RPS Fic: Fading Silhouettes (4/4) J2 Remix
Part One // Part Two // Part Three
It's Sunday, and Jensen promised Athena that he would come to the service she holds. He sleeps in more than he'd wanted to; the night before had been bad and he throbs everywhere, old wounds smoldering. But he gets up and rattles around, too tired to be quiet. He brushes his teeth with water from the bucket and a little bit of baking soda; responds to the nudge at his side and makes room for Jared.
He watches Jared splash at his face. "Is Katie coming?"
"I don't know." Jared turns, tugs at the drooping skin under his eyes. "I feel fucking old. You know what I miss? My sun-dappled youth."
Jensen pulls on one of Katie's toes. "Hey," he says. "We're going to service."
She moans, presses her face into her elbow. "What time is it?"
"Eight," Jensen says. He pulls on his sweater. It's got an aroma. He should fucking wash his clothes more often, he knows, but it's a pain in the ass.
She sits up, blinks. Runs two hands through her hair. "Okay, I'm coming."
They step heavy outside, to the small crowd sitting on a lawn of dying grass. The sun is small and new. Athena's hair is curling in the damp air; she's speaking just loud enough to carry.
Brad's on his back, propped up on his elbows. He waves the three of them over. "I saved a space for you," he says.
Jared grins at Brad, takes a seat next to him and pats his stomach. "Thanks," he says.
Brad nods. "Katie," he says. "You look epic today."
Katie smirks, makes sure to sit on the other side of Jared, putting him between her and Brad. "Okay."
"No, for real," Brad says. "I would love to sit with you at breakfast. We could feed each other grapes."
"Yeah," Katie says. "I don't date white guys."
Jared snickers.
Brad looks down at himself, rolls up a sleeve. "I'm really more of a rosy pink," he says.
"Oh," Jensen says. "Checkmate."
Jared leans back so Katie can reach over him, punch Jensen. Brad hoots.
Jensen stifles a grin. People are lowering their heads, a ripple of faces looking down.
"Can we pray?" asks Athena.
Jensen bows his head, but he doesn't close his eyes. He picks idly at the dead grass, tries to sink fingers into the night-frozen earth.
"Father," Athena starts.
She's so quiet. Jensen strains his ears to hear her, to amplify her voice so it's all he can hear; not the sound of gunfire, or the pounding of feet, or the beat of his heart, picking up.
****
Jensen gives Athena a few pointers on how to better handle a gun. She's alright, but too hasty--she wastes bullets on targets that are too far away for any real damage to be done. He rushes her forward after the people up front have wasted most of the corpses, leaving behind only a few stragglers. He stands at her shoulder, says, "Hold. Now!"
She gets better fast. "Necessity," she says, after their shift is over.
"You want me to cheer you on? A sis-boom-bah?" he asks. "Could speed the process even more."
"I don't know. That might be weird." She touches at a pimple on her chin. "I'm killing things."
"No," Jensen says. "You're de-resurrecting them."
She laughs, shakes her head. She reaches up, tugs the collar of Jensen's shirt to one side, examining the bite marks healing on his shoulder. "That looks okay," she says. "Do you still have pain?"
"It's a four," Jensen says. "Livable."
"I could give you some aspirin, if you want."
"I'm a big boy," Jensen says.
She smiles. It's late afternoon, and the sun is filtered through heavy clouds. "Don't go," she says. "Don't leave like you're thinking."
He swallows. He's had a recitation ready. "We could all go. We all should go. Smaller groups are less of a target. I know it's scary, but we could load people up with supplies. It'd be less hassle. We wouldn't have to bring everything back here. The cities are full of stores we could raid, but we're too far away now for that to be logical. Maybe--maybe when things die down, we could all come back. In a year."
"You sound so confident," she says. "That we've lost here."
They're not letting up, he wants to say. We get a twenty minute break, maybe. It's a miracle that nobody's died yet. A miracle that's not going to last.
We've lost everywhere, he wants to say.
"No," he says. "I'm just talking. I'm sorry." He smiles. "Besides, we couldn't leave. Jared's got a schedule here."
****
"You're not sleeping," Jensen says.
Jared rolls over in his cot, faces Jensen. "I wish we could fit two in one of these."
"That's real cute," Jensen says. He feels warm and satisfied. "Why aren't you snoring?"
"Athena laid hands on me," Jared says. "She cured my apnea." He rustles; he's kicking his blanket down around his thighs. He's churning. "I thought about teaching Shoshannah to use a gun today," he says.
Jensen can't figure out what to say. He grabs at his blanket, pulls it up to his neck. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," Jared says.
It's quiet, but Jared's so awake Jensen can hear it.
The room gets too hot, filling up and pressing down on Jensen's body. "Don't worry," he says. "You're not going to let anything happen to her."
****
"We should play that game," Brad says, "where we make up what we'd put on our tombstones."
Katie squints out into the distance. It's raining and she's wearing a garbage bag. "Fuck. I wish I had binoculars."
Jared reaches over and wipes Jensen's sunglasses dry with his thumb; the nose-pads dig into Jensen's face. "Handy having me around," Jared says.
"As indispensable as windshield wipers," Jensen drawls.
"Mine would say 'Brad Knightley: I can see up your skirt'."
"Classy from beyond the grave," Katie says. "Hey, there's definitely something moving out there. Can you see that?"
Jared nods. "Yup. A lot of somethings."
"Find footing," Jensen says. "Don't slip." The mud squelches under his shoes. They're ripping at the toes; his socks are wet and gritty.
Brad gets quiet. He puts his gun up against his shoulder, eyes trying to open wide, blinking away the rain.
Today will be an ordinary day, Jensen thinks. He touches the words in his head for luck.
"And we're off," Katie says, then wipes her scope, fires three shots in rapid succession.
It's the fucking worst. Jensen had skipped breakfast that morning, figured that a little extra sleep was a higher priority, but he regrets it now, the pit of his stomach never-ending, tunneling deep. The rain's pouring, beading on his eyelashes, and every time he blinks the water collapses into his eyes. He's worried that his gun will rust, that if it gets too wet the walnut will split. He keeps the barrel of his gun pointing down when he's not shooting, head up and searching for the next corpse to emerge from the deluge. He's fully occupied.
"Cover!" Jared requests, but Jensen's reloading, too, and he backpedals, lets Brad and Katie take the front. He scans the area in front of them quick, makes sure it's clear before dropping his eyes down to pull the ammo from the reused Ziploc in his pocket.
It's just for a second that he's not looking, but it's enough.
Brad screams. It takes an edge to Jensen's lungs and he can feel them crack open, oxygen-rich blood pooling down into his stomach in one fat drop. Brad's down, two corpses on top of him and Jensen can't move fast enough. Time is blowing past him. He shoots, and Jared shoots from behind him, and the corpses are down by the time Jensen reaches Brad. He picks Brad up in his arms, but he stumbles when he tries to get up the first time. He shoves onto one knee, almost falling again, but he doesn't and Jensen thinks, Yeah. Okay, we're good.
The mud's heavy on Jensen's legs. He races to the building looming in front of him.
Brad's soaking wet. He keeps looking down, hands fluttering. "Oh fuck," he says. "Oh Jesus. I'm dead. I'm so super dead."
****
Brad goes into shock. He faints. Athena's crying. Jensen wants to yell at her, because how the fuck is she going to see to do anything if she's fucking crying? He hopes to God that she wasn't like this when he came in.
"Jesus," she says. "Please, Jesus."
Brad's skin is white under all the blood. He's torn open high up on his thigh, a gash in his neck. He needs a bandage there, a compress on his thigh, Jensen thinks.
Athena doesn't stop moving, but Jensen can tell when she's given up. She just hovers over him, doing the same few things over and over. She keeps scanning his body, like there's some cut she missed, some place he's impaled that isn't visible to her trained eye.
