Infection: Part Two
Infection: Part One (includes warnings, art, etc)
---
Marcus tells him, when they're safely in the medical camp outside Tokyo, that they all changed in that battle. They were no longer scared little boys. He tells Gerald they lost 15 men that day. 15 friends. Gerald crawls into bed with Marcus, trying not to listen to the story, trying to sink into his empty memories. But Marcus keeps on talking and the story he tells is one Gerald should know, but doesn't.
"You led us through the zombies. You just kept going, I thought you were going to die. But you didn't. We made our way up to Avoriaz without losing anyone else." Marcus' voice is tired and Gerald cannot help but listen. He rests his head on Marcus' shoulder, pressing their bodies close together.
Marcus slides his arms around Gerald, holding him. They hold onto each other as Marcus continues. "It began to rain. It was a cold, hard rain, but it kept the zombies at bay and we made it to the top. To the resort. There were people, fans and people from the town, inside the hotel. We befriended them, certain we'd be rescued."
Marcus reaches over, running his fingers through Gerald's hair. Gerald tips his head up, leaning forward and kissing him hard. The story stops as Gerald crawls on top of Marcus. They don't fuck, they don't do much of anything except kiss, at least at first. Even though he can't remember, he knows this is the first time they've really been this close since it all happened. He kisses Marcus harder, needier.
"I love you," he repeats. Marcus swallows the words up, returning them with butterfly kisses against Gerald's face, his neck until suddenly they're both hard and shuddering. Marcus moves his hips and Gerald does the same, grinding down. He's overcome with need, with desire. He presses their bodies even closer together. Marcus slides his hands down, against Gerald's back, then over his ass.
They make out like teenagers getting off in bed before their parents get home. Gerald doesn't care because it makes him feel alive. It reminds him that Marcus is alive. He's close, shuddering and gasping into Marcus' mouth. He feels Marcus arch under him, close and whimpering. They kiss again, harder and deeper and Gerald comes first. Moaning softly and then Marcus follows, fingers digging into Gerald's back.
"I love you," Marcus says, softly, as they get up and make their way toward the showers.
They don't talk again until that evening. Until Gerald moves all of his stuff from his little cot to the room Marcus' bed is in. They share a bed again and Gerald never wants to be far from Marcus if he can help it. He kisses Marcus' chest and then looks up at him.
"Tell me everything that happened," he says, quietly. Marcus kisses him back and then leans back, pulling Gerald with him.
"At first we were all in shock, but the people had food and water. They helped us. But a month passed and no one came to rescue us. Then another month passed and everything seemed hopeless."
---
Marcus sits guard, it's his turn. Gerald sleeps, plagued by nightmares, on the floor next to him. Every so often, Marcus reaches out and touches him. He can't remember the last time they kissed each other. The last time they shared a bed. He knows it hasn't been that long, but it feels like forever. He turns his attention back to the front door. There's another door, near the back, but a local man is guarding that. They'll switch off and on throughout the night.
There's a sound, howling it sounds like. But Marcus doesn't bother to investigate. Probably dogs from the town, he doesn't need to know. He doesn't want to know. Night passes quickly, merging into early morning and then it's Gerald's shift. When he wakes up, he can smell fresh bread. He learns from Thor that one of the ladies had raided the hotel kitchen and they were using up the last of the fresh food before it went bad.
Marcus and Gerald shared a look as Thor walked off.
"I don't think we're going to make it," Gerald said softly, sitting on the bench next to Marcus, so close that their legs touch. Marcus reaches over, sliding his hand into Gerald's.
"Don't talk like that," he replies, but he can't deny that there's a part of him that thinks Gerald's right.
They're dying. Running out of food and water, and the zombies, though mostly confined to the valley, are getting more and more restless and adventurous. He thinks about the other day, when he and Cav were out gathering firewood. They'd had to fight off zombies who were creeping up through the forest. Maybe Gerald was right, maybe they weren't going to last much longer.
The days seem to merge together and Marcus loses count of how much time has passed. Days merge into weeks, which probably merge into months, but they don't have any way of knowing, not really. The only way he even knows time's passing is because the days are getting shorter and the air colder, especially at night. They have to go further and further away from the hotel to get wood for the fire. No one's sure the furniture will burn safely, or if it's even wood. And one of the women won't let them touch the books.
They had enough food to live comfortably for a few more weeks, but even that's running short. The houses are bare, everything fresh has been gone for weeks. On one of their many excursions, at twilight when the zombies hide, JJ had found a phone. It worked for about an hour and there was no signal, but at least they got the date. Nearly the end of August. Marcus decided something had to be done, at least they had to stockpile food and, well, basically everything else.
He pulls Gerald aside and as they stand outside the building, safe in the daylight, at least for now, he realizes this is the first time they've been alone since the evening of the rest day. Gerald reaches out and laces his fingers through Marcus'. When they're not on watch, they sleep next to each other, sometimes even sharing the same blankets, but it's not the same, not really.
Gerald steps in close. "I miss you," he whispers and Marcus knows exactly what he means. He can barely remember the last time they kissed.
He leans in, pressing his mouth against Gerald's, pulling him closer, into his arms. As he wraps himself around Gerald, he realizes how thin they've become and it scares him. He feels Gerald tense, but they don't let go of each other.
