When the World Comes In Part Three
They had been skirting the city, trying to find a way in. The way in was, of course, blocked. Jon assured Ryan that he could get them through, or rather, around.
Aside from that, Jon didn’t talk much.
Ryan was all set to chalk it up to being out in the city close to dark with the zombies pressing in, constant vigilance and all that, only there was a lot about Jon that invited conversation. He made eye contact, his body language was sort of open. He seemed like a warm guy.
But when Ryan touched his shoulder to give him a heads up about the pot hole he was about to walk in to, Jon turned on him so fast that Ryan stumbled backwards.
Jon apologized quickly. “Sorry, sorry, you just startled me,” he said.
“That’s okay,” Ryan said. After Jon started walking out in front again, Ryan met Spencer’s eyes. Spencer raised his eyebrows, but Ryan waved him off.
So the guy was weird and a little touchy. There were worse people out there.
-
They walked south for what seemed like forever. Chicago was strange empty. Not that Ryan had anything to compare it to. Ryan tried to pay attention to street signs, but the route Jon led them on had so many twists and turns that there was no way Ryan could remember them all.
It was cool. Spencer probably had a map.
The gun shots decreased gradually until there were long stretches of dead silence between them. It was almost creepier that way.
There were trees along the sidewalk. They were flowering and dropping petals over parked cars and out into the street. Grass poked out through cracks in the sidewalk and the pavement. And all around them, buildings. It was incongruous and desolate and kind of beautiful. It felt like the end of the world. Probably because it was the end of the world.
Ryan was looking at a tall orange flower growing in the middle of an intersection when Jon started shooting. Ryan’s reaction time was never going to be great, but it was a lot better than it had ever been. He looked passed Jon and started firing, too.
It wasn’t anything like the massive group of zombies just off the freeway, but it was more than they had seen in the last hour or so. A lot more. If Ryan had to guess, and he was a terrible guesser, he’d say there were around 60 or so.
Maybe they had gotten lost.
They’d be fine. Ryan knew for sure that each one of them could definitely outrun zombies at their back. Only Ryan saw Tennessee look directly past his shoulder. It was like it happened in slow motion. Her face dropped and then her eyes got hard and she raised her gun.
Ryan turned to look. At the opposite intersection, there were twice as many zombies. It didn’t matter how fast they could run if both ends of the intersection were blocked.
Spencer pulled Ryan back and started trying random doors. Brendon stayed close to Ryan, firing in the opposite direction. That was when Ryan saw Z and Tennessee and Alex running down a narrow alley way on the opposite side of the street. The Zombies were slow, but it took long enough for Ryan to drag Spencer away from a door that was never going to open, that when Ryan looked up again he couldn’t see anything down the alley but zombie bodies, crushing together and following them. It all happened so fast.
He heard shots that could only be from Z or Tennessee or Alex. They were close, but not close enough. Shots were a good sign. Probably.
The zombies were closing in. If they didn’t find somewhere to hide soon, they weren’t ever going to be able to find the Z and Tennessee and Alex. It’s hard to look for shit when you’re dead. There was a parking garage, but that seemed like a recipe for disaster. Things never ended well in parking garages, Ryan was pretty sure.
Ryan looked back at Jon just as he shot the handle off the door of a pizza place. Jon herded Spencer and Brendon in as Ryan did his best to cover them. Only when he was in did Jon follow him and shut the door.
Brendon and Spencer moved a table in front of the door. Yeah, Ryan thought, that’ll hold em.
Brendon was still pushing chairs and small tables in front of the door when Jon shouted, “Here, I found an exit. It’s clear.”
Brendon’s barricade was starting to move, thin metal legs of the biggest table scraping against the linoleum floor. They followed the sound of Jon’s voice through the kitchen and out to the back door. If it was clear now, it probably wouldn’t be for long.
-
"We'll go with you," Brendon said.
"No." Jon shook his head. "No. You'll just slow me down." He looked guilty for a half second, guilty enough for Ryan to notice it. Spencer began to protest, but Jon spoke over him. "Really, I know my way around and you don't. It's safer this way and I can handle it. Plus, Pete will kill me if I lose you, too."
It felt like they were giving up too easy, but he did have a point. They didn't know their way around and if they got lost - well, there was only one of two options if they got lost. Either Jon would have to find them, too, or something else would.
"I’ll find them, okay?" Jon said. He didn’t go as far as making promises, but only just. Ryan believed him. He didn't know why, but he did, so he nodded.
Spencer grabbed Ryan’s hand and asked Jon, "Just straight three blocks and make a right."
"Yeah. Three blocks north, six east. Can't miss it. Just ask for Tom or Pete, okay?" Jon hesitated before adding, "Be careful. And tell Dylan I'll be home a little late." It was the most they had heard Jon talk since they’d found him.
It was too late to tell Jon to be safe, too. He was already starting to jog towards the street the others had disappeared down. The three of them watched for a second then turned to run in the other direction.
-
Jon was right. They really could not have missed it if they tried. Just the fence surrounding the compound, or whatever the hell it was, must have spanned five or six city blocks.
They didn't see anyone, not a single person. Yeah, sure, Jon had seemed nice-ish, but apocalypses brought out all sorts of psychopaths and Ryan was beginning to wonder.
Ryan reached out to thread his fingers through the chain links and see if he could get a better look, but before he could Spencer pulled him back.
"Electric," he said. Ryan noticed the low hum for the first time and wondered how he'd missed it. Brendon muttered something about Jurassic Park.
"Hello?" Brendon called out, loud, but not as loud as he could.
There was the sound of a buzzer and the humming stopped. Brendon reached toward the gate, but stilled his hand just before touching it. He looked over at Spencer and Ryan and shrugged. "Here goes."
The gate opened easily, and once they were in, Ryan shut it behind them. Still they saw no one.