It's fine. Jensen pushes her away. He shakes Brad's shoulder. Jensen has a really great memory and he can be a good listener. "Brad, look at me for a second," he says. "Just one second, alright, bud?"
Brad's lips are blue. His skin is raw and pink at his nose where the sunburn had left behind new cells.
"Brad." They'll be funny, Jensen thinks. Brad's last words. One final joke.
****
"He’s not going to stay down for long," Athena says. "I'm going to get Hezekiah."
"Hezekiah's busy," Jensen says. He wipes his rifle down with the corner of the sheet Brad’s lying on top of.
Athena shoves his gun down. "No. You're not doing this. I'll do it."
"Athena," Jensen says. "Get out. Now."
"I'm staying," she says.
"Fine." Jensen stands, releases the safety. "You can take notes anyway. For your medical research."
The clock ticks down in seconds. People underestimate them, Jensen thinks. Seconds. They're little bombs going off, sixty to a row.
Brad's pupils dilate. Jensen presses the gun to his forehead, puts a neat little hole there, between his eyes.
****
It's funny, because Jensen thought it would be when high school was over. That would be when everything would change, and he'd become someone different and cross that line. Saying 'mama' and 'daddy' would be an old habit, something he could shake if he wanted.
And then he thought, when they stop paying for my car insurance. When I buy my first washer and dryer, or a house. When I get married, maybe.
Jensen's dad was dying on the other side of the phone. Every shallow breath a step over to somewhere unfamiliar and frightening.
I don't have him anymore. Jensen told it to himself. Soon I won't have him anymore.
Jensen's dad stopped trying to talk. Strings of words that frayed into nothing. And now he was quiet, and Jensen felt it sink into his hollows, into the worn down pads of his feet.
His daddy never stopped slipping twenties into his pocket. He'd say, "This is an investment. Something to remember after I've retired."
A rattling gasp. "God?" his dad pled and his voice was rolled out tight, withered on the branch.
Jensen curled his lips over his teeth.
Jensen had never been a perfect son but he knew what his dad needed to hear. He'd known it all along, he just hadn't had to pick it up: a sharp little coin that fell onto the floor and rolled down, there, beneath his ribs.
"Yeah, Dad. He's ready for you. And Mom and everybody else. Everyone you love. They've been biding their time. They're all excited to see you."
He taught me how to whistle, Jensen remembered. Just a sweetened bit of air.
He choked and his dad must have heard it, because he said, "Don't be afraid,” but Jensen was. He was only afraid, holding words back behind his teeth, things like I was going to be better to you. I was. With time.
****
The curtain's come down. Jensen blinks. The room's gone dark. He's not sure how long he's been here, in the clinic. It couldn't have been too long, but he can't remember really. After Brad, his memory goes black.
The bed in front of him is empty and Athena is gone. It should be a jolt, probably, but it's okay. It's fine. Jensen needs that adrenaline corralled. He has shit to do.
When he bursts into the room he shares, Jared's already inside. He's all caked in mud except for his face, a towel in his hand.
Jensen pushes past him, grabs the backpack that's sat empty for too damn long, slams it down onto his cot.
"Jensen," Jared says.
Jensen shoves his belongings inside it, handfuls at a time, streaks of brown and red marring his clean shirts.
Jared grabs his wrist. "Jensen, stop. What happened?"
Jensen turns. "You want to know what happened? Looks like you could've found out if you wanted. You gotta look presentable before coming in to check on your good buddy Brad?"
Jared's face shutters carefully.
"No, I get it, man. You just weren't up to seeing if Brad was dead or not. You've got mud on your face. You're right, Jay. You were right to get that off first. That's a big priority. Your skin's so damn delicate."
"Jensen." Jared says it sorrowful. "What're you doing, man?"
"We're leaving," Jensen says. He turns back to packing. "Now."
"We're not going anywhere." Jared swats the backpack onto the ground. "Stop it, Jensen. Talk to me. I'm fucking begging you."
Jensen walks around him, picks up the backpack, tosses a pack of rounds into it. They'll need those. He could rummage through the stores on their way out, too.
Jared sits down heavy, watches Jensen snap the backpack closed, zip up all the pockets. "I can't force you to talk to me, but I wish you would." He's shaking, rain dripping from his hair. "I’m really tired. Don’t make me be a guy about this."
Jensen swings the backpack up onto one shoulder. He stands in front of Jared expectantly.
"Don't go away from me," Jared says. He's a mountain, water and dirt sluicing down his slopes.
"Come on," Jensen says. He doesn't have the patience or time.
"I'm not going." It's a challenge.
"Fine," Jensen says. He turns, clockwork.
****
He'd ended things with Jared more than once. The last time, Jensen was sitting in what he still thought of as Jared's kitchen. He had a bag packed. He put his key on the island, slid it closer to Jared, kicking gently at the cupboard doors. "I don't think I want this anymore," he'd said.
Jared had his feet up on the coffee table in front of the TV, ESPN blaring. The house was cool, but the screen door was open, hot air hovering over it like something to wade in. He stood, came to take the stool next to Jensen, elbows on the counter. "Okay," he said.
Jensen swallowed. "But I don't want to lose you. You should still hang around. You know. In my life and shit."
"Okay," Jared said.
"I don't know anyone else with 40 dedicated HD sports channels."
Jared laughed. He slouched down in his seat, touched his forehead to the cool counter. He turned his head, cheek pressed against it. He looked up at Jensen. "I need a beer," he said.
****
Jensen's in the pantry, two cans in hand. He's staring at their nutritional labels. The percentages frivolous, essential. He doesn't have the strength to carry whole flats of canned goods in his backpack and he wrestles with himself, deciding between beans and fruit. He's not sure which one packs the most punch.
"The beans will fill you up," Katie says.
Jensen doesn't look up, but he can feel her in the doorway. "You like fruit though."
She crosses her arms, doesn't acknowledge the implication. "You know we were there, right? Of course we went straight to the clinic."
She stops, waiting for something from him. Jensen's not sure what.
"Jared buried Brad's body. Do you remember that? He carried Brad out of there after you--" She breaks the sentence off with a crack.
Jensen looks up. She's crying, and he feels his gut roll. So many things are breaking. "Are you crying?" he asks. "Why are you crying? You don't care about Brad, Kate."
"What?" she asks. The single light-bulb above them starts to buzz. This metallic overtone.
"He wasn't anybody to you. He was just that guy who hit on you constantly." He's desperate. The glue is coming loose. "Who the fuck cares? He wasn't important."
"Stop it, Jensen. He mattered." She smoothes one hand over the other, trying to still the tremors.
It fucking pisses him off, is what it does. "Oh," he says. "I get it. It's because I got to shoot him and you didn't. Now that you've been fucking assimilated, you're itching to get back to old duties."
She switches off. Jensen knows it was too much as soon as he said it, but he's defiant. He feels buried under a bank of snow. He watches her take a step toward him. She wipes off the tears precisely with two passes of her hand. "I killed people when they were still people, Jensen." She smiles, and it slaps Jensen clear of ice, leaves his knees aching, his shoulders drooped. "Brad was dead, and you made sure he stayed that way. I put living people down. They were alive and then I changed that." She's toe to toe with Jensen, studying his face. "You don't know anything about me."
Jensen licks his lips, looks away. He squats to put the beans in the backpack at his feet. "He's just the first." He feels the heat build up behind his eyes, flooding back from where he'd held it at bay. "And he was good with his gun. As good as you."
She sighs, then kneels down in front of him, kisses his cheek. "We can’t do anything and everything, just to survive. There are lines I won't cross. Not anymore.”
She looks really pretty tonight. The light is drifting across her, a seventies kind of amber.
"Will you wait?" she asks. "Let someone catch up to you." Her hand is on the strap of his backpack, slim and perfect, black dug in under her nails.
****
The sky is ready for the sun, a lifting black. The stars are speckling out. It's cold, the air stripped down to the green by the rain. Jensen sits on the dead lawn, hands on his knees, waits for the first sign of day. His pants are getting wet.