"I love you," Marcus finally says and Gerald kisses him again. Soft, gentle and what Marcus wouldn't give for everything to be normal. They could be out, drinking and dancing and fucking in some hotel. He feels Gerald's grip on his shoulders tighten and he knows his emotions must be written across his face.
Gerald shifts, slipping into Marcus' arms and they look over the mountains, at the snow-capped peaks. At the trees, the cities, some of them still burning. They don't hear screams so much anymore, just the relentless moaning of the zombies when they get too close. The mountain protects them, but for how long, Marcus doesn't know. He doesn't even know how long their supplies will last.
"We have to do something." It's Gerald who breaks the silence.
Marcus nods agreement, but he has no answers, not really. "I know." He rests his head against Gerald's.
They don't talk for several minutes, and then Marcus breaks the silence.
"We have to start hoarding," he says, very quietly. He feels Gerald's agreement before he even says anything.
"In other words," Gerald replies carefully, "people need to venture to other parts of ... what's left of the villages." Gerald swallows hard and the fear they all feel is clear in his words.
"I'll go." Marcus replies, false bravery, but if he can't go, why should he make the others?
Gerald grips him tightly. "Me too."
And just like that, it's settled. They return to the hotel, where they occupy the big conference room on the first floor. It wasn't safe, Thor had insisted, to be separated. And, Gerald had explained, the room only had two entrances to protect instead of a hall and everyone's doors. At the time, no one really thought to protest. And now, Marcus thinks as he watches people gather in the center of the room, no one wants to be alone.
The first expedition doesn't make it very far, they don't have a plan and are nearly caught off guard. The second, this time with a smaller group, they're prepared. The third is even better, the fourth and subsequent ones run like clockwork until there's nothing left to raid. In and out, with no casualties. They leave the houses, stores and restaurants first. They clean out all the food, the overgrown gardens.
Marcus thinks it's like a ghost town, even with the few zombies wandering the streets. Sometimes they recognize kits, even people, but not often. Mostly Marcus tries not to pay attention to who he's shooting. If war is hell, he thinks, this is a hundred thousand times worse.
It's the middle of September when the first real disaster hits. They'd managed to deal with broken limbs, summer colds, even food poisoning. There might not be hot water, but thank god for wells. They were running low on firewood again, it was getting colder and Gerald kept saying he didn't think they had enough. So there were several groups of two who went out, gathering what they could.
Everyone had come back, except for Bernie and Cav and Thor and David. Marcus was stacking wood against the wall near the fireplace when he noticed it was unusually quiet. Then suddenly there was a crack followed by a loud scream. Cav and Bernie burst into the room, breathing hard. Cav was holding his arm, bleeding. Both Marcus and Gerald leapt up, but it was Yoann who got there first. He was already dealing with Cav's arm.
"What happened?" Gerald's voice was rough and raw, the way they all sounded those days.
"We were attacked," Bernie said, trying to catch his breath. "Cav tripped and got his arm cut on something, but they didn't touch us."
There was something off about Bernie's story, but Marcus couldn't read him, so he dismissed it. They weren't hurt too badly, they'd survive. It's only now, looking back, that Marcus realizes his mistake. He should have said something, told Gerald his worries, but it was too late.
They thought it was just an infection, even Marcus wonders how they could have been so stupid. But there was no real way to know. Everyone else killed themselves before changing, except for Haussler. But he'd been bitten on an artery, changed immediately. Cav had a scratch that was really a bite mark, but they hadn't known.
Until one night when he was supposed to be on guard duty. Only when Marcus woke up for reasons he still doesn't know, Cav wasn't there. The door was wide open and that's when he realized what had happened. He'd shouted out the alarm, rung the bell that hung near the front door, waking every one up. The lights were on and that's when Cav came back.
He wasn't Cav anymore. He was a zombie and that was all Marcus could focus on. Gerald was too far to do anything, everyone else was in various stages of waking and it was up to Marcus. He'd grabbed a gun, the closest one and then he started shooting. It took him a minute and a half to finally kill Cav. As soon as he'd done it, he felt someone tackle him. It was Bernie, shouting and screaming at him.
Marcus didn't blame him. Nor did he try to stop Bernie when he ran down the mountain, toward the waiting zombies. There was nothing he could have done to stop him. Every time Marcus looks at Gerald, he knows that had the tables been turned, he'd have done the same thing.
It was a turning point, Marcus believed, because from then on, there was more talk of escape, of rescue. Thor had gone searching for cables and he, with David's help, had managed to rig up something they thought could make the internet work. Gerald was less optimistic and Marcus didn't disagree, and yet they both agreed to make the movie.
It turned out that Youtube was still running, that there were people still alive, small colonies across the globe. Except for Australia and Japan, almost every country was filled with infections, with zombies. It was that video that saved them.
Thor and David made the last trip to the town, no one knew it was going to be the last, but sometimes things work out that way. Thor bounded into the room, smiling widely. It was a look Marcus couldn't remember seeing for months.
"What is it?" Gerald had asked, just as David walked into the room.
He was holding cables and a car battery. "It still works!"
Electricity was the first thing Marcus thought of, but Gerald was the one who came up with the idea for the video. He'd found the camera and the laptop where they'd been left that very first day. He'd fiddled with both and with JJ's help, they managed to rig up the laptop. They charged both and then tried to power some of the building. They managed power in their main common room and that's when Gerald noticed the wireless. It flickered in and out, but in the end, it was enough.
