Chapter Text
✦W✦
The rain didn’t let up; it chilled William down to the bone.
He stared at his shoes, walking blindly with a guiding hand, fast steps, worn soles splattering water in the dark. Thunder, gunshots, his heart, were all too loud. Rain got into his eyes, dripping from his sopping wet hair sticking to his skin. He rubbed it off, gulping, and looked up, feeling Grayson’s warm hand around his wrist, and his broad back.
And no walls around.
William was outside the walls, out in the open, for the first time since this nightmare began. At night.
He opened his mouth to speak, and looked around, the words stuck. It was too dark; he could see enough under the faint moonlight, but just barely. This was a death sentence, being outside. “…W-What are we going to do?” He muttered.
Thunder rumbled as he spoke, but Grayson still heard him, turning back with a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be okay–”
William’s brows furrowed. “How will it be okay? We’re outside…!” He hissed, eyes wide.
“It’s not– uhm,” Grayson tilted his head, as if William was being dramatic. “I was out here just fine, trust me.”
William shook his head, but… What could he do? Walk away on his own? Go back to Crawford and hide until he starved? He’d probably just get eaten alive if he tried to return. He’d get eaten alive out here too.
“I… I don’t know how you’re so calm…” William admitted, one arm reaching to rub his forearm. He was so cold, numb.
Grayson continued to walk. “I’m calm because I know we’ll be fine.”
They reached a gas station, and stopped under the cover. William shuddered, pulling his arm free to hug himself. “Where can we hide…?”
Grayson looked around them. “I was thinking we could sit here and wait out the rain.” He turned back to him with hands on his hips, drenched, and yet, not shuddering at all.
“It's freezing.” William droned, shuddering non-stop.
Grayson’s smile dipped, slowly. “Oh, uhm…” His gaze lowered. His head snapped to the gas station’s store. “How about in there?” He pointed.
William looked, and saw glass doors, and pitch-black innards. “…Well…” He frowned. “Crawford cleared out a lot of places nearby…”
“Did they?” Grayson raised an eyebrow. “It didn't look very cleared out earlier.”
“W-Well, they cleared where they were scavenging. It’s impossible to clear everything…!” Another sharp shudder. “I don’t know exactly where they cleared, though…” His legs were burning. He just wanted his bed. But there wasn’t even a place to sit here if not the frigid ground.
Grayson looked at the building again, humming, then back at William. “I don’t really want to leave you alone to check it.” He said — such an affable tone, like they weren’t in a dire situation here.
“We have to find shelter somewhere. The elements will kill us way before hunger gets a chance.” Maybe they’d have to walk a little longer in the rain?
“Okay, okay…” Grayson muttered, lightly grabbing William’s arm, leading him. “You’ll stay inside that car there, I’ll check the building. How about it?” There was a single black sedan, haphazardly parked near the shrub-covered fence.
William’s heart spiked. “Alone? I mean, you’ll check that place alone? W-What if–”
“I’ll be fine.” Grayson said again, a small smile on his face again. “I’ll get you safe and sound inside in just a bit.”
They walked under the cold rain again, Grayson reaching for the door — a gurgle sounded, and William gasped, backing away. A walker stood from the other side of the car, hearing their splashes, and stumbled around it to reach them, rotten flesh exposing bloody teeth.
William panted and almost turned to run, but Grayson held him. “No, no, calm down! It’s fine!” He said, tone hushed.
“B-But!”
“It’s fine.” Grayson repeated, quieter, letting go and walking towards the shambling corpse without an ounce of caution — he stepped aside as it reached him, kicking its knee. William blinked, watching as it lost balance, before Grayson kicked its back, and it was down, where its head was stomped like it was a giant grape and not a skull.
It looked more fragile than William had thought…
Grayson grinned, brows tilted betraying his uncertainty. “See? Easy.” He lifted his arms.
William stared at the splattered remains.
Grayson opened the car door — lucky it wasn’t locked — and leaned in to check inside. “Looks alright, could help you warm up a little. You can stay inside until I check things?”
William nodded, slowly, once. “Anything to get out of this cold…” He walked up to it and sat inside, hesitating. “Thanks, really… and be careful in there, please? I don’t want to be alone.”
Grayson stopped at his words, eyes widening, then turned away, hand covering his mouth. “I-I’ll be fine… Just… just stay inside there, d-don’t leave until I’m back!”
He closed the door, and speed-walked towards the building, and William stared in confusion. What was that?
Rain pattered against the roof, muffled. The seats smelled of old cushions, it looked dirty. William pushed the door lock in, and began poking around for anything useful, opening the glovebox, reaching under the seats, pulling the visors.
Nothing but papers and useless crap like coins, an empty bag of chips, documents, a phone…
William grumbled and leaned back in his seat, brushing wet hair back. Then took his shirt off to wring it. The sooner he got rid of excess water, the sooner he could start warming up a little. He couldn’t handle another two or three hours of this shit, and a car wasn’t going to do it.
He hugged himself, lifting his legs, shuddering, teeth starting to clack a little. The world ended two months ago, and this was the first time he was this cold. He felt like such a damn bitch…
A thump against the glass made him jump, his heart skipped a beat, and he turned quickly, gasping and leaning away at the sight of a rotten face pressed against the pane. William yelped and moved to the other seat, looking back at the shop — the door was hanging open, but still too dark, no sign of Grayson in there. He turned back to watch the walker, breath shuddering.
How did Grayson do it? A kick to the leg, and then to the back…? It didn’t look that difficult… He took off his backpack, and cautiously checked behind, seeing this was the only threat around, then tested the door handle. The lock clunked when he pulled.
Without taking his eyes off the walker, William stepped into the cold rain. He couldn’t just rely on being saved by someone out here, could he? Not always. What could he even offer if so? Meager medical knowledge, sure, but, was it worth the effort of having to save his ass all the damn time? William hated the thought of just sitting like a baby doing nothing…!
He had to be able to do something.
William stood outside, shuddering as the rain soaked him once again. The walker followed by trying to reach him over the roof of the car for a moment, until two rotten neurons connected and it started strafing sideways, to shamble around the car.
He stepped back, already regretting leaving the confined and dry safety, regretting stepping away from it — no, calm down, just kick the leg, he saw how easily it fell when Grayson did it…! He could kick, couldn’t he? Simple stuff!
