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Oct. 14th, 2011 11:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kathierif_ficcontinued from Part 1.
“You think staying the winter is a good idea?”
Nick looked up at Drapes and shrugged slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “We don’t know if it’s better elsewhere, and here, we have a defensible place.”
Drapes sighed and scratched his chin. “You still think California is a myth.”
“There has been talk about California since the beginning,” Nick replied. “A lot of people went there. I just hope that they found a safe place, and if they didn’t, that they built one, like we did.”
Drapes sighed. “I know.” He turned half around. “I sent my family there.” He shook his head again. “I just wish there was a way to find out if they made it.”
Nick stood and reached out to squeeze Drapes’ shoulder. “I know.”
There was nothing else he could say. He, too, had sent his family away as soon as the first outbreaks became public, even before the waves of panic that swept through the country and the borders had been closed. All he had left right now from his circle of friends and family from before was Homer, and he had no clue if any of his sons was still alive.
~*+*~
“I thought you were already asleep.” Hank stepped past Homer and dropped his backpack next to his own cot.
“For sure, I tried,” Homer grunted and yanked at his blanket. “Everytime I’m ready to fall asleep, Nick comes in and checks up on me.”
Hank laughed. “He’s worried,” he said easily and shrugged out of his jacket. “Like a mother. You know him.”
“Yeah.” Homer punched his pillow and glanced up at Hank. “Did you have success?”
“Nails and a new hammer or two. There is wood, but I don’t know if we can transport it here.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket. “I brought you a new pencil.”
Homer took it with a smile. “Thank you,” he said softly and ran his fingers along the bright red varnish.
“I hear they found a nest close by,” Hank said as he sat down and took off his boots.
Homer nodded. The frown was back on his face. “A big one. But we didn’t lose anyone thankfully.”
“Yeah, thankfully,” Hank echoed. He rolled over, pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and yawned. “Night, Homer.”
“Good night, Hank.”
~*+*~
It was hours later when Hank woke because a warm, hard-muscled body slipped under the blanket with him. Fingers carded gently through his hair and he inhaled the familiar scent of Pavel.
He was too tired to try and talk. He just pressed his ear against Pavel’s chest and let the other man’s heartbeat lull him back into sleep.
When he woke up again, he was wrapped around Pavel and the blanket. Pavel’s arm was slung around him, and he was still asleep, his lashes fanned out against his cheeks. Hank shifted slightly, until he could rest comfortably against Pavel’s side without getting a crick in his neck, and closed his eyes again.
He was exhausted to his bones from seven months of fighting for their bare survival, from running and killing zombies and scavenging food from anywhere they could find it. Things had become easier once they had joined the bigger group, but Hank wasn’t an idiot. He knew that a bigger group didn’t necessarily offer just advantages. There were several disadvantages as well, and he couldn’t close his eyes from them. He didn’t know what they would do when the food ran out, and he hadn’t dared ask Nick.
Hundreds of millions of people had been infected and had been turned into zombies in those seven months. He didn’t know why it was exactly their group that had made it, when so many others hadn’t, but he knew the odds of their continued survival were small and the numbers were getting smaller with every day.
They were just a small group that stood against an army of zombies. They were outmanned and didn’t have enough weapons to survive such a fight.
Help wasn’t coming, Hank was sure of that. It had been seven months in which nobody had come. There was nobody who could send help. All of Northern America and maybe even Middle- and South America had been infected and left to die. He wasn’t sure about the rest of the world; but if someone had remained unaffected, why hadn’t they sent help? Why hadn’t anyone come to help them in their fight?
Focusing his thoughts on that particular topic and the plaguing questions coming with it only resulted in him feeling alone, angry and depressed. He quickly forced his mind away from them. They had survived this far, they would survive further, especially once the wall was finished.
Slowly, he forced his limbs to move and to extract himself from Pavel’s grip and the blanket without waking the other man up. He was still exhausted, but there was no more time to rest, for any of them. They needed every single one of them to survive. Everyone needed to pull their weight and to their part to make sure they saw the next day, or the next night.
Quietly, he got dressed and grabbed his gun. Drapes, Oz and Homer were already working outside, moving wood and preparing to nail planks together. Hank took a moment to drink a cup of water and eat a bite before he went to help them.
“A car would be nice,” Drapes said just as Hank stepped close enough to hear their quiet words.
“Pick one, there’s enough of them around,” Oz answered. He stopped and scratched his ear for a moment. “It’s not the cars that’s the problem.”
“I know, it’s the gas.” Drapes looked around.
“Even if we pump gas into one car, the noise of a car would be a sure way to get every zombie in the city to follow us.”
“For sure, we wouldn’t get far,” Homer added thoughtfully and scribbled a mark down onto the wood by his feet. “This is the world’s biggest traffic jam.”
“Maybe a tank,” Drapes muttered.
“A plane.”
“A plane would be great...but where do we get enough fuel and a pilot?” Chris sighed and kicked slightly at the ground.
“Same place we get coffee in the mornings and the paper,” Drapes replied. “In our dreams.”
The others nodded and silently returned to their work.
The sun was burning down on them and was climbing higher in the sky. It wasn’t quite noon yet when Bert, Drew and Jimmy walked past them, faces grim and their grip on their weapons tight.
They all knew the odds of returning safely.
More hours went by. They assigned guards and began to work in earnest, hammering wood together and adding to their walls.
They worked quietly, their ears strained for gunfire and warning calls from their guards, always prepared to drop everything and retreat to the safety of the warehouse, but they were lucky. Until late in the afternoon, no zombie appeared, and when they did, there were only small groups of two and three.
Pavel, who was perched on top of a rusty pick-up truck, took care of them with a shotgun. He was good with the weapon, but they still decided to retreat before the darkness of dusk fell and more zombies left their hiding places.
The mood was somber. Team Squirrel had not returned yet, and another group that had gone out to look for food was still gone as well.
Hank paid no attention to the whispers around the room. He ate his share of food, a bowl of stew made from canned food, and fell asleep a soon as he laid down.
~*+*~
Hot, dry lips pressed against his temple when Pavel came to bed. It was already morning, the sun slowly coming up behind the silent ruins of what once had been a prospering city bustling with life.
Hank hadn’t known that Pavel had volunteered for the night shift, but it wasn’t a surprise. They still had teams out and Pavel always had trouble sleeping when he knew that not all of them were somewhere safe.
He dozed while Pavel wrapped arms and legs around him and pressed himself as close to Hank as he could. As soon as Pavel had settled down, Hank lifted his own arm and let it rest against Pavel’s back. He had a few more hours until he had to return to his duties and he had nowhere else he needed to be for now.
~*+*~
“Pavs asleep?” Nick asked and checked his gun.
Drapes nodded. “Hank too. I say we let them rest for now,” he replied quietly. “Helm, Abby and me take Pav’s tour around the neighborhood today, and Oz and Stuie can help Homer.”
Nick nodded. “I take wall guard,” he said. “Let both Hank and Pav sleep for now. Before they run themselves into the ground.”
Drapes nodded his agreement and reached for his own gun which was slung over the back of his chair. “See you later,” he said briefly and whistled sharply. The sound was surprisingly loud and made Nick flinch, and seconds after the whistle, Abby and Helmer appeared, armed and ready, as if they had been waiting for the signal.
Knowing Drapes and the way he mentored these young guys, they probably had, Nick thought with a small smile.
Drapes missed his family, that much was obvious to anyone who watched him for more than a few minutes. He had a picture of his kids with him at all times, a picture he was touching now before he and his team left, and Nick was sure that, if there were news about them having survived, he would leave the city and go look for them without hesitating.
And yet, he hadn’t complained once about them staying and had done what needed to be done to ensure the survival of every member of their little group.
They could count themselves lucky to have a guy like him, someone who took the young kids under his wing and made sure they knew every little thing Drapes did to survive in this new world.
Homer found him half an hour later, when he was leaning against a dusty window and looking out across the free space around the warehouse with the half-finished wall surrounding it.
“Hey,” he muttered and came to a stop next to Nick. “For sure, I was looking for you.”
Nick nodded. “It doesn’t look like much from up here,” he mused.
Homer shrugged and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s the small things that make a difference, right?”
“The small things, huh?” Nick exhaled quietly. “It’s always in the details.”
“For sure,” Homer said.
“I don’t know, sometimes,” Nick admitted after a long moment of comfortable silence. “I can’t help but think that it won’t be enough. There will always be more of them than of us. And I’m not sure - killing them, fighting for our lives, does that mean we’re losing too much of our humanity and turn into mindless, heartless zombies too, without even noticing?”
Homer thought for a second. Then, he wrapped both arms around Nick and held him tight in a fierce, almost painful hug.
“You remember Hank’s birthday,” he snarled. “For sure, Nick, it’s the small things that make the fucking difference, and remembering Hank’s birthday is a fucking sure sign that we’re not turning into them.”
Nick wrapped his own arms loosely around Homer’s body and stroked across his back. “Half the time, I don’t even remember their real names,” he whispered. “When this is over, Homer - Tommy - when this is over, what are we going to do? How can we go back to be normal people with normal jobs when we’re used to shooting at everything that moves in the shadows?”
“We will figure it out, for sure,” Homer promised. “When this is over, we go home, to Sweden, sit by the lake all day and get used to be normal people again.” He gave Nick a soft smile. “We got used to this, Nicky, we can get used to everything else.”
He gave Nick one last squeeze and stepped back.
“Knowing the guys’ real names doesn’t mean knowing the guys, Nick,” he said quietly. “Trust me, you know all you need about them.”
Nick sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted reluctantly.
“For sure I am,” Homer said immediately. “Take Bear, for example. What’s more important, you think, that you know he sent his family home to Newfoundland to be safe and prays for them every day, or you know his first name is Danny?”
“Okay, okay.” Nick managed a smile. “When did you become so smart?” he teased gently.
Homer shrugged and scratched his chin. “Eh,” he said. “I’m not smart. You just sometimes need someone to make you stop think too much.”
Nick smiled again. “Okay, then,” he said softly. “You think we should go down and help build a wall now?”
~*+*~
“We’ve been thinking,” Paddy said as he climbed on top of the same pick-up truck Pavel had picked as guard post the day before, careful to stay out of Nick’s line of sight.
Nick raised an eyebrow and turned slightly. Behind them, another section of wall was slowly growing. The sun was shining and warming them again. It would be a perfect autumn day if not for the subtle tension running through the silent air and leaving them nervous and jittery.
“What about?” Nick asked curiously.
“Cars,” Paddy answered. He glanced over his shoulder before continuing. “Right now, we go everywhere on foot, and it takes time. We can only transport what we can carry, preferably while keeping our hands free. I’m sure we could’ve finished this wall already if we could transport the material here quicker.”