"So," Brendon said conversationally, "this is creepy."
"How creepy?" Spencer asked. "Like if we're rating on a scale from one to, say, zombie apocalypse I'm pretty sure we're only at a four, five tops."
"Um. I guess whatever's inside is at least marginally better than what's out there." Ryan said. He looked back at the fence. It suddenly seemed much further away. They had closed the distance quickly. There was a whole new door in front of them now.
They didn't have time to worry about opening it because before any of them could reach for the handle the door swung wide and three people spilled out. The first guy had turned back to say something to the other two, so he nearly ran into Ryan. In turn, Ryan stumbled back into Brendon.
"Woah," he said, reaching out to right Ryan. "Sorry, I should probably watch where I'm going."
"That's. No, I'm fine," Ryan said. Brendon's hand was still protectively hovering at the small of his back.
There was an awkward silence that Ryan and the other guy tried to fill at the same time. He said, "So you guys are new?" when Ryan said, "Tom? Is there a Tom here? Or a, I forget, a Paul or something?"
"Pete," Spencer provided helpfully.
"That's me," the guy said.
"You're Pete?" Brendon said.
"No, Tom," one of the other guys said.
"You're Tom?" Ryan said, because that was a weird coincidence, right? That they'd run into the exact two guys they were looking for.
"No, sorry man, I'm Ryan. He's Tom."
"Wait, I'm Ryan." Ryan frowned. "Are we being hazed or something?"
The guy who wasn't Ryan or Tom started laughing, bright and friendly. Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me, my name's Sean."
Brendon started laughing, too, and that made it easier to sort out everyone's names.
"We ran into Jon," Spencer explained, "and he sent us to you."
"Wait, Jon didn't come back with you?" Tom asked. Tom suddenly looked a lot less amused and Ryan suddenly felt a familiar surge of guilt. They shouldn’t have left him. It was stupid to leave him.
It didn’t take long to explain, but even after Tom looked less alarmed, Ryan’s guilt had not abated. Not for leaving Jon and not for leaving Z and Tennessee and Alex.
In the end, Tom and Sean went out to look for Jon and Ryan took them to see Pete.
-
Pete was not quite what they expected.
"That's Pete Wentz," Ryan said idiotically, to like everyone in the room. "You're Pete Wentz."
Pete Wentz grinned and there were Pete Wentz's teeth. The end of the world had finally driven Ryan insane. Oh well, at least Spencer and Brendon were safe now and Ryan could afford little luxuries like going mad.
Pete took them down to a very large, very modern looking kitchen for sandwiches. They told him about Jon while Pete pulled ingredients from the fridge and made little noises to assure them that he was listening. There was mustard and mayo, which wasn't all that surprising given their shelf life, but when he tucked his head back in and proceeded to put cheese and tomatoes and onion on the counter, Brendon said, "Oh my god, is that cheddar?"
"Are those onions?" Spencer echoed.
Pete grinned, "We have a garden. And a very resourceful cook."
Ryan felt his mouth actually start to water.
As he sliced a loaf of what must have been fresh bread. Pete looked back at them. "Don't worry about Jon," he said. "If anyone can find your friends, Jon can. He's pretty resourceful, too. He's little and spry." Pete didn't really acknowledge that he was tiny himself, and Spencer's light laugh died into silence.
People kept saying that. That Jon would be a-okay. But Ryan was still nervous. They seemed to have the whole zombie apocalypse sort of managed in Chicago, but. Zombies were pretty much zombies no matter where you found them. Shit was still dangerous. Ryan couldn’t believe otherwise. But Pete Wentz obviously trusted Jon Walker, and maybe it was somewhat idiotic - very idiotic, very, very - but Ryan pretty much bought it.
"Um, do you want help with that?" Brendon asked, breaking into Ryan’s ridiculous thought process.
"I got it," Pete said. "Why don't you guys tell me where you're from?"
It didn't take long to tell their story, about how they grew up in Vegas and lived in Vegas and had a band in Vegas, and about how after nearly everyone died and came back, they started hearing things from people who had heard things from someone else that there was something happening in Chicago. They told him that Z and Tennessee and Alex were from LA and they had heard the same something.
Ryan finished up with, "I guess this is that something." He was this close to asking Pete if he had ever listened to that demo he'd sent him, but then he shut his mouth. He could tell Pete about how he knew him from the internet at some point when he wasn't making him lunch. Jesus, his life was weird.
"We make a decent sandwich, anyway." Pete carried over three plates, one resting in the crook of his elbow, and slid them on to the table one after another. They were heavy plates, and they made a nice, hollow sound against the wood. Ryan thought how strange it was, the way something completely unexpected could make him feel safe, because not even the big electric fence out there was as comforting as this.
"Drinks?" Pete asked. All three of them had their mouths full, but they managed to convey that they'd drink whatever and so much the better if it was actually cold.
Pete sat with them and gave them some time to enjoy their food that didn't come from a can or a box. Ryan guessed he was just a nice guy like that.
He chatted idly about nothing in particular, and Ryan began to wonder if he was gearing up to hit them with the not so great news. He figured there had to be another shoe and Pete was just softening them up so he could drop it.
It wasn't quite like a shoe, but Pete did segue around to more meaning full conversation.
"So," he said, and he rapped his knuckles on the table a couple of times. "The fence. It's designed to keep them out, not you in. You can leave anytime you want. More importantly, unless you, like, murder puppies or insult Joe's cooking or Patrick's anything, you can always, always come back. Understood?"
Brendon had stopped chewing to listen. Ryan nodded. Spencer said, "Okay."
Pete ran a hand through his hair. It looked like there was a lot of product in there. Ryan shouldn't have been surprised, but he kind of was. Pete continued, "I don't know, man. I mean, I've seen those movies, too. People worry. I just, this isn't some kind of prison and I'm not your warden. I'm not even your boss. Just, think of this as like a really big orphanage. For those displaced by zombies."