The walker shambled around; William circled it to find a better angle, it turned after him, arms raising.
“Okay… okay…” William muttered, posture low and rigid. “Step around and kick.”
And he did that, stepped aside and lifted his leg just enough to kick the back of its knee — his angle was off, he wasn’t behind it, there was no time to adjust with it so close, he was next to it just as it turned after him, faster than he expected, and his kick hit the knee directly. Its foot was briefly off the ground, but instead of falling, the walker barely stumbled and leaned forth towards–
William panicked immediately, stepping back, nearly tripping, while the walker continued standing, adjusting its balance — grabbing his arm! He gasped and pulled, stepping back several times now, his back hit the car and he lifted a leg to kick the walker away–
Except his foot didn’t push it off nearly as easily as Grayson's did — of course not, look at his size and muscles, you fucking idiot! Busy ogling, weren't you?! It was hard to pull his arm from its grip, as teeth got closer, snapping on air audibly, his arm burning from the effort — you’re going to die because you’re a stupid piece of–
It was heavy, it was strong enough to pull, it wasn’t fragile like it seemed…!
William closed his eyes and tried a last desperate push, his back sliding down against the car window–
A cold gust of wind hit, and then the weight disappeared — his eyes opened to Grayson’s hand around the walker’s head, throwing it against the ground so hard, its skull cracked open against the pavement, blood splattering like a burst water balloon. William panted hard, sliding all the way to the wet ground. “I'm-I’m so, so sorry…! I didn’t mean to not listen to you– I-I just I thought–” His voice shook, he didn’t want to seem difficult and unreliable, he just–
Grayson kneeled in front of him, hands on his shoulders– “Oh my god, you're okay!” His eyes were wide, frantic.
“Yeah?” William tilted his head, frowning.
Grayson sighed in relief. “Good. Come on, the place is cleared, I’m sorry it took so long.” He stood and glanced inside the car. “Let me carry this.” William’s backpack and wet clothing were grabbed from inside, and Grayson guided him indoors with an arm around his shoulder. “It’s warmer in there, and there’s even a little staff room in the back. We can wait in there, right?”
“…Right.” William gulped, his system slowing down. The brief spike of adrenaline left him drained so quickly, he felt a smidge dizzy.
The inside of the shop was dark, but at once, the rain turned muffled, pattering on the roof and not in his ears. It smelled of dust and humidity. Grayson closed the door, its metal frame encasing plexiglass rattling slightly, with the chime ringing on top.
The noise made William shudder — or the cold did — but he stood still.
Grayson walked in, holding William’s wrist, forcing him to finally move. “This way.” A click, and a flashlight shone on their path. Paper and trash on the checkered floor, dust, a hint of dried blood just on the edge of the light. The shelves looked empty, too, of course. This close to Crawford, it was definitely cleared weeks ago.
The staff room wasn’t too small, probably just a little smaller than his apartment. Some small tables and chairs, some counters and appliances.
“Here, look.” Grayson shone the light over a stove. “Maybe we can light it and get heat.” He turned to William with a small, hopeful grin.
William processed it, frowning. “You’re way too optimistic… It probably doesn’t even have gas.” He shrugged, but stepped closer to check it, turning the dial. To his ultimate shock, the telltale sound of gas flowing was followed by that distinct smell, and William shut it off. “I stand corrected. Huh.”
Grayson nodded. “Yeah, so we just close the door and wait in here–”
“It’s a gas stove, we can’t close the door.” William said.
“Hm?” Grayson looked genuinely puzzled.
“Gas stove. It has an exhaust.” William gave him an incredulous look. “We’ll suffocate before we get hypothermia.” He pointed to the staff room’s door, kneeling to open the oven and see inside. “So, the door has to stay open.”
Grayson nodded again with a small laugh. “R-Right! I’ll block the front door then.” He turned quickly–
“Wait!” William called. “I need a lighter or something.”
Grayson didn’t turn back. “I’ll look for it!”
Why was he so jumpy…? William hugged and rubbed his arms. Was it something he said or did? Maybe he was being curt and bossy? He hissed and brushed his still sopping wet hair back. “…Don’t fuck this up, you idiot…” He whispered to himself. “…You can’t afford it.”
The muffled, drumming rain drowned the silence. William’s posture sagged with a deep weariness, his limbs heavy, his eyes tired. Faces he’d grown familiar with, even tentatively, flashed in his mind. He’d never see them again. Those roads, a sense of security even when he was feeling awful, he thought now he took that for granted.
At every turn, he felt spoiled, lucky, and yet never grateful.
A home, parents, schooling, chances, food, water — then just simply walls, a roof, a job, a place, a painful community that nevertheless kept him alive… Never happy, never strong, never ever.
Did his luck run out?
Noise — William turned to the door, sluggish and slow, blinking as he watched Grayson easily drag the shelves to block the door and windows, the broken one only partially covered, letting the cold in. At least there would be some ventilation, from there to the small vent in the staff room.
No. His luck didn’t run out. That was why he wasn’t alone. Or dead. The image flashed back into his mind — of that hooded freak, a monster unlike anything he thought possible, some unnatural nightmare–
William shuddered. He got lucky to survive once again, now with a companion who survived plenty out here on his own — he should be damn grateful. Though, for someone surviving out here on his own, Grayson didn’t seem to know some basic shit, huh? Like not keeping the stove on for warmth in a closed room?
Hm… William shook his head. “I guess he grew up with one of those fancy electric stoves…” William decided.
There was no reason to be paranoid, not right now. He was lucky to have met Grayson; he was lucky to not be out here all alone.
✧MM✧
Lighter, lighter, lighter…
Mark rummaged under the counter, frowning as he only found scraps of paper, some money from the register… He should have raided that Crawford place’s stock for food… though, maybe William would find that suspicious?
He stopped, breath catching at the thought. William was here, with him, he still couldn't believe he managed to pull this off, that it was real, that they were finally together, and more importantly, free. No Viltrum, no dad — nothing that could get in the way. Nothing Mark couldn't handle; a whole world and life ahead. Even crazier, Mark could be violent — against zombies — and William didn't become frightened of him. Blood was such a common staple in Mark's life, but William could never stomach it, could never understand.
Maybe this William would understand if Mark explained why he did what he did…? No, no reason to risk it, no reason to ever reveal that, or his powers, or his origins. This was a fresh start.
