Chapter Text
Down in the bunker, days had seemingly gotten even slower. It had been a couple of months now, hadn’t it? Clyde couldn’t remember. All he knew for sure was that he was sick of waking up in the same pale-walled rooms each day, sick of not being able to go anywhere else or feel actual sunlight on his skin. Sun lamps were all fine and good, sure, but they weren’t the real thing.
He’d been sleeping a lot more, lately. Sure, he slept a lot before this, but now he was sleeping for hours and hours each day, too sick to want to get up. He’d sooner rot in bed than pretend this situation was good, which, for him, was saying quite a lot. The only times he ever made his move to move around was when he was pestering Tweek…which just so happened to be right now…technically. Even though Clyde wasn’t even in the same room as him.
Within the enclosed area where Tweek had been keeping a garden, the blonde twitched and clenched his hands, trying to get them to not shake as much. It made it hard to dig in the soil. He felt the mud against his knees, soaking the pale jeans that he wore with the wetness.
Normally, it’d piss anyone off, seeing as that mud was sure to stain, but it meant that the room was moist enough to continue supporting plant life, so he couldn’t exactly be mad. Besides, it was the closest to sitting out in nature he was going to get.
Clyde honestly was pissing him off with his accusations and demands. Didn’t it occur to him that he didn’t like it in here either? Tweek loved being outdoors. Sure, he didn’t get to as much as he’d like to before the apocalypse, what with his parents having him work hard, and of course he had school and all, but he’d at least get out of the house or shop a couple times a week. Maybe he’d sit in the grass just outside the school and breathe in the crisp, cold air.
It didn’t matter. Being outside was a reminder he was still alive. Now, being indoors was all he had.
It was risky going outside, and Clyde had always been a coward when it came to things like going first in haunted houses or anything like that, so where the fuck did he get off? Did he think he was just some big hero now because his boyfriend was out there?
Tweek stabbed a spade into the raised levels of man-placed earth, shifting aside the clumps of ground to put a seed in the pile. He must’ve cut his knuckles at some point because they stung with the grains and particles of dirt being brushed up against them. Wasn’t the first time he’d cut his knuckles or bruised them, he boxed, after all. His arm twitched and he pulled his hand back, trying to wipe it on his leg, leaving dirty smudges behind.
Why was he even thinking about Clyde right now? He was asleep, and this was his moment of peace. Still, his brow furrowed, an ongoing argument with himself playing out in his head.
It wasn’t just them two, either. They had to take care of Craig and Tricia, too. Did he know how much of a hassle it’d be to travel with a group like that? To constantly be on guard for all of them? He had so little faith that Clyde would be able to protect himself, so did he just want Tweek to do it for him?
…Honestly, Tricia probably could take care of herself just fine. She did…karate? Was that it? It was some kind of self-defense class, and knowing that she hung out with Karen sometimes, she’d likely observed more situations than she likely should have had to. So, she could clearly protect herself.
It was just the two idiots, then. Nothing against Craig, obviously. He loved him dearly and wouldn’t hesitate to defend him…he just didn’t understand how he could be so…oblivious? He didn’t exactly know how to describe it, but all he knew was Craig would be a bit of a liability until he taught him how to defend himself…maybe give him something like a bat. Wasn't like he wanted to train him down here, though, because that'd only make Clyde want to pester him more. They barely had any good weapons down here, either.
A gun would be far too loud, imagining the hoards it could attract was making him sick.
…He felt like he’d gotten off track. They weren’t going up to the surface. There wasn’t a point in thinking up ways it could work. It won’t. There’s no point. It was like imagining dying in a car crash knowing damn well you walk everywhere.
He hung his head for a moment, taking a breath.
…He did wonder if Tolkien and Jimmy were…still alive. They’d been on a quick vacation overseas…maybe it hadn’t left the continent by the time all of this started. He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. He hoped they and everyone else were fine…not like he could check or change that even if he wanted to. His brow furrowed, and he groaned quietly, pushing up and brushing the muck off his pants.
They only had so much soil, he wasn’t going to waste a bit of it in cleaning clothes. Stretching, he sighed and made his way out of the room. Clyde was sleeping, but he looked like he was about to wake up, meanwhile, Craig was trying to make them one of the stupid, MRE meals that his parents had bought and stocked basically thousands of. How long did they expect them to even be down here?
The apocalypse realistically would probably blow over in a little less than a year, at least that’s what Tweek always thought. Weed out the ones unprotected, then leave the zombies to starve. Or…something. Without prey, they’d have to do something. He hoped.
