung between two trees.Mason crouched beside the edge of the firepit, poking absently at a blackened bit of wood. His hatchet sat across his lap, fingers twitching against the handle. Olive sat a few feet away near the treeline, cross-legged, eyes distant. The formerly-undead corpse was still covered under the tarp, set apart from the main camp. Neither of them had gone near it in a while. Neither of them spoke. So when the crackle of underbrush came from the trees, both went stiff — alert. Mason stood fast, axe in hand.
“It’s us!” came Stiles’s voice. Immediate. Strained. “We’re good!”
A moment later, Jordan and Stiles stepped into view with Malia held between them. Mason relaxed a little — just a little. Jordan helped Malia to the tarp-covered log by the fire.
“Let’s get you off that foot.”
She sank down, wincing. “Thank you, again.”
“Hey it’s no worries” Stiles said, dropping his pack.
He glanced toward Olive. She was watching them, face unreadable.
“Everything okay here?” Stiles asked.
Mason looked at the tarp — then back at them. “Not exactly.”
Jordan followed his gaze, catching the edge of the covered body.
“What happened?” He scanned over Olive, looking for wounds.
“She handled it,” Mason said, nodding toward Olive. “Better than I did.”
Jordan moved to Olive, crouching in front of her. “You okay?”
She gave the smallest shrug.
“She was brave,” Mason added. “Like, full-on action movie brave.”
Jordan smiled gently. “That’s high praise.” He ruffled Olive’s hair. She didn’t react — but she didn’t pull away either. Jordan turned back to the others. “So this is Malia. Malia, this is Mason.”
“Hey nice to meet you.” He reached out and shook her hand gently before looking at Jordan more seriously. “Where are the others?”
“They stayed in Grimes to check over the Church. They shouldn’t be too far behind us and it should be reasonably safe the town was totally deserted.”
They fell quiet, the river murmuring beside them.

------------------------------------------

Men. Three grown men lay in the bed of the truck. Each with a gunshot wound to their foreheads. Louis and Derek both moved to where Ellen and Melissa had moved away from the truck. Derek’s whole body went rigid.
“We need to leave. Now,” he said, low and urgent. His eyes flicked between the truck and the surrounding shadows.
Louis didn’t argue. His gaze lingered on the prints, on the supplies, on the backpack. “Wait if the men are in the back then where are the other people?” Derek helped Melissa straighten up while Ellen went to fetch Bo.
“Those men aren’t military, which means whoever did the shooting probably is.”
“But the backpack…”
“I don’t know Louis but whatever it is, this sisn’t our fight. Let’s move.”
Derek’s pulse thrummed—not with adrenaline from combat, but the strange weight of realizing how methodical, how deliberate, someone could be. And how close they all were to several someone’s with the means to carry out the kind of methodical, deliberate violence that the scene implied. Derek’s eyes softened just slightly as he looked at Louis, the corners twitching. Louis’ first instinct was to find the others and offer help. No wonder he had done so well working at the hospital. Louis caught the glance and, almost instinctively, leaned a fraction closer.
Ellen’s voice broke the moment. “Hustle up folks.”
Engines roared to life, the van rolling back onto the road. Louis couldn’t resist one last glance in the rearview mirror as they left the scene behind them. At the far edg of the pull off, just emerging from the long grass that bordered the road, a figure appeared. It stood still, watching them. It didn’t give chase like a zombie would. Simply stood, observing them as they moved further into the distance. Derek’s hand shifted, coming to rest against Louis’ knee and bringing him back into the car.
“I saw someone Derek, just now. Watching us.” Derek glanced into the rearview but they were too far away now to make out much in the way of detail.
“Let’s just get as far away as we can. We’ll be fine.”
Both vehicles picked up speed as they made their way down the road. As much instability as they currently faced, Derek knew one thing for certain. Whoever those boot prints belonged to was bad news.

Chapter Text

The church sat at the far edge of town, half-swallowed by overgrown hedges and flaking ivy. Its steeple leaned just slightly to the right, like it had been caught mid-sigh. The heavy wooden doors hung crooked on their hinges, and the stained-glass windows were cracked, bleeding sun in fractured colors across the weather-worn steps.
Annie approached first, crossbow up, her eyes scanning the doors, the bell tower, the shadowed alcoves. Sophia flanked her without a word, machete already drawn. Behind them, Lydia, Allison, and Virginia moved with practiced caution — no one speaking, but all of them on edge.
Lydia broke the silence. “There’s a crypt beneath this place, isn’t there?”
Annie didn’t glance back. “Most churches this old have them.”
“Of course they do,” Lydia muttered. “Why wouldn’t they?”
Virginia’s grip tightened on her pitchfork. “Let’s keep it above ground if we can.”
Annie gave a short nod, then slipped through the doorway first. The hinges groaned, loud enough to make everyone wince. Inside, it smelled like dust and mold and something older — like the building itself was rotting from within. Pews stood half-collapsed, warped with damp. A long runner of crimson carpet trailed down the aisle, faded to rust. Sunlight spilled through fractured stained-glass windows, casting warped halos on the floor. They fanned out silently, boots crunching broken glass.
Sophia whispered, “You think it was looted?”
“Hard to say,” Annie murmured. “Could’ve been raided early. Could be someone still using it.”
They reached the front of the church. The altar stood mostly intact — a simple stone slab with a tarnished chalice and a Bible left open to Psalms. Allison brushed her fingers along the edge of the pulpit, noting the fine layer of dust.
“No recent footprints,” she said. “Not much disturbance.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s safe,” Annie replied. “Could still be squatters.”
Lydia stepped into the side aisle, eyes drawn to a locked wooden door marked Office. She gave it a nudge — solid. “Want me to open it?”
Annie glanced over, calculating. Then nodded. “Quiet as you can.”
Virginia stepped forward, pulling a screwdriver from her satchel. “Let me try first.”
Lydia raised a brow. “You moonlight as a locksmith?”
Virginia smiled thinly. “Let’s just say I had neighbors who didn’t always invite me in the front door.”
A few seconds later, the door clicked. Virginia stepped aside, letting Lydia swing it open. The office was small — a single desk, a battered bookshelf, and a cot shoved into the corner. On the wall, a corkboard hung with faded parish announcements and a calendar frozen on March. A mug still sat on the desk, half-full of something long since spoiled. Sophia knelt beside the cot and picked up a flashlight. It flickered to life — weak, but working.
“Someone was living here,” she said. “But not recently.”
Annie crouched beside the desk and tugged open the top drawer. “Canned soup. Box of matches. Pack of chewing gum.”
“Survival starter pack,” Virginia said.
Lydia wandered to the bookshelf. “Some theological texts. One journal. And…” she pulled down a worn field manual, thumbing through it, “…military survival tactics. Someone here was prepared.”
Annie stood up, jaw tight. “No signs of struggle. No blood. Either they left, or they were careful enough not to leave a trace.”
Sophia looked toward the altar. “Should we check the crypt?”
Everyone stilled.
Annie hesitated. Then: “No. If the ground’s quiet, we don’t stir the dead.”
Virginia nodded, relieved. “You’ll get no argument from me.”
Lydia blew out a breath. “Thank God for small mercies.”
“All right,” Annie said, stepping back out into the main sanctuary. “Let’s head out.”
Annie was already walking back toward the entrance, her silhouette framed against the fractured light filtering through the windows. Sophia trailed her, flipping the found flashlight in her hand as Lydia tucked the survival manual into her bag.
Allison scanned the rafters one last time, eyes lingering on a distant loft. “Not a bad lookout point,” she muttered.
“Let’s hope we don’t need one,” Virginia replied.
But then—
A low sound. Barely audible. Like someone breathing through a throat filled with gravel.
Then another.
From outside.
Annie halted just shy of the door.
“What is it?” Lydia asked.
Annie didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped onto the church’s threshold and leaned just far enough to see down the road — the direction they’d come. Her posture shifted, tense.
“Movement,” she said, voice clipped.
The others joined her one by one, careful not to crowd the doorframe. At first it looked like smoke rising from the treeline. But then the shapes resolved — bodies. Dozens. Shambling from the west. From the direction of the mill. Silent, for now, but not slow.
“They weren’t there before,” Allison whispered.
“Must’ve been inside the plant,” Annie said grimly. “Maybe heard us. Maybe caught our scent.”
Lydia’s knuckles whitened on her pistol. “They’re not wandering. They’re heading here.”
Virginia stepped back instinctively. “How many?”
“Too many,” Annie said.
The group retreated inside, the creak of the church door closing sounding suddenly deafening.
“We need to move—” Sophia started.
But Virginia cut in. “Back door’s locked. And we didn’t scout the crypt. Could be a second exit. Could be a dead end.”
“Those things saw us,” Lydia said. “If we run now, they’ll follow.”
“We hold here,” Annie decided. “Bar the door. Prepare fallback points.”
“Back to the office?” Allison asked.
“For now. Clear sightlines. Only one way in.”
Sophia was already dragging a pew toward the front door. “They’ll hear us barricading.”
“They already know we’re here,” Annie said. “Noise isn’t our problem anymore.”
Virginia helped with the pew, and Lydia moved to wedge one of the altar benches beneath the warped handles. Dust shook from the rafters as they braced the last support in place. From outside, the sound had changed — no longer faint. It was a growing chorus of groans, feet dragging, the slap of flesh against stone as the first of the undead reached the steps.
They were surrounded.
Trapped.
Annie stood still for a beat in the aisle, eyeing the stained-glass shadows stretching long across the floor.
“Alright,” she said quietly. “We make our stand. We don’t panic. We wait for an opening — and we stay together.”
No one argued.
As the first fists began to thud against the door, the church held its breath.