That didn't sound so bad. Ryan took another bite and washed it down with some juice. Pete was staring at him, his head cocked to the side like he was trying to work something out.
"Sorry," he said, "You just look super familiar to me. You sure this is your first time in Chicago?"
Ryan nodded his head and swallowed audibly. "I'm sure. But, um..."
"Ever been to a Fall Out Boy show?"
"Yeah, yeah, I, um. I sent you-"
It was like he could actually see things clicking into place behind Pete's eyes. "Ryan Ross from Las Vegas," he said slowly. "You're those kids from that band!" Pete grinned wildly at them. "Hey, hey, you guys weren't bad. Do you still play?"
Ryan rubbed at his nose a little and tried not to smile like an idiot. "Yeah, I mean theoretically?"
Brendon interrupted, "Uh, no. We haven't really played since the zombies happened."
"Yeah, shit happens I guess," Pete said. "Anyway, I'm really glad you guys made it all the way out here. It's cool you're still alive and everything. Small fuckin world, right? Crazy." Pete shook his head like he just marveled at the world every single day. "Ice cream?"
"No shit," Spencer said.
"Yep." Pete slid out of his chair and headed for the freezer. They weren't about to say no to ice cream.
Pete brought four bowls to the table and a metal tub that presumably held delicious, delicious ice cream. "So, I got side tracked. Where was I?"
"Orphanage," Brendon said. He dragged his eyes away from the tub. Ryan would have laughed at him, only, ice cream.
"Right," Pete said. He stood to dish it out. "That's basically it. I mean, we'll want to figure out a way for you guys to contribute to all this." He waved the hand with the scoop around, and said, "It's good for morale," by way of explanation. "But we'll let you get settled in first."
Pete passed them bowls. Ryan stared at his a minute. It was chocolate.
"So, we're good?" Pete asked.
"We're good," Ryan said. He picked up his spoon.
"Man," Pete said, "I really can't get over this."
No one answered. There was, however, the happy sound of spoons scraping up ice cream.
"Oh," Brendon said around his last mouthful, "do you know where we can find Dylan? This ice cream is great, by the way." He washed it down with a gulpful of Dr Pepper, because he was Brendon Urie and he did shit like that. Ryan couldn't help watching the way he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He caught Spencer doing the same. They were exhausted, not dead.
"What?" Pete smiled and talked around his spoon. It was sort of disgusting.
"Did I get it wrong?" Brendon asked. "Jon asked us to tell Dylan he'd be home late?"
Pete laughed. "I bet he did. Finish up, I'll get this cleaned up and take you to Dylan."
-
"This is Jon's room?" Ryan asked.
Pete nodded.
"And Dylan's in there?" Brendon said.
Pete nodded again.
"And we can just go on in..." Spencer said. Jon’s door was open a crack, but it still seemed weird to just waltz in like they owned the place.
"Hey, Jon asked you to, right?" Pete shoved his hands in his pockets. "Speaking of Jon, I'm gonna go see if anyone's heard from him. I'll come find you guys as soon as your friends get here, alright?"
"Sure." Spencer's hand was on the door, but he hadn't pushed it open yet.
Pete started walking back the way they had come in. "Don't go far!" Pete called back cheerfully.
Spencer and Brendon and Ryan looked at each other. Brendon knocked on the door, then pushed it open for him.
There was no one in Jon's room.
"Why do I feel like we've been the butt of a joke, like, all day?" Spencer asked no one in particular.
"I don't know, Pete Wentz seems nice." Brendon said. He pushed past Spencer and tugged at Ryan's shirt until they both followed him in.
Brendon sat on Jon's bed and bounced a little. It was a nice bed, much nicer than a mattress on the floor of a warehouse.
"I don't think...Maybe we should wait somewhere else," Spencer said from the doorway.
Brendon shrugged. "Pete Wentz told us not to go far. Besides, we told Jon we'd tell Dylan." Brendon flopped back on Jon's sheets. "I'm not about to abandon my post."
"Stop calling him Pete Wentz," Ryan said.
Brendon laughed from his back with his feet on the floor, and whatever minor irritation Ryan was feeling flew right out the window. Speaking of window. Ryan glanced at it and caught a flash of something moving behind the curtain.
"Wait," Brendon said. "Do you think Dylan is some kind of imaginary friend? I mean Jon was a little..." Brendon waved his hand around his ear.
"I liked him," Spencer said. He walked over to Brendon and kicked at his feet. "Stop hogging his bed."
Brendon wriggled over without getting up and Spencer sat down next to him.
"I'm pretty sure he's not crazy," Ryan said as he reached behind the curtain to retrieve who could only be Dylan. "Or if he is, he's not the kind of crazy with imaginary friends."
Ryan placed Dylan gently on Brendon's chest and squeezed onto the bed between Brendon and the wall.
"Dylan's a cat," Brendon said. Brendon scratched behind Dylan's ears. "Hi, Dylan. Jon will be back soon."
Dylan purred.
-
Pete did not actually come and get them when Jon came back. When Jon came back, Pete was busy finding a doctor. He did, however, send someone down to retrieve them.
Brendon came to when Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy poked his head in the door and said, "We're going to keep the whole sleeping on Jon's bed thing a secret, okay? I don't want him to hurt you when he's up and around again."
Brendon nudged Spencer awake. Ryan said, "Up and around again?"
"Follow me," Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy said. They did.
"Is Jon okay?" Brendon asked Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy.
"Yeah, he's fine, just a sprained ankle. Hey, I'm Patrick, by the way."
"Yeah, we know," Spencer said. He rubbed at his eye. "Next time you might wanna lead with the sprained ankle part, you know, what with death and destruction around every corner and everything."
Brendon really liked a freshly woken up Spencer, even if no one else in the entire world did.