There was no parting a Viltrumite from blood. It may as well have been a law of the universe, Mark couldn't escape it. But here, at least, there were valid targets he could kill that humans wouldn't frown upon, and that was one less thing for Mark to get anxious about.
He sighed in relief, content with life again for the first time in a long time. Now, the only issue was… everything else.
William was still fragile. Cold. Easily torn through.
Mark shook his head and pulled a rug from the floor — big enough to drape over William’s shoulders until his clothes dried, at least — and it dragged something along, a small box of matches! And underneath that, a safe!
Mark’s eyes glimmered, picking up the little box, rubbing a hand against the metal to feel its density. It felt light and fragile. He turned back to the staff room’s door, not seeing or hearing movement, then turned back to carefully pry it open, wincing at the low, humming creak. Could he open this discreetly?
“Uh, Grayson?”
Mark jumped and turned back, hearing William’s voice from the other room. “Yeah?”
“Sorry, I uh, just couldn’t hear you for a sec. Did you find something?”
You’re worrying him, Mark told himself. “Yeah, my bad, I’m just…” He hesitated, then stood, heading back. “I just found these, not a lighter, though.” He handed him the rug and matches — the box barely made noise; there wasn’t much left in it.
William smiled, shaky and pale as he took both. “Thank you. Aren’t you cold?”
And he worries about you, always such a sweetheart. "Just a little, nothing I can't handle.” Mark said, utterly incapable of feeling any actual chill, despite the dripping wet and the squeak of his waterlogged boots.
“Really? You sure?” William began taking off the flannel shirt, and Mark turned back to the doorway, pretending he was keeping an eye outside.
If he began staring, he wouldn't stop. “Totally sure.”
“Well… I have water in my backpack to drink, we just might be a little hungry, but, we can last the night.” William draped the rug over his naked shoulders and leaned closer to the oven, his hands shaking as match struck, and he lit up a fire — just as Mark berated himself internally for not doing this for him instead — he left the oven slightly open, and hung his shirt and jacket on the handle, glancing at Mark. “You should dry your clothes too, you're soaked.”
His jacket was still dripping. Mark thought it over, then took it off to wring it outside the room, slowly to not rip it apart, then draped it over the stove. The fit shirt beneath was also soaked, but it didn't bother him; his body heat would dry it.
Finally, Mark sat down. The oven hummed very quietly. Both stared at the floor in silence. Only then was Mark aware that he didn’t know what to say or do. He couldn’t run out to look for food; it’d look suspicious to William — humans couldn't handle the cold when wet. But he also didn't know how to start conversations. He was rarely the one to do it, William was always the social butterfly.
What now? What now? His heart sped up as that anxious, nauseating sensation started to bubble up.
“You shouldn’t waste the batteries.” William said, quietly.
Mark startled, and he turned off the flashlight. “Right.”
William sighed deeply — even after everything, he was still sighing so much. Mark pried that place open to free him, because he thought he could provide better, and yet, that ‘better’ hadn’t materialized. William was cold, on the floor, hungry, obviously sad. Now, Mark wasn’t sure what he was thinking, he should’ve prepared a safe place before doing anything. He just… He had to act… He just did, he couldn’t not do it…
He didn't ask William. He acted out again.
He… promised he’d be better. Was he failing that already? So soon? Did he fuck up completely? Was William still in that dangerous mood that ended it all in Mark's dimension?
“I’m sorry.” William muttered, eyes on the oven's faint, blue firelight.
Mark blinked. “For what?”
“You just got to a safe place, and then it goes to hell, and now you’re stuck with someone you don’t even know…” William shrugged. “I…” He hesitated, then shook his head, turning away.
It’s fine, Mark wanted to say, but he knew from experience, that just saying ‘fine’ all the time always looked odd to people, to William especially. It was a liar's staple, he'd said once. “I’m used to it.” Mark said instead.
“Being out here?”
“Yeah.”
“With someone?”
“…” Mark opened his mouth, then closed it. He never had any human with him, living closely with, especially not outside of an orderly society. Back then, William could be safe most of the time on his own. Mark's dad was the main source of danger, and he kept William as far away from that bastard as possible. Not here, though.
Here, danger was everywhere. Mark had to stay as close as possible because it was riskier not to be around.
William fiddled with his hands, brows furrowing. “I’m a nurse, I can help a lot with that sort of thing, medication, triage. I can use a gun, too, but…” There was clearly more he wanted to say, but he hesitated visibly, and Mark knew that look. He was afraid of how his true feelings would be taken, if he said them, so he swallowed the words.
Mark hated that look, it twisted him inside. “That’s okay, I can defend us both!” Mark assured, raising a hand. "I'm really tough!" He didn't know how to reassure this William, when he wasn't sure what the actual problem was. Was he worried about Mark not wanting the responsibility? Or was it his own self-perception? Did he want to help? Did he want Mark to need his help?
“I don’t wanna be a burden, though!” William said, eyes wide at him.
Oh, that. “You’re not–” Mark tried.
“If I don’t help, I would be a burden; why would you say otherwise?” William narrowed his eyes. “What do you want from me if I stick with you? I can’t just– It can’t just be nothing.”
“I-I–” Mark stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The words were stuck. What did he really want? William's company, affection, his presence back in his life! But he couldn't say that.
Fresh start. They don't know each other yet. Their story barely began!
William stared at him. “…Why were you even looking for me back then?”
“…” Mark stared back, feeling like a wild deer in the headlights. He hadn't even thought of an excuse. “I said I thought you looked nice. Y’know… to be friends.” He mumbled the last few words, voice fading.
Maybe William would figure it out, would realize what Mark did, would back away and run out into the rain, get hurt, get sick, kill himself like last time–
The thought spiraled in his mind as William processed the words, then he scoffed, letting out a faint laugh. “That’s– Ehrm… That’s one hell of an assumption to gamble with, man. To stick your neck out to find someone in the dark like that, in the rain?” He brushed his hair back again, then pulled the rug tighter around his shoulders. His tentative smile faded. “Did you see it?” He leaned in, almost a whisper.
“It?” Mark tilted his head.
“The thing… The…” William averted his eyes for a second. “There was this thing, in Crawford, when I was at the armory with– with my friend…” Friend? Was that his friend…? He punched him– “It looked like a person, but it appeared out of nowhere, had a hood on, it was killing people.”