Nick nodded. So far, Paddy hadn’t told him anything new.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“Bikes.”
Nick gave him a questioning look and shifted, to let his gaze wander across the area. “Bikes?” he prompted gently, and Paddy started to explain when suddenly, a shot pierced the silence.
Immediately, the tension in the air ratcheted up a few notches. The men working on the wall stopped what they were doing and gave Nick questioning looks.
Nick narrowed his eyes slightly. It was still quiet, but that could change quickly and he didn’t want to risk anything. This was his call, and the safety of everyone out here was his responsibility. If this was false alarm, they lost precious hours of daylight and quiet to complete their project, but the alternative was unthinkable.
He gave the signal to retreat.
As silently as possible, the guys disappeared in the warehouse. Nick gave Paddy a quick look and jerked his head, and Paddy nodded and followed the others.
For a long moment, time, the air, even the entire world around him, seemed to stand still and hold their breath, then, Helmer appeared around the corner, racing toward Nick as fast as he could run.
Nick knew exactly what that meant.
He slipped off the car and held his gun ready while slowly moving backwards, toward the doors of the warehouse.
Helmer was getting closer.
Behind him, several zombies lurched around the corner.
Nick felt his blood run cold. He lifted his gun and fired, aiming at the zombies and praying that he wouldn’t hit Helmer.
The kid was fast, faster than the zombies, but he was visibly at the end of his strength. His skin had turned into a blotchy red under the thick beard he’d grown, and the second Nick sent another bullet past his shoulder and into the closest zombie, he flinched, stumbled and crashed hard into the cracked pavement.
Nick’s heart stopped in his chest for a split second. Every instinct in him screamed to turn around, run, get inside and get to higher ground, away from the attacking zombies, but his eyes were still glued to the dazed body of Helmer struggling to get up.
He fired another salve at the zombies. There were at least twenty of them now, and Nick had the bad feeling that more would follow. Against all instincts, he moved closer to them, shooting until he was out of ammunition.
He reached Helmer and grabbed his arm the second the younger man had finally managed to struggle back to his feet, and Nick yanked him up, adrenaline and pure panic giving him unexpected strength to haul Helmer’s arm across his shoulders, grab him and start running.
It wasn’t far until they would reach safety, but Helmer was heavy and not able to help carry his own weight. Nick was mostly carrying him, his knees trembling under the weight as he staggered toward the doors. Blood was rushing loudly in his ears, but not loud enough to drown out the groaning and slurping of the zombies coming closer and closer.
The zombies were getting closer.
He could smell them now, that sickly-sweet smell that made his stomach lurch.
Air rattled in his lungs. He had another two meters to go...then less than six feet...
Slimy appendices that once had been fingers reached out for them. Helmer somehow found the strength to scream, a high, panicked sound that sent Nick’s nerves into overdrive and catapulted him the last few steps until he crashed into the door and inside, onto the hard floor.
Someone slammed the door shut and activity broke out around them, to pile wood and heavy machinery left over from before in front of the now closed and locked door to block it, but Nick barely registered it. He was lying sprawled on the floor where he had fallen and struggled just to breathe. His instincts still screamed at him to get up, get to safety, but his body didn’t obey him any longer.
Somewhere behind him, he could hear Helmer whimper softly and then the sounds of someone throwing up. The retching and almost sobs that tore through the younger man were loud enough to penetrate the daze around Nick, and he slowly lifted his head and tried to bring the world into focus.
“Let’s get them up,” someone called out, or maybe it was just a whisper, and then, strong hands were under Nick’s arms, hauling him to his feet and dragging him up the staircase.
He was barely noticing it. his thighs were still trembling, cold sweat had broken out all over his body. He still couldn’t catch his breath.
He was led over to his cot and gently urged to sit down, and then a blanket was thrown over him and warm fingers closed around the back of his neck.
“For sure, breathe,” Homer murmured and pressed him down until his forehead almost touched his knees. “In and out. Nice and easy, Nicky. You’re fine. You’re fine. Just keep breathing.”
Somewhere above them, shots were fired.
Slowly, guided by the low and familiar hum of Homer’s voice, Nick’s breathing managed to return to its normal pace, his heart rate went down, and the roar in his ears disappeared as well.
Finally, he sat up and looked around. From beyond the walls, he could still hear and smell the mass of zombies, and he shuddered.
“We’re fine,” Homer said again and rubbed his hand over Nick’s spine. “We’re fine, you’re fine, just fine.”
Nick gave him a grimace that had been intended to be a soothing smile, if not for his frozen and protesting facial muscles, and Homer pulled him into a hug and held him almost painfully close.
It had been a close call, Nick realized. Too close.
“Helmer?” he managed to press through his teeth.
“He’s okay, busted ankle and shocked, but he’s alive, just a few bumps and bruises. No bites.” Homer was rocking him gently, and Nick allowed himself to sink against the other man and soak up his body heat.
It wasn’t until hours later, when they had long stopped shooting at the zombies and were keeping quiet in the hope that they would leave, that he realized that his hands were still trembling.
~*+*~
“The good news - we now know the wall keeps them away. We lost only a small part of it, but it looks like the damage can quickly be fixed.” Oz grimaced as he took stock of their situation. “The not so good news: we still have two teams out there and we don’t know if they are still alive.”
Reaching up, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “The really bad news: Helmer hurt his ankle and is out of rotation and on kitchen duty for a few weeks, nobody knows what’s up with Nick, if he’s okay, and we counted at least a hundred zombies.”
“The good news, we’re safe here for now,” a different voice said behind him, and Chris felt his knees go weak with relief at the familiar mix of barely there Swedish and almost Canadian accent.
He wasn’t the only one. Some of the guys managed a weak smile when Nick stepped fully into the room, Homer close to his side. He was still dirty, a fine layer of grime, dust and sweat covering his face and his pants, and dark smudges stood out sharply against too pale skin, but his eyes were clear, laser-sharp and focused.
He was dressed in a hoodie that hung on his slender frame. Chris had seen this particular article of clothing before, not on Nick, but on Homer.
Besides the hoodie, he looked almost normal.
“The bad news...” Nick started, but before he could finish the sentence, Chris gave in to his emotions and hugged him, and soon more bodies crowded close and wrapped around them in a protective circle with Nick in the middle of it, similar to a celebration after winning a Cup.
“The bad news is they are getting desperate, and that means more danger for us,” Nick continued, apparently unfazed by the gruff display of affection around him. Chris knew better. He could read the emotion in Nick’s eyes like he could read an open book.
“What are we supposed to do?” someone asked hesitantly. “Stay here and wait to get eaten?”
Nick shook his head.
“We’ll figure something out,” he promised. “If there’s one thing that today proved, besides the effectiveness of our walls, it’s that we don’t let our people get eaten, not if we can help it.”
Chris nodded firmly. “Right,” he said. “We’ll get through this mess. Together.”
Hesitant nods greeted his statement, but they grew stronger with every second they stood together, soaking up each other’s body heat and feeling protected by each other’s strength and the weapons each of them carried.
They were getting through this.
Together.
As a team.
The way they had always meant to be.
~*+*~
It was four days until the zombies around the warehouse had left or had been shot from the roof of the building, and another two before Drapes and Abby returned. Bert, Drew and Jimmy followed just a few hours later.
“Look what we found,” Drapes grinned as he walked in, and then, he didn’t say anything anymore because first Oz and then Helmer hugged him hard enough to knock the breath right out of him.
“Missed me?” he finally asked and rubbed his palm against Helmer’s shoulder. “Jesus, what happened to your face?”
Helmer managed a small shrug and a wobbly smile. “I fell,” he said vaguely and lifted a hand to prod gently at the cuts and bruises. He’d shaved off his beard and as a result, he looked years younger and a lot more innocent.
“Pretty impressive fall,” Chris added gently. “Glad Nick was there to pick you up.”
“Me too,” Helmer whispered and hobbled back to his cot. Drapes gave Oz a brief look and a tilt of his head before he turned to go up, on the roof, and Chris saw no choice but to follow him.
They weren’t alone up there. Stuie and Nick stood close to the edge, to shoot any zombies that dared to get too close. The work on the wall was resting until they were sure every last zombie had disappeared from the area, and a cold wind was whistling along the corners and through their clothes.
It was still quiet and private enough for Chris to tell his old friend about what had happened and how Nick and Helmer had barely made it. Drapes turned pale, then red, then pale again, but he didn’t say anything, just clapped Chris’ shoulder before turning to go back inside.
Half an hour later, he was sitting with Helmer, helping to peel potatoes, and talking quietly to him.
~*+*~
Nick finally found the time to seek out Paddy, whose cot was in the second room at the other end of the building.
The room itself looked identical to the one Nick slept in. Cots were lined up along the walls, boxes and bags of personal belongings, weapons, ammunition and spare clothes in between. A pile of blankets rested on an old wooden chair in a corner, and someone had brought in an old desk and had pushed it into the far corner, under the windows.
The surface of the desk was scratched and uneven. One of the drawers was missing and the paint was flaking off of the others.
Jimmy was sitting at that desk, his feet up on one edge. Two legs of his rickety chair were in the air as he pored over a thick book. He had a pencil between his teeth and every now and then he was scribbling down something in the margins.
Nick stepped past Bert and Drew’s cots. They both were sleeping, blankets pulled up above their heads to block out the sunlight.
Paddy was sitting on a folded blanket on the ground, cross-legged, and was cleaning a rifle. His back was against his cot - Nick recognized the picture that was half-hidden under the pillow as Paddy’s wife, kid and dog.
“Hey,” he greeted quietly.
“Hi, Nick.” Paddy grinned and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “What’s up?”
Sliding down until he was sitting next to him, Nick pushed his hands into the pocket of Homer’s hoodie to hide the faint tremor that still plagued him occasionally, especially when he didn’t have anything to distract him with.
“You said bikes,” he started.
Paddy put down the parts of his gun and nodded.
“Tell me more.”
“It was an idea,” Paddy said haltingly. “Actually, it was E’s idea - he said we could use someone with Cheli’s strength and longevity. It made us think - we can’t use cars, they are too loud and just get unwanted attention, the main roads are all blocked, so there’s no way to get through, and there is still the issue with the lack of working gas stations.”
He picked up the gun again. “If we need to expand our radius, using bikes would be a good way to move quickly and quietly. Transporting stuff could be easier. I mean, there has to be a reason why the wheel was invented before the toasted bread, right?” He shook his head. “I’m not saying it is easier, just that it could be,” he added quietly.