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Sophia backed down the aisle as their barricade began to shake, eyes never leaving the door. “That’s not going to hold.”
“No,” Annie said flatly, “it’s not.”
Virginia moved fast, slipping back toward the side office. “We passed a trapdoor,” she said. “Behind the desk. I thought it was just floor rot.”
Allison was already running. “Could be access to the crypt.”
Lydia turned sharply. “Are we really doing this?”
“I refuse to die in a church,” Annie snapped. “Go.”
Sophia kicked over a hymnal stand to block part of the aisle and followed. The office was small, the air already thicker — as if it knew what lay beneath. Virginia threw the desk aside with Lydia’s help, revealing the dark metal ring set flush with the floorboards. Annie knelt and hauled the trapdoor open. It creaked like it hadn’t moved in years. The smell that rolled out was damp, earthy, stale with the memory of centuries. Stone stairs led downward into black.
Allison hesitated. “What if it’s worse down there?”
“Then we die somewhere else,” Annie said. “Move.”
Virginia dropped down first, machete in hand. Sophia followed without hesitation, flashlight sweeping the walls. Lydia went next, gun drawn, jaw clenched. Annie held the trapdoor open while Allison descended. As she began to follow, the front door exploded inward with a splintering crash. Undead surged into the sanctuary — dozens, maybe more.
“Go!” Annie barked, slamming the trapdoor behind her and plunging them into darkness.

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The small office block they had found themselves holed up in smelled faintly of old coffee grounds. But it had a decent canteen and was largely defensible and so it would work for a night or two.
Melissa set the small pot on the propane burner, her hands steady but her face drawn. She poured in water, then added of the tinned odds and ends they’d found earlier. The hiss and simmer filled the silence. Ellen was at the counter beside her, sleeves rolled to her elbows, knife working at a can of carrots.
“You know, Bo used to hate carrots. I had to mash them into her potatoes to get her to eat them. She figured it out by the time she was seven and swore I was trying to poison her.”
Melissa let out a breath that was almost a laugh. Almost. “Scott was the same way with broccoli. I had to drown it in cheese.”
“Classic trick.” Ellen slid the carrots into the pot, watching the bubbles rise. “And it worked?”
Melissa stirred, lips pressed together. “Most of the time.” Her hand tightened on the spoon. “I keep thinking about all the stupid little battles. Vegetables. Homework. Bedtimes. And now—” She shook her head, blinking hard.
Ellen set the knife down and leaned a little closer. “Now you’ve got bigger battles. Doesn’t mean the small ones don’t matter. It just means you fought them because you loved him enough to care.”
Melissa’s shoulders trembled. She gripped the counter like it might hold her together. “I don’t know how to… be here without him.”
Ellen reached over, resting a hand on her arm. Not forceful, just steady. “You don’t have to know. Not today. Not tomorrow. But you keep showing up anyway. Stirring pots. Sharing stories. That’s how you keep him with you.”
Melissa finally looked up at her. Her eyes were red, but there was a flicker of softness there — gratitude, even if words wouldn’t come.
Ellen gave her arm one last squeeze, then reached for the salt. “Besides, we can’t let Derek season this. I fear that man would put us all in the ground with how bland it’d be.”
That earned her a real, quiet laugh. Melissa covered her mouth, shoulders shaking once, then eased back into her chair. The pot kept bubbling, and for the first time in days, the silence didn’t weigh her down. She leaned into it instead, a small flicker of contentment easing the tension in body.

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The air shifted — cold and wet. The flashlight beams danced across stone walls etched with scripture and forgotten names. The ceiling arched low, lined with small alcoves — some sealed, others open and disturbingly empty.
Lydia gagged at the smell. “This is worse.”
Virginia’s voice was low and steady. “Better than the alternative.”
Above them, muffled sounds: footsteps. Dragging. Groaning. The undead were in the sanctuary now, stumbling blindly across their last position.
Sophia turned slowly. “There’s a passage.”
They followed it in tense silence, boots echoing against the stone. Every step away from the sanctuary was a step deeper into cold earth, into the past.
“Anyone else feel like we’re trespassing?” Allison murmured.
“We are,” Annie said. “Let’s hope the dead are feeling generous.”
The corridor sloped slightly. Another fork appeared — one direction sloping deeper, the other leading to what looked like a collapsed alcove.
Sophia kept one hand on the wall, fingers dragging along rough-cut stone. “How deep do you think this goes?”
“No idea,” Annie said from the front. “But we’re going to follow it until it we know.”

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Time passed strangely underground. Their breath echoed louder here. Every step kicked up the smell of old rot and long-dead flowers. Twice, they came across branching tunnels — one leading deeper, the other sloping slightly upward. Each time, Annie made the call to ascend. Lydia checked her watch.
“We’ve been down here almost forty-five minutes,” she said. “Feels like more.”
“Feels like forever,” Virginia muttered, wiping dust from her forehead.
They paused at a junction where the tunnel curved and dropped again. A rusted iron gate blocked their path to the left. Behind it, darkness stretched like an open throat. Annie peered through, then turned toward the right-hand path — narrower, but dry and sloping upward.
“This way,” she said.
They didn’t question her.

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Louis trailed his fingers along the shelves, smudging dust from spines. Most were warped with water damage, but a few still stood firm. He pulled one free at random — a thick old paperback, the cover half-peeled.
“The Great Gatsby,” he murmured. He gave a half-smile, shaking his head. “High school required reading. Never thought I’d see this again.”
“Good book,” Derek said from the end of the row.
Louis turned, a little startled. Derek leaned against the wooden shelf, hands shoved in his pockets, gaze steady but unreadable.
“You read Gatsby?” Louis asked.
Derek shrugged one shoulder. “Laura liked it. She used to make me sit with her while she studied. I remember more of it than I thought I would.”
Louis softened, lowering the book slightly. “You were close with her.”
Derek’s expression flickered — pain, pride, regret, all knotted together. “She was my sister. She was… everything.”
Louis didn’t push, just nodded. “I suppose I felt the same way about Erica.” He smirked faintly. “Yes, she drove me insane with her antics but, I’d give anything to have her bug me one more time.”
That made Derek look at him — really look, like the words had cut through some layer of armour. For a moment, the silence wasn’t heavy, just shared.
Louis lifted the book between them. “I used to hate this one. Thought it was pretentious. But maybe I get it better now — all that longing for something you can’t get back.”
Derek’s jaw shifted, but there was no sharpness in his voice. “Yeah. That part sticks.”
Louis gave a quiet laugh, sliding the book back onto the shelf. “Guess that makes us both sentimental, huh?”
Derek didn’t smile, but his gaze lingered on Louis longer than it should have. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “Maybe.”
Louis shifted, leaning lightly against the shelf. “You know, I used to think surviving meant shutting everything out. Pretending it didn’t matter. But lately…” He trailed off, searching for words. “Lately it feels like the only way to stay human is to admit what you miss. Who you miss.”
Derek’s throat worked. His hands flexed at his sides. “That’s dangerous.”
“Yeah,” Louis said softly. “But so is everything else.”
The silence stretched. Not uncomfortable, but charged. The hum of the burner in the staff room carried faintly down the hall. Somewhere, Bo laughed at something Ellis said. It all felt very far away.
Louis broke the stillness first, his voice low. “You don’t have to say anything. But if you ever want to… I’ll listen. No judgment. No strings.”
Derek’s eyes flicked away, toward the shadowed rows of books. But when he spoke, his voice was quieter than Louis had ever heard it. “I don’t talk about her. Not usually.”
Louis didn’t move. He didn’t push. Just stayed there, steady, open.
“She trusted me,” Derek said at last. “And I let her down. I’ve let a lot of people down.”
Louis shook his head, gentle but certain. “We all make mistakes Derek. It’s how you get back up and keep fighting that matters, and it seems like that part comes very naturally to you. You’re a good person Derek.”
For the first time, Derek looked like he might believe it. Not fully. But the weight in his expression shifted, lightened a fraction.
Louis let out a quiet breath, almost a smile. “See? Talking doesn’t kill you.”
That earned him the faintest huff of air from Derek — almost a laugh. Almost.
They stood there in the dim glow, closer now, not touching but not needing to. Both of them a little more unguarded than when they’d walked into the aisle.
When Ellen’s voice called softly from somewhere nearby — “Food’s ready” — Derek straightened, retreating behind the mask again. But not completely.
“Come on,” he said.
Louis fell into step beside him, and for once, the space between them felt like it was narrowing.