He hears Jared's footsteps, getting nearer. I know the sound of him, Jensen thinks. Jared eases down onto the ground next to Jensen, a groan escaping his mouth, his bones creaking. He has a bag packed. "What are you doing?" Jared asks.
Jensen squints at the glow seeping across the horizon. "Are you coming?"
"Don't sound so surprised, asswipe." Jared sighs. "You need me."
Jensen shakes his head. Jared sounds tired. Like his grip is slipping. "I'm sorry," Jensen says. "I wasn't kind to you."
Jared nods. "Okay. I'm sorry, too."
Jensen turns, finds Jared already looking at him. "For what?"
"I just--feel sorry." Jared looks down. "You're not in a good place."
And suddenly there's this storm in Jensen's head. A crowd of voices talking. There's so fucking much he wants to say. I don't need you to make me better. I think I do like the beach, oozing masses of washed-up kelp and all. I'm so super dead. I can't make the corpses go away. I'm scared to touch you. He says this: "My dad died without me there to put him down." Goosebumps rising on his skin.
"Fuck, Jensen." Jared's steady and close.
"I fucking hate that."
There are more clouds in the distance. Jensen watches them roll.
"He used to say that there was nowhere we could go that God couldn't find us. That even in the depths of Hell, He found Jesus in three days." Jensen runs his teeth across his bottom lip. "I used to think he was really sure. But listening to him go--"
Jared's hand closes around the meat of Jensen's left calf, his thumb in the hollow under Jensen's knee.
"I’ve never heard my dad sound like that. He sounded really weak." Jensen knows his voice is getting high. He fights it, puts a mute on the quiver. "I hate that he wanted God more than God wanted him. I hate that." He feels hollowed out. One careless touch and the boards of him could collapse.
Jared puts an arm around Jensen's shoulders, his hand stealing its way over Jensen's heart, his elbow cradling Jensen's neck. "Who are you today?" he asks, mouth on Jensen's temple.
Jensen’s so fucking tired. "Today I'm not anybody."
Jared nods. "We're at an amusement park. You know? The old kind. Light bulbs framing signs for Popcorn and Corn Dogs. Just me and you. And there's a Ferris Wheel up in the distance. It's still turning. It's too far away for anyone to make the drive but we're there." He pauses. "People forgot this was here. It's on the beach. They have blue cotton candy."
The sky is going white. Jensen smiles. "Sweet."
Jared laughs. "You know it's the same as pink, right? It doesn't taste any different. They just swap out the food coloring."
Jensen tugs away. He gets up onto his knees, taller than Jared. Taller than everything. He puts his hands on Jared's shoulders. "I thought I needed you, but I don't. People need to breathe and eat and shit." His breath comes out steaming. "I want you. You're a choice I'm making. You make life better."
Jared's heart is going. I know the sound of him, Jensen thinks.
****
They're on their way out when they see the crowd. "What's going on?" Jensen asks.
Jared peers over. He smacks his lips absentmindedly. "I don't know. Do you want to see?"
Jensen nods, starts to stride over. Jared hooks a finger through one of the loops on the backpack Jensen's carrying, lets Jensen drag him along. "You know what we should try again? Giving me a piggyback ride."
"Sure," Jensen says. "That'll work out better than the last time, I bet. I'm older and more sober now. And you've magically lost a foot of height and a hundred pounds."
Jared pats his belly. "Slimfast."
Jensen smirks. "Why doesn't this discussion ever turn to me getting a piggyback ride from you?"
Jared points his thumb down. "Where's the spectacle in that?" He lifts his chin toward the gathering, sobers. "Hey. I think this is where I buried Brad."
Athena's speaking. Jensen wonders if she gets tired of that. Sick of carrying burdens and soothing wounds. She hides it pretty well. There are a few other freshly dug graves. Jared had pushed a stick through a scrap of paper, scrawled ‘Brad Knightley’ in black. He’d drawn a skirt and eyeballs.
Katie's near the front, and her eyes are rimmed with red. She crosses her arms, jaw tensed. "I can't believe you were going to leave me," she says, as soon as they're within earshot.
"I can't believe you were going to stay." He shouldn't engage, he knows. This isn't the time or place. But--he can't find an impulse he can control right now.
"Now, now," Jared says. "In the face of our recent tragedies, can we all agree to come together in light of our reacquaintance with the brevity of life?" He's beatific.
"What the hell?" Katie says.
Jensen rolls his eyes. "He pretends he's the Buddha."
"Come on. You make it sound weirder than it is.” He looks at Katie. “Only when Jensen forces me to resolve his conflicts."
"Oh." Jensen puts on a rueful face. "Can't believe I forgot the part that makes it normal."
Katie steps on Jensen's foot. "This is not over." She turns to face forward, Athena's words drawing to a close.
"Great," Jensen mutters. "I look forward to your silent wrath and our rebuilding period. I'm great at trust falls."
Athena's staring around at people's faces expectantly. "Jensen?" she asks. "Maybe you could say something about Brad?"
It's a reminder. Jensen feels the weight settle over him again. His lips go tight.
"I'm sorry," Athena says. "I shouldn't have asked." Her smile flutters.
"No," Jensen says. "I want to." He holds Jared's hand. He opens his mouth and closes it. "Um, I just can't--" He breaks into a short laugh. "I can't think of what to say."
"He wanted to open a breakfast place," Jared says. "Somewhere on an island." His thumb sweeping back and forth across the back of Jensen's hand.
Jensen smiles. He breathes out slow. "Yeah. Mostly because he wanted someplace he could play his music where he wouldn't get booed off the stage."
"He wanted three kids," Katie says. "Two girls, a boy in the middle."
Jensen wants to laugh. He loves that Katie knows that.
Athena grins at them. "Awesome," she says. It's strange. That this is a happy moment. She lingers long, then breaks away, to look at the other people waiting. Familiar faces. "Does anyone want to say something about Melissa?"
Jensen leans over, whispers in Katie's ear. "Hey. I'm sorry. I said fucking awful shit to you. And I'm an ass."
She leans over, punches him hard in the thigh. "Okay," she says.
Jensen smiles. "Also. I think it would be both appropriate and respectful if you found a skirt to pay your respects at Brad's grave." His heart hurts.
"Reducing me to my vagina," Katie drawls. "Hilarious."
****
Hezekiah forces Katie to let him patrol alone, a day later. She's at Jensen's heels all day. "When are you going to leave, already?" she asks.
"Pushy," Jensen says.
"I wish I was doing my job," Katie says. "What's Jared doing?"
"I'm not his keeper, sweetheart." Jensen picks off two lumbering corpses through the links of the fence.
"News to me," Katie says. "Let me shoot one."
"You're too jittery for a gun right now."
Katie scoffs. She falls against the fence, bouncing a little, hooks her fingers through it. "You two seem better. You're like, less--" She makes a crazy-eyed face, and grasping, outstretched hands. "Are you his boyfriend again?"
Jensen puts the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He squints over the barrel of his gun. "Yup," he says. "Didn't you see my Trapper Keeper?"
****
Tomorrow will be a good day to go, Jensen thinks. Katie's close to giving in. He's pretty sure. And the corpses have been arriving in sparser groups. They have a window.
He goes to find Jared to tell him, but it's a search. He finally finds Jared in the garage, led by the sound of his voice.
"You shouldn't take the truck," Jared says. "They'll need it."
"They won't need it." Hezekiah sounds determined.
Jensen rounds the corner but he stays quiet. He stands against the wall. Hezekiah's loading the truck up, boxes of supplies, jugs, ammunition.
"You can't go." Jared's leaning against the car, hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor. His long legs crossed at the ankles. "You fucking run this place, Hez."
Hezekiah barks out a laugh. He wipes the sweat off his brow. "I'm on patrol most days, Jared. You're day-to-day. Let's be clear."