“Where would we get bikes?” Nick asked.
Paddy shrugged. “A store, probably,” he replied. “If it’s okay, E, Kronner and me will keep an eye out.”
“Tell the others too,” Nick advised. “Let’s check this out. Good job.”
Paddy bit his lip and nodded. “If we move out of the city, bikes would be a good way of getting back if needed. Or something.”
Nick nodded. An idea had suddenly appeared in his head, but before he could voice it, he had to double-check a few things first.
He didn’t need to rush things, he thought as he gave Paddy a pat on the shoulder and stood. There was enough time to plan this properly.
Jimmy looked up from his book when Nick stepped up to him. He dropped his chair back on all four legs and pushed a finger between the pages so he wouldn’t lose his spot.
Nick, he noticed, was paler than he had been just a few days ago, and he probably had lost a few pounds as well. They all had, but Nick looked even thinner than the rest of them.
Maybe, Jimmy thought, it was just the hoodie that made him look almost fragile.
He had, of course, heard the story of how Nick had saved Helmer’s life and risked his own in the process, and the report had made his respect for Nick grow even more.
“Come on, Jimmy, you need to rest,” Nick said and settled a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “We need you at your best.”
Jimmy nodded. “I know. Let me just finish this chapter.”
Nick laughed. “The chapter will still be there later,” he said gently. “Go sleep or I’ll send Ozzie after you.”
Almost against his will, Jimmy found himself smiling. He folded the corner of the page, to find it later, and stood. His knees creaked slightly, but Jimmy was used to it and paid no attention to the sound.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ve always wondered what Homer’s modifications would look like on a goaliestick.”
“Talk to him about it. Maybe he and Oz can help you develop something,” Nick suggested.
“Maybe.” Jimmy sat down on the edge of his cot and stared at his boots as if he was considering not taking them off. “When he’s not so busy.”
Nick kneeled down and started to tug at Jimmy’s laces. “Knowing Homer, he probably has a few ideas already,” he said. “And he probably has a warning sign not to high-stick him with such a stick ready as well.”
Jimmy grinned while Nick wrestled the boot off of his left foot. His sock, they both noticed, was worn thin, and Jimmy knew that there was a big hole at the heel of his other sock, too.
Nick patted his knee. “Find yourself new socks,” he suggested. “Before it gets colder.”
Jimmy nodded and waited until his second boot was off before curling up under the threadbare blanket and closing his eyes. Nick patted his leg again and left, his steps almost inaudible.
As soon as he was gone, Jimmy opened his eyes again and rolled to his back.
He knew Nick was right. He needed to sleep. Sleep was essential. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw zombies coming at him.
It was enough to cure anyone from sleep.
He tossed and turned for a few hours without managing more than dozing off for a few minutes, and when the other members of his team, Millzy and Bert, rose, he followed their example, relieved that he could go back to doing something useful.
“Well, Professor?” Bert asked him gruffly and nudged him. “Where to now? More bookstores?”
Jimmy looked up and grinned. “No bookstores today,” he answered. “I think we’re ready for the next step. We need sugar.”
“Sugar.” Bert chuckled and ran a hand through his beard. “If you say so...”
“And a pot.”
“Sure thing.” Bert nodded. “When should we leave? Right after breakfast?”
“Yeah.” Jimmy shrugged slightly. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we’re back.”
Bert grunted and left, probably to tell Millzy. Jimmy wriggled into his boots, laced them up and went to ask Clears to add socks to his shopping list.
Breakfast was cut short and then they suited up to leave the safety of the warehouse and find sugar and a pot to try and preserve food for the coming winter.
“I wonder what happened to all the pets,” Millzy said as they stood in front of the doors, ready to head out.
Bert shrugged. “Starved, probably. Or ran away.” He checked his gun. “Maybe we should go and start hunting. Adding fresh meat to the menu can’t hurt.”
“Steak,” Jimmy said wistfully. “What I’d give for a steak...”
Millzy laughed and then, they quieted down and left.
~*+*~
Jimmy felt the sun on his face and had to struggle against the sudden feeling of almost drowsiness that overcame him. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and to pay attention to his surroundings. There was no margin of error here. If he made a mistake, he wasn’t the only one to pay the price.
He lifted his arm to rub at his eyes and get rid of the gritty feeling in them when suddenly, Bert screamed a warning. Gunshots rang out, but before Jimmy could move a single muscle, it was on him.
Unlike the zombies he’d seen from up close so far, this one wasn’t slimy. It had an almost leathery skin, where there still was skin. Instead of eyes, it had deep, dark caves, and its hair was almost completely gone. The teeth were broken and the smell from its mouth was nauseating.
Jimmy was barely aware of the cracked pavement under him or the fact that blood was running in a thin rivulet from his hairline. He didn’t know where Millzy or Bert were. He was only aware of a bony knee in dirty, ripped suitpants pressing into his chest while skeleton fingers pried at his arm while the zombie groaned dully and Jimmy did whatever he could to try and buck it off.
The zombie was strong, despite its almost skeletal appearance and no matter how much Jimmy twisted, squirmed, kicked and struggled, it didn’t let go. It yanked at Jimmy’s arm to get to his face, and somewhere in the part of his brain that wasn’t acting on pure, panic-driven instinct, Jimmy realized that letting the zombie anywhere close to his face was a Bad Idea, with capital letters.
He couldn’t reach his gun. He didn’t even know if he’d lost it or if it was still there. His muscles burned, but panic fueled his strength and he tried to roll, to punch the zombie to make it stop, anything that was in his limited and quickly diminishing power.
He didn’t know how long his struggle lasted when suddenly there was a blow that left his ears ringing and darkness swim in front of his eyes. Dazed and confused, he stopped struggling.
“Shit, Jimmy. Shit. Shit.”
A heavy weight was suddenly lifted off of his chest, and Jimmy coughed weakly and tried to roll to his side.
“Fuck,” Bert spat out. It was shockingly loud in the silence surrounding them, and loud noises went against every rule of survival, but apparently Bert didn’t care about that right now. That couldn’t mean anything good.
Jimmy gasped. Pain was stabbing between his ribs. His head was pounding. He spat out and dazedly looked at the blood on the ground.
His blood.
“We can’t leave him here,” he heard Millzy say.
“No,” Bert agreed grimly. “But if he got bitten, we’ll have to shoot him later.”
An icy shudder ran down Jimmy’s spine at the words. he struggled to get up to his feet and almost fell again as another wave of dizziness swept through him.
“Here’s not the place or the time to discuss this.” Millzy sounded nervous. “I bet the place will be swarming with zombies in a few minutes.” He grabbed Jimmy’s arm and pulled it over his shoulder. “Let’s go home - we can put him down there, if we need to.”
Bert grunted and took Jimmy’s other arm. Steadied by the two of them, Jimmy managed to pry his eyes open.
He didn’t even remember closing them.
Bodies of zombies were littering the street. There were at least ten of them, all of them dressed in tattered suits and business costumes.
Laughter bubbled up in his chest as Jimmy and Bert dragged him off. He tried to hold it back - he knew how dangerous sounds were, but he couldn’t stop himself any longer. Maybe, he thought, this was how Bert was feeling, because the older man was still cursing under his breath.
“What’s so funny?” Bert finally growled.
Jimmy hiccuped. “Did you see that?” he gasped. “They were businesspeople-zombies. They are stronger than professional athletes and they tried to eat my face.”
Bert growled louder. “Not. Funny.”
“No,” Jimmy agreed. A small part of his brain whispered about hysteria, about shock and concussion, but it was easy to ignore it. “Not funny. Why didn’t they just go to McDonald’s if they are so hungry?” He laughed again. “Or Arby’s. A hattrick gets you curly fries...maybe a curly head to eat for the zombies.”
“Really, man?” Millzy asked. He sounded exasperated. “Do you see any restaurant still open in a radius of what, a hundred miles?” He was tense, but Jimmy wasn’t surprised. If they kept talking, chances were high that more zombies would come and try to eat their faces.
“Have you both lost your fucking minds?” Bert asked and cursed again. They crossed an intersection and turned left, Jimmy noted absent-mindedly while still trying to stop the giggling. They were almost home.
“All of us,” Millzy said dryly. It was the last thing Jimmy heard before the darkness at the edges of his consciousness became overwhelming and he simply passed out.
~*+*~
When he woke up, he felt disoriented and dizzy and he was alone. He hadn’t been alone since he’d come to the warehouse. It was a disconcerting feeling.
Panic settled in his bones. Had they abandoned him and left him to die alone?
Shivering, he sat up and looked around.
He was on a thin mattress. A blanket had been thrown over him, to keep him warm. Someone had undressed him, leaving him in his boxers, t-shirt and the socks with the many holes in them.
Heavy ropes had been knotted around his wrists and ankles, and his right forearm was covered with a stark-white bandage.
His heart jumped in his chest. He knew perfectly well what that meant.
He had been bitten.
Infected.
He was doomed.
Within hours, his hair would fall out, his skin would turn into a mottled, bruised green-brown, and he would try to kill everybody he came in contact with.
And then - then someone would come and shoot him.
He pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his forehead on them and tried not to freak out.
~*+*~
“What do we do with him?” Bert asked softly. The entire room was silent, shocked and scared. Intellectually, they had always known that this might happen; that one day, one of them could get bitten, but it was human nature to think that they were invincible after they had managed to escape death and zombies for so long.
Oz swallowed thickly. He was pale and had been since the moment he’d peeled back Jimmy’s jacket and shirt and had spotted the ragged teethmarks in Jimmy’s arm, the crust of drying blood and the beginnings of heavy bruising.
Jimmy was like a kid to him; the only kid he had left. Bile rose in the his throat at the thought of what he was about to say.
What he was willing to do.
They were all thinking it and nobody of them dared to say it, as if it wasn’t true as long as the words weren’t spoken and out, but Chris knew that they had to face reality and do what had to be done.
They couldn’t do anything for Jimmy anymore.
They just could make sure the rest of them survived a little bit longer.
“One of us has to do it,” he said. His voice was shaking, and he balled his hands to tight fists and swallowed. “We have to kill him.”
The uncomfortable silence that settled over them and threatened to paralyze them was interrupted by mumbling and muttering.
“No!”
Silence fell again and all attention turned to Pavel. This was the first word he’d spoken since he and Hank had joined the group.
“No,” Pavel repeated. His voice was rough from disuse, but firm. “We not kill him.”
“We can’t risk letting him live,” Oz said softly. “You know that. It’s too dangerous.”
Pavel gave Hank a look and frowned, and Hank stepped closer to his side.