"Oh," Patrick said, "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just that Jon's pretty lucky pretty often. You don't know that, though. Sorry."
Spencer stopped. "Aren't you afraid you'll jinx him?"
"It's zombies, not baseball. I'm pretty sure he's impervious to jinxing," Patrick said, like he'd given it thought before.
They passed a wooden door. Brendon watched Spencer knock on it, just in case.
"Hey," Ryan said, "the people Jon was looking for? Are they here too?"
The door behind them opened, and Brendon turned to see a woman with wild blond hair stick her head out the door. "Patrick?" she said.
"Hey, Greta," he said. "Joe's upstairs with Jon. We had an accidental knocking."
Greta smiled. It was a nice one and Brendon liked her immediately. Sure, Brendon found himself liking a lot of people immediately these days, but he liked to think it had more to do with the people being great than them being the only people around who weren’t flesh eating monsters.
"I'll come with you," she said, and then for the dozenth or so time that day there were introductions all around.
"The people Jon was looking for?" Ryan prompted again, but it turned out Ryan didn't need an answer. They had reached the kitchen and Z had thrown her arms around Ryan's neck.
Then Tennessee snuck up on Brendon, and the next five minutes were lost to all of them apparently making up for the last six months of huglessness in the space of a very short time. Brendon may have accidentally hugged Spencer at one point, but neither of them complained about it.
Brendon hugged Jon carefully. He was sitting on the kitchen table with a lumpy, ice filled towel wrapped around his ankle. Jon was stiff at first, and just sort of accepting of Brendon's arms around him without fully committing to returning it. But after a moment or two, Jon leaned some weight on him and wrapped an arm around Brendon's waist.
The room was full of everyone Brendon knew in the entire world. And even if technically he didn't know most of them all that well, he definitely knew that he wanted to keep knowing them.
-
Joe made Jon coffee after things started to settle down. They listened to it gurgle and drip while Jon told them what happened. Alex and Z chimed in here and there, but Tennessee mainly looked tired. She and Brendon sat on opposite sides of the table, their heads propped up by their hands. If Spencer hadn’t been so absorbed in the story, he probably could have gotten Ryan to go in with him on who would drop off first.
It wasn’t an unusual story in that it mainly consisted of a lot of running from zombies.
“So I basically just followed the gunshots, you know?” Jon said. He left out the part where he’d been afraid of the sound stopping altogether, but it didn’t matter because everyone heard it anyway.
Joe poured Jon a cup of coffee and Jon curled both hands around it. “This is going to keep me up all night,” he said.
Joe raised an eyebrow and shook his hair out of his face. “That’s why I have the secret ingredient.” He pulled some Jameson’s off a bench and tipped the last of it into Jon’s mug.
Jon laughed and said, “Thanks,” and went right back to telling how he had finally caught up with Alex and Z and Tennessee in a park.
When he got to the part where he twisted his ankle stumbling in a pothole, Spencer saw Jon dart a quick glance at Ryan, then right back to his hands around the mug. It was silly that so small a thing could stick out so clearly in Spencer’s mind.
“Wow,” Pete told Jon, “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk that much, like, ever.”
Jon smiled and shrugged. “Whiskey.”
“Nah,” Pete said, knocking on the table near Jon’s ankle, “We just found a way to keep you around long enough to talk.”
"So you ran all the way here on that ankle?" Joe asked.
"No." Jon smiled. "Z hot-wired a car."
-
Jon slept in the next morning. His alarm rang at 5:23 and instead of hitting the snooze button, he shut it off. Some combination of the excitement from the previous day and his minor, yet terribly annoying injury had left him exhausted. It wasn't like he could do much outside the fence anyway.
As a direct result, Jon hobbled down to breakfast much later than usual. Late enough that there were people there. Eating. And talking. And asking him if they could help him get his food. He had a sprained ankle, he wasn't bed ridden. He could get his own breakfast.
Jon didn't mean to be gruff; it was only that in recent months he’d grown unused to talking quite so much.
Things had mostly cleared out by the time Jon finished eating. He was busy nursing his coffee, wondering what he was going to do with the day ahead of him, when Ryan and Spencer and Brendon came down. Brendon smiled at him and Ryan waved. Jon waved back. He was reclusive, maybe, but he had manners.
Jon knew before they had even loaded up their plates that they were going to join him at his table.
Spencer brought him a fresh cup of coffee when the three of them came to sit with him. Jon sighed inwardly. He couldn't leave after they brought him coffee, he just didn't have it in him.
Jon had brought plenty of people in over the past couple months. They had all seemed nice enough, but Jon really only saw them in passing from time to time. For whatever reason, these three kids he had talked to more in the past two days than he had to anyone who wasn't Tom in the past six months. He didn't even talk to Pete this much, he thought.
Jon glanced across the room to where Alex and Z and Tennessee were eating with a handful of people he vaguely recognized. Two of the girls had come from New York, Annie and something with an L. It wasn't Liliana, but for some reason it was the only L name his head would allow him to think. He had found them two weeks ago, or there abouts, anyway.
Why couldn't these kids be more like that table? Jon was really glad they were alive and well, but he was also really glad they were pretty much ignoring him.
Just as he formulated the thought, Tennessee looked up and smiled at him, toothy and bright. She waved.
Okay, so much for ignoring him.
Brendon was talking and Jon had missed nearly all of it. Something about coffee, he thought.
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, Tom told us we had to ask you about your killer coffee." Brendon took a bite of eggs and looked at him expectantly. He seemed to get distracted almost immediately after, thank god, and he looked down at his plate. "Man, these eggs must be fresh. They are so good." He paused for another bite, then looked back up at Jon. "Hey, what are you doing today, Jon Walker?"
-
"So," Spencer asked, "What do you guys do for fun around here?"