Tricia was leafing through some books, sitting by their makeshift cots. As much as he loved Craig, he was sure the conversation might turn sour fast. Clyde was rubbing off on him, too, and now Craig had been attempting to ask or goad him into looking into leaving and going to the surface. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, maybe his cousins?
From what Tweek had observed, he wasn’t exactly too close to Kenny, Red, or even Karen, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t love them regardless. It was a bit infuriating this longing came up now, though. Rubbing his face, he slid down next to the redhead, peering over her shoulder at the book she was reading. It wasn’t a comic book or anything fictional like he would’ve thought. He’d seen her reading most of the comic books they had stocked down here, as old as they were, but this was wildly different.
Some kind of survival book was in her hands. Right now she was looking at how to wrap up cuts and treat them. He furrowed his brow, trying to see more of the pages. None of them had or could get anything that bad down here… Why was she…?
“In case we go to the surface.” Her voice cut through before he could even finish the thought, the girl was always freakishly good at reading people. It was funny, looking at Craig and Tricia. While it could be blamed on Craig being adopted, he and Trish were wildly different sometimes. She could read people like it was being whispered into her ear, and unless you were breaking down in front of him, Craig wouldn’t know you were upset. Unless it came to Tweek, of course.
He couldn’t deny their stoicism was a characteristic they did have in common. He scoffed, glancing away.
“Oh come—ngh—come on, you too? Can’t I get a break around here?”
She shrugged quietly, flipping the page to skim the next one, expression unchanging. “I’m not gonna bother you on it. I know it’s gonna happen.”
“It’s not,” he hissed quietly, bunching up the fabric of his jeans as he peered at her as if she were some sort of zombie spy. “We aren’t going anywhere, you don’t know anything, Tricia.” He twitched a bit, likely from the stress, and took a deep, inhaling breath, letting it out slowly and carefully, as if he was trying to blow a ring from nothing but air.
She raised her brow, relenting and setting the book down, although she stuck a makeshift bookmark in it, a scrap of a shirt. Must not have fit anyone. He found it a bit funny his parents stocked so many books, but never a bookmark down here. And of course, Tricia was refusing to dog-ear the pages. Folding her hands over her legs, she leaned forward, pressing her face to her knees and turning slightly to see him.
“Alright. We aren’t going anywhere, then. How long do you think we’ll live down here, man?” Her expression was still, although she cocked her head expectantly. "Be honest."
He frowned, blonde brows furrowed as he looked at her in slight confusion. Eyes temporarily flickering around, he pursed his lips together like he was waiting to get punked.
“..It’s made to uh…support life for a year? Oh shit no, maybe two? Or–” He blinked, then shook his head, a low sound coming from the back of his throat in frustration as he twitched. “We grow our food. That’s how it’ll work.”
She raised a brow. He hated the way she was dissecting him like this. He was older! Surely that should have been enough to shut her up! Maybe if not that, then the fact that they were in his bunker!
“And when the packaged food runs out? When we no longer have vegetables? What if we run out of water?" Her questions didn't seem to have an end, and that only frustrated him more. "We’re gonna go somewhere eventually, man. We’re gonna have to.”
He hated how calm she was. That she had thought these issues out, that she’d fucking come to her own conclusion that they couldn’t be taken care of here. Of course, they could! The idea was ridiculous, anyway, she was just a kid. He didn’t have to take anything she said seriously!
Something about this reminded him of when he was a kid, the anger he’d get when no one would listen to him. He shook it off.
Lips twisting into a scowl, he rolled his eyes, turning away from her. She didn't seem bothered by this at all, which only served to upset him more. Hands reached out for the book again, and without a word, she began reading again, eyes roving over passages and diagrams. Glancing back over, he frowned, watching her lips move as she read it silently, taking in every word like it was some gospel.
He pinched his nose, getting up and moving away from her. Instead of attempting to talk to Craig, or maybe wake Clyde up, he trudged over to the corner of the room. Where they had games and such, he also had a rather large tub of Legos. He remembered demanding his parents give back half of his Legos after they’d taken them when he was younger.
He was so small then, couldn’t have been more than a couple of months of dating Craig, and he remembered crying and complaining to him after about a stress-release mechanism being taken away. He didn’t know that this was where they had gone. He wasn’t exactly grateful they’d been stolen, but he was grateful they were here now.
His fingers shook as he took apart whatever he’d built beforehand. Looking at it now, it looked like a spaceship. He liked Legos. They were simple. Something for him to do. A cold cup of abandoned coffee was sitting next to it, and without thinking, he reached down and took a sip. Disgusting, sure, but it calmed his nerves slightly, and as he built, he tried not to think.