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Eventually, the scent began to shift — less mildew, more earth. Faint traces of wind moved across their skin, stirring the air like breath in a sealed chamber. Sophia’s flashlight caught something ahead: stone steps. The group pushed forward with renewed urgency, voices hushed, eyes bright with hope they didn’t want to name. At the top of the stairs, a rotted wooden hatch blocked their exit. Allison gave it an experimental shove — it held fast. She pressed harder. A low crack echoed. Then it gave with a reluctant snap and swung outward.
Daylight spilled down like a promise.
They emerged blinking into a broad, grassy field, edged with tall yellow weeds. Beyond it, the forest loomed — quiet, watchful. The air smelled clean again.
No groans.
No smoke.
No death.
Lydia let out a slow breath and tipped her head back toward the sky. “Okay. Still alive.”
Virginia crouched to run her fingers through the grass, grounding herself. “And not underground anymore.”
Annie closed the hatch behind them, scanning the treeline. “Let’s not celebrate yet. We need to regroup.”
Sophia leaned on her knees, winded but steady. “Where do you think Stiles and Jordan are?”
“They’ll make it back,” Annie said.
Lydia straightened her jacket. “Then let’s make sure we’re there when they do.”
Together, they started across the field — battered but intact.

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They gathered in the canteen around the makeshift meal, bowls of thin stew passed hand to hand. The smell was salty, metallic from the canned vegetables, but it was warm, and that was enough.
Ellis had propped himself up against a stack of cushions on the floor, legs still bound, his “throne” relocated from the wheelbarrow. Bo sat cross-legged beside him, poking at her stew with suspicion.
“Okay,” Ellis said, clearing his throat like he was about to address a crowd. “Story time.”
Bo groaned. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes,” Ellis countered, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Because otherwise, I’ll just keep making pained noises, and then no one sleeps. This way you get entertainment and I get to annoy you. Win-win.”
Ellen smirked over her bowl. “Go on, then.”
Ellis spread his hands. “Picture it. Highway 32. Summer of ’08. Temperature hotter than the devil’s own bathwater. My darling daughter here has just begged me to let her take the wheel.”
Bo dropped her spoon with a clatter. “Nope. We’re not doing this one.”
Melissa glanced up, faintly curious despite herself. “You let her drive?”
“I was sixteen,” Bo muttered.
“And she lasted—” Ellis held up a finger, dramatic pause. “—all of forty-seven seconds before sideswiping a mailbox and nearly putting us into a ditch.”
Laughter rippled through the room. Even Melissa cracked a smile, covering it quickly with her hand.
“It wasn’t forty-seven seconds,” Bo protested, cheeks pink. “It was at least two minutes.”
“Two minutes,” Ellis repeated gravely. “And then a farmer came running out with a shotgun, screaming about his prize hens.”
“That part isn’t true,” Bo shot back, but her smile gave her away.
Ellen chuckled, shaking her head. “Every holiday with these two has been chaos I tell you.”
“It’s genetic,” Ellis said with a sigh. “Can’t fight it.”
The group chuckled again, and that was how the rest of the evening went. Sharing stories and tidbits from their lives before. Mostly crazy travel stories. Even Derek offered a few of his own eventful anecdotes. The world outside seemed far away in that moment. In the relative quiet, sharing a meal, they became more of a group and less of bunch of people who had been throw together by circumstance.

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The light was fading fast, bleeding amber across the tops of the trees. Smoke still lingered faintly over the river, curling around the camp like a held breath. Stiles was halfway through quietly retelling a story to Olive — something about a vending machine in high school and a fire drill — when Mason suddenly stiffened.
“Footsteps,” he said.
Jordan stood immediately. “Direction?”
“South side. Past the split in the trees.”
They all tensed — Stiles rising, Olive pressing the sketchbook flat against her chest. Even Malia shifted uneasily, one hand slipping toward the pipe Jordan had left within her reach. Then a familiar voice broke through the hush.
“All clear,” Annie called, sharp but tired.
The relief was immediate.
Jordan moved first, jogging the last few yards toward the treeline where figures were beginning to emerge. Lydia, Virginia, Sophia, Allison — all caked in dirt, sweat, and tunnel dust — followed closely behind. No one was bleeding. Everyone was walking. Annie brought up the rear, weapon over her shoulder, her expression unreadable.
“They’re back,” Mason breathed.
Olive stood slowly, lips parted in quiet disbelief.
Jordan reached Lydia first, catching her elbow and pulling her into a brief, grounding hug. “You okay?”
Lydia managed a breathless smile. “Define ‘okay.’”
“Alive,” he said. “We’ll take it.”
Stiles crossed over just as Virginia dropped her gear near the fire with a soft groan. “I never want to see another crypt again,” she said. “Ever.”
Sophia slumped down beside Malia with a small gasp of laughter. “Hey. Still breathing?”
“Barely,” Malia rasped. “You?”
“Worse.”
They shared a quiet smile.
Stiles glanced around. “What happened?”
Lydia shook her head. “Crowd of zombies came out of nowhere. From the mill, we think.”
“We had to go underground,” Virginia added. “Crypt tunnels under the church. Took us an hour to find our way back out.”
Mason was still staring. “Wait—you guys went underground?”
“Better than being torn apart,” Allison muttered, sitting down hard beside the firepit.
Mason said. “I’m mean sure but still, damn. Like Indiana Jones or something.”
Olive hovered at the edge of the firelight, eyes flicking from one dusty face to another — looking for someone. Finally, Sophia caught her gaze and gave a gentle wave. That was enough. Olive sat back down, wordless, but her shoulders eased. Annie unslung her shotgun and leaned it against the tarp-pole. She scanned the camp — the bodies, the strain, the tired but intact group.
“Everyone made it,” she said simply.
Jordan looked at her. “Thankfully. You had me starting to panic a little there”
“Aww, shucks, you do care”, Annie teased.
They all lingered in that moment — a loose, uneven circle of people who’d made it through one more day.
Not untouched.
But together.

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The sun had long since set, and the group had finally decided to call it a night and get some rest before another day of travelling. They’d pushed tables against the windows and pulled sofas and a scant few blankets from what had at one time been a break room of sorts. Bo was already sprawled on her stomach, half-asleep with her hood pulled over her head. Ellis adjusted himself onto the cushions with a grunt, muttering about circulation but quickly fading into snores. Melissa lay with her back against the wall, curled up on herself, eyes half-lidded as she watched the others getting settled. Ellen made a slow circuit of the room, checking each window one last time before finally settling down near the doorway to take the first watch.
Derek stretched out along the edge of the group, near the wall. Louis hesitated, clutching one of the blankets. He glanced at the space next to Derek in a silent question. Derek met his gaze. There was no invitation spoken, no deliberate gesture. Just the smallest shift of Derek’s hand, pulling his own blanket aside to make room. Louis lowered himself onto the floor, the two of them close enough that their shoulders brushed when either shifted. It wasn’t deliberate. Not quite. But neither of them moved away. The room grew still, filled with the soft rhythm of tired breathing. Louis turned his head once, eyes catching Derek’s in the half-dark. Neither said a word. The silence held, easy and fragile.
Just as Derek closed his eyes, Louis’ voice came soft, almost a murmur “Goodnight, Derek.”
A pause. Then, quieter still, Derek answered. “Goodnight.”
And for the first time since the hospital, Derek let himself fall asleep without keeping one eye open.

Chapter Text

The town was quiet for a Saturday morning, though otherwise unremarkable. Allison and her dad had spent enough time wandering the aisles of the store, picking up the last of the supplies they’d need for a few days out in the woods, camping and hunting. Chris Argent moved with his usual confidence, moving supplies into the back of the car with practiced efficiency, joking with Allison about how she would survive in the woods with only a pocket knife.
“I don’t need your lectures, Dad,” Allison said, smirking as she hefted a bundle of rope. “I can handle myself just fine.”
Chris laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Sure you can… until you meet a bear or—”
A commotion broke the air as a man stumbled across the parking lot, eyes wild and unfocused, muttering to himself. He collided with a stack of crates, sending a few cans clattering to the ground. Chris stepped into the man’s path, holding up his hands after the man knocked into an elderly woman who tumbled to the ground with an oof.
“Easy there, buddy, let’s calm down yeah? Maybe we can get you some help?” he said calmly. But the man’s plowed forward, knocking into Chris with considerable force. Pain slashed across his arm as he pushed the man away from him and when he looked down a ragged scratch had been dug into his skin
“Fucking… Hey!” Chris shouted as the man stumbled away from him and towards the flow of people entering and exiting the store.
Chris shook his arm, trying to brush off the sting as Allison finished helping the older woman get to her feet. She looked at the scratch with concern as she made her way over.
“You okay, Dad?”
“Crazy bastard scratched me. Probably off his head on something.”
Allison frowned, stepping closer. “It looks bad, Dad. Should we—maybe—clean it or something?”
Chris waved her off. “It’s fine. A scratch is a scratch. I’ve had worse while hunting. I’ll just wrap it up quickly and give it a proper clean and dress it when we get out there.”
Still, Allison couldn’t shake the unease. The man had looked… off. His eyes, darting and unfocused, lingered in her mind long after he disappeared. She tried to focus on finishing loading the car while her dad wrapped his arm, but something felt off about the situation.
As she slipped into the car next to him, he flexed his freshly bandaged arm experimentally.
“See? Good as new. We’ll have a good weekend, just the two of us. Hunt, camp, maybe even some fishing. No stress.”
Allison forced a smile. “Yeah… sure.”
But as they drove out of town, the late afternoon sun slanting through the windshield, a small part of her couldn’t shake that anxious feeling.