The question left Jon unbalanced, so much so that he stopped walking (hobbling) out of the dining room. Fun. Jon used to be really into fun. He was, like, good at having it. “I don’t know,” Jon said sort of dumbly. Because he didn’t. He had no idea what people did for fun around here.
“Okay, what do you guys do around here that is neither fun nor not fun?” Brendon asked. He didn’t sound like he was judging Jon, which was better than the alternative, Jon supposed. He mostly sounded like he was going to work around that particular barrier. Jon didn’t know them all that well, but he had definitely caught on pretty quickly that Brendon and Spencer and Ryan could be pretty persistent.
“I’m, uh. I’m not here a lot actually?”
“Right,” Ryan said, “because you’re out there.” Ryan nodded in the direction of the front gate. “I’m gonna…” Ryan held out his arm and it took Jon a minute to figure out that he meant to help him.
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
Ryan slipped his arm around Jon’s waist and Jon’s arm automatically folded over Ryan’s shoulder. Spencer snuck in on the other side and suddenly Jon didn’t have to work so hard at keeping weight off his ankle.
It wasn’t altogether terrible.
Brendon walked backwards down the hall. “Okay, but when you are here and you’re not having fun or, like sleeping, what do you do then?”
Jon thought for a minute. “I have this cat,” he said. “We hang out.” Wow, that really sounded lame when he said it out loud like that.
Brendon grinned and Spencer laughed at his side. “Oh Dylan? Yeah, we go way back. Let’s go say hi, then.”
-
Brendon walked two chairs over to Jon’s bed while Spencer wedged a pillow under Jon’s leg and resituated his bag of ice. Jon felt kind of hemmed in for a minute, but it turned out if he just let himself be sort of awkwardly silent for a minute, it passed. He entertained the notion of asking them to go so he could get some rest, but when he turned it over in his head, he found that he didn’t want to. Not because it would be rude, but because his morning had actually turned out much better than he thought it would. He thought it might be because of Brendon and Spencer and Ryan.
When Spencer finished getting Jon all settled, he looked around for a third chair. Jon didn’t have one. Jon never really knew why he had the two, truth be told. No one ever sat in them.
Jon scooted over minutely on the bed; just enough so Spencer knew he didn’t expect him to sit on the floor or something.
As soon as Spencer sat, Dylan hopped down from the windowsill and started kneading at Spencer’s calves. Jon reached over to scratch below her jaw and said, “So, Vegas, huh?”
It wasn’t in Jon’s top ten conversation openers, but it worked alright.
-
“So,” Pete said one day.
Ryan had been minding his own business, watching Brendon try to wheedle a foot massage out of Spencer. Who was having none of it because he was mean spirited and awful in general if you believed Brendon. Across the room, Tennessee was alternately playing with the ends of Z’s new short hair and explaining something that obviously needed wild hand gestures. Laena looked like she wasn’t buying any of it. Sean and Tom and the other Ryan were playing some game with cards and counting, and for a minute or two, Ryan had thought about joining them, but he was more than okay with just sitting back and watching. He kept entertaining the notion of going to find Jon, who was probably in his room, but he hadn’t gotten up the nerve just yet. There was something weird about Jon. Ryan liked him, but he made him sad, too.
“So,” Pete started again when Ryan looked up. “The great thing about zombies hanging out in packs is that you can kill a boat load of the mother fuckers all at once.”
Pete had a plan, probably because he was the asshole who thought up ways to get people killed. That was like his job or something, Ryan didn't know.
And yeah, it wasn't a bad idea, necessarily. It was simple and easy to execute and it would probably work. The only downside was that the plan involved putting two, maybe three people in a very dangerous situation. The benefit would be killing a bunch of zombies, though, so. Toss up.
So it was Brendon. It was always going to be Brendon. Because Brendon was small and fast and good at killing zombies from up close. Also, Brendon was an idiot who said things like, "I'll do it."
Everyone was still talking strategy, Brendon bouncing his leg and leaning in to hear every word. Ryan's vision blurred for a second, so fixedly was he staring at Brendon in his blue shirt with his stupid wide eyes, chewing on the corner of his mouth.
Everything came back into focus when Brendon started talking again. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, “No, I get it. I just. I don’t know the way and it’ll be night right?”
“It’s cool,” Sean said, “We’ll be there, too. I’ll guide you.”
-
Andy had a beat up copy of The Anarchist Cookbook. Because of course he did.
“It’s how people built bombs before the internet.” Andy said. “And after it I guess. Though anarchist is a bit of a misnomer.”
Andy was only supposed to show Z and Brendon and Jon how to safely handle the explosives, but he wound up explaining how to make them, too. And where to pick up the material. And how to extract something from something else to get something explosive. Brendon sort of stopped paying attention once he was sure he wasn’t going to accidentally blow himself up before he could blow up all the zombies.
-
Getting the sewage plans from city hall was an endeavor. Not because of zombies, but because god damn, was that place hard to navigate without someone to show them around. Ryan was pretty sure their organization was all locked in a computer somewhere, but fat lot of good that did them now.
They found them eventually. And maybe the place was a little worse off for their having been there, but there was nobody to tell on them.
-
They planned thoroughly, but they didn’t waste a lot of time getting the ball rolling. Just about enough time for Jon’s ankle to heal, basically.
And then late one night, Spencer thought it was a Tuesday, but it was hard to keep track these days, they went out into the dark. They stayed close for as long as they were able, but eventually they had to split up. The idea was to place the bombs far apart enough to kill the most zombies. Eventually, they’d be blocks apart, under the city, doing the exact same job.
Jon and Ashlee and Tom and Pete broke off first. “Bye,” Ashlee said, turning back to wave at them with her walkie talkie clutched in her hand. Jon looked back, but he didn’t wave or say anything. Spencer stared after him as he walked away.