"I don't know how long I'm going to be here."
Hezekiah tuts. "Jensen's all talk about leaving. Married to an idea he had while grieving."
"These are good people here. They need you to lead them. They won't win this fight without you."
Hezekiah slams the back of the truck closed. "There's a fucking swarm of corpses coming. You ever seen ants come down on a piece of hamburger? You've got hundreds on the way. No one's winning this fight."
Jared looks up then, gaze steadfast. "We've lasted this long."
Hezekiah rests an arm on the walls of the truck bed. He puts a fist on his hip. "Listen to me. This place is a relic. If you stay, you'll be fighting for something that doesn't exist anymore. I've had this talk before. Athena. Katie. They're good girls, but they're clinging to a world that's gone. We survive first."
Jared shakes his head. "Think of Shoshanna." He looks sorry to force it.
Hezekiah shoves a finger into Jared's chest, and Jared pushes off the truck, stands tall. "I am thinking of that little girl. She's alive, isn't she? That is a feat. That isn't chance, Jared."
"What's out there? Where are you going that's better than this?"
"This isn't about how worthy this place is. I'm not asking you to give me reasons to spare this town, these people. It's not on me." Hezekiah's breathing hard. "I can't take this chance."
Jared's all eyes, piercing, and then he blinks them. He rubs his hands over his face. "Okay," he says.
Hezekiah's shoulders drop. He puts a hand across the lower half of his mouth, lets it slide off. "This isn't easy for me," he says. "I've made some fucked-up choices. Maybe this is another one." He shrugs. "I'm not asking you to absolve me. I'll carry the consequences."
Jared puts his hand out, shakes Hezekiah's hand firm. "This is a whole place. Not just a fragment broken off. I wish that was important to you." He smiles, sad. "Be safe."
Hezekiah nods. He gets into the truck and it starts with a roar, filling the room with noise. He pulls away, and Jared lifts one hand. He doesn't drop it for a long while.
"His girls waiting at the gate?" Jensen asks.
Jared turns around. "Yeah." He presses one eye closed, squinting. "You here for a lot of that?"
"Most." Jensen walks toward Jared, stretches. "Very stirring."
"You have to say that or I won't put out," Jared says. He grabs at Jensen's shirt, tugs him in close.
Jared squeezes at Jensen as hard as he can, until Jensen reaches up and digs his fingers into Jared's side. "Hey," Jensen says. "When are the hundreds gonna get here?"
Jared groans. He bites Jensen's shoulder. "A couple days."
"I can see it now," Jensen says. "It'll be my Ridley Scott moment."
Jared pulls away. He's shining. He looks at Jensen, takes him in. "Sometimes, I think you're so close to perfect," Jared says. He cocks his head and measures Jensen's height with his hand, then lifts it a few inches. "And then I remember."
****
They had holed up in a Mickey D’s, near the beginning. The electricity was out, and Jensen couldn’t get the smell of rancid French fries out of his nose. The moon sent long shadows in the shape of golden arches dribbling across the linoleum floors.
Jensen wiped at his mouth with a fistful of napkins. He could still taste the bite of his vomit.
“We could have let them stay,” Jared said. “Safety in numbers.”
“You’re fighting me on it now?” Jensen asked. “After I sent ‘em away?” He swallowed, scraped his teeth across his tongue.
“You don’t even know how to use the fucking gun.” Jared was sprawled across a plastic booth, picking at the red and blue seat covers.
“The fuck you say?” Jensen drawled, hitching the shotgun up onto his shoulder. He’s still unsettled. Little chips at his foundation. It’s a good thing he’s never had a memory for faces. He feels the aftershocks ringing through him.
Jared whistled a faint, slipping note. “It’s been three weeks. How much longer, you think?”
Jensen shrugged. “Beats me. I’m gonna need forty-three rounds of golf, though, stat. Hear that.” He claps his hands together, trying to drive the tremors from his body.
They’d gotten used to killing the corpses, fast. It wasn’t really killing. It was too much like a game. Corpses didn’t scream. They didn’t beg, or cry, or clutch at you. They didn’t huddle behind you, scattering like marbles when you whirled on them, looking at your gun like a lamp and wildfire. They didn’t ask you for things you were afraid to be generous with.
Maybe it wouldn't have hurt them, if he'd let that family inside. Maybe they wouldn't have been a liability. “Don’t include this part in my memoirs,” Jensen said. He looked up, laughing. “Just skip ahead, to where I’m the next Paul Newman. Aging well. Happily married. Popcorns in my name.”
Jared smiled. He tapped fingers on his chin. “You’d cry right now if I picked a fight with you, huh? Admit it. You’d cry like a twelve year old girl.”
Harley whines, and Jensen purses his lips at him. Sadie’s slumped at his feet, nursing a tummy ache. He shouldn’t have let her eat that banana peel. He presses the button for Coke on the soda fountain with the pad of his thumb.
Jared’s voice is pitched low and soft. Vibrating. “We’ll go to Pebble Beach. Okay? It’ll be perfect. You can bring that new set of clubs that’s been collecting dust in my garage.”
Jensen lets himself picture it for a second. Lawns of grass trimmed short and uniform, emerald island green. Little flags in the distance, snapping in the breeze.
He clips the reel.
****
"Who would've thought that I would have this kind of cojones?" Katie asks.
It's the middle of the night. Everyone had stumbled awake at the knock on their doors. Jensen's wearing a sweater he hasn't washed in a week, flannel pants that hang above the knobs of his ankles. He can hear gunshots already. Shouting. He can see shadows moving beyond the fence, a wave rolling in. "Did anyone see Athena?" he asks. "Where's Jared?"
"I saw her go for the heavy artillery when we were running out. She gave me these." Katie holds up a fistful of Band-Aids, laughs, high and tight.
Jensen beams at her. He leans over and kisses her hair.
"If we're going to do the end-of-the-world hookup," Katie says, "I call Jared."
"Okay." Jensen's counting every breath. He's got a timer running down in his head. They're really close. It'll be time to shoot soon. He rubs a strand of Katie's hair between his thumb and forefinger.
"Oh my god ," Katie says. "If you tell me I'm beautiful, I will fucking kill you. And you know I'll do it."
Jensen laughs. He looks around. The pit of his stomach yawing. "Where's Jared?" He wants to break away, to find him. He fights panic, a sweat breaking across his skin, a prickling over his scalp.
"Hey, hey," Jared says. He slips in from behind Jensen. "I'm here. I'm sorry. I did a lap, made sure everyone's where they're supposed to be." He clicks off the safety of his gun. "We're gonna get the brunt of it."
Jensen nods, tries to relax. He rolls his shoulders, rubs at his neck.
"Tell me I'm a bitch," Katie says suddenly. She's staring straight ahead.
"You're one badass bitch," Jared says, immediate. He crows it.
"You're brave," Jensen tells her .
She blinks back tears.
There's a wind blowing. Alpine and cold. Jensen thinks he can smell evergreen on it.
"Can I tell you something?" Jared says. "Without you committing it to memory as my last words or whatever?"
"Yeah." Jensen's nose is dripping. He wipes at it with his sleeve.
"I love you. And I'm grateful. That you stayed. That you keep coming back to me. Okay?"
"Okay." Jensen's falling.
Jared leans down and kisses him. It's bruising, tongue dipping inside his mouth, the sharp edge of teeth. He tastes like Jared; his lips are warm and chapped. Jensen feels the blood rush through his veins, pulsing and hot, feels the air turn into steam on his skin, heated up through to the bone. His heart is pumping, racing to keep up and Jared is in front of him, still and illuminated.
He can hear the corpses running. His body a beacon. I'm not wrong, Jensen thinks.
They break apart. Jensen nods. He kisses Jared again. "Don't go too far, okay? Stay close."
"Where would I go?" Jared's eyes are glowing wet. "I've been waiting for you." He smiles. "I've been waiting for you my whole life."