The video wasn't a work of art and they wouldn't know how viral it would go, but it was enough. Four days later, October 6th, they were woken up to the sounds of humanity. Of rescue.
---
Gerald raises his hand, stopping Marcus. "I remember bits and pieces of this," he says, softly.
Marcus cups Gerald's face in his hands. "Yeah?"
"There were helicopters. They flew us over Paris, over Milan. We stopped in China, somewhere." He shudders. "Most people were dead or zombies. Cities were burning."
Marcus pulls Gerald into his arms, holding him as tight as he can, but he doesn't speak.
"They brought us here," Gerald stops and Marcus thinks about how fragile they all are.
Marcus thinks the camp was more like a posh sort of hospital, only they couldn't see outside. There are no windows, no natural light, but apparently it's to protect them. Marcus doesn't understand, but he's too tired to care. They're both too tired to care. They eat the food, which isn't bad, but it's bland. Gerald says maybe it's because they don't think the survivors can handle anything else and Marcus is inclined to agree.
The thing that annoys him the most, aside from the fact that he and Gerald were separated for almost two weeks before they let Gerald just move in with him, is the fact that they can't see the rest of their group, their family. The military, who Marcus doesn't mind, claim it's for their own protection, but it drives him mad. He misses them, he wants to know they're okay.
He and Gerald talk about it and they try to sneak around, but it turns out Marcus wasn't cut out for the spy stuff. Instead, they just spend all their time together. They try to piece together Gerald's memories, but it doesn't work. Marcus isn't sure he minds, he hates that he remembers and if it's better for Gerald to forget, then so be it.
They mess around, acting like teenagers and Gerald always says they're making up for lost time. But Marcus doesn't necessarily agree. He thinks they're far too frantic, far too worried about everything. As if they're both waiting to be taken from each other at any moment. He's explaining his theory when the door to their unit slams open. Marcus feels his heart sink and hears Gerald's sharp intake of breath when they see the doctor and two military men walk into the room.
They sit up, Marcus sliding to the edge of the bed. Gerald joins him, automatically sliding his hand into Marcus'. As if, Marcus thinks, he's saying he's not going to leave without a fight. But if the men notice, they don't show it or they just don't care. It makes Marcus uneasy and he grips Gerald's hand tighter.
"The rest of your group has been released," the doctor says and then slips out of the room, leaving Marcus and Gerald alone with the two soldiers.
"Where are they, can we see them?" Gerald asks, polite but with an edge Marcus shares.
"Here's the thing," the first man says and Marcus realizes the man's American, UN probably. "We need soldiers."
Marcus can feel Gerald stiffen and he knows their answer will be no, maybe even before Gerald does.
"No." Marcus replies, for both of them. "We've done our share of killing. We helped save those people. No fucking way are we going back."
The soldier turns to Gerald, as if hoping he'll reply differently.
"Whatever Marcus says is what I believe." His voice is even, betraying no emotion.
The other soldier smiles slightly, as if he expected this. When he speaks, his accent is British. "We figured as much, we just had to ask."
The American looks apologetically at both of them, "You're welcome to stay in Japan. But there are other places you can go, around the world. There are boats, taking people to Australia and New Zealand. The only safe places are islands."
"Where's the rest of our group going?" Marcus' voice is quiet now and he feels Gerald gripping his hand tightly.
"They're waiting for you before they decide," the British officer replies. "We'll take you to them."
Marcus slides off the bed, Gerald follows. He stops, they both turn and look at the bed, at their stuff. There's nothing Marcus wants to take with him. He looks at Gerald, they don't need to speak to understand each other. They just turn back and follow the two men.
They're led into a bigger room, filled with lockers. Another UN soldier gives them two bags and they change into what Marcus decides to call civilian clothes. Jeans and t-shirts, combat boots. Then they make their way through building after building of beds. Gerald grabs Marcus' arm, stopping in front of one of the halls.
They stare at people, most of them look like they're dying. Marcus turns, looking at Gerald and he knows they see the same thing. This is the way they looked when they were rescued. Marcus pulls Gerald's hand and they catch up with the guards, making their way toward what turns out to be the actual outside.
Sitting on benches, waiting for them, are the rest of their friends, their group. Not every one made it. The elderly man is nowhere to be seen, they find his wife and learn he didn't make it. Yoann is there, hand clasped tightly in Maxime's. Thor is there. But not David. Marcus learns that David's family escaped and he's gone off to find them.
Mark, Baden's friend, looks at them. "We've made our decision," he says, quietly.
"About where to go?" Gerald's fingers curl around Marcus' as he asks.
Mark nods.
Marcus squeezes Gerald's hand. "Where are we going?"
"Australia," he says, quietly.
"Your family?" Gerald asks, his voice gentle.
Mark nods, fighting tears.
Marcus nods, forcing a smile. The only family he has is Gerald, and maybe the rest of the group. "When do we leave?"
Mark breaks into a teary grin. "Two hours."
Gerald pulls Marcus closer. This is the end of everything, Marcus thinks and when he looks at Gerald, he knows he's thinking the same. He turns back to the group, they're milling around, talking and looking much healthier.
He turns back to Gerald, who leans in and kisses him. "Maybe," Gerald whispers, "it's not the end of anything. It's just the beginning of something else."