It was like zen.
His brows furrowed, sighing. It was as close to true meditation as he could get down here. For some reason, despite the nothingness happening, he couldn't ever focus enough. It was like he'd gotten too used to the sounds in the background of his meditation, hearing the birds chirp through his open window in the morning, feeling the rays of sun hit his skin, hearing his parents running the shop if he'd chosen to take a break in the shop instead of the house. He stretched quietly, thinking. Went against the whole point of meditation, but give him a break, yeah?
…Going to the surface was, regrettably, becoming more and more of a decent idea to him. Everything in him screamed that they shouldn’t go, that they were safe down here, but the more that he thought about it, the more achievable it became. The thought scared him, honestly.
Come on, Tweek, his thoughts seemed to yell at him, although the tone was the same as his thoughts always were in, you’ve gotta come up with some reason why it won’t work.
He didn’t really…have anything, though. He sighed, pressing together brightly colored plastic bricks, listening to the click of them fully connecting, feeling their rough edges amongst the smooth sides under his palm and fingertips. He’d probably gotten a decent amount of the callouses on his fingertips from this, while most of the scars he had were from coffee machine mishaps.
Clicking his tongue, he sighed. The bricks were gently placed by his side as he stared at them, furrowing his brow. He brought his knees up, resting his cheek on them as he stared. Meditation wasn’t helping his case any, although he didn’t suppose he was exactly doing it right. Not like he had any teacher besides the internet for Buddhism, anyway, his parents weren’t practicers.
Younger him had sure tried, though. No matter how many times he tried to explain it, they waved him off and told him to go serve customers or something to that effect. He’d always shrugged it off in the end, just another instance of them blatantly ignoring his points. If he'd gotten used to it, that had to say something about his parents, right?
He liked the idea of Buddhism. It explained why his life was the way it was, why he was constantly forced into things he didn’t exactly enjoy. As a kid, finding a religion that explained why his life was insufferable was…liberating. He loved the concept that if he did well in this life, hopefully, he’d make up for whatever he did in his last life to get him saddled with this.
He could improve his situation. Maybe not in this life, but in the next. That was comforting somewhat, right? …He didn’t exactly know if there was a next life to reincarnate into, but this wasn’t a situation to give up his faith in.
…Wait.
One of the pillars of Buddhism. The things that he had to follow to ensure his place in the next lifetime. One of them was to never take the life of anything living. That was it!
If they went up on the surface, more than likely, they’d have to hurt people. He couldn’t do that! Not without sacrificing his faith. Taking a breath, he leaned back, eyes fluttering shut just slightly. There it was…an excuse. Now he had something to tell Clyde when he eventually arose from his sleep…as unhappy as it made him.
His fingertips twitched, and he hummed quietly. He had an excuse. That was…that was all he needed. Somehow, it still felt like a measly excuse, but if he thought on it any longer, he might start shaking.
A bit away, Clyde rolled over in his sleep discontentedly, curling up under the blankets he’d piled upon himself. He didn’t seem very pleased with Tweek’s revelation, although there wasn’t any way he’d be able to read his mind and know it occurred. Still, he seemed disgruntled at the least. Maybe Tweek was just imagining things.
Tricia remained as silent as ever, occasionally lifting her eyes to glance around the room, maybe staring at Tweek a bit before shrugging and digging around in her book once more. He didn’t know how she could find something so practical so invigorating. Wasn’t she supposed to be interested in things magical? Ponies and unicorns or…something. He didn’t have any sisters, he didn’t know.
Glancing at Craig, he watched as the taller boy came over, the contents of one of the MREs having been dumped into a few bowls. Something with…rice, he thought. Beans too. Craig turned course for a moment, giving a bowl to Tricia, then rounding back with two bowls in hand. He must’ve placed one by Clyde already, for whenever he got up. It’d probably be rather soon…
Sitting beside him after clearing a spot amongst the scattered Legos, Craig stretched, popping his back against the bunker wall. He quickly handed over one of the two bowls he had in his hand. Tweek bowed his head just slightly, taking the bowl.
“...Thanks,” he murmured, pursing his lips. “Don’t–”
“Don’t ask you about going up to the surface. I had a feeling.” Craig had always somewhat been able to read Tweek better than he could read himself, which was just the tiniest bit infuriating. For now, though, it was a relief. Craig shrugged, leaning on his shoulder and beginning to scoop his food into his mouth after stirring it a bit. It was far from great, these things were probably cheaper than they should’ve been, but they were edible, and kept them alive down here. “Wasn’t planning on it, anyway.”