The sun cracks open over the desert, like a fever breaking, rising, rising.
The End
It's Sunday, and Jensen promised Athena that he would come to the service she holds. He sleeps in more than he'd wanted to; the night before had been bad and he throbs everywhere, old wounds smoldering. But he gets up and rattles around, too tired to be quiet. He brushes his teeth with water from the bucket and a little bit of baking soda; responds to the nudge at his side and makes room for Jared.
He watches Jared splash at his face. "Is Katie coming?"
"I don't know." Jared turns, tugs at the drooping skin under his eyes. "I feel fucking old. You know what I miss? My sun-dappled youth."
Jensen pulls on one of Katie's toes. "Hey," he says. "We're going to service."
She moans, presses her face into her elbow. "What time is it?"
"Eight," Jensen says. He pulls on his sweater. It's got an aroma. He should fucking wash his clothes more often, he knows, but it's a pain in the ass.
She sits up, blinks. Runs two hands through her hair. "Okay, I'm coming."
They step heavy outside, to the small crowd sitting on a lawn of dying grass. The sun is small and new. Athena's hair is curling in the damp air; she's speaking just loud enough to carry.
Brad's on his back, propped up on his elbows. He waves the three of them over. "I saved a space for you," he says.
Jared grins at Brad, takes a seat next to him and pats his stomach. "Thanks," he says.
Brad nods. "Katie," he says. "You look epic today."
Katie smirks, makes sure to sit on the other side of Jared, putting him between her and Brad. "Okay."
"No, for real," Brad says. "I would love to sit with you at breakfast. We could feed each other grapes."
"Yeah," Katie says. "I don't date white guys."
Jared snickers.
Brad looks down at himself, rolls up a sleeve. "I'm really more of a rosy pink," he says.
"Oh," Jensen says. "Checkmate."
Jared leans back so Katie can reach over him, punch Jensen. Brad hoots.
Jensen stifles a grin. People are lowering their heads, a ripple of faces looking down.
"Can we pray?" asks Athena.
Jensen bows his head, but he doesn't close his eyes. He picks idly at the dead grass, tries to sink fingers into the night-frozen earth.
"Father," Athena starts.
She's so quiet. Jensen strains his ears to hear her, to amplify her voice so it's all he can hear; not the sound of gunfire, or the pounding of feet, or the beat of his heart, picking up.
****
Jensen gives Athena a few pointers on how to better handle a gun. She's alright, but too hasty--she wastes bullets on targets that are too far away for any real damage to be done. He rushes her forward after the people up front have wasted most of the corpses, leaving behind only a few stragglers. He stands at her shoulder, says, "Hold. Now!"
She gets better fast. "Necessity," she says, after their shift is over.
"You want me to cheer you on? A sis-boom-bah?" he asks. "Could speed the process even more."
"I don't know. That might be weird." She touches at a pimple on her chin. "I'm killing things."
"No," Jensen says. "You're de-resurrecting them."
She laughs, shakes her head. She reaches up, tugs the collar of Jensen's shirt to one side, examining the bite marks healing on his shoulder. "That looks okay," she says. "Do you still have pain?"
"It's a four," Jensen says. "Livable."
"I could give you some aspirin, if you want."
"I'm a big boy," Jensen says.
She smiles. It's late afternoon, and the sun is filtered through heavy clouds. "Don't go," she says. "Don't leave like you're thinking."
He swallows. He's had a recitation ready. "We could all go. We all should go. Smaller groups are less of a target. I know it's scary, but we could load people up with supplies. It'd be less hassle. We wouldn't have to bring everything back here. The cities are full of stores we could raid, but we're too far away now for that to be logical. Maybe--maybe when things die down, we could all come back. In a year."
"You sound so confident," she says. "That we've lost here."
They're not letting up, he wants to say. We get a twenty minute break, maybe. It's a miracle that nobody's died yet. A miracle that's not going to last.
We've lost everywhere, he wants to say.
"No," he says. "I'm just talking. I'm sorry." He smiles. "Besides, we couldn't leave. Jared's got a schedule here."
****
"You're not sleeping," Jensen says.
Jared rolls over in his cot, faces Jensen. "I wish we could fit two in one of these."
"That's real cute," Jensen says. He feels warm and satisfied. "Why aren't you snoring?"
"Athena laid hands on me," Jared says. "She cured my apnea." He rustles; he's kicking his blanket down around his thighs. He's churning. "I thought about teaching Shoshannah to use a gun today," he says.
Jensen can't figure out what to say. He grabs at his blanket, pulls it up to his neck. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," Jared says.
It's quiet, but Jared's so awake Jensen can hear it.
The room gets too hot, filling up and pressing down on Jensen's body. "Don't worry," he says. "You're not going to let anything happen to her."
****
"We should play that game," Brad says, "where we make up what we'd put on our tombstones."
Katie squints out into the distance. It's raining and she's wearing a garbage bag. "Fuck. I wish I had binoculars."
Jared reaches over and wipes Jensen's sunglasses dry with his thumb; the nose-pads dig into Jensen's face. "Handy having me around," Jared says.
"As indispensable as windshield wipers," Jensen drawls.
"Mine would say 'Brad Knightley: I can see up your skirt'."
"Classy from beyond the grave," Katie says. "Hey, there's definitely something moving out there. Can you see that?"
Jared nods. "Yup. A lot of somethings."
"Find footing," Jensen says. "Don't slip." The mud squelches under his shoes. They're ripping at the toes; his socks are wet and gritty.
Brad gets quiet. He puts his gun up against his shoulder, eyes trying to open wide, blinking away the rain.
Today will be an ordinary day, Jensen thinks. He touches the words in his head for luck.
"And we're off," Katie says, then wipes her scope, fires three shots in rapid succession.
It's the fucking worst. Jensen had skipped breakfast that morning, figured that a little extra sleep was a higher priority, but he regrets it now, the pit of his stomach never-ending, tunneling deep. The rain's pouring, beading on his eyelashes, and every time he blinks the water collapses into his eyes. He's worried that his gun will rust, that if it gets too wet the walnut will split. He keeps the barrel of his gun pointing down when he's not shooting, head up and searching for the next corpse to emerge from the deluge. He's fully occupied.
"Cover!" Jared requests, but Jensen's reloading, too, and he backpedals, lets Brad and Katie take the front. He scans the area in front of them quick, makes sure it's clear before dropping his eyes down to pull the ammo from the reused Ziploc in his pocket.
It's just for a second that he's not looking, but it's enough.
Brad screams. It takes an edge to Jensen's lungs and he can feel them crack open, oxygen-rich blood pooling down into his stomach in one fat drop. Brad's down, two corpses on top of him and Jensen can't move fast enough. Time is blowing past him. He shoots, and Jared shoots from behind him, and the corpses are down by the time Jensen reaches Brad. He picks Brad up in his arms, but he stumbles when he tries to get up the first time. He shoves onto one knee, almost falling again, but he doesn't and Jensen thinks, Yeah. Okay, we're good.
The mud's heavy on Jensen's legs. He races to the building looming in front of him.
Brad's soaking wet. He keeps looking down, hands fluttering. "Oh fuck," he says. "Oh Jesus. I'm dead. I'm so super dead."
****
Brad goes into shock. He faints. Athena's crying. Jensen wants to yell at her, because how the fuck is she going to see to do anything if she's fucking crying? He hopes to God that she wasn't like this when he came in.
"Jesus," she says. "Please, Jesus."
Brad's skin is white under all the blood. He's torn open high up on his thigh, a gash in his neck. He needs a bandage there, a compress on his thigh, Jensen thinks.
Athena doesn't stop moving, but Jensen can tell when she's given up. She just hovers over him, doing the same few things over and over. She keeps scanning his body, like there's some cut she missed, some place he's impaled that isn't visible to her trained eye.
It's fine. Jensen pushes her away. He shakes Brad's shoulder. Jensen has a really great memory and he can be a good listener. "Brad, look at me for a second," he says. "Just one second, alright, bud?"