---
They'd uploaded the video to Youtube and somehow someone from the joint Japanese/UN rescue mission found it. They didn't know until the helicopters were hovering that they would be rescued. They'd mostly run out of food, Gerald knew he and Marcus weren't the only ones who weren't eating. He and Marcus discussed, in hushed conversations, about how they were running out of everything, what they were going to do when winter set in.
In the end it didn't matter, they were rescued. Suddenly they didn't have to worry about food or clothes or hot water. Everything was there, including people. Lots and lots of people. Gerald had wanted to go to Tokyo, but knew better than to ask. They needed to get away and if Mark had family waiting, then that's where they'd go. Most of their group had no one left, at least that they knew of.
It was the helicopters that threw him back into his memories, brought up scraps from the time in the hotel. But he knew he'd never really remember the two and a half months in the hotel in Avoriaz. In some ways, his life had stopped at Linus' death. It was the roar of the helicopters that reminded him of this, but it was Marcus who saved him. And whenever he looked at Marcus, he thought that maybe they'd saved each other.
Sometimes they'd talk about what happened, they couldn't pretend it didn't exist. They'd lost their families, their friends, and the one thing they loved more than anything in the world. But no matter how Gerald tried, he couldn't really remember. Marcus never questioned this and Gerald was grateful.
In spite of everything, Australia was perfect. Gerald had expected people to disperse, but there was something about those two and a half months that kept them all together. Even David, when he found his family alive, returned. He wasn't the only one, but there was more death than life, at least at first. Thor's family was rescued, flown from Norway to Australia. But mostly there was no news. Every few days, Marcus and Gerald would get on their bikes, top of the line, given to them by a bike shop in town, and ride to the local UN station.
Each branch had computers dedicated to looking through lists of the living. Each day the lists changed, growing and shrinking. Every time they went in hopeful and left dejected. It was hard, Marcus said, hanging onto hope that their families might have survived. They tried to convince each other to give up, but Gerald knew it was a losing battle. That it was only a matter of time. He remembered the brief conversation they'd had with the two UN soldiers in Japan and he knew, though he wasn't sure how, that he'd see Tokyo after all.
---
Crisp, clear video. Sunlight streaming through several picture windows, almost making the video too bright. Sitting cross legged in front of the camera, a man, tan and smiling, looks right through the camera, at the person behind the lens.
"It's been three years since our rescue. It's been even longer since the infection started. From what we can tell, the disease still lives in most countries, but researches and scientists claim they're close to making a cure. Who the fuck knows." His accent is a mix of German and Australian.
The man stands, the camera follows him. They walk outside of a building. The camera turns and suddenly the picture is filled with what appears to be a beautiful, old, Victorian looking house.
"This is ours, mine and Marcus', but we share it with several families from our time in Avoriaz. We raise sheep and vegetables." He gestures off somewhere behind the camera.
The camera shifts, panning around, but you can still hear the voice.
"We've worked extremely hard to make this place work. The Renshaws have been exceptionally generous with their land and money. They helped us all put ourselves together again." The voice goes quiet.
The camera pans across crops, clearly flourishing, toward a pasture practically overflowing with sheep. A few people can be made out in the distance. Several stand up and wave at the camera. There's laughter from somewhere off to the right of the screen.
The picture shakes as the camera changes hands. Standing in front of the camera is a thin, though healthy-looking, tanned man. Marcus' accent still has strong traces of German in it.
"Gerald and I are making this video as a way to say goodbye and thank you." Marcus turns, walking toward a table and several chairs. He sits in one; the camera, manned by Gerald, keeps close on his face.
"When we were first rescued, two soldiers from the UN asked if we'd be willing to go back, to fight. We said no." In the silence, the sounds of children playing, birds and bleating sheep fill the air.
Gerald speaks from behind the camera, his voice unnaturally loud. "Things have changed."
Marcus smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. "We have to go back. Most of the zombies have been eradicated from Europe, but not all. We had families in Germany, we ..." He pauses, swallowing hard. "We have to know what happened. The UN is asking for volunteers, people willing to risk their lives to go back." He stops, looking past the camera, clearly looking at Gerald.
He doesn't speak, but Gerald does. "And that's what we have to do. We love our family here, the life we've built. Our sheep and food go to support the survivors, and there are more than people expected. They're finding new people every day."
Marcus continues. "But we have to go back."
The camera pans to the left, there's a tripod set up. The camera is positioned carefully and Marcus shifts his chair, then pulls another over, next to him. Gerald crosses from behind the camera to in front of it, sitting next to Marcus. They hold hands as they sit.
"Thank you for everything you've done for us," he says, softly. He looks at Marcus and they share a smile, then turn back to the camera.
"This is where we say goodbye. When you watch this, we will have already left. We'll try to contact you while we're away, but communication with different continents is spotty, at best. Please don't forget us." He stops, swallowing hard.
Marcus finishes for him. "And don't come looking for us. Protect yourselves, your family. You've made it this far, don't give up now. And Yoann, you and Maxime can have the house in the event that we don't return."
Silence descends, the only sound the swish of the wind in the trees behind Marcus and Gerald. The silence goes on for almost too long. It's Gerald who speaks first.
"Goodbye, and we'll always love you."
Marcus repeats the words, then gets up, walking toward the camera until the screen is filled with his red shirt. Then the picture goes dark.