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Two days later, the forest was alive with the sound of wind through the pines and the occasional call of a distant crow. Allison and Chris carried their packs along a narrow trail, the sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden shafts. The camping trip had started as a reprieve, a chance to escape the noise of everyday life—but Chris’s movements were sluggish, his arm occasionally twitching where the scratch had grazed him.
“Dad… are you sure you’re okay?” Allison asked, eyeing the darkening bruise along his forearm.
Chris forced a grin. “I’m fine. Really. Just a little stiff from yesterday’s hike.” He flexed his fingers, but the twitching persisted.
They stopped by a stream, and Chris crouched to fill a water bottle. Allison knelt beside him, doing the same. He looked pale, and she had noticed he seemed a little less co-ordinated the previous day. She studied him as he struggled to screw the lid back onto his bottle. Instinctively, she put her hand to his forehead. His skin warmer than usual, almost clammy to the touch.
“You’re burning up,” she said softly.
“I—probably just overexerted myself,” he replied, brushing at his face. His eyes lingered on her with a strange intensity. Allison felt a chill run down her spine but shook it off.
“Yeah, we should set up camp for the night soon anyhow. I’ll make a start on food, maybe you’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.”
“Exactly! That’ll be it.”
They set up camp as the sun began its slow descent, spilling amber light over the forest floor. He had rested while Allison cooked though his sleep had ben fitful and he’d woken with a start when she’d called him for dinner. After he had barely eaten, she checked his arm. The edges of the scratch had blackened, and the skin around it was an angry red.
“Right, Dad. That does not look okay. We need to get you checked out. Let’s head back to the car. We’re only about an hour’s hike.”
Chris smiled weakly. “I told you I’m fine. Just… rest a bit. I’ll be okay.”
“No Dad, I’m serious, you’re really worrying me.”
“Fine, fine. If we must.” Chris tried to stand as he spoke but stumbled as he did so, saved only by Allison grabbing his shoulder.
A short time later, as they trekked back through the woods towards the car, Chris’s words became slurred. Allison threw his arm around her shoulders for support and they continued on a little ways further before he stumbled to the gound, just barely catching himself on his hands.
“I don’t feel… right,” he admitted, his voice cracking.
Allison knelt, gripping his shoulders. “Okay, it’s okay Dad. I’m calling someone, okay? Just… stay here..” She fumbled for her phone, dialing 911, her hands trembling. The line connected only to dead air. She moved a little further from her dad to try and get signal and dialled again. Nothing.
“Fuck fuck fuck.” A small clatter behind her as Chris threw his backpack off and laid on the ground “No no no Dad you need to get up. I need you stay awake until help comes okay.”
Chris’s eyes fluttered closed. “Sorry Alli, I’m just so tired.”
“I know Dad, but you need to stay awake.” She frantically dialled 911 again, and again, panic rising in her throat. The black had spread to the rest of her dad’s forearm now and his body spasmed intermittently. She dialled again but as the call refused to connect, her Dad stopped breathing.
She pressed her hand to his chest. No pulse. His lips were pale, his body was already cool to the touch. Panic gripped her as she screamed, her voice swallowed by the forest. She backed away, looking round for something, anything to help her. But there was nothing.
And then—a groan, low and wet, choked out of the body of her dead Dad.
Allison froze, turning from where she stood to look at his body.
“Dad?”. Chris’s fingers twitched. His eyelids lifted, revealing glazed, hollow eyes. “A-are you okay?”
Before she could process it, he jerked upright, movements jerky, unnatural. His teeth were bared in a grotesque mimicry of a smile. Her Dad slowly heaved himself upright, struggling to balance, and his mouth opened, letting out another choking groan.
“Dad?” Her voice was barely audible, trembling. She took a half-step back.
He lunged.

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The forest had become a labyrinth of shadows as the sun sank low, the golden light bleeding into crimson, stretching the trees into towering, ominous shapes. Allison’s lungs burned with every gasp of air as she sprinted over roots and fallen branches. Tears streaked her face and burned her eyes as she moved. Behind her, the sound of snapping twigs and guttural growls kept pace. Chris—her father, her teacher, her protector—was no longer him. His hollow eyes followed her, jaw snapping unnaturally, arms jerking forward as if animated by some cruel, relentless force.
“Dad… please stop!” Allison screamed, ducking under a low branch. But there was no recognition in his gaze.
Frantically, she fumbled for her bow and fired. The arrow struck his leg, a warning shot in the hopes that he would feel the pain and stop. But it didn’t. Allison knew the inevitable was coming and as he grew closer she notched another arrow. She straightened, aimed, and fired. She never missed a target and the arrow sank into her Dad’s chest with a wet thud. She let out a sob as he stumbled back and she expected him to fall. For a heartbeat, she felt an ounce of relief. But then the thing that was no longer her Dad righted itself and surged forward again. Shock froze her, and in her scramble to retreat, she tripped over a thick root. The bow fell from her grip and skittered across the forest floor, disappearing into the shadows. Panic surged.
Allison scrambled to her feet, her eyes darting around for another weapon. That’s when she remembered the small knife strapped to her belt—the one Chris had laughed about during training. “You’ll survive with just that,” he had teased. Now it felt like her only lifeline. She drew it with shaking hands, heart hammering, and turned to face him. Chris lunged, faster than she expected. Allison sidestepped, slashing at his arm instinctively. The knife sank into something that felt both solid and wrong, and he made no noise other than his continued groans. She span around and readied herself for another attack.
Adrenaline and fear sharpened her senses. She ducked under another swinging arm, sidestepped a wild lunge, and found an opening near his chest. Her knife drove in, deep and precise, just as Chris lunged again. She forced him down but he kept moving. She pulled her knife free an feel backwards away from his lunging arms. He started to rise again. As he rushed towards her she drove her knife upwards once more, higher this time. It cracked upwards, through the bottom of his jaw, sliding easily into the space behind it.
Allison held her breath for a few moments, expecting the onslaught to continue. The body on the end of her knife went limp, and fell to the ground in a heap. She dropped to her knees and looked at the man who raised her, with a knife sticking out of his neck that she had put there. She vomited. The setting sun cast wild shadows across the forest floor as knelt, sobbing. She had to get home and find help. She’d seen enough movies to know this probably wasn’t an isolated incident.

Chapter Text

It had been a week. They had all been mostly on the boat for a week. The boat had carried them down the river very uneventfully, passed small towns teeming the not-quite-dead and pushing them further towards the glimmer of hope that Sacramento offered. All anyone could really think about was whether or not the planes were still there. If a safe haven really existed. But if they didn’t try for it then they’d never know. The close call the girls had had at Grimes had faded into the background now and it seemed that everyone had mostly righted themselves again. Olive had been a little withdrawn following her first one on one encounter with a zombie but she seemed to be settling back into the group, spending time chatting to Mason when she wasn’t orbiting around Jordan. Stiles had noticed this of course but hadn’t said anything, just watching from a distance.

Stiles had, unfortunately, been noticing Jordan more and more as the days slid by. He was hard to not notice when they were out scavenging or walking and there could be some distance between them. But cooped up on the boat? It was pretty much impossible to not notice the way his eyes shimmered in the moonlight, or how the wind caught in his hair and made him look like something out of a movie, or the way the sun dappled across his skin that one time Stiles had accidentally seen him cleaning up down by the riverbank. That definitely hadn’t stirred anything and Stiles most certainly hadn’t had to go find somewhere away from the group for a little while. If anyone noticed him blushing when he rejoined them later they hadn’t said.
And so they had been moseying down the river quite nicely. Annie remained in charge of the driving, though she sometimes handed off to Sophia so that she could take a brief rest. Everything had been running remarkably smoothly, they had all even managed to get used to the canned food that had become their norm.
It had been a week. Obviously no one had really thought about boat maintenance in their rush to put as much space between them and the hellscape that had become Beacon Hills. And so no one had checked to make sure the boat was in optimal condition. It had worked when they needed it to and so they had just started driving. Sailing? Whatever. The boat had been working fine. They were only a days ride away from where they could moor up and make their way to the airport.