Mark froze. “No…” His voice was faint. “I don’t think I saw something like that.”
William raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me, do you?” That familiar edge creeped into William’s tone, sarcastic yet mildly self-deprecating.
“No! I mean, I believe you! It’s just I didn’t see it…!” Mark laughed sheepishly.
William's expression remained unchanged.
“I mean, you gotta admit it sounds a little crazy, but if the dead are up and walking, then who’s to say there isn’t something like that out there, huh?” Mark shrugged.
“God, I hope not. I hope that’s the only one and now it’s gone back to wherever hole it came from…” William muttered, head down. “I never want to see that murderous monster again.”
The words stabbed through Mark, yet he kept his expression frozen as it was. “Yeah, me too, that sounded awful…” He knew William didn't know who he was talking about, but the words still hurt, as if aimed straight at Mark, knowingly, maliciously, like an eager stab to his heart — his William knew how to hurt Mark in such a specific way.
William breathed in. “Maybe we should leave Savannah?” He turned to Mark. “The runners were always saying how infested the city was, I don't wanna go in there.”
“I don't either.” Mark agreed immediately.
“Right, so we need a map, more supplies, and a car,” William counted each with a finger.
Mark watched him think it over, nudging his chin — he looked adorable doing that, it was a familiar look, for plans, for studying, for talking about comics and politics and news and TV shows. Mark always knew William was smart, and it was nice to watch him deep in thought. Despite everything, Mark still found him so adorable…
Wait. “Car?” Mark questioned.
“Yeah? We can’t be on foot all the time, it’d be exhausting!” William claimed. “We’d need a lot more water and we’d be a lot hungrier, and if it rains again, and there’s no safe shelter nearby? That sounds terrible– we need a car. Didn’t you have one?”
Mark panicked internally. “I can’t drive.” The words spilled out before he could even think them through.
William stared. “You– You can’t drive?! Wow, uh, okay, that’s okay.” Despite saying that, he was obviously still weirded out. “Uh, I can drive, so, it’s fine. Uhm.” He blinked. “Were you on foot this whole time? Really?”
“Yeeeah…” Was it that unbelievable? Was it really that unfeasible to be on foot? Mark wouldn't know.
“Wow, that’s– that’s actually pretty incredible.” William smiled — it warmed Mark’s heart. “So you must be pretty good at living off what you find on the road, huh?”
That iced his blood once again. Mark had no idea how to do that. He'd been mostly flying around, grabbing what he needed, bathing in fountains and rivers and pools he found, barely bothering with the zombies, but he couldn’t do that with William around. “Uh-huh.” Mark almost laughed.
He wrecked a place with walls and food before knowing how to– Mark stopped himself. Don’t panic, he thought — finding supplies couldn’t be that hard. Even if he had William attached to his hip the whole time, he just… He just needed to kill zombies in a normal, non-suspicious way! Yes. A knife would do. Just a quick stab, easy. Humans could stab just fine! It was nothing unnatural.
But he had to do that on foot. He couldn’t even rip open a flimsy safe now. Regret clawed at Mark, bitter and hot — sheer embarrassment.
William patted his knees, eyes wandering. After a few moments of nothing but rain sounding– “…So. I used to hate the silence. Still do a little, buuut, had to learn how to take it. It was easier with more people around, though.” He leaned back on the rug. “Do you wanna talk? Or…”
“If you want to talk, we can talk.” Mark smiled quickly with a sheepish shrug.
Mark couldn't read the look William gave him. Suspicion? Doubt? Weirded out? “Uh-huh. What school did you go to?” His tone still sounded conversational, not interrogative.
“I–” Mark almost said the same school he went to in his dimension, but pivoted. “I was mostly homeschooled by my dad.”
“Homeschooled? Diiiiid you like it–?” William tried, checking for Mark’s reaction before he could decide whether to say ‘yikes’ or something more positive.
“Not one bit.”
“Yikes.” William winced a little. “Sorry to hear that, sucks, man.”
Mark grinned, warmth back again. William was still William, rough edges and all. “Well, it was more training than schooling, he was in the army.” The Viltrum Army — not a lie.
“No kidding? Crazy that he got away with it, but I guess kids slip through the cracks more often than I thought…” William sat cross-legged, scratching the fabric of his jeans mindlessly. “I mean, I always knew things could get bad, even though everyone always talks on and on about how great we are compared to the rest of the world…” He scoffed. “All that military spending, and they couldn’t even protect us when it mattered most. Couldn’t even protect the living from each other, so, from walking corpses? I guess I shouldn’t have had any hope.”
Mark listened, eyes wide. His voice had been on softer until now, without that casual bite and humor he always had, but when he complained, it naturally bled back in, up and down in tone like he couldn't help himself. That meant he was relaxing, right? Mark really hoped so.
“Some people kept saying the rest of the country wasn’t hit as bad, that this is like Katrina and they just don’t give a fuck about the South, but like,” William groaned, rubbing his face. “The phone lines went down, and, there wasn’t even a damn helicopter around or commercial planes, and then that radio transmission about the nuclear plant; it’s obvious we’re so fucking screwed… I actually heard from someone that they bombed Atlanta! Fat lot of good that did, huh?”
Those stupid bastards in Chicago… Mark thought on reflex, letting William vent as much as he needed.
"Do you think the rest of the country is fucked up too? You saw it on the way here, right? Was Chicago this bad?" William wondered.
Mark's brows raised. He didn't pay too much attention while flying, but he really didn't see much of anything beyond clusters of people and zombies. It was actually impressive how quickly things seemingly went to hell — Viltrum would've had a very boring field day conquering this Earth. "From Chicago to here, everything seemed the same to me. It's…"
"Yeah?" William muttered sadly, and shook his head. "Seriously, how did things end up like this so fast? I don't get it…" He leaned on his elbows, eyes distant. He didn't speak again.
Mark actually agreed. The thought hit a little harder now, and Mark narrowed his eyes. It was a little weird how evenly the collapse was distributed. It was a wonder Earth fell so fast to anything. And, even though Mark was so glad to not see signs of it, it was also a wonder Viltrum wasn't here yet.
The sound of wind, thunder, and rain filled the room.
✦W✦
The morning was a bit foggy, chilly, and blue.