---
Marcus tells him, when they're safely in the medical camp outside Tokyo, that they all changed in that battle. They were no longer scared little boys. He tells Gerald they lost 15 men that day. 15 friends. Gerald crawls into bed with Marcus, trying not to listen to the story, trying to sink into his empty memories. But Marcus keeps on talking and the story he tells is one Gerald should know, but doesn't.
"You led us through the zombies. You just kept going, I thought you were going to die. But you didn't. We made our way up to Avoriaz without losing anyone else." Marcus' voice is tired and Gerald cannot help but listen. He rests his head on Marcus' shoulder, pressing their bodies close together.
Marcus slides his arms around Gerald, holding him. They hold onto each other as Marcus continues. "It began to rain. It was a cold, hard rain, but it kept the zombies at bay and we made it to the top. To the resort. There were people, fans and people from the town, inside the hotel. We befriended them, certain we'd be rescued."
Marcus reaches over, running his fingers through Gerald's hair. Gerald tips his head up, leaning forward and kissing him hard. The story stops as Gerald crawls on top of Marcus. They don't fuck, they don't do much of anything except kiss, at least at first. Even though he can't remember, he knows this is the first time they've really been this close since it all happened. He kisses Marcus harder, needier.
"I love you," he repeats. Marcus swallows the words up, returning them with butterfly kisses against Gerald's face, his neck until suddenly they're both hard and shuddering. Marcus moves his hips and Gerald does the same, grinding down. He's overcome with need, with desire. He presses their bodies even closer together. Marcus slides his hands down, against Gerald's back, then over his ass.
They make out like teenagers getting off in bed before their parents get home. Gerald doesn't care because it makes him feel alive. It reminds him that Marcus is alive. He's close, shuddering and gasping into Marcus' mouth. He feels Marcus arch under him, close and whimpering. They kiss again, harder and deeper and Gerald comes first. Moaning softly and then Marcus follows, fingers digging into Gerald's back.
"I love you," Marcus says, softly, as they get up and make their way toward the showers.
They don't talk again until that evening. Until Gerald moves all of his stuff from his little cot to the room Marcus' bed is in. They share a bed again and Gerald never wants to be far from Marcus if he can help it. He kisses Marcus' chest and then looks up at him.
"Tell me everything that happened," he says, quietly. Marcus kisses him back and then leans back, pulling Gerald with him.
"At first we were all in shock, but the people had food and water. They helped us. But a month passed and no one came to rescue us. Then another month passed and everything seemed hopeless."
---
Marcus sits guard, it's his turn. Gerald sleeps, plagued by nightmares, on the floor next to him. Every so often, Marcus reaches out and touches him. He can't remember the last time they kissed each other. The last time they shared a bed. He knows it hasn't been that long, but it feels like forever. He turns his attention back to the front door. There's another door, near the back, but a local man is guarding that. They'll switch off and on throughout the night.
There's a sound, howling it sounds like. But Marcus doesn't bother to investigate. Probably dogs from the town, he doesn't need to know. He doesn't want to know. Night passes quickly, merging into early morning and then it's Gerald's shift. When he wakes up, he can smell fresh bread. He learns from Thor that one of the ladies had raided the hotel kitchen and they were using up the last of the fresh food before it went bad.
Marcus and Gerald shared a look as Thor walked off.
"I don't think we're going to make it," Gerald said softly, sitting on the bench next to Marcus, so close that their legs touch. Marcus reaches over, sliding his hand into Gerald's.
"Don't talk like that," he replies, but he can't deny that there's a part of him that thinks Gerald's right.
They're dying. Running out of food and water, and the zombies, though mostly confined to the valley, are getting more and more restless and adventurous. He thinks about the other day, when he and Cav were out gathering firewood. They'd had to fight off zombies who were creeping up through the forest. Maybe Gerald was right, maybe they weren't going to last much longer.
The days seem to merge together and Marcus loses count of how much time has passed. Days merge into weeks, which probably merge into months, but they don't have any way of knowing, not really. The only way he even knows time's passing is because the days are getting shorter and the air colder, especially at night. They have to go further and further away from the hotel to get wood for the fire. No one's sure the furniture will burn safely, or if it's even wood. And one of the women won't let them touch the books.
They had enough food to live comfortably for a few more weeks, but even that's running short. The houses are bare, everything fresh has been gone for weeks. On one of their many excursions, at twilight when the zombies hide, JJ had found a phone. It worked for about an hour and there was no signal, but at least they got the date. Nearly the end of August. Marcus decided something had to be done, at least they had to stockpile food and, well, basically everything else.
He pulls Gerald aside and as they stand outside the building, safe in the daylight, at least for now, he realizes this is the first time they've been alone since the evening of the rest day. Gerald reaches out and laces his fingers through Marcus'. When they're not on watch, they sleep next to each other, sometimes even sharing the same blankets, but it's not the same, not really.
Gerald steps in close. "I miss you," he whispers and Marcus knows exactly what he means. He can barely remember the last time they kissed.
He leans in, pressing his mouth against Gerald's, pulling him closer, into his arms. As he wraps himself around Gerald, he realizes how thin they've become and it scares him. He feels Gerald tense, but they don't let go of each other.