…Ah. He looked away, a bit embarrassed before placing the spoon he was given by his side, instead using his hands to eat the rice. Didn’t really have any reason for that, just seemed easier. People ate like this all the time, anyway, didn’t they? Wasn’t there some rule about which hand being proper to eat with? He swallowed down a bite, gagging and looking at the food in distrust.
“...Dude this shit sucks—” He choked back a laugh, mouth twisted into a small grin. “Who eats this?”
“Soldiers? Uh…” Craig thought, scooping another piece into his mouth. “...People stuck in apocalypse bunkers, I guess. Could be worse, there are those fuckin’...” He trailed off, trying to wave his hand around to explain it. “...Fallout shelters? With canned bread.” He shuddered. “At least this has seasoning.”
“Yeah, but it tastes fuckin’ expired.” He paused, then laughed. "Actually, it probably is."
Tweek snickered quietly, thinking of all the times in which he’d been to their home and had to choke down the painfully unseasoned food that Craig’s mother made. She was kind, sure, but had absolutely zero taste buds. Pushing the still-warm food around in the bowl a bit, he hummed quietly, pursing his lips.
Craig delved into silence as well, eating and tapping his foot against the floor. Silence wasn’t a stranger to him, if Craig didn’t have something he wanted to talk about, he’d say nothing at all. Quietly, Tweek rested his head on his shoulder. At least he still had moments like this. Glancing at Clyde’s figure, curled up under blankets, shivering despite it being achingly warm in the wrap of blankets, he couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty.
…He didn’t really like Thomas. That was an understatement, actually, Tweek couldn’t stand Thomas. He didn’t even fully know why, but he just could never fully get along with him. But he made Clyde really happy…with all of Clyde’s protests as of recent, he’d begun to wonder if maybe he’d been selfish by indulging in Craig’s company down here, under the judging eyes of Clyde. Trying his best to not dwell on it, he scooped more food into his mouth, imagining the time trickling by.
If he focused, he could almost imagine the setting sun on his skin. Somehow, he just knew it was sunset.
Or maybe he was just hoping.
Marj let out an aching breath, huffing quietly. She’d been walking since the moment they’d all gotten up that morning. She didn’t really have the energy for that, either, her minimal amount of sleep worn down by plaguing dreams and cold shakes. Didn’t exactly help that they had been lying down in the white powder of snow that had fallen just minutes before they’d decided to make camp.
Even when Kenny insisted they take a break for a moment, or when Karen would bug her to sit down, she kept moving. Something in her felt obligated. If she stopped moving, something bad was gonna happen. She knew it would. Right now, the two siblings were sitting on a bank of snow, relaxing their legs and feet for just a bit. They weren’t really anywhere special, just a few miles out of town, so it wasn’t like any zombie would catch them out here. Karen sat fiddling with a small walkie-talkie she’d found, although the microphone seemed to be busted, so all she was doing was trying to find some kind of station that was still playing music.
And yet, even though they were both sitting down, enjoying what bit of sun the day had to offer them, she was still moving. She was pacing right now, the cold day making her cheeks a blistering red color. She looked naturally rosy, but far from picturesque. The bags beneath her eyes were a decent shade darker than the rest of her skin, looking like bruises of purple-ish blue painted onto her skin.
She paced, and heard nothing but the crunch of snow beneath her boots, imagining an icy cold dragging its way up her feet and legs. She shivered, biting her lip from the cold as she continued to pace around.
Something inside her knew that she was running on adrenaline, or even determination or guilt.
…Definitely guilt. Her hand drifted down to her side, where she’d managed to make a section to hold to holster of the gun. It twitched, her fingers trembling from something quite obviously not the cold, and she pulled her hand abruptly up to her chest, her other hand too busy holding her axe to come up and meet it. Instead, it lay shaking, pressed against her sternum.
Nothing in her felt right, she felt sick. Her arms ached from swinging around the heavy axe she’d managed to find while rooting around in a dead man’s shed. It wasn’t made for combat, or life or death situations. It was made for cutting wood, and it clearly wasn’t meant to be used this much. Her chest felt tight, her throat thick like it was entirely closing in. She tried to register panic over that, but her senses seemed too dull to raise more than a pitiful observation.
She didn’t even want to be holding the axe anymore, the weight making it feel like her arm was stretching down…down…she shuddered, letting go of the axe and letting the warm handle sink into the snowbank near her feet. The imagery of her arm popping back to its normal length like an elastic band flashed across her mind, and she staggered just a bit.
She kept pacing.