Until.

The engine coughed, stuttered, and went silent. Everyone looked up from where they had been dozing or quietly doing anything to keep their minds occupied. Annie swore where she stood in the small covered space that housed the controls. The boat slowed its progress.
“Umm, Annie? Everything okay?” She swore again as she fumbled with the controls. A couple of minutes later, when it became evident she wasn’t going to respond, Stiles and Lydia made their way into the control area.
Annie was already on her knees, yanking at controls, pulling wires and trying to open up panels in the floor. “Don’t just sit there—somebody hand me the wrench.”
Lydia folded her arms, hair whipping across her face in the morning breeze. “What’s happened?” Stiles handed her the wrench and then stood back as Annie began using aggressively.
“I’m honestly not sure there wasn’t any warnings on the controls. I think maybe the engine has stopped?”
“Stopped?”
“Stopped.”
“That can just… happen?”
“I don’t know Lydia I’m not a mechanic but we’re not currently moving so apparently yes?”
“Well, can we fix it?”
“I also don’t know that. I’m currently just trying to see if it’s anything that I know how to fix.”
“Right, we’ll go tell the others.” Her and Stiles made their way back outside to let the others now that it might be the engine and it might be broken but Annie was seeing if she might be able to fix it.
“That’s a whole lotta mights.” Virginia ran her hands through her hair before twisting it back into a bun of sorts. Jordan had been quietly sat in one corner, with a sleeping Olive leaned up against his side.
“Well we’re only a day’s ride from the airport. I guess if we have to walk that what two days? We’ve still gotten a lot further a lot faster than we would’ve done.” Stiles quirked a smile at his optimism. But no one really wanted to be trekking on foot in the middle of the apocalypse. Annie appeared from the controls.
“Well I hate to say it but the boats fucked. So we’re stuck for a little while. With how the current is it shouldn’t be long till we bump into one of the banks. Everyone get your shit packed.” Annie’s voice held its usual sharpness, but it was edged with concern. No one wanted to be back on the roads with how many zombies they knew could be lurking out there.
Virginia laid a hand on the edge of the boat, steadying herself as she rose from her seat. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” They all began packing as the boat drifted ever closer to the bank of the river. Thankfully they missed having their heads taken off by some of the lower hanging tree branches and the boat came to mostly stop at a clear area.
Jordan climbed out first, boots sinking into the damp earth of the riverbank. He scanned the tree line, gun low but ready. “Looks pretty clear. We should be fine to all get out now and then we can find somewhere to regroup.”
Stiles was next out of the boat, scrambling over the side. He nearly caught his foot on the railing as he clambered over and then overbalanced as he dropped onto the riverbank. Jordan reached out without thinking, hand tight around Stiles’ arm.
Stiles muttered, “Totally meant to do that,” but didn’t shake him off. Jordan just shot him a gentle smile.
Olive lingered on the deck, clutching her sketchbook to her chest. Mason crouched beside her. “Hey, kiddo. We can’t take everything. Just grab what you need.”
She bit her lip, eyes darting between her pack and the pile of things they couldn’t carry — blankets, a cracked lantern, the stack of drawings she’d made during their time on the boat. One slipped loose, caught by the wind, tumbling into the river. She stared after it until it sank beneath the ripples. She had felt safe on the boat.
“Come on,” Mason offered gently. “It’ll be okay, but we’ve gotta leave.”
Olive knelt, silent, and began sorting. By the time she’d zipped the bag closed, Annie had climbed out, muttering under her breath, and Lydia was already striding up the bank with her bag slung tight, Allison a few steps behind. Sophia followed behind, helping to prop Malia up on her foot. They’d managed an okay job of splinting it but they wouldn’t know for a while if it was healing properly.
“All right,” Annie said, slamming the useless wrench back into her pack. “We go on foot.”
Virginia adjusted her scarf against the wind and looked over the group — pale, tired, already shifting their weight like the road ahead had doubled. “Chins up kids, we’ve made it this far.”
Jordan stepped up beside Stiles as the others shouldered their packs. “We’ll make it.”
Stiles huffed, raking his hand through hair that could no longer be described as a buzzcut. “Sure. Nothing screams vacation like a nice hike through zombie country. Hey at least we’ll all get our steps in.”
He fell into step right beside Jordan as they left the boat behind, their shoulders bumping as the group moved on down the road. He thought he caught Jordan looking at him a couple of times but he chose to ignore it. Probably his brain just trying to feed the crush he was absolutely not developing.

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The bridge rose out of the morning haze like a spine of steel and concrete, stretching across the river unbroken. From a distance, it almost looked like a normal morning scene, busy traffic filling the lanes of the bridge on their way to work. But as the vehicles slowed on their approach to the bridge the illusion was broken. Some of the cars were little more than blackened husks, glass melted or shattered, paint bubbled and warped. Others were eerily intact, doors hanging open, belongings scattered on the asphalt as if their owners had simply stepped out mid-journey. A child’s car seat leaned at an angle in the back of a sedan, empty. Blood was visible in smears and dried pools littering the bridge.
“Looks tight,” Ellen muttered. She’d already slung her shotgun over her shoulder before Derek even parked.
“Looks a mess.”
“Lots of places to hide in that mess.” Her sharp eyes were scanning their route ahead,
“Which is why we check it first,” Derek said. He left the engine running, rolled his shoulders, and stepped out of the car. Louis followed and they met with Bo and Melissa by the back of the van. They discussed their options but travelling further down the river to try and find an alternative bridge meant more days on the road and less chance that they would make it to the airport to get onto one of the promised planes.

It was agreed that Melissa would stay behind with Ellis and the van while the others scouted ahead to find them a path across. Melissa had no rebuttal for this, still finding her feet again after losing Scott. She tightened her grip on the tire iron Derek had put into her hands as they made their way further onto the bridge, disappearing among the vehicles. Ellis was slumped inside his wheelbarrow, having dozed underneath a blanket in the back of the van midway through the planning. She nodded to herself as she sat beside him in the van.
The air was heavy, the silence thick. No birds. No wind. Just the faint metallic groan of the bridge under its own weight. Derek led the way forward, weaving between abandoned cars. He paused at each gap, scanning the shadows inside for movement. Ellen checked trunks, peered through half-shattered windows, her posture sharp and economical. Louis busied himself clearing loose debris from the lane — a suitcase tipped on its side, a tangle of fallen clothes, a half-crushed stroller – trying to clear some form of path for their own vehicles to get through.
Bo called from where she had been sauntering along nearby, “I’ll climb up — get the high view,” Without waiting for approval, she scrambled onto the hood of a nearby RV, then clambered to its roof. From there, she shaded her eyes against the sun and peered down the stretch of bridge.
“Not a bad idea actually,” Derek moved closer to the vehicle she had situated herself on. “See anything?”
“There’s a semi-truck blocking the way up ahead. Looks like it plowed through the guardrail. Past that, it’s thinner, but… I can’t see far enough to know what’s on the other side.”
“That’s an issue,” Derek called back. He was studying the wreckage in silence, expression tight. “One step at a time, though. You good to keep watch up there while we figure this out?” She gave a quick nod and settled into a sitting position at the edge of the roof. The others dispersed out along the bridge. Derek began moving cars near the crashed truck, with Ellen doing the same closer to their van. Louis searched through the vehicles between, looking for anything that they might be able to use or take with them.

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By midday, the sun had burned away the mist, leaving the road exposed and sharp-edged. Trees pressed in close on either side, a heavy green wall between them and who knows what lurking in the shadows. When the trees broke, it was to reveal a shallow stretch of river cutting across their path.
“Looks about knee-deep,” Jordan said, scanning the current. “We’ll cross here.”
“Or,” Stiles suggested, gesturing up the river, “we follow it for a few more miles and find a nice, friendly bridge with zero chance of us drowning.”
“No. We’d have to double back on ourselves by that point and we’re burning daylight as is.” Annie said flatly. She was already pulling her boots tighter, testing the bank. “We cross here.” Lydia shot a look at the back of her head as she turned to wade into the water, not waiting for the others to catch up.
Jordan stepped in after, the water slapping cold around his calves. He moved slowly, picking his path across the slick stones. “Alright, let’s stick close together. One at a time.” He stopped about halfway across and turned back expectantly for the others to begin crossing.
Lydia frowned, hugging her pack tighter. She elbowed Stiles in the side. “If you go under, I’m not diving after you.”
“I’ll have you know I’m actually excellent at balancing on wet rocks so this will be easy.”
She rolled her eyes as Stiles made his way to the bank. He made it across the first few stones uneventfully, showing a surprising amount of grace. He was nearly halfway across when hhis foot caught on a loose stone and teetered over, arms windmilling as he did so. Jodran was there suddenly, one arm round his elbow, the other behind his head. They stared at each for a few moments as Stiles’ brain caught up with what had happened.
“Noticing a pattern here,” Stiles muttered, teeth chattering as he splashed. “Me falling, you catching me.”
“What can I say, catching you seems to come pretty easy.”
Lydia coughed loudly from the riverbank, “Can we get a move on or do we need to give you two some time alone with the river?” Stiles blushed bright red.
“Right. Yes. Less talking, more balance,” Jordan said, but there was a grin tugging at his mouth. He pulled Stiles upright again and sent him on his way to other side of the river, watching to make sure he had no more trouble.
Lydia and Allison went next, making their way deftly passed Jordan muttering something about damsels in distress. Jordan could feel the heat in his cheeks but chose to ignore it as Mason walked with Olive down to the water. She hesitated on the bank, staring down at the water as it flowed around the rocky edge. Jordan called to her,
“Hey. Don’t worry okay? I’m right here and I’ll catch you if anything goes wrong. I already caught Stiles and he’s much heavier than you.” This earned a shout from Stiles behind him, but he carried on, “Plus Mason will be right behind you. You can do this Olive.”
She tugged the straps on her backpack a little tighter before she stepped into the river. Mason followed a couple of steps behind her as promised and it wasn’t long before she had made it to the middle where she grabbed hold of Jordan’s hand and stopped momentarily to comment on how cold the water was.
“I know, but you’re doing great. You keep going I just have to help the other’s get across.” She carried on with Mason behind her, and then it was Virginia’s turn. Jordan made to head back to the bank to help her but she gave him a look that stopped him in his tracks before steaming ahead through the river in one fell swoop. He worked hard to keep the surprise off of his face as he went to help Sophia help Malia across last.