"I love you," Marcus finally says and Gerald kisses him again. Soft, gentle and what Marcus wouldn't give for everything to be normal. They could be out, drinking and dancing and fucking in some hotel. He feels Gerald's grip on his shoulders tighten and he knows his emotions must be written across his face.
Gerald shifts, slipping into Marcus' arms and they look over the mountains, at the snow-capped peaks. At the trees, the cities, some of them still burning. They don't hear screams so much anymore, just the relentless moaning of the zombies when they get too close. The mountain protects them, but for how long, Marcus doesn't know. He doesn't even know how long their supplies will last.
"We have to do something." It's Gerald who breaks the silence.
Marcus nods agreement, but he has no answers, not really. "I know." He rests his head against Gerald's.
They don't talk for several minutes, and then Marcus breaks the silence.
"We have to start hoarding," he says, very quietly. He feels Gerald's agreement before he even says anything.
"In other words," Gerald replies carefully, "people need to venture to other parts of ... what's left of the villages." Gerald swallows hard and the fear they all feel is clear in his words.
"I'll go." Marcus replies, false bravery, but if he can't go, why should he make the others?
Gerald grips him tightly. "Me too."
And just like that, it's settled. They return to the hotel, where they occupy the big conference room on the first floor. It wasn't safe, Thor had insisted, to be separated. And, Gerald had explained, the room only had two entrances to protect instead of a hall and everyone's doors. At the time, no one really thought to protest. And now, Marcus thinks as he watches people gather in the center of the room, no one wants to be alone.
The first expedition doesn't make it very far, they don't have a plan and are nearly caught off guard. The second, this time with a smaller group, they're prepared. The third is even better, the fourth and subsequent ones run like clockwork until there's nothing left to raid. In and out, with no casualties. They leave the houses, stores and restaurants first. They clean out all the food, the overgrown gardens.
Marcus thinks it's like a ghost town, even with the few zombies wandering the streets. Sometimes they recognize kits, even people, but not often. Mostly Marcus tries not to pay attention to who he's shooting. If war is hell, he thinks, this is a hundred thousand times worse.
It's the middle of September when the first real disaster hits. They'd managed to deal with broken limbs, summer colds, even food poisoning. There might not be hot water, but thank god for wells. They were running low on firewood again, it was getting colder and Gerald kept saying he didn't think they had enough. So there were several groups of two who went out, gathering what they could.
Everyone had come back, except for Bernie and Cav and Thor and David. Marcus was stacking wood against the wall near the fireplace when he noticed it was unusually quiet. Then suddenly there was a crack followed by a loud scream. Cav and Bernie burst into the room, breathing hard. Cav was holding his arm, bleeding. Both Marcus and Gerald leapt up, but it was Yoann who got there first. He was already dealing with Cav's arm.
"What happened?" Gerald's voice was rough and raw, the way they all sounded those days.
"We were attacked," Bernie said, trying to catch his breath. "Cav tripped and got his arm cut on something, but they didn't touch us."
There was something off about Bernie's story, but Marcus couldn't read him, so he dismissed it. They weren't hurt too badly, they'd survive. It's only now, looking back, that Marcus realizes his mistake. He should have said something, told Gerald his worries, but it was too late.
They thought it was just an infection, even Marcus wonders how they could have been so stupid. But there was no real way to know. Everyone else killed themselves before changing, except for Haussler. But he'd been bitten on an artery, changed immediately. Cav had a scratch that was really a bite mark, but they hadn't known.
Until one night when he was supposed to be on guard duty. Only when Marcus woke up for reasons he still doesn't know, Cav wasn't there. The door was wide open and that's when he realized what had happened. He'd shouted out the alarm, rung the bell that hung near the front door, waking every one up. The lights were on and that's when Cav came back.
He wasn't Cav anymore. He was a zombie and that was all Marcus could focus on. Gerald was too far to do anything, everyone else was in various stages of waking and it was up to Marcus. He'd grabbed a gun, the closest one and then he started shooting. It took him a minute and a half to finally kill Cav. As soon as he'd done it, he felt someone tackle him. It was Bernie, shouting and screaming at him.
Marcus didn't blame him. Nor did he try to stop Bernie when he ran down the mountain, toward the waiting zombies. There was nothing he could have done to stop him. Every time Marcus looks at Gerald, he knows that had the tables been turned, he'd have done the same thing.
It was a turning point, Marcus believed, because from then on, there was more talk of escape, of rescue. Thor had gone searching for cables and he, with David's help, had managed to rig up something they thought could make the internet work. Gerald was less optimistic and Marcus didn't disagree, and yet they both agreed to make the movie.
It turned out that Youtube was still running, that there were people still alive, small colonies across the globe. Except for Australia and Japan, almost every country was filled with infections, with zombies. It was that video that saved them.
Thor and David made the last trip to the town, no one knew it was going to be the last, but sometimes things work out that way. Thor bounded into the room, smiling widely. It was a look Marcus couldn't remember seeing for months.
"What is it?" Gerald had asked, just as David walked into the room.
He was holding cables and a car battery. "It still works!"
Electricity was the first thing Marcus thought of, but Gerald was the one who came up with the idea for the video. He'd found the camera and the laptop where they'd been left that very first day. He'd fiddled with both and with JJ's help, they managed to rig up the laptop. They charged both and then tried to power some of the building. They managed power in their main common room and that's when Gerald noticed the wireless. It flickered in and out, but in the end, it was enough.