Not only was her throat closing in, but it felt dry. It didn’t make much sense, she’d been drinking water the entire day, and Kenny had boiled snow the night before to ensure there wasn’t anything in it. They’d had water the entire day, and yet, she found her hands reaching for her bottle and taking another drink. It was nearly running empty again, and she had half a mind to just scoop snow inside and wait for it to melt, to hell with any bacteria in it. She’d had to refill it a few times just that day…It was wasteful.
But, she honest-to-god just didn’t feel good. It was clear to her the others could tell she was out of it and she hated it entirely. She was supposed to be leading them, protecting them entirely. What good is she here if she can’t follow the rules she and her brothers quite literally put into place? Now, though, she felt too sluggish to do anything, yet sleeping was the furthest thing from her mind. How could she sleep like this?
“Marjorine? Can’t you take even a little break? I don’t think you’ve sat down all day-” Kenny’s voice called from the snowbank, breaking through her thoughts rather abruptly, and she did her best to wave it off.
“...Nope. I uhh…need to keep up my energy! Didn’t sleep much last night, y’know…” She turned, trying to flash a smile, and her heart stuttered in panic when Kenny’s face soured just slightly, brows furrowed in worry. He knew. The way he furrowed his brows at her was enough. There was almost something accusatory in his eyes like he was waiting for her to admit she needed help. He shifted to face her a bit more, and she quickly turned away.
“...Marjie, you don’t look good-”
She didn’t feel good either! He didn’t have to go and state the obvious, now did he? She coughed just slightly, hoping that it’d make her throat stop closing up. Instead, it felt like someone had fanned a fire onto her throat, and she coughed again, although this time, it sounded more like choking. She couldn’t hold a conversation right now, she really couldn’t.
The tips of her fingers were achingly red and she brought them to her face, cupped hands receiving a warm blow of air. She could see her own hands shaking, and she was hoping it was just from the cold, or from her bout of trembling earlier.
Why was it harder to think right now? She could’ve sworn she’d started today off thinking clearly, and now, it felt like someone was deliberately holding a pillowcase in front of her eyes and ears, everything seeming dull. Hell, she could have sworn she’d been functioning better before Kenny had gone and put his damn voice in her mind. She hated this. She was cold, but her blood was running warm and she could feel it. She felt hot, but the way her fingers were shaking was clear she was anything but.
She could feel the warm rushes of blood going from her ears down throughout her body. In her head, she imagined floodgates opening, which wasn’t particularly the most comforting thought. In the background of her vision, things lost their definition. The trees were no longer sharp, pine needs sticking out all around, with mounds of snow atop them. Instead, they blended into the colors they were composed of, greens and browns and a glittering white blending into the white of the sky.
God how she wished for a blue sky right now. The warmth of the sun on her skin, a nice relaxing dip in a pool. Instead, she was met with more blurs of white, shadows being the only way to register what was in front of her. Adamantly turning her head to the ground, she walked more, trying to switch things up just a bit, adding twists and turns to how she paced.
She couldn’t think, her head feeling fuzzy, but it was simultaneously pierced with pain. Deliriously, she connected it to shots at the dentist’s office, the pierce of a needle giving way to the numbness spreading through her jaw, although it was her entire head now. Groaning in frustration, she walked just a bit faster, doing full-on loops now. Each step felt unstable, and she was merely hoping she didn’t fall. She didn’t want to check her forehead, she didn’t want the recognition of what she already knew was true. Wiping her nose, she shuddered just a bit more.
Kenny sighed, gently motioning for Karen to wait where she was. His sister pulled a bit of a face, and it was something he truly admired in his younger sister, her stubbornness. She knew Marjorine wasn’t alright, but knew when to listen, and when to object. Right now, she knew her brother could handle it, and stepped back.
This was a bit of a…sensitive situation. She could tell. Instead of picking a fight, Karen nodded, turning her head down to shape the snow she’d been playing with moments before. Her palms and fingertips were red from contact with the snow, but they didn’t grow up in South Park for nothing, after all. Entirely used to it, she continued rolling balls of snow, precariously stacking them on top of one another.
Confident he could turn his attention now, Kenny turned to look at his girlfriend, trying to process…really whatever he could. Marjorine hadn’t ever really acted like this before, the need to be selfless overpowering everything in her. It was…weird. Sure, Marjie was a kind girl, she was warm and welcoming, and did her best to be hospitable. But she had her limits. She’d snapped before, and he’d seen it. Even when she was younger, and wasn’t much more than a doormat to most people, she’d had her moments.