“We’re not monsters,” he said softly. “We don’t kill our own, Ozzie. Remember what we said? We don’t leave our men behind.” He squeezed Pavel’s hand. “As long as the infection doesn’t set in, Jimmy’s one of ours.”
Chris nodded slowly.
“When...when he turns...” he said haltingly, and Pavel nodded.
“When he turns, he isn’t one of us anymore,” Nick said. “Until then, we need guards.”
Bert lifted his head. “I’ll do it,” he offered. Everyone knew what he was talking about - it wasn’t guard duty.
Chris swallowed thickly. He wanted to tell Bert that he would be the one, but the words didn’t come, and he knew he probably couldn’t do it, no matter if Jimmy turned into a zombie or not.
He loved Jimmy like his own kids. He couldn’t shoot him.
He nodded and grabbed his gun. “I’ll take first watch.”
~*+*~
Jimmy looked up at the sound of heavy steps. He had taken a good look around and had realized that he wasn’t just tied up, but that his teammates had built a cage around him, as well.
Even if he managed to free himself, he would still be in a cage on the first floor of the warehouse. At least they had brought him home instead of abandoning him, but there was no escape for him if he turned and no way he could hurt the others.
In between flashes of absolute terror, he managed to appreciate all of that.
Ozzie appeared on the other side of the cage’s bars.
Jimmy swallowed thickly.
“Are you going to shoot me now?” he asked around the tightness of his throat and chest.
Oz shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “As long as you’re you...and not a zombie...we won’t kill you.”
Jimmy pulled his knees up higher.
“I don’t want to die, Ozzie,” he whispered shakily.
Chris sighed and sat down. “I know, kid,” he said. “I know.”
He didn’t say anything else. There was nothing he could do, and nothing he could say would change anything.
They sat in silence and waited while Jimmy’s time ran out.
~*+*~
“Are you going to shoot me?” Jimmy asked softly.
Bert sighed. “Maybe, kid,” he replied. “If you get worse.”
Jimmy chuckled darkly. “At least now I know,” he said and shifted his shoulders. They were stiff from his enforced inactivity and tension.
“Now you know,” Bert agreed steadily.
They were silent for a moment. Finally, Jimmy sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Bert asked. His voice was still gruff, but it was a more gentle gruffness.
“For disappointing all of you. For getting bitten.” Jimmy shrugged. He had run out of tears long ago, weeks and months before he got bitten, and not even the fact that he would die soon could make him cry now. “This is worse than the nightmares.”
“Nothing you should apologize for,” Bert said.
They fell silent again.
Minutes ticked by.
“What nightmares?” Bert finally asked.
Jimmy shrugged again. He had been so careful to keep his nightmares hidden and not to bother the other guys with it. He hadn’t asked for help in all those nights when he hadn’t been able to sleep and had only faked rest, but it didn’t matter anymore.
He was going to die soon.
“The usual, I guess,” he said. “Zombies in 3D, trying to eat everyone. Eating everyone. Being all alone.”
Bert exhaled. “Why haven’t you told me before?” he wanted to know.
Jimmy thought about the question for a moment. He didn’t have anything to lose anymore, and with that new perspective, his previous concerns about the others not taking him seriously and thinking him to be a liability suddenly seemed small and absolutely childish.
Unimportant.
“Didn’t want to bother you,” he murmured. “We all have them, right? I was doing fine, even without all the sleep.”
Bert shook his head.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he scolded. “We’re a fucking team. Tell me about your nightmares.”
“Why? It doesn’t make a difference anymore.” Jimmy shook his head.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Bert repeated. “You’re one of us. Now talk, or I’ll shoot you in the foot just for being so fucking dumb.”
Jimmy smiled softly and leaned his head back against the wall. He was feeling warm suddenly, and he knew that if this was a fever, his days were really numbered. The infection always started with a fever.
“You really want to know?”
“Yeah.”
There was no hesitation in Bert’s voice, and slowly, haltingly, Jimmy began to talk.
~*+*~
“It’s been five days.”
Nick stepped closer to Chris and, acting on impulse, wrapped both arms around the smaller man.
“Usually, the infection takes hold after two days, maximum,” Chris continued. “It’s been five. He’s had a low-grade fever, and that’s it.”
“I know.” Nick rocked him gently.
“I don’t know what that means,” Chris admitted shakily. “The waiting, it’s killing me. Sometimes I wish it was over, just so we can move on.”
Nick nodded. “I know.” As horrible as it sounded, he felt the same.
Chris sighed into Nick’s shoulder. “Do you think...you think there’s something like an immunity?”
“I don’t know.” Nick shrugged and glanced down, at the area around them. Wind was whipping their hair and sent small shivers through him, and the sun was setting in a fiery red fireball at the horizon.
“We should wait another week, to make sure,” Chris said softly. “Now a real medical facility with doctors and equipment would be good, you know?”
“I know.” Nick reached up and brushed his hand through Chris’ hair. It was growing long again, longer than it had been in years, and it made the other man look impossibly young.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he murmured into Chris’ ear. “Something that might be a long-term plan. Maybe.”
Chris nodded. “I’m listening,” he said before shivering. “Maybe we should go back inside first,” he then added dryly.
Nick smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s go back inside and I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking we should do next year.”
“Next year.” Chris laughed. “It’s been a while since we dared look ahead that far.”
“True, but maybe it’s time, now that things are dark - to look for the silver lining.”
It sounded corny, like something from a fortune cookie, and he had never been one for big speeches, but, Nick thought as Chris looked up at him with a small smile and new hope in his eyes and shoulders, his words had done the trick and had given Chris new strength.
And that was all that counted.
~*+*~
Jimmy looked up at the sound of heavy boots coming closer to his cage. Homer, who was leaning against the far wall and was sketching something onto a pad of paper Pavel, or Clears, or one of the others, had found for him, fell silent at the clatter.
Jimmy felt a thick ball of dread form at the base of his throat and tightening, threatening to suffocate him.
He was feeling fine.
He wasn’t a zombie.
He didn’t want to die.
The door was pushed open and Nick, Bert and Oz appeared. All three were armed to the teeth.
Jimmy rose to his feet. His knees felt weak and trembled, but he was determined not to die sitting down.
“Are you here to finish this? End it?” he asked, his voice almost calm and detached.
Chris moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “We’re here to end this,” he confirmed softly.
Jimmy clenched his teeth and nodded.
He had known that this would happen sooner or later.
“I don’t feel worse,” he said softly. “I feel good. Normal. Better, even.”
Chris and Nick exchanged a glance.
“Jimmy,” Nick asked after a moment of tense, uncomfortable silence. “Do you know how long you’ve been in here?”
Jimmy frowned. This wasn’t a question he had expected.
“Not sure,” he admitted, self-conscious all of a sudden. “Why?”
“It’s been twelve days,” Chris said gently.
Jimmy’s frown deepened. “Twelve days - but it only takes two or three days for the infection to turn you...” he trailed off. “What does that mean?”
Chris shrugged. “Honestly, we don’t know,” he admitted. “But it looks like you’re lucky.”
“You think...” Jimmy’s thoughts were racing. “You think I’m immune.”
Nick nodded. “Probably.”
“What if I am?”
“We let you out of that cage,” Chris answered calmly. “And you don’t try to pull a stunt like this again, you hear me?”
“What if I’m not? If I just need longer to display the symptoms?”
“In that case, we will probably regret letting you out,” Chris said. “We’ll end up losing a few guys. But it’s been twelve days. You’re probably really fine, Jimmy.” His voice was trembling now, and it made Jimmy’s heartbeat pick up erratically.
Nick nodded and pulled a key out of his pocket. It belonged to the padlock on the chains that kept the cage closed. Jimmy watched in disbelief as Nick unlocked the cage and the door swung open.
He still couldn’t believe it. A big part of him was convinced that he was dreaming.
He stepped out of the cage and blinked. Nick cut the ropes around his wrists, and all Jimmy could do was to stand there and blink.
The next thing he knew, Chris had pulled him into a tight embrace and showed no sign that he would be willing to let go in the foreseeable future.
Jimmy was surprisingly fine with that.
~*+*~
“There is soup - we found an entire crate of the stuff,” Bert said as he followed Jimmy up the stairs, carefully making sure the younger man didn’t stumble. Jimmy was still dazed by the unexpected development of events, and Bert had to nudge him to get his attention.
“We moved your stuff,” he said.
Jimmy’s shoulders tensed under the thin cotton of his shirt. There was a defeated expression on his face that told Bert everything he needed to know about Jimmy’s current thought process.
He rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be stupid,” he growled and nudged him none too gently toward the corner where Drew’s and his own cots were. “Be thankful we’re hockey players and not scientists and didn’t try to take you apart to find out how you’re immune. And get dressed. I’ll get you some soup.”
Jimmy stared dumbfoundedly at him, then at the cot between Drew’s and Bert’s and the neat pile of clothes on it, a pile, he slowly realized, that also had new, whole socks.
“And the next time you get nightmares?” Bert added while pretending to be gruff and unaffected by Jimmy’s thankful looks. “You reach out and wake either me or Drew, you hear me?”
Jimmy nodded, eager like a young puppy, and Bert didn’t fight when he was suddenly wrapped into a tight hug.
He was just as glad that he didn’t have to shoot Jimmy and that they all were okay.
~*+*~
“You think we should leave the city.”
It wasn’t a question, but Nick nodded in reply anyways. Next to him, Homer was working more or less quietly, transforming a goalie stick into a deadly weapon for Jimmy. Chris was on his other side, facing the rest of their little group.
“Find a quiet place, start from the beginning?” Clears asked.
“Yes,” Chris said. “Somewhere to grow our own food, somewhere with less zombies and the chance to establish a base from which we can send out teams to find other survivors. Maybe even find out about California.”
“What if someone comes looking for us here?” Drapes wanted to know.
Nick shrugged and smiled. “We’ll leave a message. Besides, we don’t have to decide now. If we leave, we probably should do it after winter.”
Chris nodded.
“After winter?” Bert asked.
Nick grinned. “We have all the time in the world,” he promised. “All the time we want to decide.”
He sounded comfortable with waiting, and Chris grinned suddenly. “As long as you don’t rely on plants alone to defend us against zombies,” he grumbled, his protests more or less playful.
Nick glanced at Homer again. “I don’t think we need to do that,” he answered. “We know that stairs are a problem for zombies. So are tall walls. If we all help, we could fortify a small village for our needs within a few weeks.”
“Good.” Chris nudged him slightly. “As long as we’re together, right?”
“Right,” Nick agreed, and his sentiment was echoed by the guys in the room.
Come what may - as long as they had each other, they would make it through this, and nothing could stop them.
Not even zombies.