The video wasn't a work of art and they wouldn't know how viral it would go, but it was enough. Four days later, October 6th, they were woken up to the sounds of humanity. Of rescue.
---
Gerald raises his hand, stopping Marcus. "I remember bits and pieces of this," he says, softly.
Marcus cups Gerald's face in his hands. "Yeah?"
"There were helicopters. They flew us over Paris, over Milan. We stopped in China, somewhere." He shudders. "Most people were dead or zombies. Cities were burning."
Marcus pulls Gerald into his arms, holding him as tight as he can, but he doesn't speak.
"They brought us here," Gerald stops and Marcus thinks about how fragile they all are.
Marcus thinks the camp was more like a posh sort of hospital, only they couldn't see outside. There are no windows, no natural light, but apparently it's to protect them. Marcus doesn't understand, but he's too tired to care. They're both too tired to care. They eat the food, which isn't bad, but it's bland. Gerald says maybe it's because they don't think the survivors can handle anything else and Marcus is inclined to agree.
The thing that annoys him the most, aside from the fact that he and Gerald were separated for almost two weeks before they let Gerald just move in with him, is the fact that they can't see the rest of their group, their family. The military, who Marcus doesn't mind, claim it's for their own protection, but it drives him mad. He misses them, he wants to know they're okay.
He and Gerald talk about it and they try to sneak around, but it turns out Marcus wasn't cut out for the spy stuff. Instead, they just spend all their time together. They try to piece together Gerald's memories, but it doesn't work. Marcus isn't sure he minds, he hates that he remembers and if it's better for Gerald to forget, then so be it.
They mess around, acting like teenagers and Gerald always says they're making up for lost time. But Marcus doesn't necessarily agree. He thinks they're far too frantic, far too worried about everything. As if they're both waiting to be taken from each other at any moment. He's explaining his theory when the door to their unit slams open. Marcus feels his heart sink and hears Gerald's sharp intake of breath when they see the doctor and two military men walk into the room.
They sit up, Marcus sliding to the edge of the bed. Gerald joins him, automatically sliding his hand into Marcus'. As if, Marcus thinks, he's saying he's not going to leave without a fight. But if the men notice, they don't show it or they just don't care. It makes Marcus uneasy and he grips Gerald's hand tighter.
"The rest of your group has been released," the doctor says and then slips out of the room, leaving Marcus and Gerald alone with the two soldiers.
"Where are they, can we see them?" Gerald asks, polite but with an edge Marcus shares.
"Here's the thing," the first man says and Marcus realizes the man's American, UN probably. "We need soldiers."
Marcus can feel Gerald stiffen and he knows their answer will be no, maybe even before Gerald does.
"No." Marcus replies, for both of them. "We've done our share of killing. We helped save those people. No fucking way are we going back."
The soldier turns to Gerald, as if hoping he'll reply differently.
"Whatever Marcus says is what I believe." His voice is even, betraying no emotion.
The other soldier smiles slightly, as if he expected this. When he speaks, his accent is British. "We figured as much, we just had to ask."
The American looks apologetically at both of them, "You're welcome to stay in Japan. But there are other places you can go, around the world. There are boats, taking people to Australia and New Zealand. The only safe places are islands."
"Where's the rest of our group going?" Marcus' voice is quiet now and he feels Gerald gripping his hand tightly.
"They're waiting for you before they decide," the British officer replies. "We'll take you to them."
Marcus slides off the bed, Gerald follows. He stops, they both turn and look at the bed, at their stuff. There's nothing Marcus wants to take with him. He looks at Gerald, they don't need to speak to understand each other. They just turn back and follow the two men.
They're led into a bigger room, filled with lockers. Another UN soldier gives them two bags and they change into what Marcus decides to call civilian clothes. Jeans and t-shirts, combat boots. Then they make their way through building after building of beds. Gerald grabs Marcus' arm, stopping in front of one of the halls.
They stare at people, most of them look like they're dying. Marcus turns, looking at Gerald and he knows they see the same thing. This is the way they looked when they were rescued. Marcus pulls Gerald's hand and they catch up with the guards, making their way toward what turns out to be the actual outside.
Sitting on benches, waiting for them, are the rest of their friends, their group. Not every one made it. The elderly man is nowhere to be seen, they find his wife and learn he didn't make it. Yoann is there, hand clasped tightly in Maxime's. Thor is there. But not David. Marcus learns that David's family escaped and he's gone off to find them.
Mark, Baden's friend, looks at them. "We've made our decision," he says, quietly.
"About where to go?" Gerald's fingers curl around Marcus' as he asks.
Mark nods.
Marcus squeezes Gerald's hand. "Where are we going?"
"Australia," he says, quietly.
"Your family?" Gerald asks, his voice gentle.
Mark nods, fighting tears.
Marcus nods, forcing a smile. The only family he has is Gerald, and maybe the rest of the group. "When do we leave?"
Mark breaks into a teary grin. "Two hours."
Gerald pulls Marcus closer. This is the end of everything, Marcus thinks and when he looks at Gerald, he knows he's thinking the same. He turns back to the group, they're milling around, talking and looking much healthier.
He turns back to Gerald, who leans in and kisses him. "Maybe," Gerald whispers, "it's not the end of anything. It's just the beginning of something else."