Now, though, she was well past her usual limit of sacrifice for others, and it was entirely self-inflicted. No one had asked her to do it, and no one wanted her to do it. With how she was acting, it was like she was doing things to herself on purpose, a sick sort of self-inflicted karma. Maybe she didn’t even notice that was what it was. ...Maybe she was just hoping they hadn't noticed.
He was really worried, especially since she didn’t look good either. Not in the sense of attractiveness, she was as pretty as ever, he’d always think so. But her eyes were hollow-looking, every glance she made looking exhausted. The bags under her eyes only really proved that. A ball formed in his throat, and he anxiously swallowed it down.
But it wasn’t just that. Her cheeks were flushed more than either of them, and she was just as bundled up. She hadn’t stopped shaking in a good long while, and every footstep she had was staggering, despite her firm “need” to keep moving. He knew she needed rest. The only issue was her blatant refusal to do so.
He pushed to his feet, Karen worriedly watching him go over to her and stand a foot or so away, trying to gauge the situation. Was she touchable like this? She hadn’t been bitten, that much he knew, but…she was really sick. If she’d been bitten, she probably would’ve been more violent by now. Instead, she seemed avoidant.
He was almost positive she had a fever. Something normal, but given their situation, could be bad if he didn’t get to work on giving her a break soon.
Sighing, he moved closer, grabbing one of her hands. They’d fallen to her sides in her stupor and were practically dangling around as she was moving. It was shaking, yes, and her fingertips were frigid, but her palm was warm. Incredibly so. Same with the back of her hand, like a flame had graced only that portion of her. Her eyes snapped over to him, and she did her best to keep walking. Her gaze looked accusatory but glazed over in the saddest of ways. She wasn’t pulling away from the touch, but more so trying to drag him with her. She needed to keep moving but craved touch.
She craved a break, but it was locked behind so much need that had to be filled first.
Sticking his feet firmly into the banks of snow, he stayed put. Frowning, he leaned forward just a bit, trying to reach out and cup her face, just to feel it. She tugged away at that point, tugging her arm at the shoulder freeing her hand from his grip, the effort causing her to begin staggering backward a few steps. Her legs shook.
“Kenny, I already told you, I’m doin’ just fine!” Her voice cracked slightly, and she coughed into her hand, the sound rough and raw. The pitch of her voice had gone up and down in just that sentence alone, and the irony of the statement as compared to her entire state of being was rather hilarious. Or at least, it would be if this were a different situation. He raised a brow, shaking his head at her. The fact that she was trying to lie about it while this was her state? It could almost be considered funny as well. It wasn’t, not at all, but it could be.
She shivered, rubbing her arms as she stopped moving just for a moment to face him properly. She tried to tell herself to march in place, but now that she’d stopped moving, beginning again was the last thing she wanted to do.
“We need protection.” The sound of her voice barely carried over the space between them, coming out as a ragged sort of whisper instead of the firm statement she wanted it to be. It was the truth, though, and Kenny hesitated as he remained looking at her.
“Yeah, but-” Kenny frowned. How was he supposed to explain this to her? It didn’t seem like he could right now. “You don’t always have to be the one protecting us-”
“I gotta stick to the list, Kenny! Rule number two is pull your weight–” Her voice cracked on the word list, eyes watering. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and it shattered his heart.
Her legs began to shake like they were just realizing all of the weight her body forced them to hold up, and they promptly decided to go on strike. She swayed, although kept her shoulders tight and rigid.
“Yeah, so why don’t you let us pull some weight too? You’re not useful if you’re burnt out, and we’re worried!” He noticed it. For some reason, she hadn’t, though, looking at him firmly. For someone so fragile-looking right now, she looked as fierce as ever. She wasn’t going to give in without a hell of an argument first.
“I’m not gonna get burnt out, or whatever the hell you said! I’m gonna be fine— Come on, Kenny you know me! I need to follow the list, my brothers are–”
Marj turned mid-sentence, pivoting and finally making a move to continue walking and pacing when something just…clicked out of place. Her head became so fuzzy that she couldn’t create a meaningful thought or even a nonsensical one for that matter. It was a mental block, a fuzzy wall she couldn’t even bring her arms to feel up at. Everything in her felt so exhausted… She stumbled around a bit, not making a move forward despite her best efforts.
She could hear the two call for her, but she couldn’t force her mouth to make a sound. Hell, she couldn’t even register it. It was a fuzzy, warbled noise, and it made her want to giggle. Instead, she felt the wind against her face again, the world spinning on its axis as she twisted and turned…falling face-first into a snowbank. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, eyes fluttering shut as her entire body sagged into the snow.