They would be fine.
~*.end.*~
“You think staying the winter is a good idea?”
Nick looked up at Drapes and shrugged slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “We don’t know if it’s better elsewhere, and here, we have a defensible place.”
Drapes sighed and scratched his chin. “You still think California is a myth.”
“There has been talk about California since the beginning,” Nick replied. “A lot of people went there. I just hope that they found a safe place, and if they didn’t, that they built one, like we did.”
Drapes sighed. “I know.” He turned half around. “I sent my family there.” He shook his head again. “I just wish there was a way to find out if they made it.”
Nick stood and reached out to squeeze Drapes’ shoulder. “I know.”
There was nothing else he could say. He, too, had sent his family away as soon as the first outbreaks became public, even before the waves of panic that swept through the country and the borders had been closed. All he had left right now from his circle of friends and family from before was Homer, and he had no clue if any of his sons was still alive.
~*+*~
“I thought you were already asleep.” Hank stepped past Homer and dropped his backpack next to his own cot.
“For sure, I tried,” Homer grunted and yanked at his blanket. “Everytime I’m ready to fall asleep, Nick comes in and checks up on me.”
Hank laughed. “He’s worried,” he said easily and shrugged out of his jacket. “Like a mother. You know him.”
“Yeah.” Homer punched his pillow and glanced up at Hank. “Did you have success?”
“Nails and a new hammer or two. There is wood, but I don’t know if we can transport it here.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket. “I brought you a new pencil.”
Homer took it with a smile. “Thank you,” he said softly and ran his fingers along the bright red varnish.
“I hear they found a nest close by,” Hank said as he sat down and took off his boots.
Homer nodded. The frown was back on his face. “A big one. But we didn’t lose anyone thankfully.”
“Yeah, thankfully,” Hank echoed. He rolled over, pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and yawned. “Night, Homer.”
“Good night, Hank.”
~*+*~
It was hours later when Hank woke because a warm, hard-muscled body slipped under the blanket with him. Fingers carded gently through his hair and he inhaled the familiar scent of Pavel.
He was too tired to try and talk. He just pressed his ear against Pavel’s chest and let the other man’s heartbeat lull him back into sleep.
When he woke up again, he was wrapped around Pavel and the blanket. Pavel’s arm was slung around him, and he was still asleep, his lashes fanned out against his cheeks. Hank shifted slightly, until he could rest comfortably against Pavel’s side without getting a crick in his neck, and closed his eyes again.
He was exhausted to his bones from seven months of fighting for their bare survival, from running and killing zombies and scavenging food from anywhere they could find it. Things had become easier once they had joined the bigger group, but Hank wasn’t an idiot. He knew that a bigger group didn’t necessarily offer just advantages. There were several disadvantages as well, and he couldn’t close his eyes from them. He didn’t know what they would do when the food ran out, and he hadn’t dared ask Nick.
Hundreds of millions of people had been infected and had been turned into zombies in those seven months. He didn’t know why it was exactly their group that had made it, when so many others hadn’t, but he knew the odds of their continued survival were small and the numbers were getting smaller with every day.
They were just a small group that stood against an army of zombies. They were outmanned and didn’t have enough weapons to survive such a fight.
Help wasn’t coming, Hank was sure of that. It had been seven months in which nobody had come. There was nobody who could send help. All of Northern America and maybe even Middle- and South America had been infected and left to die. He wasn’t sure about the rest of the world; but if someone had remained unaffected, why hadn’t they sent help? Why hadn’t anyone come to help them in their fight?
Focusing his thoughts on that particular topic and the plaguing questions coming with it only resulted in him feeling alone, angry and depressed. He quickly forced his mind away from them. They had survived this far, they would survive further, especially once the wall was finished.
Slowly, he forced his limbs to move and to extract himself from Pavel’s grip and the blanket without waking the other man up. He was still exhausted, but there was no more time to rest, for any of them. They needed every single one of them to survive. Everyone needed to pull their weight and to their part to make sure they saw the next day, or the next night.
Quietly, he got dressed and grabbed his gun. Drapes, Oz and Homer were already working outside, moving wood and preparing to nail planks together. Hank took a moment to drink a cup of water and eat a bite before he went to help them.
“A car would be nice,” Drapes said just as Hank stepped close enough to hear their quiet words.
“Pick one, there’s enough of them around,” Oz answered. He stopped and scratched his ear for a moment. “It’s not the cars that’s the problem.”
“I know, it’s the gas.” Drapes looked around.
“Even if we pump gas into one car, the noise of a car would be a sure way to get every zombie in the city to follow us.”
“For sure, we wouldn’t get far,” Homer added thoughtfully and scribbled a mark down onto the wood by his feet. “This is the world’s biggest traffic jam.”
“Maybe a tank,” Drapes muttered.
“A plane.”
“A plane would be great...but where do we get enough fuel and a pilot?” Chris sighed and kicked slightly at the ground.
“Same place we get coffee in the mornings and the paper,” Drapes replied. “In our dreams.”
The others nodded and silently returned to their work.
The sun was burning down on them and was climbing higher in the sky. It wasn’t quite noon yet when Bert, Drew and Jimmy walked past them, faces grim and their grip on their weapons tight.
They all knew the odds of returning safely.
More hours went by. They assigned guards and began to work in earnest, hammering wood together and adding to their walls.
They worked quietly, their ears strained for gunfire and warning calls from their guards, always prepared to drop everything and retreat to the safety of the warehouse, but they were lucky. Until late in the afternoon, no zombie appeared, and when they did, there were only small groups of two and three.
Pavel, who was perched on top of a rusty pick-up truck, took care of them with a shotgun. He was good with the weapon, but they still decided to retreat before the darkness of dusk fell and more zombies left their hiding places.
The mood was somber. Team Squirrel had not returned yet, and another group that had gone out to look for food was still gone as well.
Hank paid no attention to the whispers around the room. He ate his share of food, a bowl of stew made from canned food, and fell asleep a soon as he laid down.
~*+*~
Hot, dry lips pressed against his temple when Pavel came to bed. It was already morning, the sun slowly coming up behind the silent ruins of what once had been a prospering city bustling with life.
Hank hadn’t known that Pavel had volunteered for the night shift, but it wasn’t a surprise. They still had teams out and Pavel always had trouble sleeping when he knew that not all of them were somewhere safe.
He dozed while Pavel wrapped arms and legs around him and pressed himself as close to Hank as he could. As soon as Pavel had settled down, Hank lifted his own arm and let it rest against Pavel’s back. He had a few more hours until he had to return to his duties and he had nowhere else he needed to be for now.
~*+*~
“Pavs asleep?” Nick asked and checked his gun.
Drapes nodded. “Hank too. I say we let them rest for now,” he replied quietly. “Helm, Abby and me take Pav’s tour around the neighborhood today, and Oz and Stuie can help Homer.”
Nick nodded. “I take wall guard,” he said. “Let both Hank and Pav sleep for now. Before they run themselves into the ground.”
Drapes nodded his agreement and reached for his own gun which was slung over the back of his chair. “See you later,” he said briefly and whistled sharply. The sound was surprisingly loud and made Nick flinch, and seconds after the whistle, Abby and Helmer appeared, armed and ready, as if they had been waiting for the signal.
Knowing Drapes and the way he mentored these young guys, they probably had, Nick thought with a small smile.
Drapes missed his family, that much was obvious to anyone who watched him for more than a few minutes. He had a picture of his kids with him at all times, a picture he was touching now before he and his team left, and Nick was sure that, if there were news about them having survived, he would leave the city and go look for them without hesitating.
And yet, he hadn’t complained once about them staying and had done what needed to be done to ensure the survival of every member of their little group.
They could count themselves lucky to have a guy like him, someone who took the young kids under his wing and made sure they knew every little thing Drapes did to survive in this new world.
Homer found him half an hour later, when he was leaning against a dusty window and looking out across the free space around the warehouse with the half-finished wall surrounding it.
“Hey,” he muttered and came to a stop next to Nick. “For sure, I was looking for you.”
Nick nodded. “It doesn’t look like much from up here,” he mused.
Homer shrugged and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s the small things that make a difference, right?”
“The small things, huh?” Nick exhaled quietly. “It’s always in the details.”
“For sure,” Homer said.
“I don’t know, sometimes,” Nick admitted after a long moment of comfortable silence. “I can’t help but think that it won’t be enough. There will always be more of them than of us. And I’m not sure - killing them, fighting for our lives, does that mean we’re losing too much of our humanity and turn into mindless, heartless zombies too, without even noticing?”
Homer thought for a second. Then, he wrapped both arms around Nick and held him tight in a fierce, almost painful hug.
“You remember Hank’s birthday,” he snarled. “For sure, Nick, it’s the small things that make the fucking difference, and remembering Hank’s birthday is a fucking sure sign that we’re not turning into them.”
Nick wrapped his own arms loosely around Homer’s body and stroked across his back. “Half the time, I don’t even remember their real names,” he whispered. “When this is over, Homer - Tommy - when this is over, what are we going to do? How can we go back to be normal people with normal jobs when we’re used to shooting at everything that moves in the shadows?”
“We will figure it out, for sure,” Homer promised. “When this is over, we go home, to Sweden, sit by the lake all day and get used to be normal people again.” He gave Nick a soft smile. “We got used to this, Nicky, we can get used to everything else.”
He gave Nick one last squeeze and stepped back.
“Knowing the guys’ real names doesn’t mean knowing the guys, Nick,” he said quietly. “Trust me, you know all you need about them.”
Nick sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted reluctantly.
“For sure I am,” Homer said immediately. “Take Bear, for example. What’s more important, you think, that you know he sent his family home to Newfoundland to be safe and prays for them every day, or you know his first name is Danny?”
“Okay, okay.” Nick managed a smile. “When did you become so smart?” he teased gently.
Homer shrugged and scratched his chin. “Eh,” he said. “I’m not smart. You just sometimes need someone to make you stop think too much.”
Nick smiled again. “Okay, then,” he said softly. “You think we should go down and help build a wall now?”
~*+*~
“We’ve been thinking,” Paddy said as he climbed on top of the same pick-up truck Pavel had picked as guard post the day before, careful to stay out of Nick’s line of sight.
Nick raised an eyebrow and turned slightly. Behind them, another section of wall was slowly growing. The sun was shining and warming them again. It would be a perfect autumn day if not for the subtle tension running through the silent air and leaving them nervous and jittery.
“What about?” Nick asked curiously.
“Cars,” Paddy answered. He glanced over his shoulder before continuing. “Right now, we go everywhere on foot, and it takes time. We can only transport what we can carry, preferably while keeping our hands free. I’m sure we could’ve finished this wall already if we could transport the material here quicker.”