Brad's lips are blue. His skin is raw and pink at his nose where the sunburn had left behind new cells.
"Brad." They'll be funny, Jensen thinks. Brad's last words. One final joke.
****
"He’s not going to stay down for long," Athena says. "I'm going to get Hezekiah."
"Hezekiah's busy," Jensen says. He wipes his rifle down with the corner of the sheet Brad’s lying on top of.
Athena shoves his gun down. "No. You're not doing this. I'll do it."
"Athena," Jensen says. "Get out. Now."
"I'm staying," she says.
"Fine." Jensen stands, releases the safety. "You can take notes anyway. For your medical research."
The clock ticks down in seconds. People underestimate them, Jensen thinks. Seconds. They're little bombs going off, sixty to a row.
Brad's pupils dilate. Jensen presses the gun to his forehead, puts a neat little hole there, between his eyes.
****
It's funny, because Jensen thought it would be when high school was over. That would be when everything would change, and he'd become someone different and cross that line. Saying 'mama' and 'daddy' would be an old habit, something he could shake if he wanted.
And then he thought, when they stop paying for my car insurance. When I buy my first washer and dryer, or a house. When I get married, maybe.
Jensen's dad was dying on the other side of the phone. Every shallow breath a step over to somewhere unfamiliar and frightening.
I don't have him anymore. Jensen told it to himself. Soon I won't have him anymore.
Jensen's dad stopped trying to talk. Strings of words that frayed into nothing. And now he was quiet, and Jensen felt it sink into his hollows, into the worn down pads of his feet.
His daddy never stopped slipping twenties into his pocket. He'd say, "This is an investment. Something to remember after I've retired."
A rattling gasp. "God?" his dad pled and his voice was rolled out tight, withered on the branch.
Jensen curled his lips over his teeth.
Jensen had never been a perfect son but he knew what his dad needed to hear. He'd known it all along, he just hadn't had to pick it up: a sharp little coin that fell onto the floor and rolled down, there, beneath his ribs.
"Yeah, Dad. He's ready for you. And Mom and everybody else. Everyone you love. They've been biding their time. They're all excited to see you."
He taught me how to whistle, Jensen remembered. Just a sweetened bit of air.
He choked and his dad must have heard it, because he said, "Don't be afraid,” but Jensen was. He was only afraid, holding words back behind his teeth, things like I was going to be better to you. I was. With time.
****
The curtain's come down. Jensen blinks. The room's gone dark. He's not sure how long he's been here, in the clinic. It couldn't have been too long, but he can't remember really. After Brad, his memory goes black.
The bed in front of him is empty and Athena is gone. It should be a jolt, probably, but it's okay. It's fine. Jensen needs that adrenaline corralled. He has shit to do.
When he bursts into the room he shares, Jared's already inside. He's all caked in mud except for his face, a towel in his hand.
Jensen pushes past him, grabs the backpack that's sat empty for too damn long, slams it down onto his cot.
"Jensen," Jared says.
Jensen shoves his belongings inside it, handfuls at a time, streaks of brown and red marring his clean shirts.
Jared grabs his wrist. "Jensen, stop. What happened?"
Jensen turns. "You want to know what happened? Looks like you could've found out if you wanted. You gotta look presentable before coming in to check on your good buddy Brad?"
Jared's face shutters carefully.
"No, I get it, man. You just weren't up to seeing if Brad was dead or not. You've got mud on your face. You're right, Jay. You were right to get that off first. That's a big priority. Your skin's so damn delicate."
"Jensen." Jared says it sorrowful. "What're you doing, man?"
"We're leaving," Jensen says. He turns back to packing. "Now."
"We're not going anywhere." Jared swats the backpack onto the ground. "Stop it, Jensen. Talk to me. I'm fucking begging you."
Jensen walks around him, picks up the backpack, tosses a pack of rounds into it. They'll need those. He could rummage through the stores on their way out, too.
Jared sits down heavy, watches Jensen snap the backpack closed, zip up all the pockets. "I can't force you to talk to me, but I wish you would." He's shaking, rain dripping from his hair. "I’m really tired. Don’t make me be a guy about this."
Jensen swings the backpack up onto one shoulder. He stands in front of Jared expectantly.
"Don't go away from me," Jared says. He's a mountain, water and dirt sluicing down his slopes.
"Come on," Jensen says. He doesn't have the patience or time.
"I'm not going." It's a challenge.
"Fine," Jensen says. He turns, clockwork.
****
He'd ended things with Jared more than once. The last time, Jensen was sitting in what he still thought of as Jared's kitchen. He had a bag packed. He put his key on the island, slid it closer to Jared, kicking gently at the cupboard doors. "I don't think I want this anymore," he'd said.
Jared had his feet up on the coffee table in front of the TV, ESPN blaring. The house was cool, but the screen door was open, hot air hovering over it like something to wade in. He stood, came to take the stool next to Jensen, elbows on the counter. "Okay," he said.
Jensen swallowed. "But I don't want to lose you. You should still hang around. You know. In my life and shit."
"Okay," Jared said.
"I don't know anyone else with 40 dedicated HD sports channels."
Jared laughed. He slouched down in his seat, touched his forehead to the cool counter. He turned his head, cheek pressed against it. He looked up at Jensen. "I need a beer," he said.
****
Jensen's in the pantry, two cans in hand. He's staring at their nutritional labels. The percentages frivolous, essential. He doesn't have the strength to carry whole flats of canned goods in his backpack and he wrestles with himself, deciding between beans and fruit. He's not sure which one packs the most punch.
"The beans will fill you up," Katie says.
Jensen doesn't look up, but he can feel her in the doorway. "You like fruit though."
She crosses her arms, doesn't acknowledge the implication. "You know we were there, right? Of course we went straight to the clinic."
She stops, waiting for something from him. Jensen's not sure what.
"Jared buried Brad's body. Do you remember that? He carried Brad out of there after you--" She breaks the sentence off with a crack.
Jensen looks up. She's crying, and he feels his gut roll. So many things are breaking. "Are you crying?" he asks. "Why are you crying? You don't care about Brad, Kate."
"What?" she asks. The single light-bulb above them starts to buzz. This metallic overtone.
"He wasn't anybody to you. He was just that guy who hit on you constantly." He's desperate. The glue is coming loose. "Who the fuck cares? He wasn't important."
"Stop it, Jensen. He mattered." She smoothes one hand over the other, trying to still the tremors.
It fucking pisses him off, is what it does. "Oh," he says. "I get it. It's because I got to shoot him and you didn't. Now that you've been fucking assimilated, you're itching to get back to old duties."
She switches off. Jensen knows it was too much as soon as he said it, but he's defiant. He feels buried under a bank of snow. He watches her take a step toward him. She wipes off the tears precisely with two passes of her hand. "I killed people when they were still people, Jensen." She smiles, and it slaps Jensen clear of ice, leaves his knees aching, his shoulders drooped. "Brad was dead, and you made sure he stayed that way. I put living people down. They were alive and then I changed that." She's toe to toe with Jensen, studying his face. "You don't know anything about me."
Jensen licks his lips, looks away. He squats to put the beans in the backpack at his feet. "He's just the first." He feels the heat build up behind his eyes, flooding back from where he'd held it at bay. "And he was good with his gun. As good as you."
She sighs, then kneels down in front of him, kisses his cheek. "We can’t do anything and everything, just to survive. There are lines I won't cross. Not anymore.”
She looks really pretty tonight. The light is drifting across her, a seventies kind of amber.
"Will you wait?" she asks. "Let someone catch up to you." Her hand is on the strap of his backpack, slim and perfect, black dug in under her nails.
****
The sky is ready for the sun, a lifting black. The stars are speckling out. It's cold, the air stripped down to the green by the rain. Jensen sits on the dead lawn, hands on his knees, waits for the first sign of day. His pants are getting wet.