Kenny paled, the wind gusting against him momentarily as if only for shock factor before he rushed over to her. He dropped down onto his knees, the cold splinters of snow now digging into his clothes as he rolled her over with gentle yet worried hands. Thankfully, it was a deep pile of snow, and her face was fine. Red from the cold, with dusts of snow and melting ice over her face, sure, but it wasn’t hurt.
Her chest rose and fell heavily, eyes shut. Her breaths sounded more like gasps, which was a contrast to how slumped the rest of her body looked. She was trembling still, although from the cold or sickness, who knew. Carefully, he leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead before pulling back, face twisted.
Karen came up behind him rather quickly and leaned on his shoulder. It wasn’t hard to see what had happened, although she still felt the need to ask…kid habits he supposed.
“Is she okay? What happened-??”
He hesitated in speaking, glancing down at her before looking at Karen. His voice was hushed, as if Marj could hear them, and the moment he spoke of her condition she could become horrifically offended by it. “She’s burning up. Definitely has some kind of fever.”
Sighing quietly, he shed his jacket, wrapping her up in it. It was just dandy they had this problem now...not like there was anywhere to go. The closest place was the city they’d just come from…He sighed. It was inconvenient, but it looked like they were turning back. In his arms, she turned a bit, stuck in a sort of limbo between being conscious and unconscious. Her lips moved as though she was trying to speak, lashes fluttering every once in a while. He grimaced at his girlfriend, standing shakily.
With the help of his sister, he managed to hoist Marj up onto his back. She was still achingly warm, and she seemed to be just conscious enough to wrap her arms around his neck, hands clasped together. Kenny could hear the blood rushing in his head, chest uneasy as he turned himself around, beginning to hike down the long stretch of empty road.
Light snowfall began where his feet left imprints, the dazzling white crunching underneath his feet. If he allowed himself to imagine this was an entirely different situation, maybe he’d feel a bit warmer. He’d be able to imagine that his fingers weren’t a frigid red, and his arms weren’t shaking. Of course, he wasn’t going to imagine the snow…but the crunching sound never left his mind…he’d have to replace it to be fully immersed.
Maybe he could imagine he was ten years old again, somehow having made his way to Hawai’i with Marj. He couldn’t remember why she wanted to even go there in the first place, sure, she was Hawai’ian, but it hadn’t made sense to him at all back then. All he remembered was seeing her so upset, and deciding to go with her. He remembered seeing her eyes all watery as she rambled and ranted angrily, and wanting to help.
It was nice. A break from the snow. His footsteps continued on, and despite the labored breaths coming from his chest, and the way the wind nipped and bit at his face, he could imagine the warm sun. You didn’t get weather like that in Colorado, that was for sure. Maybe those freak heatwaves they ended up getting once in a blue moon, but his childhood was constantly filled with snow. It was like the sun was melting away his chipped and frostbitten exterior.
He could hear Karen’s footsteps behind him. They crunched just like his own, and he shook his head just slightly. Sand. That’s what they were stepping in. Sand instead of snow. Of course, it was too hot to walk barefoot in, best to keep his shoes on for now. But still, the sand. Marj was just sleeping on his back, her skin warmed by the sun. That’s why she was achingly hot now, because of the sun.
She’d simply messed around too much in the water. Being under the hot sun was exhausting, he knew that for sure. He didn’t even have to conjure up some fake memory to imagine carrying Marj, she’d become far too sleepy time and time again, and he’d hoisted her up time and time again.
He kept on walking. The city was growing closer, so it wouldn't take long. Just walking down the beach…that’s exactly what he was doing.
Meanwhile, on his back, Marj’s shoulders shook. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, crying just softly. She was letting her brothers down. Hiccuping slightly, her lips moved, whispering apologies down Kenny’s front, eyes bathing in warm tears.
“I’m sorry Mikey– Streb—” Her voice cracked again, mumbling her mother's name on repeat.
Eventually, her delirium came to a pause, and she truly fell asleep, chest shuddering gently. She was truly exhausted.
Ethan hummed. He’d found a little radio in his travels, and looted it out of some truck stop he’d managed to pass by. He wasn’t exactly expecting to hear anything, but it was solar-powered and functioned just fine, so he’d made it a habit to systematically turn it on throughout the day. Most of the time he just hit static, maybe some weird warbling, but he always chalked it up to something malfunctioning.
If it was gonna be someone, the frequency would change, and the person speaking would have fiddled with it. Regardless, he wasn’t too worried. Existing in the apocalypse had been…scary, sure, but it wasn’t like. Horrifying? He’d seen plenty of things he really wished he didn’t have to ever again, but he could pretend it was all a video game or a really elaborate haunted house. It almost made things better, imagining that this was all just insanely good special effects that he was trying to figure out.