In a few minutes, Z and Tennessee and Alex and Greta broke off, too, heading in the opposite direction. Before they got too far, Z doubled back to hug Ryan. She said something too low for Spencer to hear. Everything started to feel very big. Like real goodbyes. Spencer didn’t like it.
That left Brendon and Ryan and Spencer and Sean. They were almost there.
-
Ryan helped Spencer uncover the manhole. They were heavier than they looked, and Ryan lost his grip on his side, sending it clattering into the concrete. It echoed down the street and into the night. Nobody moved for a minute, listening in the dark. When no zombies came lumbering toward them from the shadows, Spencer exhaled and chanced a glance at Ryan. Ryan made a face. “Sorry,” he said.
Sean dropped down first, then Brendon. Spencer made Ryan go before him, but there were still no zombies waiting to snatch him up before he could make it into the sewer.
It was pitch black until Spencer found his flashlight. He shone it on his map of the sewers, but he had their route pretty well ingrained in his memory.
“Alright,” Sean said, flicking his hair out of his face. “Now I guess we just try not to touch anything.”
Spencer shuddered. They walked.
They could hear it when they got close, the zombie moans. It echoed underground, muffled by their shuffling feet and the concrete above.
If Spencer had read the map right, they should be just under the thick of the hoard. “Okay,” he said. “We’re here”
Sean pulled off his backpack and rummaged around a little. He pulled out the bomb and passed it to Brendon. “Okay, kid, do your thing.” He clapped Brendon on the shoulder, even though Spencer thought that maybe wasn’t the smartest gesture ever, given how he was holding explosives and everything.
“Okay,” Brendon said. “Just five seconds of terrifying, then no more zombies, right?”
“Right,” Spencer said. Technically, there’d still be zombies, but who had time for technically.
“Right,” Brendon echoed. “Gimme a boost?”
Brendon bit his lip as he pressed up on the manhole cover. He slid it over very slowly and carefully. Spencer kept waiting for the sound, the slide of the metal against the street above, but it never came. It took him much too long to realize that he couldn’t hear it over the shuffling and groaning of so many zombies crushed so tightly together.
Spencer held his breath while Brendon reached up and set the explosives down on the street.
Brendon brought his arm back inside with exaggerated slowness. Spencer could have sworn he’d cleared it, but at the last second, Brendon’s entire body jerked upward.
Spencer saw teeth gleaming from above Brendon. They were barred and dirty and bloody. He saw Ryan aim his rifle, thin arms steady in the dim light. He couldn’t get a clear shot. Brendon was moving too much. Spencer watched as grimy hands clutched at Brendon, pressing onto the flesh of his forearms and pulling up. Without thinking, Spencer grabbed Brendon by the waist and pulled down as hard as he could.
Spencer landed hard on the wet floor of the sewer, and Brendon landed hard on him. “Jesus,” Brendon said, and then he started to laugh.
“Worst idea ever,” Ryan said as he ran his hands over where the zombies had grabbed Brendon, checking for cuts or bites, Spencer knew, and shit, this never got easier. Letting go of Brendon wasn’t easy either and Brendon had to pat at Spencer’s hands around his middle and say, “I’m fine, Spence, really,” before Spencer loosened his grip.
“Uh, guys?” Sean said.
Spencer looked up. The manhole cover, the one that Brendon was supposed to close, the one that Spencer had prevented him from closing, was nowhere to be found. Instead, Spencer looked up into the faces and feet of a bunch of hungry zombies. “Fuck,” Brendon said again.
They started running as the first of the clumsy zombies found their way through the hole.
There was a detour. Spencer remembered it from the map that was currently being trampled by zombies. He was like 80% sure it wasn’t a dead end.
“Go left,” he shouted. He grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him along, which was probably more harm than help, but fuck if they were going to die tonight.
Sean skidded around the corner first and Spencer wished and hoped he wasn’t wrong and there was a way out at the end.
He wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong, but it wouldn’t much matter if they couldn’t get up and out before the zombies closed the rapidly depleting distance between them.
Brendon climbed up the ladder first. Spencer had only a split second to worry that they hadn’t run far enough and that he’d open the cover to a scene not unlike their last experience. He didn’t. Spencer breathed a sigh of relief for, he didn’t know, the fortieth time that night.
Sean fired into the tunnel as Ryan and Spencer scrambled up the ladder. Sean kept firing until he was out of bullets. The zombies kept coming. Spencer reached down and thrust his hand at Sean. Then the three of them hauled him up and kicked the manhole cover shut.
“Bet that farm’s looking good now,” Brendon said as he doubled over to catch his breath.
-
The idea was that they get a half mile out of the range of the explosions. After that they needed to signal Andy with the all clear. Only Spencer’s detour threw a wrench in the plan, and now they had to run further because they came out of the tunnels ahead of schedule.
But shit happened. That’s why they had Sean. “Alright, follow me,” Sean said.
And oh god, Spencer was really, really sick of running for his life. You’d think it would get easier after months and months of it, but it never got less scary.
When they had run enough that Spencer was beginning to doubt that they would ever stop, Sean slowed up. “Okay, okay, we’re good. Fuck.” His chest heaved and he backed up against a building. “That’s never gonna be fun.”
Spencer wheezed in agreement.
When Sean had caught his breath, he rummaged in the back pack again and pulled out the walkie talkie. “Hey Andy,” Sean said into it, “This is Sean, we’re at the checkpoint.” Sean released the button.
“Use your call sign, Endor leader,” Andy’s voice squawked back at him.
Sean hit the button again. “Fine, team Endor, checking in. Happy?” Sean released the button. “I hate Pete,” he said, and slid to the ground. “Fucking Endor.”
“You guys are first, we’re still waiting on Team Hoth and team Tatooine.”
For a second, Sean looked like he was going to bitch back at Andy, but he changed his mind in favor of handing the walkie talkie to Ryan. “I have got to quit smoking,” he said.