There was an eerie silence across the street, and it was the first time William truly heard how dead the world was. A faint bird call in the distance, but no people, no chatter, no sounds of early morning commute or work. No cars, no horns. Not even the wind. Something about the lack of human life made the city look ominous in a unique way.
Across the road, the Savannah Baptist Center stood, doors ajar with broken facades. It was too close to Crawford, so it was probably looted. Next to the gas station, there was a self-storage center, with open garages all empty, too. William hugged himself, his now dry jacket almost ill-fitted to his size, a little long below the waist.
His shoulder and neck were stiff with a dull pain from sleeping on the ground, but even the restless, shitty sleep let his mind reset a little, and he could think more clearly.
He didn't want to mope, or die, or stay still. Two months weren't enough time to give up. He could no longer passively survive with other people's work, he had to think proactively, no matter how hard it was to change his thresholds — for pain, discomfort, resources, and company.
Grayson closed the door behind him, bell chiming, and stood next to William, hugging his arms and scanning the street, his breath faintly fogged. Silent.
William felt weird standing out in the open, as if walkers would smell them and come out of the woodwork to chase until they dropped down exhausted. But unnervingly, there was nothing around. “Car…” William muttered, racking his brain for something useful.
“Hmm. How about that one?” Grayson pointed at the dusty sedan William hid in — the dead walker still lay sprawled into bloody bits near it. The rain couldn't wash the gore away at all.
“We’d need gas, and the pumps won’t work without electricity.” William tilted his head at Grayson, suddenly remembering an even more important detail. “Oh, yeah, and I don’t know how to hotwire a car, so, without the keys…” He trailed off with a shrug.
Until they found something like a dealership, with cars, and found the keys inside, or got lucky and found a random car with keys. The idea of 'getting a car' seemed easier to pursue the night before. Maybe he was too cold to plan anything coherently. Near-hypothermia brain fog, possibly?
“Tools, then.” William decided. “We’ll need things to defend ourselves with, and to open locked places without much noise.” He nudged his chin in thought. Something came to mind, a faint image of a map, he always had it at his station. He turned to the opposite side of the storage, towards a side road. “Maybe there’s something left there, if memory serves me right.”
“Great!” Grayson grinned, in lockstep with him.
William raised an eyebrow, envying his confidence and enthusiasm. "I don't wanna sound like a Debbie Downer, but you're way too cheerful for the situation we're in."
"Aren't you being a Debbie Downer, though?" Grayson countered.
"We're homeless." William droned. "Surrounded by flesh-eating monsters."
"Are the flesh-eating monsters near us right now?"
William opened his mouth and paused.
The road was narrower. They walked quietly past a chain-link fence, with a decrepit trailer — bullet holes and a bloodied, broken window. The other side was choppy, uneven turf, another fence, and a rising tower of white smoke in the near distance. William willfully turned his head away — no stupid ideas, like going back to check…
There was probably nothing left.
"Touché." William conceded, too weary to argue with that kind of logic.
The chain-link fence turned into a long wall covered in patches of graffiti, with occasional trees on the strip of brownish grass that smelled strongly of mildew — a few fall leaves still clung stubbornly to branches, and the ground had their leftovers all over. Every crinkle under his shoes made him wince a little.
Ahead, a closed fence with STOP signs, and a placard that said ‘On-The-Job Safety Starts Here!’ in bold letters. Grayson read it silently, raising an eyebrow as they walked past it.
“It’s the CSX, place for fixing train parts and stuff. There’s probably something useful left, like a bolt-cutter, or at least a flashlight, it’s a big place.” William breathed in, stopping at the main fence. It was taller than him, he never actually climbed a fence or anything. He was never much of a rule breaker — unless he counted that one social rule about who he was allowed to find attractive. That he unwittingly broke consistently.
“I see.” Grayson said, and suddenly scaled the fence in one jump, easily sitting on top and switching his legs to the other side to vault over — but he stopped, and reached a hand for William.
“Wow…” William tried not to stare, and raised his hand. Speaking of socially unacceptable attraction… Oh, shut it.
Climbing with Grayson’s help felt surprisingly easy, huh. Once on top, Grayson held William’s shoulder, steadying him. “Okay, stay here while I check ahead.” Then he jumped inside, walking fast.
William stayed still for a moment, before anxiety began to creep up his spine, making his skin crawl. If anything happened, he’d be alone. He was alone now. What if a walker showed up? Yell? Wouldn’t that make things worse? He groaned quietly, rubbing his face — he was a ball of nerves here. He hated staying still like a damn target, a perched bird for poaching. Just like the night before, just sitting inside a metal box until something spotted him like a meal on a silver platter.
With a grunt, William jumped off the fence — his calves stung sharply for a second — and speed-walked after the man.
Grayson was looking inside the first building. The windows were barricaded from the inside, but the front door was seemingly pried open at some point — a faint, pungent smell came from within — and Grayson startled at the sound of his steps, head snapping his way. “Something wrong?”
“No, I just–” He hesitated. “I don’t want to stay still in such a visible place. Can't I just stick to your side?”
Grayson gawked, then turned away. “O-Of course! Sure!” He laughed — giggled, actually, a little awkwardly, before shutting his mouth. “Yeah, okay…”
“If you don’t want me to–”
“I-It’s fine, just… stay behind me, please?”
William smiled tentatively. “I’ll watch your back.”
“Hm-hn!” An avid nod, but still no eye contact.
That was either intense disgust or intense embarrassment. William would figure this guy out one day. Hopefully before Grayson got sick of whatever William was doing that bothered him so bad.
A whistle from Grayson stirred what hid in the shadows of the first building. William backed off with him as some-things shuffled inside. Grayson looked confident and unworried, his hand lightly pushed William, keeping pace. The parking lot behind was empty, with plenty of space, and William stayed a few feet after the man — and that was where he stayed, while Grayson went ahead to deal with the walkers.
It still wrecked his nerves to watch the guy in action, approaching without hesitation, kicking the first one — it tripped back, its skull hitting the still wet pavement — before grabbing the next one by the arm and twisting it in a distinctively cop-like move, pushing it into the ground too. His boot crushed its head, and then the other one got the same treatment before it could get up, with Grayson grabbing the walker’s reaching wrist before it could even touch him.
The third one hobbled out of the building just in time; Grayson did the same as last night: sidestep, a kick to the back of the knee, and down it went. William winced in disgust at the bloody mess, but also in awe. Grayson once again made it all look easy.