---
They'd uploaded the video to Youtube and somehow someone from the joint Japanese/UN rescue mission found it. They didn't know until the helicopters were hovering that they would be rescued. They'd mostly run out of food, Gerald knew he and Marcus weren't the only ones who weren't eating. He and Marcus discussed, in hushed conversations, about how they were running out of everything, what they were going to do when winter set in.
In the end it didn't matter, they were rescued. Suddenly they didn't have to worry about food or clothes or hot water. Everything was there, including people. Lots and lots of people. Gerald had wanted to go to Tokyo, but knew better than to ask. They needed to get away and if Mark had family waiting, then that's where they'd go. Most of their group had no one left, at least that they knew of.
It was the helicopters that threw him back into his memories, brought up scraps from the time in the hotel. But he knew he'd never really remember the two and a half months in the hotel in Avoriaz. In some ways, his life had stopped at Linus' death. It was the roar of the helicopters that reminded him of this, but it was Marcus who saved him. And whenever he looked at Marcus, he thought that maybe they'd saved each other.
Sometimes they'd talk about what happened, they couldn't pretend it didn't exist. They'd lost their families, their friends, and the one thing they loved more than anything in the world. But no matter how Gerald tried, he couldn't really remember. Marcus never questioned this and Gerald was grateful.
In spite of everything, Australia was perfect. Gerald had expected people to disperse, but there was something about those two and a half months that kept them all together. Even David, when he found his family alive, returned. He wasn't the only one, but there was more death than life, at least at first. Thor's family was rescued, flown from Norway to Australia. But mostly there was no news. Every few days, Marcus and Gerald would get on their bikes, top of the line, given to them by a bike shop in town, and ride to the local UN station.
Each branch had computers dedicated to looking through lists of the living. Each day the lists changed, growing and shrinking. Every time they went in hopeful and left dejected. It was hard, Marcus said, hanging onto hope that their families might have survived. They tried to convince each other to give up, but Gerald knew it was a losing battle. That it was only a matter of time. He remembered the brief conversation they'd had with the two UN soldiers in Japan and he knew, though he wasn't sure how, that he'd see Tokyo after all.
---
Crisp, clear video. Sunlight streaming through several picture windows, almost making the video too bright. Sitting cross legged in front of the camera, a man, tan and smiling, looks right through the camera, at the person behind the lens.
"It's been three years since our rescue. It's been even longer since the infection started. From what we can tell, the disease still lives in most countries, but researches and scientists claim they're close to making a cure. Who the fuck knows." His accent is a mix of German and Australian.
The man stands, the camera follows him. They walk outside of a building. The camera turns and suddenly the picture is filled with what appears to be a beautiful, old, Victorian looking house.
"This is ours, mine and Marcus', but we share it with several families from our time in Avoriaz. We raise sheep and vegetables." He gestures off somewhere behind the camera.
The camera shifts, panning around, but you can still hear the voice.
"We've worked extremely hard to make this place work. The Renshaws have been exceptionally generous with their land and money. They helped us all put ourselves together again." The voice goes quiet.
The camera pans across crops, clearly flourishing, toward a pasture practically overflowing with sheep. A few people can be made out in the distance. Several stand up and wave at the camera. There's laughter from somewhere off to the right of the screen.
The picture shakes as the camera changes hands. Standing in front of the camera is a thin, though healthy-looking, tanned man. Marcus' accent still has strong traces of German in it.
"Gerald and I are making this video as a way to say goodbye and thank you." Marcus turns, walking toward a table and several chairs. He sits in one; the camera, manned by Gerald, keeps close on his face.
"When we were first rescued, two soldiers from the UN asked if we'd be willing to go back, to fight. We said no." In the silence, the sounds of children playing, birds and bleating sheep fill the air.
Gerald speaks from behind the camera, his voice unnaturally loud. "Things have changed."
Marcus smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. "We have to go back. Most of the zombies have been eradicated from Europe, but not all. We had families in Germany, we ..." He pauses, swallowing hard. "We have to know what happened. The UN is asking for volunteers, people willing to risk their lives to go back." He stops, looking past the camera, clearly looking at Gerald.
He doesn't speak, but Gerald does. "And that's what we have to do. We love our family here, the life we've built. Our sheep and food go to support the survivors, and there are more than people expected. They're finding new people every day."
Marcus continues. "But we have to go back."
The camera pans to the left, there's a tripod set up. The camera is positioned carefully and Marcus shifts his chair, then pulls another over, next to him. Gerald crosses from behind the camera to in front of it, sitting next to Marcus. They hold hands as they sit.
"Thank you for everything you've done for us," he says, softly. He looks at Marcus and they share a smile, then turn back to the camera.
"This is where we say goodbye. When you watch this, we will have already left. We'll try to contact you while we're away, but communication with different continents is spotty, at best. Please don't forget us." He stops, swallowing hard.
Marcus finishes for him. "And don't come looking for us. Protect yourselves, your family. You've made it this far, don't give up now. And Yoann, you and Maxime can have the house in the event that we don't return."
Silence descends, the only sound the swish of the wind in the trees behind Marcus and Gerald. The silence goes on for almost too long. It's Gerald who speaks first.
"Goodbye, and we'll always love you."
Marcus repeats the words, then gets up, walking toward the camera until the screen is filled with his red shirt. Then the picture goes dark.