The walkie buzzed from Ryan’s hand. They heard Greta’s voice from what seemed very far away, “Hey guys, we’re good to go. I mean team Tatooine is all clear.”
“Roger, roger,” Andy said, “just waiting on team Hoth.”
Jon was team Hoth’s leader. And it made sense, he guessed. Snow and the Chicago team. But if Pete was naming teams based on environment, Spencer’s team should totally be Tatooine. He hadn’t asked why Endor, mostly because he was afraid Pete would make some less than flattering Ewok comparisons.
Spencer slid down to sit next to Sean and they waited.
Then they waited some more.
Then they waited a lot more.
“Do you think-“ Ryan started to say. The walkie talkie squawked, but it was only Andy, calling out into the void for Jon’s team. He didn’t get an answer.
“How much do we trust that guy with explosives?” Brendon asked.
The walkie sqwaked again. Finally. “Hey, this is Jon. We’re fine. You’re all set.” Andy didn’t reprimand Jon for not using team names. Which is good, because Spencer was not above killing him.
-
Andy didn’t wait long to detonate after hearing from Jon. There was a pause, a little one, just long enough for Brendon to grab Ryan’s hand, then Spencer’s. Then they watched the sky light up.
It wasn’t like the movies, there wasn’t a ripple of hot air that blew them back and the whole earth didn’t rise up beneath their feet. The explosives were designed to be small and centralized, but it was still an explosion, so it was loud and it was bright.
The major problem was that that they didn’t have any idea how the zombies that lived would react. Whether they’d stay and close ranks or scatter.
They were far enough away that if the zombies did scatter, they could run.
The zombies scattered. The walkie buzzed and Andy told them to run. Sean and Ryan and Spencer and Brendon ran.
It was harder than it was before, and they had to run farther, all the way home. But the zombies were still slow. Brendon didn’t know for sure, but he thought they might have been disoriented too. More disoriented than usual, that is.
He kept hoping they’d run into another group, (ha, Brendon thought, run into) but they didn’t. They made it all the way back to the electrical fence without so much as the sound of gunshots to let them know any of the others had made it.
They hovered outside. When the familiar hum of the fence being deactivated started, Sean waved his arms at the tiny camera and shook his head. They had time. They had some time. The zombies were still a ways off.
Brendon looked down and he still had Spencer’s hand in his. He didn’t even remember hanging on. Spencer’s palm was sweaty, but no way was he letting go now. Ryan paced a little ways off, his shoulders hunched in and his arms around his waist.
It was weird the way it happened. Z’s group came around one corner and Jon’s the other and Brendon started to laugh. It was fine, there was nothing behind them, just empty city.
Sean caught Tom by the sleeve and hauled him in.
Jon slowed up before he got too close, so when he wrapped his arms around Ryan it looked casual and easy. Ryan only looked startled for a second, but Brendon thought he probably looked shocked enough for the both of them. Jon wasn’t letting go.
Brendon watched Jon as he reached out and felt around until he connected with Spencer’s arm, then Jon pulled him in too. Brendon didn’t wait around for an invitation, he just wrapped his arms around Jon’s back and held on to Ryan’s neck.
It didn’t last all that long. Someone, Greta, Brendon thought, suggested that they, “Take this party inside before we all die, guys. Come on.”
So they did.
SUMMER
They went up on the roof one late afternoon when it was warm and clear. Jon grabbed a blanket from his bed, and the roof underneath was hard, but they didn't mind.
The great thing was that if you looked straight up, it was like nothing had ever happened. They were far enough up and far enough inside the gates that the worst sort of the noise was muffled. Sure, the sky was a little bluer than it might have been, and there were no planes, but Jon could pretend that away and simply enjoy the view.
It got late fast. It felt fast anyway. It felt like no time at all that the sky had gone from blue to purple-y red to dark and full of stars. It was a warm night and Jon felt, well, not unhappy. He felt like he could stay up there for a good long while and listen to Spencer tell the story about how they blew up the transformer and the stripper next door came out yelling. Vegas was a completely different world than Chicago.
But then Jon guessed all of it was a different world now.
It took a long time, but eventually, long into the night, they ran out of stories about stupid shit they had done when they were kids. And when they were not kids.
Jon was tired and he knew that Brendon and Ryan and Spencer had to be too. Jon thought he could stay up there and sleep until morning. He’d had worse beds. No one moved to get up and no one said anything, so it looked like Jon wasn’t the only one who wanted to stay.
He heard it, but didn’t see it when Spencer and Ryan started to kiss. It didn’t much matter, he could see enough in his head anyway. The tendon in Ryan’s throat when he turned his face, the long, thin lines of his body. The way Spencer was curled in and had to stretch his neck to meet Ryan’s mouth for soft, quick, just wet enough kisses. Jon’s stomach clenched and he guessed that was his cue to leave.
They didn’t talk about it, but everyone knew. The tight, impenetrable circle of Brendon and Ryan and Spencer. Someone would need a crow bar to pry them apart, and even then there were no guaranees.
Not that Jon wanted to pry them apart. He didn’t. He was glad they had each other. He was glad they were happy.
But he had stayed up here too long, and now it was time to go.
Jon stretched a little before sitting up, wiggled his toes and went up on his knees to find his shoes. He didn’t look past Brendon to where Spencer and Ryan were, but he knew they were still wrapped around each other.
When he reached for his flip flops he felt Brendon’s fingers slip into his hand and hang on. He tugged. “Stay up here with us,” Brendon said.
Jon was still for a minute, weighing his options, but when Brendon tugged again, Jon laid down easily.
He would probably feel worse about it in the morning, jealous and off and guilty, but for the moment Brendon was warm next to him and it felt better staying on the roof than going down to his room to sleep alone.
He looked at Brendon and saw the way his eyes glittered in the dark. Jon closed his eyes when Brendon kissed his cheek goodnight. He kept them closed when Ryan leaned over Brendon to do the same, landing a breathless fraction closer to his mouth.