Walking along the stretch of highway, he hummed to himself. He wished he had some music to listen to, wished the radios were working. They probably did keep working for a bit, with automated stations still playing the same hit music they always did. But then, those facilities probably got raided, or overrun, and…there was nothing to it.
Now that he thought about it, maybe he should’ve found an abandoned radio station, it’d probably have been easier to find someone by broadcasting there…any place like that would probably be overrun now, though, so there wasn’t exactly a point. And it wasn’t like he knew where to find one, anyway. Waste of time.
A decently sized rock lay near the side of the highway, and he hummed, speeding his pace up just slightly to reach it, rearing his foot back and sending it flying. He watched it bounce and skitter across the rough road, sliding across stretches of ice before eventually finding something tougher than it, because he watched it split evenly and cleanly in half. He let out an impressed huff.
Rustling behind him caught his attention and he stilled, opting to simply listen to it. He heard nothing for a moment, then a low groan, movement being clear by the sound of sickly flesh brushing up against itself. Zombie skin, he’d learned, sagged against itself in a really weird fucking way. Almost like old people, if their skin was falling off of them in disgusting chunks, their bodies rotting away as they function normally.
A cold thread laced its way through his body, shocking the nerves it passed by until he grabbed the bat he held on his back in his hands, preparing. He heard them sludge closer, and the moment he felt the air change against his back, he pivoted. Stepping forward for leverage, keeping his feet level on the icy ground, his grip tightened on the handle of the bat, twisting his body as he swung.
A loud crack sounded, a sound he was regretfully getting used to, and he backed up a bit, looking at the chasm he’d just made in someone’s head. Just one zombie, then. There weren’t really any others in sight…at least he hoped. They weren’t exactly smart, none of them had the brains left to think about hiding.
He paused, then snickered. Brains. He’s so fucking funny. Shaking it off, he hummed, running his hands down the handle of the bat, the haphazard wrapping he put around it for grip. He’d found some old tape and wrapped it around, and it seemed to be working just fine, although his hands had never been more calloused. At least they weren't blistered, or bleeding. Open wounds during the apocalypse wasn't...the best idea.
He shoved it towards his back once more, keeping it tucked between the curve of his back and his bag. It wasn’t exactly the best spot for it, but it beat lugging it around all day until he just so happened to need it. The longer he’d spent surviving, the more zombies he’d begun to notice. It was hard not to notice them, actually, but he digressed.
Rummaging around in his pocket, Ethan blew the hair out of his face to see the hand-held radio he’d found. He found it in a truck stop, which now that he thought about it, made absolute sense. The porters needed to talk to the front desk somehow. That pit stop had been nice, he’d even gotten the chance to take a shower, even! The place must have had some old reserves…although he’d forgotten to cut his hair before getting run out by an undead, trucker hoard. How does a trucker even get ambushed, anyway? Couldn’t they just hop back into their truck and take off?
Zombies were tough in groups, but nothing was gonna stop a fuckin’ semi from ramming through them. Maybe he was thinking too far into this. There probably were some truckers who were out there doing that same thing. Shaking it off, he fiddled with the small radio.
He’d managed to disconnect it from whatever system it was on there, or maybe it was just out of range and could pick up other things too. Now, he’d just been twisting the knob on it back and forth, listening to the static frequencies change.
He didn’t expect anything new, but it was good to keep it on. He just didn’t like keeping it on all the time because it always led to zombies gathering. They were stupid, but most of them could hear. He said most, primarily because he was positive some of the zombies had to be deaf, and some others likely had ruptured their eardrums in the absolute bullshit he saw the zombies do.
They acted almost like animals, sometimes, and observing them felt like he was in some sort of messed up zoo where humans peered in on their fellow, albeit heavily diseased, peers. Maybe he’d even seen some zombified versions of…his friends.
Woah. That thought hadn’t exactly come to him before. He bit his lip, and before anything else, shut off the radio, pushing the antennae back down and shoving the device into his pocket. That was not a train of thought he wanted to go down, because if he thought about possibly seeing friends as zombies, he’d think about seeing his family, partner, or even just acquaintances as zombies, and the thought was enough to make him sick. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Ethan rubbed the back of his neck.
Right.
Just…keep moving, then. Maybe he’d even find a group of people at this rate.
If he’d have kept the radio on just a bit longer, maybe even just a few more seconds, he might’ve heard the beginning of a song play. The first thing played on the stations for a good long while.