Nick nodded. So far, Paddy hadn’t told him anything new.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“Bikes.”
Nick gave him a questioning look and shifted, to let his gaze wander across the area. “Bikes?” he prompted gently, and Paddy started to explain when suddenly, a shot pierced the silence.
Immediately, the tension in the air ratcheted up a few notches. The men working on the wall stopped what they were doing and gave Nick questioning looks.
Nick narrowed his eyes slightly. It was still quiet, but that could change quickly and he didn’t want to risk anything. This was his call, and the safety of everyone out here was his responsibility. If this was false alarm, they lost precious hours of daylight and quiet to complete their project, but the alternative was unthinkable.
He gave the signal to retreat.
As silently as possible, the guys disappeared in the warehouse. Nick gave Paddy a quick look and jerked his head, and Paddy nodded and followed the others.
For a long moment, time, the air, even the entire world around him, seemed to stand still and hold their breath, then, Helmer appeared around the corner, racing toward Nick as fast as he could run.
Nick knew exactly what that meant.
He slipped off the car and held his gun ready while slowly moving backwards, toward the doors of the warehouse.
Helmer was getting closer.
Behind him, several zombies lurched around the corner.
Nick felt his blood run cold. He lifted his gun and fired, aiming at the zombies and praying that he wouldn’t hit Helmer.
The kid was fast, faster than the zombies, but he was visibly at the end of his strength. His skin had turned into a blotchy red under the thick beard he’d grown, and the second Nick sent another bullet past his shoulder and into the closest zombie, he flinched, stumbled and crashed hard into the cracked pavement.
Nick’s heart stopped in his chest for a split second. Every instinct in him screamed to turn around, run, get inside and get to higher ground, away from the attacking zombies, but his eyes were still glued to the dazed body of Helmer struggling to get up.
He fired another salve at the zombies. There were at least twenty of them now, and Nick had the bad feeling that more would follow. Against all instincts, he moved closer to them, shooting until he was out of ammunition.
He reached Helmer and grabbed his arm the second the younger man had finally managed to struggle back to his feet, and Nick yanked him up, adrenaline and pure panic giving him unexpected strength to haul Helmer’s arm across his shoulders, grab him and start running.
It wasn’t far until they would reach safety, but Helmer was heavy and not able to help carry his own weight. Nick was mostly carrying him, his knees trembling under the weight as he staggered toward the doors. Blood was rushing loudly in his ears, but not loud enough to drown out the groaning and slurping of the zombies coming closer and closer.
The zombies were getting closer.
He could smell them now, that sickly-sweet smell that made his stomach lurch.
Air rattled in his lungs. He had another two meters to go...then less than six feet...
Slimy appendices that once had been fingers reached out for them. Helmer somehow found the strength to scream, a high, panicked sound that sent Nick’s nerves into overdrive and catapulted him the last few steps until he crashed into the door and inside, onto the hard floor.
Someone slammed the door shut and activity broke out around them, to pile wood and heavy machinery left over from before in front of the now closed and locked door to block it, but Nick barely registered it. He was lying sprawled on the floor where he had fallen and struggled just to breathe. His instincts still screamed at him to get up, get to safety, but his body didn’t obey him any longer.
Somewhere behind him, he could hear Helmer whimper softly and then the sounds of someone throwing up. The retching and almost sobs that tore through the younger man were loud enough to penetrate the daze around Nick, and he slowly lifted his head and tried to bring the world into focus.
“Let’s get them up,” someone called out, or maybe it was just a whisper, and then, strong hands were under Nick’s arms, hauling him to his feet and dragging him up the staircase.
He was barely noticing it. his thighs were still trembling, cold sweat had broken out all over his body. He still couldn’t catch his breath.
He was led over to his cot and gently urged to sit down, and then a blanket was thrown over him and warm fingers closed around the back of his neck.
“For sure, breathe,” Homer murmured and pressed him down until his forehead almost touched his knees. “In and out. Nice and easy, Nicky. You’re fine. You’re fine. Just keep breathing.”
Somewhere above them, shots were fired.
Slowly, guided by the low and familiar hum of Homer’s voice, Nick’s breathing managed to return to its normal pace, his heart rate went down, and the roar in his ears disappeared as well.
Finally, he sat up and looked around. From beyond the walls, he could still hear and smell the mass of zombies, and he shuddered.
“We’re fine,” Homer said again and rubbed his hand over Nick’s spine. “We’re fine, you’re fine, just fine.”
Nick gave him a grimace that had been intended to be a soothing smile, if not for his frozen and protesting facial muscles, and Homer pulled him into a hug and held him almost painfully close.
It had been a close call, Nick realized. Too close.
“Helmer?” he managed to press through his teeth.
“He’s okay, busted ankle and shocked, but he’s alive, just a few bumps and bruises. No bites.” Homer was rocking him gently, and Nick allowed himself to sink against the other man and soak up his body heat.
It wasn’t until hours later, when they had long stopped shooting at the zombies and were keeping quiet in the hope that they would leave, that he realized that his hands were still trembling.
~*+*~
“The good news - we now know the wall keeps them away. We lost only a small part of it, but it looks like the damage can quickly be fixed.” Oz grimaced as he took stock of their situation. “The not so good news: we still have two teams out there and we don’t know if they are still alive.”
Reaching up, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “The really bad news: Helmer hurt his ankle and is out of rotation and on kitchen duty for a few weeks, nobody knows what’s up with Nick, if he’s okay, and we counted at least a hundred zombies.”
“The good news, we’re safe here for now,” a different voice said behind him, and Chris felt his knees go weak with relief at the familiar mix of barely there Swedish and almost Canadian accent.
He wasn’t the only one. Some of the guys managed a weak smile when Nick stepped fully into the room, Homer close to his side. He was still dirty, a fine layer of grime, dust and sweat covering his face and his pants, and dark smudges stood out sharply against too pale skin, but his eyes were clear, laser-sharp and focused.
He was dressed in a hoodie that hung on his slender frame. Chris had seen this particular article of clothing before, not on Nick, but on Homer.
Besides the hoodie, he looked almost normal.
“The bad news...” Nick started, but before he could finish the sentence, Chris gave in to his emotions and hugged him, and soon more bodies crowded close and wrapped around them in a protective circle with Nick in the middle of it, similar to a celebration after winning a Cup.
“The bad news is they are getting desperate, and that means more danger for us,” Nick continued, apparently unfazed by the gruff display of affection around him. Chris knew better. He could read the emotion in Nick’s eyes like he could read an open book.
“What are we supposed to do?” someone asked hesitantly. “Stay here and wait to get eaten?”
Nick shook his head.
“We’ll figure something out,” he promised. “If there’s one thing that today proved, besides the effectiveness of our walls, it’s that we don’t let our people get eaten, not if we can help it.”
Chris nodded firmly. “Right,” he said. “We’ll get through this mess. Together.”
Hesitant nods greeted his statement, but they grew stronger with every second they stood together, soaking up each other’s body heat and feeling protected by each other’s strength and the weapons each of them carried.
They were getting through this.
Together.
As a team.
The way they had always meant to be.
~*+*~
It was four days until the zombies around the warehouse had left or had been shot from the roof of the building, and another two before Drapes and Abby returned. Bert, Drew and Jimmy followed just a few hours later.
“Look what we found,” Drapes grinned as he walked in, and then, he didn’t say anything anymore because first Oz and then Helmer hugged him hard enough to knock the breath right out of him.
“Missed me?” he finally asked and rubbed his palm against Helmer’s shoulder. “Jesus, what happened to your face?”
Helmer managed a small shrug and a wobbly smile. “I fell,” he said vaguely and lifted a hand to prod gently at the cuts and bruises. He’d shaved off his beard and as a result, he looked years younger and a lot more innocent.
“Pretty impressive fall,” Chris added gently. “Glad Nick was there to pick you up.”
“Me too,” Helmer whispered and hobbled back to his cot. Drapes gave Oz a brief look and a tilt of his head before he turned to go up, on the roof, and Chris saw no choice but to follow him.
They weren’t alone up there. Stuie and Nick stood close to the edge, to shoot any zombies that dared to get too close. The work on the wall was resting until they were sure every last zombie had disappeared from the area, and a cold wind was whistling along the corners and through their clothes.
It was still quiet and private enough for Chris to tell his old friend about what had happened and how Nick and Helmer had barely made it. Drapes turned pale, then red, then pale again, but he didn’t say anything, just clapped Chris’ shoulder before turning to go back inside.
Half an hour later, he was sitting with Helmer, helping to peel potatoes, and talking quietly to him.
~*+*~
Nick finally found the time to seek out Paddy, whose cot was in the second room at the other end of the building.
The room itself looked identical to the one Nick slept in. Cots were lined up along the walls, boxes and bags of personal belongings, weapons, ammunition and spare clothes in between. A pile of blankets rested on an old wooden chair in a corner, and someone had brought in an old desk and had pushed it into the far corner, under the windows.
The surface of the desk was scratched and uneven. One of the drawers was missing and the paint was flaking off of the others.
Jimmy was sitting at that desk, his feet up on one edge. Two legs of his rickety chair were in the air as he pored over a thick book. He had a pencil between his teeth and every now and then he was scribbling down something in the margins.
Nick stepped past Bert and Drew’s cots. They both were sleeping, blankets pulled up above their heads to block out the sunlight.
Paddy was sitting on a folded blanket on the ground, cross-legged, and was cleaning a rifle. His back was against his cot - Nick recognized the picture that was half-hidden under the pillow as Paddy’s wife, kid and dog.
“Hey,” he greeted quietly.
“Hi, Nick.” Paddy grinned and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “What’s up?”
Sliding down until he was sitting next to him, Nick pushed his hands into the pocket of Homer’s hoodie to hide the faint tremor that still plagued him occasionally, especially when he didn’t have anything to distract him with.
“You said bikes,” he started.
Paddy put down the parts of his gun and nodded.
“Tell me more.”
“It was an idea,” Paddy said haltingly. “Actually, it was E’s idea - he said we could use someone with Cheli’s strength and longevity. It made us think - we can’t use cars, they are too loud and just get unwanted attention, the main roads are all blocked, so there’s no way to get through, and there is still the issue with the lack of working gas stations.”
He picked up the gun again. “If we need to expand our radius, using bikes would be a good way to move quickly and quietly. Transporting stuff could be easier. I mean, there has to be a reason why the wheel was invented before the toasted bread, right?” He shook his head. “I’m not saying it is easier, just that it could be,” he added quietly.
“Where would we get bikes?” Nick asked.