He hears Jared's footsteps, getting nearer. I know the sound of him, Jensen thinks. Jared eases down onto the ground next to Jensen, a groan escaping his mouth, his bones creaking. He has a bag packed. "What are you doing?" Jared asks.
Jensen squints at the glow seeping across the horizon. "Are you coming?"
"Don't sound so surprised, asswipe." Jared sighs. "You need me."
Jensen shakes his head. Jared sounds tired. Like his grip is slipping. "I'm sorry," Jensen says. "I wasn't kind to you."
Jared nods. "Okay. I'm sorry, too."
Jensen turns, finds Jared already looking at him. "For what?"
"I just--feel sorry." Jared looks down. "You're not in a good place."
And suddenly there's this storm in Jensen's head. A crowd of voices talking. There's so fucking much he wants to say. I don't need you to make me better. I think I do like the beach, oozing masses of washed-up kelp and all. I'm so super dead. I can't make the corpses go away. I'm scared to touch you. He says this: "My dad died without me there to put him down." Goosebumps rising on his skin.
"Fuck, Jensen." Jared's steady and close.
"I fucking hate that."
There are more clouds in the distance. Jensen watches them roll.
"He used to say that there was nowhere we could go that God couldn't find us. That even in the depths of Hell, He found Jesus in three days." Jensen runs his teeth across his bottom lip. "I used to think he was really sure. But listening to him go--"
Jared's hand closes around the meat of Jensen's left calf, his thumb in the hollow under Jensen's knee.
"I’ve never heard my dad sound like that. He sounded really weak." Jensen knows his voice is getting high. He fights it, puts a mute on the quiver. "I hate that he wanted God more than God wanted him. I hate that." He feels hollowed out. One careless touch and the boards of him could collapse.
Jared puts an arm around Jensen's shoulders, his hand stealing its way over Jensen's heart, his elbow cradling Jensen's neck. "Who are you today?" he asks, mouth on Jensen's temple.
Jensen’s so fucking tired. "Today I'm not anybody."
Jared nods. "We're at an amusement park. You know? The old kind. Light bulbs framing signs for Popcorn and Corn Dogs. Just me and you. And there's a Ferris Wheel up in the distance. It's still turning. It's too far away for anyone to make the drive but we're there." He pauses. "People forgot this was here. It's on the beach. They have blue cotton candy."
The sky is going white. Jensen smiles. "Sweet."
Jared laughs. "You know it's the same as pink, right? It doesn't taste any different. They just swap out the food coloring."
Jensen tugs away. He gets up onto his knees, taller than Jared. Taller than everything. He puts his hands on Jared's shoulders. "I thought I needed you, but I don't. People need to breathe and eat and shit." His breath comes out steaming. "I want you. You're a choice I'm making. You make life better."
Jared's heart is going. I know the sound of him, Jensen thinks.
****
They're on their way out when they see the crowd. "What's going on?" Jensen asks.
Jared peers over. He smacks his lips absentmindedly. "I don't know. Do you want to see?"
Jensen nods, starts to stride over. Jared hooks a finger through one of the loops on the backpack Jensen's carrying, lets Jensen drag him along. "You know what we should try again? Giving me a piggyback ride."
"Sure," Jensen says. "That'll work out better than the last time, I bet. I'm older and more sober now. And you've magically lost a foot of height and a hundred pounds."
Jared pats his belly. "Slimfast."
Jensen smirks. "Why doesn't this discussion ever turn to me getting a piggyback ride from you?"
Jared points his thumb down. "Where's the spectacle in that?" He lifts his chin toward the gathering, sobers. "Hey. I think this is where I buried Brad."
Athena's speaking. Jensen wonders if she gets tired of that. Sick of carrying burdens and soothing wounds. She hides it pretty well. There are a few other freshly dug graves. Jared had pushed a stick through a scrap of paper, scrawled ‘Brad Knightley’ in black. He’d drawn a skirt and eyeballs.
Katie's near the front, and her eyes are rimmed with red. She crosses her arms, jaw tensed. "I can't believe you were going to leave me," she says, as soon as they're within earshot.
"I can't believe you were going to stay." He shouldn't engage, he knows. This isn't the time or place. But--he can't find an impulse he can control right now.
"Now, now," Jared says. "In the face of our recent tragedies, can we all agree to come together in light of our reacquaintance with the brevity of life?" He's beatific.
"What the hell?" Katie says.
Jensen rolls his eyes. "He pretends he's the Buddha."
"Come on. You make it sound weirder than it is.” He looks at Katie. “Only when Jensen forces me to resolve his conflicts."
"Oh." Jensen puts on a rueful face. "Can't believe I forgot the part that makes it normal."
Katie steps on Jensen's foot. "This is not over." She turns to face forward, Athena's words drawing to a close.
"Great," Jensen mutters. "I look forward to your silent wrath and our rebuilding period. I'm great at trust falls."
Athena's staring around at people's faces expectantly. "Jensen?" she asks. "Maybe you could say something about Brad?"
It's a reminder. Jensen feels the weight settle over him again. His lips go tight.
"I'm sorry," Athena says. "I shouldn't have asked." Her smile flutters.
"No," Jensen says. "I want to." He holds Jared's hand. He opens his mouth and closes it. "Um, I just can't--" He breaks into a short laugh. "I can't think of what to say."
"He wanted to open a breakfast place," Jared says. "Somewhere on an island." His thumb sweeping back and forth across the back of Jensen's hand.
Jensen smiles. He breathes out slow. "Yeah. Mostly because he wanted someplace he could play his music where he wouldn't get booed off the stage."
"He wanted three kids," Katie says. "Two girls, a boy in the middle."
Jensen wants to laugh. He loves that Katie knows that.
Athena grins at them. "Awesome," she says. It's strange. That this is a happy moment. She lingers long, then breaks away, to look at the other people waiting. Familiar faces. "Does anyone want to say something about Melissa?"
Jensen leans over, whispers in Katie's ear. "Hey. I'm sorry. I said fucking awful shit to you. And I'm an ass."
She leans over, punches him hard in the thigh. "Okay," she says.
Jensen smiles. "Also. I think it would be both appropriate and respectful if you found a skirt to pay your respects at Brad's grave." His heart hurts.
"Reducing me to my vagina," Katie drawls. "Hilarious."
****
Hezekiah forces Katie to let him patrol alone, a day later. She's at Jensen's heels all day. "When are you going to leave, already?" she asks.
"Pushy," Jensen says.
"I wish I was doing my job," Katie says. "What's Jared doing?"
"I'm not his keeper, sweetheart." Jensen picks off two lumbering corpses through the links of the fence.
"News to me," Katie says. "Let me shoot one."
"You're too jittery for a gun right now."
Katie scoffs. She falls against the fence, bouncing a little, hooks her fingers through it. "You two seem better. You're like, less--" She makes a crazy-eyed face, and grasping, outstretched hands. "Are you his boyfriend again?"
Jensen puts the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He squints over the barrel of his gun. "Yup," he says. "Didn't you see my Trapper Keeper?"
****
Tomorrow will be a good day to go, Jensen thinks. Katie's close to giving in. He's pretty sure. And the corpses have been arriving in sparser groups. They have a window.
He goes to find Jared to tell him, but it's a search. He finally finds Jared in the garage, led by the sound of his voice.
"You shouldn't take the truck," Jared says. "They'll need it."
"They won't need it." Hezekiah sounds determined.
Jensen rounds the corner but he stays quiet. He stands against the wall. Hezekiah's loading the truck up, boxes of supplies, jugs, ammunition.
"You can't go." Jared's leaning against the car, hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor. His long legs crossed at the ankles. "You fucking run this place, Hez."
Hezekiah barks out a laugh. He wipes the sweat off his brow. "I'm on patrol most days, Jared. You're day-to-day. Let's be clear."
"I don't know how long I'm going to be here."