The man didn’t even hesitate to stick his head inside the building again and hit the metal plaque next to the door, the sound ringing with an echo. After a few tense seconds, he backed away, gesturing for him to approach, with a smile and all. “Safe!”
William approached slowly, stepping around the blood and guts. “Wait, maybe we should check the other buildings before we, ah, corner ourselves inside a closed space?” Was Grayson that confident in himself?
“Ooh, good idea!” The utter bafflement in Grayson’s face was downright comical.
“Jeez, how come you haven't gotten yourself killed yet?” William couldn’t help but question whatever absurd luck followed Grayson around. For a homeschooled kid, he was both freakishly competent and yet freakishly naïve about danger.
William hoped some of that luck would infect him too.
Each building had walkers inside, one in particular was so full, William refused to let Grayson open it, despite the man’s wild claim that he ‘could take them’. There was no need to risk it, nah-uh.
One smaller building was a security post, with a single walker locked inside, handcuffed to the window’s bars. But it had a vending machine, so it was worth it, he was starving by now — despite Grayson nearly giving William a heart-attack by holding the walker back by the neck as he walked in without a care. He smashed its head on the desk with a grunt of disgust.
“Yuck.” Grayson rubbed the blood off his gloves on the guard's least dirty piece of clothing.
“You said it.” William walked past the mess, giddy for whatever was left in the machine. It was mostly intact and half-full. “Jackpot…!” Chips and soda weren’t very nutritious, but it was energy for the short-term. And before William could work out a way to open it, Grayson smashed the glass open with the guard’s baton, grinning.
William nearly had yet another heart-attack from that noise.
The rest of the place had porta-potties, and they worked for one-time use. And the last building was a roofed yard full of heavier tools. A walker was even impaled in a hook hanging from a chain. Grayson ignored it reaching and growling, but pulled William away wordlessly, kicking things on the ground and making noise to stir any lurkers hiding.
The chips, sodas, were a good find, but so was the bolt-cutter under a heavy metal table. It weighted, and Grayson carried it without complaint — same for the soda cans with their liquid, stacking weight. Then, some work gloves that Grayson shoved over William’s hands with a satisfied nod.
Even better, a crowbar! Which Grayson also carried without any sign of stress, hooked to a hoop of his backpack.
A flashlight, two scattered batteries here and there.
Protective glasses that Grayson also almost forced onto William, again nodding.
William didn't mind the extra protection, but again, he worried about Grayson. He wore gloves and a jacket that looked pretty tough, though, and maybe his height helped. Most walkers couldn't quite reach his neck as easily, not with those broad shoulders.
Maybe Grayson was confident for a good reason…?
It wasn’t even noon yet, and they were leaving, premiering the bolt-cutter to open the main fence — William failed to cut the chain, sighing in disappointment and watching Grayson do it almost effortlessly.
They ate chips to kill the hunger. The missed breakfast reminded him, again, that he was homeless. They headed back to the gas station, rather than continue into the woods around the CSX, following the main road back, past the gas station and a Dollar Store already clearly emptied. Grayson wanted to check, but William wanted to get as far away from Crawford’s remains as possible.
The streets were still desolate, littered with trash and leaves from trees, and and occasional signs people hadn’t left peacefully.
A small mural that said ‘Department of Family and Children Services’ twisted William’s gut, the government building looked like a macabre ghost, and he wondered if any children were inside when things went to hell, or if they were still in there.
He kept walking, head down.
A sign of a politician’s campaign. A doll on the ground. A piece of dress hanging from the fence. An abandoned car left open. Dried blood on the ground, or broken windows and doors, or fences. It all felt awful and… melancholic.
William threw the empty chips bag in the trash, despite knowing no one would come to pick it up, and nearly tripped back when a raccoon hissed inside and hopped out, running away fast like they were walkers. Animals must have learned to avoid humans by now.
Or maybe it was just Grayson giving the poor animal a nasty stink-eye.
They stopped at a crossing, a railroad intersected the street, and several blocks away, a lot of walkers… William winced, then held Grayson’s wrist as he stepped forward. “What are you doing?”
Grayson looked at him like it was obvious. “I can clear the way.”
“What? No, let’s just avoid them.” William shook his head, pulling Grayson along as he turned down the railroad instead. “I swear… You act like you’re invincible.”
Grayson snorted a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, nothing…!”
Yeah right. William rolled his eyes — then became aware that he was still holding the other man’s wrist, and immediately let go, crossing his arms. “Let’s not risk ourselves for no reason, okay?”
“Aah, okay, my bad.” Grayson’s tone remained mirthful.
They walked past a lot of bushes and overgrown grass, the trees thicker than in the city, and then past a bundle of tents — no people, just blood and decay. Once, there was a wandering walker, ambling on the tracks. Grayson took care of it as easily as he did the others. One lone corpse didn't feel like a threat with him around.
Then a dirt road across a murky marsh, and a massive construction site, the buildings were skeletons of walls with no frames for windows or doors — William guessed it was going to be a big apartment complex one day.
Not anymore.
The construction site was dead, nothing useful, barely a safe shelter, and wandering walkers on the edges of the block — and who knew what-the-fuck-ever was hiding in the guts of the building? No way.
On the opposite dirt road, he could see the highway bridging over it. Grayson snapped his fingers with a small noise. "Idea." He led William there, shoes crunching on dirt and grass.
"We're not living under the bridge, right…?" God, he hoped not…
"Nope!" Grayson, who was 6 feet himself, ran and jumped against the concrete column to reach the parapet that was at least 8 feet off the ground, dangling and hoisting himself up without a grunt of effort. Not too high off the ground, apparently!
Just like the fence, the man easily reached down, leaning almost too far over, reaching so William could jump and grab his hand with some effort. It felt so much more draining than it was for Grayson.
"Is that truly what a healthy, trained human body is capable of? Unbelievable…" William grunted as he managed to climb over as well. He panted a bit, hearing his heart hammering after the effort of climbing — even though he clearly didn’t do most of the work there.
Grayson chuckled, shoulders quaking a bit. "Yeah, sure."
William exhaled and stretched his back, looking around. He’d never been out near the open fields before, always in the city.
The trees in the city were more like the north’s, the leaves fell by the loads during fall and most were gone quickly, but the South’s climate left so much dull green even now. Brown grass mixed with green shrubbery, wetland and muddy patches, and wiry trees that lined up the highway like a wall of foliage.