Paddy shrugged. “A store, probably,” he replied. “If it’s okay, E, Kronner and me will keep an eye out.”
“Tell the others too,” Nick advised. “Let’s check this out. Good job.”
Paddy bit his lip and nodded. “If we move out of the city, bikes would be a good way of getting back if needed. Or something.”
Nick nodded. An idea had suddenly appeared in his head, but before he could voice it, he had to double-check a few things first.
He didn’t need to rush things, he thought as he gave Paddy a pat on the shoulder and stood. There was enough time to plan this properly.
Jimmy looked up from his book when Nick stepped up to him. He dropped his chair back on all four legs and pushed a finger between the pages so he wouldn’t lose his spot.
Nick, he noticed, was paler than he had been just a few days ago, and he probably had lost a few pounds as well. They all had, but Nick looked even thinner than the rest of them.
Maybe, Jimmy thought, it was just the hoodie that made him look almost fragile.
He had, of course, heard the story of how Nick had saved Helmer’s life and risked his own in the process, and the report had made his respect for Nick grow even more.
“Come on, Jimmy, you need to rest,” Nick said and settled a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “We need you at your best.”
Jimmy nodded. “I know. Let me just finish this chapter.”
Nick laughed. “The chapter will still be there later,” he said gently. “Go sleep or I’ll send Ozzie after you.”
Almost against his will, Jimmy found himself smiling. He folded the corner of the page, to find it later, and stood. His knees creaked slightly, but Jimmy was used to it and paid no attention to the sound.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ve always wondered what Homer’s modifications would look like on a goaliestick.”
“Talk to him about it. Maybe he and Oz can help you develop something,” Nick suggested.
“Maybe.” Jimmy sat down on the edge of his cot and stared at his boots as if he was considering not taking them off. “When he’s not so busy.”
Nick kneeled down and started to tug at Jimmy’s laces. “Knowing Homer, he probably has a few ideas already,” he said. “And he probably has a warning sign not to high-stick him with such a stick ready as well.”
Jimmy grinned while Nick wrestled the boot off of his left foot. His sock, they both noticed, was worn thin, and Jimmy knew that there was a big hole at the heel of his other sock, too.
Nick patted his knee. “Find yourself new socks,” he suggested. “Before it gets colder.”
Jimmy nodded and waited until his second boot was off before curling up under the threadbare blanket and closing his eyes. Nick patted his leg again and left, his steps almost inaudible.
As soon as he was gone, Jimmy opened his eyes again and rolled to his back.
He knew Nick was right. He needed to sleep. Sleep was essential. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw zombies coming at him.
It was enough to cure anyone from sleep.
He tossed and turned for a few hours without managing more than dozing off for a few minutes, and when the other members of his team, Millzy and Bert, rose, he followed their example, relieved that he could go back to doing something useful.
“Well, Professor?” Bert asked him gruffly and nudged him. “Where to now? More bookstores?”
Jimmy looked up and grinned. “No bookstores today,” he answered. “I think we’re ready for the next step. We need sugar.”
“Sugar.” Bert chuckled and ran a hand through his beard. “If you say so...”
“And a pot.”
“Sure thing.” Bert nodded. “When should we leave? Right after breakfast?”
“Yeah.” Jimmy shrugged slightly. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we’re back.”
Bert grunted and left, probably to tell Millzy. Jimmy wriggled into his boots, laced them up and went to ask Clears to add socks to his shopping list.
Breakfast was cut short and then they suited up to leave the safety of the warehouse and find sugar and a pot to try and preserve food for the coming winter.
“I wonder what happened to all the pets,” Millzy said as they stood in front of the doors, ready to head out.
Bert shrugged. “Starved, probably. Or ran away.” He checked his gun. “Maybe we should go and start hunting. Adding fresh meat to the menu can’t hurt.”
“Steak,” Jimmy said wistfully. “What I’d give for a steak...”
Millzy laughed and then, they quieted down and left.
~*+*~
Jimmy felt the sun on his face and had to struggle against the sudden feeling of almost drowsiness that overcame him. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and to pay attention to his surroundings. There was no margin of error here. If he made a mistake, he wasn’t the only one to pay the price.
He lifted his arm to rub at his eyes and get rid of the gritty feeling in them when suddenly, Bert screamed a warning. Gunshots rang out, but before Jimmy could move a single muscle, it was on him.
Unlike the zombies he’d seen from up close so far, this one wasn’t slimy. It had an almost leathery skin, where there still was skin. Instead of eyes, it had deep, dark caves, and its hair was almost completely gone. The teeth were broken and the smell from its mouth was nauseating.
Jimmy was barely aware of the cracked pavement under him or the fact that blood was running in a thin rivulet from his hairline. He didn’t know where Millzy or Bert were. He was only aware of a bony knee in dirty, ripped suitpants pressing into his chest while skeleton fingers pried at his arm while the zombie groaned dully and Jimmy did whatever he could to try and buck it off.
The zombie was strong, despite its almost skeletal appearance and no matter how much Jimmy twisted, squirmed, kicked and struggled, it didn’t let go. It yanked at Jimmy’s arm to get to his face, and somewhere in the part of his brain that wasn’t acting on pure, panic-driven instinct, Jimmy realized that letting the zombie anywhere close to his face was a Bad Idea, with capital letters.
He couldn’t reach his gun. He didn’t even know if he’d lost it or if it was still there. His muscles burned, but panic fueled his strength and he tried to roll, to punch the zombie to make it stop, anything that was in his limited and quickly diminishing power.
He didn’t know how long his struggle lasted when suddenly there was a blow that left his ears ringing and darkness swim in front of his eyes. Dazed and confused, he stopped struggling.
“Shit, Jimmy. Shit. Shit.”
A heavy weight was suddenly lifted off of his chest, and Jimmy coughed weakly and tried to roll to his side.
“Fuck,” Bert spat out. It was shockingly loud in the silence surrounding them, and loud noises went against every rule of survival, but apparently Bert didn’t care about that right now. That couldn’t mean anything good.
Jimmy gasped. Pain was stabbing between his ribs. His head was pounding. He spat out and dazedly looked at the blood on the ground.
His blood.
“We can’t leave him here,” he heard Millzy say.
“No,” Bert agreed grimly. “But if he got bitten, we’ll have to shoot him later.”
An icy shudder ran down Jimmy’s spine at the words. he struggled to get up to his feet and almost fell again as another wave of dizziness swept through him.
“Here’s not the place or the time to discuss this.” Millzy sounded nervous. “I bet the place will be swarming with zombies in a few minutes.” He grabbed Jimmy’s arm and pulled it over his shoulder. “Let’s go home - we can put him down there, if we need to.”
Bert grunted and took Jimmy’s other arm. Steadied by the two of them, Jimmy managed to pry his eyes open.
He didn’t even remember closing them.
Bodies of zombies were littering the street. There were at least ten of them, all of them dressed in tattered suits and business costumes.
Laughter bubbled up in his chest as Jimmy and Bert dragged him off. He tried to hold it back - he knew how dangerous sounds were, but he couldn’t stop himself any longer. Maybe, he thought, this was how Bert was feeling, because the older man was still cursing under his breath.
“What’s so funny?” Bert finally growled.
Jimmy hiccuped. “Did you see that?” he gasped. “They were businesspeople-zombies. They are stronger than professional athletes and they tried to eat my face.”
Bert growled louder. “Not. Funny.”
“No,” Jimmy agreed. A small part of his brain whispered about hysteria, about shock and concussion, but it was easy to ignore it. “Not funny. Why didn’t they just go to McDonald’s if they are so hungry?” He laughed again. “Or Arby’s. A hattrick gets you curly fries...maybe a curly head to eat for the zombies.”
“Really, man?” Millzy asked. He sounded exasperated. “Do you see any restaurant still open in a radius of what, a hundred miles?” He was tense, but Jimmy wasn’t surprised. If they kept talking, chances were high that more zombies would come and try to eat their faces.
“Have you both lost your fucking minds?” Bert asked and cursed again. They crossed an intersection and turned left, Jimmy noted absent-mindedly while still trying to stop the giggling. They were almost home.
“All of us,” Millzy said dryly. It was the last thing Jimmy heard before the darkness at the edges of his consciousness became overwhelming and he simply passed out.
~*+*~
When he woke up, he felt disoriented and dizzy and he was alone. He hadn’t been alone since he’d come to the warehouse. It was a disconcerting feeling.
Panic settled in his bones. Had they abandoned him and left him to die alone?
Shivering, he sat up and looked around.
He was on a thin mattress. A blanket had been thrown over him, to keep him warm. Someone had undressed him, leaving him in his boxers, t-shirt and the socks with the many holes in them.
Heavy ropes had been knotted around his wrists and ankles, and his right forearm was covered with a stark-white bandage.
His heart jumped in his chest. He knew perfectly well what that meant.
He had been bitten.
Infected.
He was doomed.
Within hours, his hair would fall out, his skin would turn into a mottled, bruised green-brown, and he would try to kill everybody he came in contact with.
And then - then someone would come and shoot him.
He pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his forehead on them and tried not to freak out.
~*+*~
“What do we do with him?” Bert asked softly. The entire room was silent, shocked and scared. Intellectually, they had always known that this might happen; that one day, one of them could get bitten, but it was human nature to think that they were invincible after they had managed to escape death and zombies for so long.
Oz swallowed thickly. He was pale and had been since the moment he’d peeled back Jimmy’s jacket and shirt and had spotted the ragged teethmarks in Jimmy’s arm, the crust of drying blood and the beginnings of heavy bruising.
Jimmy was like a kid to him; the only kid he had left. Bile rose in the his throat at the thought of what he was about to say.
What he was willing to do.
They were all thinking it and nobody of them dared to say it, as if it wasn’t true as long as the words weren’t spoken and out, but Chris knew that they had to face reality and do what had to be done.
They couldn’t do anything for Jimmy anymore.
They just could make sure the rest of them survived a little bit longer.
“One of us has to do it,” he said. His voice was shaking, and he balled his hands to tight fists and swallowed. “We have to kill him.”
The uncomfortable silence that settled over them and threatened to paralyze them was interrupted by mumbling and muttering.
“No!”
Silence fell again and all attention turned to Pavel. This was the first word he’d spoken since he and Hank had joined the group.
“No,” Pavel repeated. His voice was rough from disuse, but firm. “We not kill him.”
“We can’t risk letting him live,” Oz said softly. “You know that. It’s too dangerous.”
Pavel gave Hank a look and frowned, and Hank stepped closer to his side.