Hezekiah tuts. "Jensen's all talk about leaving. Married to an idea he had while grieving."
"These are good people here. They need you to lead them. They won't win this fight without you."
Hezekiah slams the back of the truck closed. "There's a fucking swarm of corpses coming. You ever seen ants come down on a piece of hamburger? You've got hundreds on the way. No one's winning this fight."
Jared looks up then, gaze steadfast. "We've lasted this long."
Hezekiah rests an arm on the walls of the truck bed. He puts a fist on his hip. "Listen to me. This place is a relic. If you stay, you'll be fighting for something that doesn't exist anymore. I've had this talk before. Athena. Katie. They're good girls, but they're clinging to a world that's gone. We survive first."
Jared shakes his head. "Think of Shoshanna." He looks sorry to force it.
Hezekiah shoves a finger into Jared's chest, and Jared pushes off the truck, stands tall. "I am thinking of that little girl. She's alive, isn't she? That is a feat. That isn't chance, Jared."
"What's out there? Where are you going that's better than this?"
"This isn't about how worthy this place is. I'm not asking you to give me reasons to spare this town, these people. It's not on me." Hezekiah's breathing hard. "I can't take this chance."
Jared's all eyes, piercing, and then he blinks them. He rubs his hands over his face. "Okay," he says.
Hezekiah's shoulders drop. He puts a hand across the lower half of his mouth, lets it slide off. "This isn't easy for me," he says. "I've made some fucked-up choices. Maybe this is another one." He shrugs. "I'm not asking you to absolve me. I'll carry the consequences."
Jared puts his hand out, shakes Hezekiah's hand firm. "This is a whole place. Not just a fragment broken off. I wish that was important to you." He smiles, sad. "Be safe."
Hezekiah nods. He gets into the truck and it starts with a roar, filling the room with noise. He pulls away, and Jared lifts one hand. He doesn't drop it for a long while.
"His girls waiting at the gate?" Jensen asks.
Jared turns around. "Yeah." He presses one eye closed, squinting. "You here for a lot of that?"
"Most." Jensen walks toward Jared, stretches. "Very stirring."
"You have to say that or I won't put out," Jared says. He grabs at Jensen's shirt, tugs him in close.
Jared squeezes at Jensen as hard as he can, until Jensen reaches up and digs his fingers into Jared's side. "Hey," Jensen says. "When are the hundreds gonna get here?"
Jared groans. He bites Jensen's shoulder. "A couple days."
"I can see it now," Jensen says. "It'll be my Ridley Scott moment."
Jared pulls away. He's shining. He looks at Jensen, takes him in. "Sometimes, I think you're so close to perfect," Jared says. He cocks his head and measures Jensen's height with his hand, then lifts it a few inches. "And then I remember."
****
They had holed up in a Mickey D’s, near the beginning. The electricity was out, and Jensen couldn’t get the smell of rancid French fries out of his nose. The moon sent long shadows in the shape of golden arches dribbling across the linoleum floors.
Jensen wiped at his mouth with a fistful of napkins. He could still taste the bite of his vomit.
“We could have let them stay,” Jared said. “Safety in numbers.”
“You’re fighting me on it now?” Jensen asked. “After I sent ‘em away?” He swallowed, scraped his teeth across his tongue.
“You don’t even know how to use the fucking gun.” Jared was sprawled across a plastic booth, picking at the red and blue seat covers.
“The fuck you say?” Jensen drawled, hitching the shotgun up onto his shoulder. He’s still unsettled. Little chips at his foundation. It’s a good thing he’s never had a memory for faces. He feels the aftershocks ringing through him.
Jared whistled a faint, slipping note. “It’s been three weeks. How much longer, you think?”
Jensen shrugged. “Beats me. I’m gonna need forty-three rounds of golf, though, stat. Hear that.” He claps his hands together, trying to drive the tremors from his body.
They’d gotten used to killing the corpses, fast. It wasn’t really killing. It was too much like a game. Corpses didn’t scream. They didn’t beg, or cry, or clutch at you. They didn’t huddle behind you, scattering like marbles when you whirled on them, looking at your gun like a lamp and wildfire. They didn’t ask you for things you were afraid to be generous with.
Maybe it wouldn't have hurt them, if he'd let that family inside. Maybe they wouldn't have been a liability. “Don’t include this part in my memoirs,” Jensen said. He looked up, laughing. “Just skip ahead, to where I’m the next Paul Newman. Aging well. Happily married. Popcorns in my name.”
Jared smiled. He tapped fingers on his chin. “You’d cry right now if I picked a fight with you, huh? Admit it. You’d cry like a twelve year old girl.”
Harley whines, and Jensen purses his lips at him. Sadie’s slumped at his feet, nursing a tummy ache. He shouldn’t have let her eat that banana peel. He presses the button for Coke on the soda fountain with the pad of his thumb.
Jared’s voice is pitched low and soft. Vibrating. “We’ll go to Pebble Beach. Okay? It’ll be perfect. You can bring that new set of clubs that’s been collecting dust in my garage.”
Jensen lets himself picture it for a second. Lawns of grass trimmed short and uniform, emerald island green. Little flags in the distance, snapping in the breeze.
He clips the reel.
****
"Who would've thought that I would have this kind of cojones?" Katie asks.
It's the middle of the night. Everyone had stumbled awake at the knock on their doors. Jensen's wearing a sweater he hasn't washed in a week, flannel pants that hang above the knobs of his ankles. He can hear gunshots already. Shouting. He can see shadows moving beyond the fence, a wave rolling in. "Did anyone see Athena?" he asks. "Where's Jared?"
"I saw her go for the heavy artillery when we were running out. She gave me these." Katie holds up a fistful of Band-Aids, laughs, high and tight.
Jensen beams at her. He leans over and kisses her hair.
"If we're going to do the end-of-the-world hookup," Katie says, "I call Jared."
"Okay." Jensen's counting every breath. He's got a timer running down in his head. They're really close. It'll be time to shoot soon. He rubs a strand of Katie's hair between his thumb and forefinger.
"Oh my god ," Katie says. "If you tell me I'm beautiful, I will fucking kill you. And you know I'll do it."
Jensen laughs. He looks around. The pit of his stomach yawing. "Where's Jared?" He wants to break away, to find him. He fights panic, a sweat breaking across his skin, a prickling over his scalp.
"Hey, hey," Jared says. He slips in from behind Jensen. "I'm here. I'm sorry. I did a lap, made sure everyone's where they're supposed to be." He clicks off the safety of his gun. "We're gonna get the brunt of it."
Jensen nods, tries to relax. He rolls his shoulders, rubs at his neck.
"Tell me I'm a bitch," Katie says suddenly. She's staring straight ahead.
"You're one badass bitch," Jared says, immediate. He crows it.
"You're brave," Jensen tells her .
She blinks back tears.
There's a wind blowing. Alpine and cold. Jensen thinks he can smell evergreen on it.
"Can I tell you something?" Jared says. "Without you committing it to memory as my last words or whatever?"
"Yeah." Jensen's nose is dripping. He wipes at it with his sleeve.
"I love you. And I'm grateful. That you stayed. That you keep coming back to me. Okay?"
"Okay." Jensen's falling.
Jared leans down and kisses him. It's bruising, tongue dipping inside his mouth, the sharp edge of teeth. He tastes like Jared; his lips are warm and chapped. Jensen feels the blood rush through his veins, pulsing and hot, feels the air turn into steam on his skin, heated up through to the bone. His heart is pumping, racing to keep up and Jared is in front of him, still and illuminated.
He can hear the corpses running. His body a beacon. I'm not wrong, Jensen thinks.
They break apart. Jensen nods. He kisses Jared again. "Don't go too far, okay? Stay close."
"Where would I go?" Jared's eyes are glowing wet. "I've been waiting for you." He smiles. "I've been waiting for you my whole life."
The sun cracks open over the desert, like a fever breaking, rising, rising.
The End