There was traffic of cars leaving town, but they were all left here, abandoned. Something spooked, or killed, all the people who drove them. Occasionally, there was a plastic bag floating over the pavement, and some cars had a useful thing or two — a battery, a screwdriver, a nearly empty bottle of caffeine pills, some over the counter painkillers.
The road went on, winding and curving. William didn’t think there was even a destination in mind. It felt aimless, and yet…
Maybe he just really missed a smiling face nearby. Nobody ever really smiled ever since this whole thing began — every semblance of it was tinged with some sad understanding that the world was fucked up and we are all in it together, right? Grayson had none of that. He smiled like everything in the world was fine and dandy.
But Grayson clearly wasn’t the type to start conversations, and William could at least tell he liked chatting despite getting weirdly nervous about it sometimes. He may as well try to fill up the silence. “Ever been camping?” William suddenly asked.
“Uuh, define ‘camping’?”
“You know, out in the woods.”
“Sure, I’ve been to lots of places too.” Shrug, hands twining behind his back, eyes skyward — that little smile remained steady.
William looked away — it did look cute, but he wanted that thought to disappear before he fucked things up somehow. “So you traveled a bunch? Anywhere interesting?” He kicked a pebble, seeing it skip a few times ahead.
Maybe Grayson was lying? He did seem skittish on certain topics. Vague on this one too. William didn’t want to poke, so he should probably just stop talking about this…
“Hmm,” Grayson hummed. “I’ve been to Mount Everest.”
William gawked. “You climbed Mount Everest?! Shut up!” He grinned. “How was it?”
“Thin air, icy, the wind’s pretty loud near the top; I didn’t think it was all that…” They reached the pebble again, and this time, Grayson kicked it — it flew way further ahead, hitting the back of a car with a loud clank.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” William rolled his eyes — he could see from the corner of his vision, the flinch, as Grayson looked at him with wide eyes. William continued. “It’s like, something most people won’t ever get to see, especially now. It’s a wonder of nature!” He waved a hand. “I’m not even the kind of guy who cares about nature and all that, but come on, surely it was special?”
“…” Grayson averted his eyes. “…I guess my dad being there soured it for me.”
And that soured the mood too. William adjusted his backpack. “Oh. Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” Grayson shrugged again. “It was just training. Not for sightseeing.”
“No offense, but your dad sounds psychotic. Who takes their teenage kid to ‘train’ by climbing Mount Everest?"
To that Grayson slowed down with a bubbling laugh that he muffled with his hand. “I know, right? Man, I’m so glad he’s gone.” The peaceful smile returned, his pace winding and relaxed, with a deep, content sigh.
His expression spelled ‘peace’.
William could imagine it how, but maybe the end of the world was the best thing that ever happened to this guy… And that was pretty sad. He hadn’t considered that this was a possible reality for some people out there, to live under such abuse that losing a parent was a relief so all-consuming that life was just better despite society having collapsed.
"Well, I am too. The world is better off with one less prick." William said with contempt.
Grayson hummed a laugh, nodding.
A speed limit sign ahead, a gap in the lineup of trees, and they could see the city again after a moat of deep, murky water that almost looked black. Walkers stood still in the parking lot of the building on the other side, as if waiting for people.
And then it was just trees again, for a while.
Until his feet started to hurt.
William grimaced, trying to ignore it. His work in Crawford didn’t involve much menial work at all, only walking to and from his post, some stairs, some carrying of supplies in boxes. It wasn’t even half a mile in any direction…!
Soon enough, it was his ankles and below the knees, burning with a passive sharpness, not unbearable, but noticeable with every step. Man, he felt weak and pathetic. Grayson probably didn’t feel a thing, he could walk for hours, probably!
Could William walk for another hour? He didn’t even think he walked for a full hour! His meals this month weren’t great either, there was definitely some malnutrition and slight dehydration involved in this.
That reminded him of a good excuse. “Wait, I need something to drink.” As soon as he sat on the guardrail, the burning eased slightly, he almost sighed in relief, taking his backpack off and fishing out that water bottle.
Grayson stopped and watched their surroundings, then eyed William, frowning. “You’re a little red.”
William drank more than a few gulps, exhaling. “Huh?”
Suddenly, the man was crouching and his hand was on William’s forehead and cheek. “You’re sweating too…” His voice lowered. “Are you–”
“I’m not that tired.” William snapped back in embarrassment.
“Oh!” Grayson stood. “You were tired! Why didn’t you say so! Ugh,” He slapped a hand across his own face. “I didn’t even think– I’m sorry! We can rest!”
“We barely walked!”
“We walked about 30 minutes or so.” Grayson sat next to him. “It's fine. Just take a breather, we’re not on a schedule.” He turned to look behind. Uneven grass, a shoddy fence, leading to a road with some small houses. The guardrail didn’t even follow the road further, leaving this patch open. “Maybe there’s some stuff there.” Grayson said and stood. “Wait there, I’ll look for some actual food.” He walked, skipping a step like he was going to pet a cat.
“Uh, Grayson?”
“Ugh, just call me ‘Mark’, geez.” He said while vaulting over the fence.
“Mark?” William tried again. He stood despite the protest from his legs, looking at his surroundings. Being alone again made his stomach twist just like last time. He could see Grayson– Mark, just ahead, knocking on doors and windows, listening for walkers inside, checking around the area, and then disappearing behind one of the houses.
With cautious steps, William approached. A big tree splintered into a thousand tiny branches at the top, and he could see a bird’s nest, chirping. He gulped, slowly climbing over the fence, one leg at a time — his clothes and backpack snagged on the twisted edges of loose chain-link.
He hissed and turned to get himself loose, but he couldn’t see what was stuck. “Crap, fuck…” He muttered, weaseling his arms from under the shoulder straps.
Noise. William froze, hearing twigs breaking amidst the tall shrubbery and piles of cut branches on the side of a house — he couldn’t see behind it. A walker that looked like a rotten raisin wandered into view, quickly spotting William and turning to shamble his way with a guttural growl.
William gasped and left the backpack behind, running the way Mark went — only his coat was still snagged on the fence, making him trip and fall on his hands and knees. “Uuuh! MAAARK?!”