“We’re not monsters,” he said softly. “We don’t kill our own, Ozzie. Remember what we said? We don’t leave our men behind.” He squeezed Pavel’s hand. “As long as the infection doesn’t set in, Jimmy’s one of ours.”
Chris nodded slowly.
“When...when he turns...” he said haltingly, and Pavel nodded.
“When he turns, he isn’t one of us anymore,” Nick said. “Until then, we need guards.”
Bert lifted his head. “I’ll do it,” he offered. Everyone knew what he was talking about - it wasn’t guard duty.
Chris swallowed thickly. He wanted to tell Bert that he would be the one, but the words didn’t come, and he knew he probably couldn’t do it, no matter if Jimmy turned into a zombie or not.
He loved Jimmy like his own kids. He couldn’t shoot him.
He nodded and grabbed his gun. “I’ll take first watch.”
~*+*~
Jimmy looked up at the sound of heavy steps. He had taken a good look around and had realized that he wasn’t just tied up, but that his teammates had built a cage around him, as well.
Even if he managed to free himself, he would still be in a cage on the first floor of the warehouse. At least they had brought him home instead of abandoning him, but there was no escape for him if he turned and no way he could hurt the others.
In between flashes of absolute terror, he managed to appreciate all of that.
Ozzie appeared on the other side of the cage’s bars.
Jimmy swallowed thickly.
“Are you going to shoot me now?” he asked around the tightness of his throat and chest.
Oz shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “As long as you’re you...and not a zombie...we won’t kill you.”
Jimmy pulled his knees up higher.
“I don’t want to die, Ozzie,” he whispered shakily.
Chris sighed and sat down. “I know, kid,” he said. “I know.”
He didn’t say anything else. There was nothing he could do, and nothing he could say would change anything.
They sat in silence and waited while Jimmy’s time ran out.
~*+*~
“Are you going to shoot me?” Jimmy asked softly.
Bert sighed. “Maybe, kid,” he replied. “If you get worse.”
Jimmy chuckled darkly. “At least now I know,” he said and shifted his shoulders. They were stiff from his enforced inactivity and tension.
“Now you know,” Bert agreed steadily.
They were silent for a moment. Finally, Jimmy sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Bert asked. His voice was still gruff, but it was a more gentle gruffness.
“For disappointing all of you. For getting bitten.” Jimmy shrugged. He had run out of tears long ago, weeks and months before he got bitten, and not even the fact that he would die soon could make him cry now. “This is worse than the nightmares.”
“Nothing you should apologize for,” Bert said.
They fell silent again.
Minutes ticked by.
“What nightmares?” Bert finally asked.
Jimmy shrugged again. He had been so careful to keep his nightmares hidden and not to bother the other guys with it. He hadn’t asked for help in all those nights when he hadn’t been able to sleep and had only faked rest, but it didn’t matter anymore.
He was going to die soon.
“The usual, I guess,” he said. “Zombies in 3D, trying to eat everyone. Eating everyone. Being all alone.”
Bert exhaled. “Why haven’t you told me before?” he wanted to know.
Jimmy thought about the question for a moment. He didn’t have anything to lose anymore, and with that new perspective, his previous concerns about the others not taking him seriously and thinking him to be a liability suddenly seemed small and absolutely childish.
Unimportant.
“Didn’t want to bother you,” he murmured. “We all have them, right? I was doing fine, even without all the sleep.”
Bert shook his head.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he scolded. “We’re a fucking team. Tell me about your nightmares.”
“Why? It doesn’t make a difference anymore.” Jimmy shook his head.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Bert repeated. “You’re one of us. Now talk, or I’ll shoot you in the foot just for being so fucking dumb.”
Jimmy smiled softly and leaned his head back against the wall. He was feeling warm suddenly, and he knew that if this was a fever, his days were really numbered. The infection always started with a fever.
“You really want to know?”
“Yeah.”
There was no hesitation in Bert’s voice, and slowly, haltingly, Jimmy began to talk.
~*+*~
“It’s been five days.”
Nick stepped closer to Chris and, acting on impulse, wrapped both arms around the smaller man.
“Usually, the infection takes hold after two days, maximum,” Chris continued. “It’s been five. He’s had a low-grade fever, and that’s it.”
“I know.” Nick rocked him gently.
“I don’t know what that means,” Chris admitted shakily. “The waiting, it’s killing me. Sometimes I wish it was over, just so we can move on.”
Nick nodded. “I know.” As horrible as it sounded, he felt the same.
Chris sighed into Nick’s shoulder. “Do you think...you think there’s something like an immunity?”
“I don’t know.” Nick shrugged and glanced down, at the area around them. Wind was whipping their hair and sent small shivers through him, and the sun was setting in a fiery red fireball at the horizon.
“We should wait another week, to make sure,” Chris said softly. “Now a real medical facility with doctors and equipment would be good, you know?”
“I know.” Nick reached up and brushed his hand through Chris’ hair. It was growing long again, longer than it had been in years, and it made the other man look impossibly young.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he murmured into Chris’ ear. “Something that might be a long-term plan. Maybe.”
Chris nodded. “I’m listening,” he said before shivering. “Maybe we should go back inside first,” he then added dryly.
Nick smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s go back inside and I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking we should do next year.”
“Next year.” Chris laughed. “It’s been a while since we dared look ahead that far.”
“True, but maybe it’s time, now that things are dark - to look for the silver lining.”
It sounded corny, like something from a fortune cookie, and he had never been one for big speeches, but, Nick thought as Chris looked up at him with a small smile and new hope in his eyes and shoulders, his words had done the trick and had given Chris new strength.
And that was all that counted.
~*+*~
Jimmy looked up at the sound of heavy boots coming closer to his cage. Homer, who was leaning against the far wall and was sketching something onto a pad of paper Pavel, or Clears, or one of the others, had found for him, fell silent at the clatter.
Jimmy felt a thick ball of dread form at the base of his throat and tightening, threatening to suffocate him.
He was feeling fine.
He wasn’t a zombie.
He didn’t want to die.
The door was pushed open and Nick, Bert and Oz appeared. All three were armed to the teeth.
Jimmy rose to his feet. His knees felt weak and trembled, but he was determined not to die sitting down.
“Are you here to finish this? End it?” he asked, his voice almost calm and detached.
Chris moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “We’re here to end this,” he confirmed softly.
Jimmy clenched his teeth and nodded.
He had known that this would happen sooner or later.
“I don’t feel worse,” he said softly. “I feel good. Normal. Better, even.”
Chris and Nick exchanged a glance.
“Jimmy,” Nick asked after a moment of tense, uncomfortable silence. “Do you know how long you’ve been in here?”
Jimmy frowned. This wasn’t a question he had expected.
“Not sure,” he admitted, self-conscious all of a sudden. “Why?”
“It’s been twelve days,” Chris said gently.
Jimmy’s frown deepened. “Twelve days - but it only takes two or three days for the infection to turn you...” he trailed off. “What does that mean?”
Chris shrugged. “Honestly, we don’t know,” he admitted. “But it looks like you’re lucky.”
“You think...” Jimmy’s thoughts were racing. “You think I’m immune.”
Nick nodded. “Probably.”
“What if I am?”
“We let you out of that cage,” Chris answered calmly. “And you don’t try to pull a stunt like this again, you hear me?”
“What if I’m not? If I just need longer to display the symptoms?”
“In that case, we will probably regret letting you out,” Chris said. “We’ll end up losing a few guys. But it’s been twelve days. You’re probably really fine, Jimmy.” His voice was trembling now, and it made Jimmy’s heartbeat pick up erratically.
Nick nodded and pulled a key out of his pocket. It belonged to the padlock on the chains that kept the cage closed. Jimmy watched in disbelief as Nick unlocked the cage and the door swung open.
He still couldn’t believe it. A big part of him was convinced that he was dreaming.
He stepped out of the cage and blinked. Nick cut the ropes around his wrists, and all Jimmy could do was to stand there and blink.
The next thing he knew, Chris had pulled him into a tight embrace and showed no sign that he would be willing to let go in the foreseeable future.
Jimmy was surprisingly fine with that.
~*+*~
“There is soup - we found an entire crate of the stuff,” Bert said as he followed Jimmy up the stairs, carefully making sure the younger man didn’t stumble. Jimmy was still dazed by the unexpected development of events, and Bert had to nudge him to get his attention.
“We moved your stuff,” he said.
Jimmy’s shoulders tensed under the thin cotton of his shirt. There was a defeated expression on his face that told Bert everything he needed to know about Jimmy’s current thought process.
He rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be stupid,” he growled and nudged him none too gently toward the corner where Drew’s and his own cots were. “Be thankful we’re hockey players and not scientists and didn’t try to take you apart to find out how you’re immune. And get dressed. I’ll get you some soup.”
Jimmy stared dumbfoundedly at him, then at the cot between Drew’s and Bert’s and the neat pile of clothes on it, a pile, he slowly realized, that also had new, whole socks.
“And the next time you get nightmares?” Bert added while pretending to be gruff and unaffected by Jimmy’s thankful looks. “You reach out and wake either me or Drew, you hear me?”
Jimmy nodded, eager like a young puppy, and Bert didn’t fight when he was suddenly wrapped into a tight hug.
He was just as glad that he didn’t have to shoot Jimmy and that they all were okay.
~*+*~
“You think we should leave the city.”
It wasn’t a question, but Nick nodded in reply anyways. Next to him, Homer was working more or less quietly, transforming a goalie stick into a deadly weapon for Jimmy. Chris was on his other side, facing the rest of their little group.
“Find a quiet place, start from the beginning?” Clears asked.
“Yes,” Chris said. “Somewhere to grow our own food, somewhere with less zombies and the chance to establish a base from which we can send out teams to find other survivors. Maybe even find out about California.”
“What if someone comes looking for us here?” Drapes wanted to know.
Nick shrugged and smiled. “We’ll leave a message. Besides, we don’t have to decide now. If we leave, we probably should do it after winter.”
Chris nodded.
“After winter?” Bert asked.
Nick grinned. “We have all the time in the world,” he promised. “All the time we want to decide.”
He sounded comfortable with waiting, and Chris grinned suddenly. “As long as you don’t rely on plants alone to defend us against zombies,” he grumbled, his protests more or less playful.
Nick glanced at Homer again. “I don’t think we need to do that,” he answered. “We know that stairs are a problem for zombies. So are tall walls. If we all help, we could fortify a small village for our needs within a few weeks.”
“Good.” Chris nudged him slightly. “As long as we’re together, right?”
“Right,” Nick agreed, and his sentiment was echoed by the guys in the room.
Come what may - as long as they had each other, they would make it through this, and nothing could stop them.
Not even zombies.
They would be fine.
~*.end.*~