By the time they had all made it up the other bank, dripping wet and cold, Annie had begun pacing. She adjusted the strap of her shotgun for the third time before announcing that they couldn’t linger. She looked down at where Olive was sat with her arms wrapped around her knees trying to warm herself up before moving away. Lydia caught the look but said nothing, though her expression sharpened — a mix of judgment and concern.
Stiles tipped water out of one of his shoes and looked at Jordan. “So, what’s next? Another impromptu swim lesson? Because I’m this close to demanding a towel service.”
Jordan only chuckled, pulling Stiles’ pack higher on his shoulders. ”You wish. Next, we keep moving. Try to find somewhere to bed down before dark.”
“Bedding down does sound good.” Another moment of lingering eye contact between them was interrupted as Lydia passed them making gagging noises and giggling with Allison. Stiles once again turned red and threatened them with his shoe as he limped after them, forgetting for a good few minutes that it needed to go back on his foot. Jordan smiled and went to help Olive attempt to get herself a little dryer as they set off walking again.

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Melissa’s spine cracked as she climbed out of the van. Hours on the road, hours spent sitting still in the back of the van — she felt almost as rusted as the bridge they found themselves on. She pulled the doors open wide enough to keep Ellis in sight as she slid out of the van. She peered around at the mess of cars. From the look of the unmoving corpses she could see in some of the vehicles, the bridge had been like it was at least as long as they’d been on the move from Beacon Hills. It got her thinking whereabouts patient zero had come into existence. She looked back to where Ellis lay in the van, legs stretched awkwardly across a half-broken wooden crate in a feeble attempt at comfort. His eyes were closed and his lips moved as he murmured something in his sleep. She hoped that they’d managed to a good enough job on the splints that he'd be up and walking in a few weeks. She lingered, watching his chest rise and fall. For all his sharp tongue and gritted teeth, Ellis looked young like this. Vulnerable. Part of the odd little tangle of people she’d been bound to by circumstance. And she was still grieving, yes, but taking care of someone else felt like she was back working, the normalcy helping to distract from what she had lost.

Her throat tightened. Melissa tipped her head back and stepped a few paces away, letting the sun catch her face. Mid-morning light glared off the river and off the wreckage of cars that lined the bridge, but for a second she let herself feel only the warmth. She stretched her arms above her head, rolling her shoulders until something in her back gave a satisfying pop.
The quiet was strange, but not unwelcome. The others were still spread along the bridge — Derek’s broad frame shifting between abandoned vehicles, Ellen and Louis close at his heels. Bo was a dark silhouette perched on top of an RV like some kind of gargoyle, scanning the horizon with nervous intensity. Melissa let out a slow breath. For the first time since she lost Scot, she almost let herself believe the quiet. That there could be peace here, even just for a few minutes. Her mind betrayed her anyway. It flicked back to her son’s laugh, the way he handled the animals at work, his never-ending support of her trying to keep them afloat. The way things had ended. It had all been a mess. He had begun to turn into someone she recognised at the end there, but she never liked seeing Scott’s father in her precious boy and so she had figured they’d work through it. But that chance had been taken away from them by something she didn’t even understand. Something she hadn’t had the time to try and understand.

She pressed her knuckles into her eyes until stars sparked behind them. If she let herself sink too deep into memories of Scott before, and of him at the end, she knew she’d drown. And right now she couldn’t afford that. Not while she had a patient, of sorts. She thought of what Ellen had said, about keeping moving. Maybe that would have to do for now. She just had to make herself believe it.
A sound broke her from her musings before long. Of course it did. The end of the world couldn’t let them catch a break.
A scrape. Soft. Rhythmic. Close.
Melissa’s head turned sharply towards the sound. A few cars over a car door hung open. It had been open when they arrived, she knew this because she had noted the garish pink colour of the car. The scrape came again as the corpse that had been in the car announced itself as being very much not in the car, instead slowly making it’s way in her direction.
Her breath caught.
It was a woman — or had been. Pale, mottled skin clung to bone, department store uniform hanging in tatters. Her nametag identified her as ‘Kelly’, and told Melissa that she was ‘happy to help!’. He heart clenched. This was a person. A whole person, with a life, a family, dreams.
Her throat tightened. They’re all just people.
The woman in front of her groaned, dragging herself forward, one leg twisting sickeningly beneath her on a shattered femur. Her hands clawed towards where Melissa stood, frozen to the spot as her brain raced to process what was happening and decide what to do.
Ellis stirred, blinking awake. “Melissa—”
Ellis. Yes. Her patient. This… woman, was a threat to her patient. She was a nurse, her job was to keep her patients safe. The woman. No, the… thing, lunged with surprising speed, snarling. Melissa stumbled back towards the van, scrambling for the tire iron she knew was there. Her heart thundered so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.
Every instinct screamed at her to help. To kneel. To press her hands to a wound. To try to save the broken leg or perhaps apply some kind of tourniquet and amputate?.
No. There was no saving this person. Whatever these people became once they were infected, they did not stop. She had watched with her own eyes as one of these things, or at least that’s what the man must’ve been, had taken her son from her.

Her hand curled around the tire iron and she swung it upwards as she span to face the zombie, clipping the side of its head and sending it reeling to one side. She stepped sideways away from the van as it righted itself and prayed it didn’t go for Ellis. She had to protect her patient. The zombie’s eyes turned to lock back onto her and began moving again. Melissa readied herself this time, recalling with teary eyes the time she had attempted to show Scott how to play baseball. He’d never really mastered that one. She swung.
The crack of bone reverberated across the bridge. The zombie collapsed, spasmed once, then went still.
Melissa froze. She stared at the body, at the badge still clinging to its chest. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. And then she brought the tire iron down again. And again. And again. Until where there had been the head of a zombie who had once been a girl named Kelly, was a smear of red against the asphalt below. She was shaking and sweaty as she made her way back to the van. Ellis eyes her warily.
“You okay?”
Melissa wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve, though no tears had fallen. “I’m fine,” she lied.
She tore a rag from one of the corpses that already had half its head missing and definitely wasn’t moving again anytime soon and wiped down the tire iron. She placed it back in the van, hands trembling as she did so. Before seating herself on the floor and closing her eyes. She pressed her palms to the cool metal of the van, willing herself steady. Just keep moving forward.