There was no time to pull the jacket off, though he tried — the gloves got in the way–
Before those teeth could reach him, the walker was pulled away by the collar and shoved into the ground with a sickening crack of bone, and Grayson was suddenly next to him, turning to the walker with a vicious glare, cracking its head apart with his boot.
William felt downright ridiculous on his knees, with the back of his jacket still stuck and halfway off his shoulders, like a helpless toddler.
Mark turned to him, red in the face, eyes wide. “They really appear out of nowhere, huh? I could’ve sworn I checked that way…” He pointed in that general direction as his voice faded.
He looked embarrassed, as if he had fucked up. William stood, calmly unhooking the hem of his jacket from the fence. “I’ll say… I think some of them ignore certain sounds…” He laughed weakly. “That was dumb. It feels like my IQ drops 50 points when I panic.” He shied away to pick up his abandoned backpack.
It was twice in 24 hours where he could’ve died if he’d been alone, how pathetic. He couldn’t even walk for an hour.
Mark grabbed his wrist lightly. “Come on, that house there is empty, I did check inside, but I’ll check again, you can rest there.”
William followed with his bag dragging on the dusty pavement. Mark led him up the brick stairs of the house that looked nicest. Others were older, poorer, more wrecked. This one had a porch, with dusty couches and closed shutters. The door was already open, with a broken lock. It was dark inside, with floating particles of disturbed dust visible until the door closed.
A living-room-kitchen combo, with a small hallway, probably leading to the bathroom and bedroom in the back. It was a narrow home. Didn’t look very messy, just abandoned.
The front door was blocked with a heavy couch in the way, and Mark shone the flashlight around. “Pretty sure I checked every room here. Want me to check again, just to be sure?”
“It’s fine.” William mumbled, sitting on another couch.
He’d watched runners leave through the gates and come back, always with horror stories, way too often with less people, sometimes more than one gone. This surely wasn’t the worst of what’s out here, and he was already fumbling.
Mark was checking inside the fridge and cupboards, but seemingly didn’t find anything, judging by the sound of disappointment. He came back and sat next to William, clicking the flashlight off, before he inched further away on the seat, as if giving William some space after a conscious thought. “Are you… hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Thirsty?”
“I have water, it’s fine.”
Silence. “You seem more upset now… What's going on?” Mark asked after a moment.
“Didn’t you see that?” William snapped under his breath, gesturing to the door. “How stupid was that? I nearly got myself killed because I hopped over a damn fence. A-And the night before! I tried to do what you did, and I couldn’t even–” He stopped.
He was sad and melancholy last night, now he just felt angry and frustrated as hell.
“I still feel so useless, and I hate it.” William admitted. He didn't want to die. He wanted to help. Both felt like contradictory positions. It wasn't fair to Mark, to be saddled with someone like him, just to not be lonely.
Because that was the only explanation William could think of, that Mark just didn't want to be alone, and his odd reactions were just from having someone to talk to again after months. But it wasn't fair that he was stuck with a dead fucking weight.
Silence.
Long silence…
Then…
“Do you… want me to teach you?” Mark’s pitch rose with tentative concern.
Daylight filtered through the closed shutters, and William could barely see, but he turned to him. “Teach me?”
“I-I mean,” Mark stuttered, visibly rubbing the back of his neck. “You'd need years to do what I do, but I can help you, if that’d make you happy– I mean, it’d be nice to share what I know. Though, I can’t promise miracles! I just mean, like, basics, and, and…” The words faded.
William raised an eyebrow. “…Sounds like a really sucky babysitting job, don’t you think?” He scoffed, lifting his legs on the couch, resting his chin on his knees.
“No! Nooo, of course not!” He could not only hear Mark’s smile, but also see the pearly whites too. “I think it’d be fun! And I really liked having you around so far!” His legs swung back and forth like an excited kid — effect diminished by his legs being too long and his boots’ soles scraping against the wooden floor. "Even though you are a real Debbie Downer."
Seriously… William let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, you really are so weird…!”
“Weird?”
“Like, way too nice. Nobody is that nice for free. Not these days.”
“I’m always nice to people I like.” Mark smiled sheepishly with a shrug.
“Yeah? Sounds like a blessing to be someone you like, then.” William relaxed, leaning on his side across the couch’s armrest.
Silence again, this time more comfortable.
Until…
A sniff.
William’s eyes snapped open and wide, and he sat up again. “A-Are you… crying?” He couldn’t believe this.
“N-No, sorry, no, I mean… I just…” Mark had covered most of his face with his hands. Another sniff. “Always been told I’m too much, so…” He stood and began pacing in circles. “Sorry, I just need to move a little…” He took deep, shaky breaths, walking back and forth.
‘Too much’ — what did that mean? Maybe an ex-girlfriend told him that? William almost forgot Mark was just 19, something like that would hurt. He didn’t want to poke into some bad memory. “I guess maybe you’re a little intense…?” He tried, nudging carefully to not needle Mark with some insensitive comment.
“Hmm…” Mark hummed; another sniff, and he rubbed his eyes. It was amazing he didn't care about crying like that in front of him.
Mark was just… weirdly open for a guy.
“Maybe you didn’t get to express emotions a lot with your dad, because, well, military types tend to be like that, so…” William was honestly flying blind at this point. All a bunch of damn guesses and bedside manners. “You didn’t have an outlet, and that led to a lot of emotions building up and making you seem intense, right?”
Mark slowly stopped pacing. “Yeah… Something like that…” Finally he stood still, breathing deep and slow.
“That doesn’t make you a bad person, alright?” William stood. “You just needed a healthier environment, and it wasn’t your fault.” What was he doing? Playing therapist? Or just being a good friend? He used to talk like this a lot more back in Boston, but not so much these last few months. Those alarm bells in his head, warning against this sort of behavior, were quieter for once.
It did seem like Mark needed to hear this, though. People who were hurt, in any way, didn’t always have the chance to hear this kind of validation, and they ended up a mess. Especially with small emotional wounds like this.
Mark rubbed his eye again, shoulders dipping with heavy weariness for the first time since they met. “You’re the one who’s too nice…”
William rolled his eyes without heat. “Yeah, I’m a softie, laugh it up.” He sat down again, letting his legs get some more rest.
It was another hour, with chips and water, before they left the house to continue on. Still no destination in mind, but once they found something worthwhile, they'd know how to move on from there. One step at a time.
Hopefully for a long time, William thought.