From just passed Ryan, Spencer said sleepily, “I’ll kiss you Good Morning, Jon. How about that?”
Jon didn’t answer, but he did smile. And if he thought about Spencer kissing him, it was only because - given the trajectory started by Brendon and continued by Ryan - Jon was genuinely curious just where Spencer would have kissed him. Curious enough to fall asleep thinking about it.
-
Jon was reading this book. Ryan had talked about it and Joe had conveniently had it lying around, so Jon was reading it.
Except he wasn't really reading it so much as staring at the words while he thought about other stuff. "Stuff" being Brendon and Ryan and Spencer.
And if Jon was staying in his room reading or thinking or whatever, it wasn't because he was avoiding them. Not in particular, anyway. He was avoiding everyone. It was just what he did. Had done. Used to do.
So he had slept with them. Oh god, slept with, not slept with. Jon made a face. This was embarrassing. He was alone in his room and he was still embarrassed. If he was this out of sorts after having done nothing but catch a little shut eye on the roof, he definitely needed to take a step back. He’d been surprisingly good at leading a solitary existence. He could most assuredly slip easily back into it.
Or he could if only he could manage to stop thinking. And wanting. And thinking about wanting.
The waking up had been the worst part. He had opened his eyes to Brendon’s eyelashes and Ryan’s arm wrapped around Brendon’s waist, Ryan’s knuckles practically grazing his own. For a minute, just a minute, Jon had thought, “This is nice,” and he had looked his fill. And then he had met Ryan’s eyes over Brendon’s head. Ryan just looked at him. It wasn’t mean. It wasn’t anything. He raised his eyebrow and his mouth quirked up, the corner Jon could see. Jon hadn't wanted to look away, so instead he'd left.
He made some excuse about patrolling and took off. He hadn’t seen them since.
Jon gave up on the book. He put it down on the bed and he rubbed his eyes and thought about how he was kind of stupid. Like, he killed zombies for a living, or whatever passed for a living these days, there was no reason for him to behave like he was fourteen years old. Except for how he didn’t think he could help it.
Jon looked at his alarm clock. It was just after two, so at least the kitchen would be relatively empty. Joe would find him some food. Even heart-sick, jealous loners had to eat eventually.
Jon didn’t even make it out of his bed. There was a knock at his door, the really rude kind followed immediately by someone pushing the door open. Seriously, why even knock at that point. Just barge in and be done with it. No wonder Jon was reclusive, people were shitty.
“Oh,” Jon said. “Hey, hi.”
”Hi,” Brendon said. “I. No one knew where you were and." Brendon stopped and found a different tack. "Is it okay if we come in?” They were already in.
”I was just gonna...” Jon pointed at the door.
Spencer said, “Oh. Okay, um.”
“What’s up?” Jon asked. Casually. Very casually and not at all awkwardly. He swung his legs off the bed and sat.
Spencer pulled up a chair. Brendon followed suit, leaving Ryan to sit at the edge of Jon’s bed.
Spencer rubbed at his knees. “So, last time I did this I screwed it up, and. I don’t want that to happen again. Because, like, people get hurt. I mean, obviously it worked out okay, but. I’d like to not fuck up like that again. You know what I mean?”
“What?” Jon asked. He sort of felt like he was being broken up with. Which was weird, because he was never with any of them to begin with. Which was pretty much the point, he thought. Maybe? It was hard to tell. Spencer was generally pretty forthright and clear, but, wow, did Jon have no idea what he was talking about. “What?” Jon said again.
“Shut up, Spencer, I got this,” Brendon said, patting at Spencer's hand. Brendon looked at Jon. “I like you," he said. “We like you.”
Jon rubbed at his forehead. “Yeah. Yeah, I like you guys, too. You guys are great. Um, I was just going to go get some lunch. So.” No way did Jon want to stick around to be let down easy. He got it. He did. Now they could go about the business of forgetting any of this had ever happened.
“No,” Brendon said. “I mean I’m glad you like us. But, uh, we, like, really like you. As in like you like you.”
Jon stayed very, very still. Then he said, “What?” again, because that was apparently what he did now.
“Like we-“ Brendon started.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, not this again,” Ryan interrupted. Ryan got close fast. Close enough that Jon could feel his warm breath on his face when Ryan said, “Just say if you don’t want this and we’ll back off, all right?”
Oh.
Jon closed the distance, but not before he said, “I want this.” His eyes fell shut and he kissed Ryan. Or Ryan kissed him. It was kind of a tough call.
“Dammit,” Brendon said, “why does Ryan get to kiss everyone first?”
-
"I wasn't always like this you know," Jon said.
Brendon looked up at him, wide eyed and mock innocent. "You mean you don't always kiss three dudes in one sitting?"
Jon laughed and hid his face in Brendon's neck. Brendon drew his hand up from his ass to his waist to his side.
Jon felt Spencer curl into his other side. "Maybe he's trying to tell us he hasn't always killed zombies and rescued people, maybe that's it. Is this a recent thing, Jon? You can tell us."
Ryan snuggled in next to Brendon, and reached over to thread his fingers in Jon's hair. "You guys are assholes," he said. "Will you just let Jon tell us about how he didn't grow up with a beard?"
Jon smiled into Brendon's neck where, conveniently, no one could see him do it. He liked how the way they were making it hard only really succeeded in making it easier.
"Hey, hey," Spencer said, "you don't have to tell us, you know. I don't. I just mean you don't have to. We already like you anyway."
Jon shrugged. “Everybody’s got a sad story, right?”
He didn’t mind telling them. He’d probably never get over it. Probably nobody alive would ever get over any of it.
Jon still believed they were all on borrowed time. But maybe he also believed that he was going to steal as much time as he could after the borrowed stuff ran out.
THE END
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