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The others were still scattered across the bridge when the air shifted.
At first it was faint, easy to mistake for the wind rushing through the gaps in the wreckage. But then came the low, rolling groans, layered one over another until the air itself seemed to vibrate. Melissa’s looked up from where she was still sat on the floor of the van. Ellis was half-sitting inside, eyes widening as he registered what he was looking at.
“Oh, shit,” he breathed.
From the road they had come along earlier that day, the first figures appeared — a tide of staggering shapes, moving in broken unison. A few at first, and then more. Dozens. Then hundreds. Filling the roadway, spilling between abandoned cars.
“Derek!” Melissa shouted. Her voice cracked over the asphalt. She clambered to her feet and grabbed the tire iron, feeling more ready to take on the threat than she had before.
The response came quickly. “Get in the van!”
She shoved Ellis fully inside, climbing in after him just as the first ranks of the dead shuffled between the closer cars. The stench rolled with them — rot, old blood, wet stone. Melissa gagged as she pulled the doors in and slammed them closed. As the horde flooded onto the bridge, the van was quickly surrounded, leaving them with no alternative but to stay put.
From where Bo had been perched on the roof of an RV, she paled as she watched the van swallowed by the horde with her dad inside. She locked eyes with her mum, far closer to the oncoming horde than she was.
“Mum! You have to move!”
Ellen shook her head from where she stood. She’d not make it to the RV in time she knew this. She wasted no more time as she zig-zagged through the vehicles before dropping low and rolling under a nearby SUV. She hoped it would br solid enough to keep her safe and that the zombies wouldn’t be smart enough to check under the cars they passed by.
Louis was further down the bridge and Ellen cursed herself for not shouting too him as the first feet passed by where she was hidden. He was inside an upturned car with all the windows broken. He had barely any cover. He didn’t notice the horde at first, not until Derek’s voice cut sharp and loud across the din.
“Louis? Louis! Move, now!”
Louis jerked upright, taking in the scene and immediately looking for an exit, but the bodies were already there, swarming past the car. He ducked back instinctively, heart in his throat. The overturned frame rattled as the press of walkers slammed against it. The sound was deafening — bone and flesh grinding against steel.
“Shit,” he whispered, crawling deeper into the wreck. The whole vehicle shuddered around him.
Derek ran. He leapt onto the side rail of the jackknifed truck that had caused the bottleneck, hauling himself up with brute strength. The metal creaked beneath him, tilted against the half-collapsed barrier, but it gave him the vantage he needed and distance between him and the undead. He just hoped it didn’t become too precarious as all of the bodies pushed against it.
From up top, the view was worse. The horde was a wall — surging, endless, spilling across the bridge like a flood. Too many to fight. Too many to outrun.
Bo looked up at him from her spot on the RV. “What do we do?”
Derek scanned the chaos. Ellen vanished beneath one vehicle. Louis was trapped in another. Melissa and Ellis were sealed in the van. Bo was exposed.
His jaw tightened. “We wait it out,” he called down. His voice carried, low but firm. “Stay quiet. Stay still. Let them pass. It’s our only option.”
The words rang with grim finality.
The dead pressed closer, the sound swelling into a roar.
And the group held their breath, each pinned in place by the tide of bodies, the bridge creaking under the weight of the horde

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By the time they came to a stop the sun had begun its descent towards the horizon, the light dappling the trees around them in a pale gold. Stiles ignored how god-like Jordan looked as golden light shifted across his face and focused instead on their current destination. A farmhouse slouched in the distance, looking as though it had seen its best days long before the end of the world. There were no lights on and they could see no people or zombies around which boded well for them finding somewhere to spend the night. Regardless they were approaching with caution. As the girls had found out already, things had a way of sneaking up on you.

On their approach they could see that the front door was closed, faded blue paint chipped and peeling away from the old wood. Around them overgrown fences spread out across the land and a sagging barn sat not too far away. The wooden fences bordering the property were partially collapsed but otherwise it seemed as though the violence of the apocalypse had yet to lay waste to the serenity of the small farm. If they hadn’t been on high alert for possible zombie appearances, the quiet would have been peaceful.
Annie raised a fist, halting the group. “Stay sharp. There could still be danger inside.”
Jordan moved ahead with practiced care, scanning the porch, the windows, the yard. No tracks in the dirt, no movement in the shadows. He signaled clear.
“Looks empty,” he said.
Virginia’s eyes lingered on the barn. “Empty for now. We shouldn’t waste daylight second-guessing.”
They moved as a unit, with several members of the group splitting off to check the barn. The creak of the door echoed in the silence. But they found the inside to be empty save for a good deal of hay. The farmhouse itself was much the same. Inside was dust, overturned chairs, the smell of rot from some plants in the windowsill that had long since died. No people. No undead. Just the ghost of a life left behind.
“Home sweet home,” Stiles muttered, running a hand over the back of a broken sofa. As he moved around the space he considered the lives that might have been lived here. It didn’t look as though they had left in a hurry, or not made it out. The closets upstairs were empty, and there was little of personal value visible. It was definitely empty.
They set up quickly: bags in the corner, weapons close at hand. Mason coaxed Olive into sitting at the kitchen table while he dug through cupboards for anything edible. Virginia gathered kindling from the yard, Jordan brushed against Stiles as they carried in wood from the porch, and soon a small fire crackled in the blackened hearth, breathing life back into the house. Stiles sat in the window looking out over the fields. The scene in the kitchen where they had all congregated for some food was cosy, and part of Stiles wondered not for the first time what a ‘normal’ life might look like now. Could they settle here, or somewhere like here? Was there a life after the end of the world?

Lydia sat near the fire, her legs drawn up, watching Annie as she checked windows for the third time. “You know, at some point, vigilance becomes paranoia.”
“Sure, and that paranoia keeps people breathing.” Annie shot back without looking. Lydia huffed and shot Stiles a look. He knew that look. He did not want to get involved in whatever was going to come out of that look, but it didn’t inspire confidence in a continued peaceful group dynamic.
“Hey why don’t we start figuring out where we’re all going to sleep? The farmhouse isn’t big enough for all of us but we should be able to make the barn comfortable.”

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They had been stuck for well over an hour. The van shuddered with every slam of bodies outside, the sound of teeth gnashing and nails dragging on the exterior of the van slowly drilling into her head. Melissa sat rigidly next to Ellis, white-knuckling the tire iron as though it were the only thing keeping her present.
Ellis, propped awkwardly against the wheelbarrow that held his legs, studied her through the din. “You’re holding that like you want the whole herd to come in and give you a reason to swing.”
“Better than sitting here waiting,” Melissa said. Her tone was sharp, but her exhaustion bled through it. They had no real way of knowing how any of the others were doing without drawing more attention to themselves. “Sorry. Just hate feeling helpless.”
“Tell me about it, I can’t wait to get back on my feet so I can start swinging back at the fuckers.” Melissa huffed out a small laugh that eased some of the tension inside the van.
Her voice cracked as she spoke again “I just— I don’t want it to end like this.”
Ellis shifted against the wall, grimacing at the pull in his broken legs. “And it won’t. We’re safe in here and we’ll wait them out as long as it takes.”
“You know, there was a split second out there where I considered not getting back in.”
He gave her a long look, steady, unflinching. “But you did, and that’s what counts.”
“At least it would have felt more useful.”
“You and one tire iron against a whole horde? You’re smarter than that Melissa. You want to feel useful? Stay alive. People are going to need healthcare in whatever new world we end up in.”
She gripped the tire iron tighter, chest heaving once. Then she let out a long breath and sat a little straighter, eyes still focused on the doors to the van, the thin sheet of metal between them and death. Outside, the herd’s groaning continued on, a seemingly unending wall of noise.

--------------------------

The RV roof was higher ground — at least she had that on her side. Bo was relatively safe from the gnashing mouths and clawing hands of the horde up on her perch. But it was little comfort as time stretched on and the mass of bodies showed no signs of thinning. She crouched low, fingers clamped around the hot metal of a roof vent. Every shove of bodies made the whole vehicle sway just enough that her stomach dropped, just enough that she felt the pull of gravity tugging her toward the edge.

She’d thought it would feel smart, being up here. Strategic. She could be helpful and see the way ahead. She hadn’t thought to look back at the way they had come. She hadn’t noticed the herd until it was too late. Now they were all trapped and she felt stranded, forced to watch as her group remained pinned in far more precarious positions.
She pressed her forehead hard against her knees. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Her father’s voice echoed in her head, Don’t panic Bo, panicked people are far more likely to get people killed. Her breath came too fast. She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her nails into the vent cover until her fingertips hurt. “Not panicking,” she gritted out, though her whole body shook.
She risked a glance over the edge — a mistake. The sight of all those faces turned up toward her, jaws opening and closing in blind hunger, made her vision swim. For once, the grin, the jokes, the restless energy she always carried were gone. She was just a girl alone on a roof, trying to breathe through the terror clawing at her ribs.
All she could do was hold on.

-------------------------------

Ellen had dropped to the ground and rolled under a nearby pickup with a speed she’d forgotten she had. Flat on her stomach, pressed so tight against the oil-stained floor that she could feel every tremor of the bridge through her ribs, she waited for the horde to pass.
The dead shuffled past in waves, their feet brushing within arm’s reach. She stayed still, body relaxed against the heat of the asphalt like she had all the time in the world, but not daring to twitch a muscle. It reminded her of nights long before this — deer hunting with her father in the woods. Stillness was everything. Breathe shallow, breathe quiet, let the forest move around you.
But this wasn’t deer. The stink of rot pressed into her nostrils, burning like ammonia. Their groans rolled over her, so close and constant she felt them in her bones. She thought about Bo on the RV. She hoped with every fibre of her being that she had stayed in place, had refrained from bolting. She knew how impulsive her daughter could be, especially when panicked. She just hoped that Bo could hold out long enough for them to all get off the bridge safely. She thought about Ellis, trapped in the van and unable to do much to protect himself. At least Melissa was with him, that gave her a little relief at least.

Her mind wanted to race as the day, and the horde, pressed on. It seemed as though the constant footfall would never end and she could feel the slippery tendrils of panic making themselves known in the far corners of her mind. She clamped down on it. Like hell was she going out on some random bridge in the middle of nowhere. Not when they were only a day or two from the airport – and hopefully some semblance of safety. A zombie overbalanced nearby and landed with a thud. Its eyes locked with hers and it began to drag itself across the floor towards her. She felt the urge to move, to run, do anything as it inched closer to her. And then the next moment it was gone, another zombies foot coming down mindlessly on its skull as the waves of bodies moved across the bridge. The thick, black liquid that oozed from what had been a head made bile rise in the back of Ellen’s throat. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. She exhaled carefully through her nose, forcing her pulse to slow. Fear was natural. Fear was useful. But panic? Panic got you killed.
And Ellen Parquet didn’t panic. Not now. Not when her family was out there, trapped and helpless.
So she lay there, cheek pressed into the grit, heart steadying itself beat by beat. Let the dead roll past like a storm tide. She would wait it out.

-----------------------------------

The overturned car groaned around him, metal flexing with every shove of the horde. He had hopedf that it would provide him cover while the zombies passed. But as time waned on and more bodies spilled onto the bridge, it had begun to feel more and more like a coffin. The first slam hadn’t rattled him. The second made him brace. By the third, the whole chassis lurched sideways with a grinding shriek, and his stomach bottomed out. The thick mass of bodies moving against the car as they made their way across the bridge had begun to move it, the metal roof – now floor – of the car shrieking against the surface of the bridge as it was forced out of the way of the horde.

He twisted awkwardly, pressing his palms against the seats above him to try and gain a better vantage point without attracting any attention. If he could get a clear sightline maybe he could make a run for it? But there were too many bodies for him to see through to get an idea of where the nearest safe spot would be. The car scraped across the asphalt, shunted by the crush of bodies until it slammed against the guardrail with a jolt that knocked him from where he crouched. The impact left him staring sideways out of a shattered window. Beyond the warped steel rail of the side of the bridge was nothing but open air – and a long drop down to the rive below, water dark and churning.
Another surge of bodies rocked the car, making the barrier groan. Rusted bolts popped, sharp as gunfire. Louis clamped both hands over his mouth to smother the sound clawing up his throat. His whole body shook, caught between the urge to fight his way free and the certainty that trying to do so would only bring more bodies towards the car. There was no way out. The car was going to go over the edge and he would likely die. This was it.

He thought of Derek — the way the man had stood on the truck, steady as stone, watching the horde move like he was built to survive it. And here Louis was, trapped in a tin can teetering on the edge of death, his heart hammering so loud he swore the dead could hear it.
He forced his breath slow. Tried to focus. Don’t move. Don’t draw them. Just hold.
The rail shrieked again.
Louis shut his eyes tight.
Please. Just hold.

--------------------------

From his perch on the truck roof, Derek could see it all. The dead poured across the bridge in an endless current, a tide that pressed against steel and concrete until the whole structure seemed to groan under their weight.

But his eyes never left the overturned car. He’d watched it grind across the asphalt, forced sideways until it lodged against the guardrail. Watched the barrier buckling under the strain. Watched the pale flash of Louis’s face behind the glass, eyes wide, pinned in place with nowhere to go. Every instinct screamed at him to move. The wolf in him wanted blood, wanted to cut a path straight through the swarm and drag Louis out. But reason held him frozen. One jump, one fight, and he’d bring the herd crashing down on all of them, and then he’d still lose people.
So he crouched there, claws digging deep into the truck’s roof until it bent under his grasp. His heart hammered. His breath came short and sharp. He could do nothing but watch the dead shove his… friend closer and closer to the edge.
“Hold,” he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking to Louis, the rail, or himself. There was too much unspoken between them for this to be the end. The car was rocked again by the horde, further buckling the guardrail. Derek looked over to where Bo was watching the scene as well, sheet white as the scene unfolded. He was going to have to do something; he couldn’t just sit idly by. Derek’s body coiled tight, ready to spring—
A new sound cut through the air.
Low at first, then rising. A droning roar. His head snapped up. Above them, a plane carved across the sky, engines grumbling like thunder. The herd stilled, as if the noise had stolen their focus. Then, like water pulled by gravity, they shifted as one, bodies turning towards the sound, groans rising into a chorus. As one entity, they began to move in the direction of the noise, moving off the bridge far quicker than they had been.

As the undead streamed off of the bridge in the direction of the slowly fading plane engines, the pressure on the bridge eased. Derek sighed a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and he watched as the tension started to bleed out of Bo’s shoulders. The car was no longer being pushed against the edge of the bridge and settled where it was. Derek stayed crouched, chest heaving, watching Louis’ car like the whole thing might still collapse at any second.
The plane dwindled to a speck, then nothing.
And in no time at all, the horde was gone.

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By nightfall, the group was scattered across the farmhouse and the barn, firelight painting them all in gold and shadow. Annie sat at the window, shotgun across her lap. Lydia read a worn medical manual by the light of the flames. Virginia dozed against the wall, Olive tucked against her side. She was telling her a story quietly, about all the plants she used to grow in her home and about a woman she once knew who could grow anything with the snap of her fingers.

Stiles and Jordan sat shoulder to shoulder on the porch of the farmhouse, packs at their backs, keeping watch together. The quiet stretched long between them, charged, unspoken. Every time Stiles shifted, their knees brushed. Neither moved away. The wind swept through the empty fields, old wheat rustling as it swayed in the dark. They had been talking about nothing and simply trailed off somewhere in the middle of their conversation. Stiles turned to say anything to fill the silence and found Jordan looking down at him. They’re eyes met and Stiles felt whatever he had been about to say catch in his throat. He swallowed it down as they both looked back out to the fields. Stiles coughed. Jordan reached out and placed his hand gently over Stiles’ where it rested between them. They caught each other’s gaze once more and this time Jordan leaned closer, planting a soft kiss against his lips. Stiles’ brain short-circuited for a few seconds before he responded, leaning up into the kiss and following Jordan’s lips until he found himself half sitting half standing on the steps of the porch to reach them. There must have been a sudden gust of wind because the ever-graceful Stiles lost his balance and landed on Jordan with an oof.
“You good?”
“Yeah, all good. You?”
“I’m great, sorry, I’ll get off—” Jordan kissed him again as he made to get up, pushing them until Stiles found himself straddling Jordan where he sat on the edge of the porch. They spent the rest of their watch holding hands and kissing gently underneath the stars, and when someone else came to switch out, they both crawled under the same blanket to sleep.

-----------------------------------

For a long moment, no one on the bridge moved.
The only sound left was the wind, whistling faintly through twisted metal and shattered glass. The herd was already a blur on the horizon, still chasing the phantom thunder of the plane. Ellen was the first to shift. She slid out from beneath the pickup, stiff joints protesting, and pushed herself upright. Dust and oil streaked her shirt, but her expression was calm. She scanned the bridge, counting heads.
“Bo,” she called quietly.
The girl’s head popped up from the roof of the RV. Her hands were still locked white-knuckled around the vent cover, but she managed a weak grin. “Present. Not panicking.”
Her legs shook as she scrambled down, running towards her mum. Ellen caught her in a hug when she reached her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead.
Melissa shoved the van’s doors open from the inside. The smell of blood and rust hit her nose as she leaned out, tire iron still clutched in her hand. Ellis shifted behind her in the wheelbarrow, pale but conscious. “That’s… It’s over, right?” he asked. Melissa just nodded, voice caught in her throat. She helped him out slowly, hands trembling from adrenaline, before they made their way in the direction of the group.
Derek dropped from the truck roof. His boots slapped the pavement as he sprinted to the overturned car. He crouched, claws already digging into the edge of the frame, and wrenched the door open with a screech of bending metal.
Louis spilled out, gasping, his face slick with sweat. He sat up fast, eyes darting around as if the horde might still be there. “Jesus,” he muttered. “I thought—”
But the words broke off. He caught Derek’s gaze. He opened his mouth to say something but Derek cut him off with a kiss. They broke away from each other, breathless. Louis looked at Derek with wide eyes, questioning.
“I thought you were dead. Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” Derek practically growled before helping Louis to his feet and checking him over for any injuries.
“I’m glad you’re okay, too, Derek.” They met each other’s gaze for a moment before moving to join the rest of the group. Everyone was okay, they had all made it through unscathed. Physically, anyway.
Ellen herded the group together near the van, keeping her voice low but firm. “We should get moving before any more come this way. Supplies back in, check wounds quick, then we’re gone.”
Bo leaned against the RV, chest still heaving. “That was… that was fucked.”
Melissa looked over at her, voice softer than she expected. “It was. Now let’s keep moving. We’re on the home stretch once we get off this fucking bridge.”
As they gathered themselves, the bridge groaned again — just the wind this time, playing over empty metal. But every one of them felt the echo of the horde pressing in. The memory of the weight, the sound, the fear.
They’d survived. But Sacramento still waited.