Memories We Won't Erase - Part Two
Memories We Won't Erase - Part One (includes warnings, art, etc)
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No one questioned when Alex and Mal couldn't be separated at all. It was almost as though nothing had changed, except George, Alice and Jack gave them a bit more privacy. They rarely went any place without the other and Alex wondered how he'd even managed to survive without Mal. He was scared they were never going to be rescued, but he was even more scared about losing Mal.
“I'm not cut out for this post-apocalyptic bullshit.” He muttered one morning as they were riding their bikes along the fencing.
“Me either, mate.” Mal replied, slowing his bike down to check some locks they'd recently changed. Alex parked next to him and brandished a modified torch, keep the zombies away from the gate as Mal checked how the lock was holding.
“It look good?” Alex asked.
Mal nodded, then stepped back as Alex extinguished the fire. He turned to Alex and pressed his mouth against Alex's, kissing him softly. Then, without speaking, got on his bike. They continued their rounds until they reached the northwest corner, the furthest from the airport.
“Something's not right.” Alex said as he got off his bike. He walked toward the fence, but not close enough to touch it.
Mal came up beside him, sliding his hand into Alex's. “There were more yesterday.”
“Zombies? Yeah.” Alex laced his fingers with Mal's as they walked along the fence.
“I don't see … no, wait. No. I don't see any bodies. D'you think they left?”
Alex shrugged. “I don't know. But usually they swarm more when we're here.” He stopped walking and looked at Mal. “You haven't, you know, hear any shots at night, have you?”
Mal shook his head. “No, you?”
“No.” He frowned, wondering what the hell could be going on.
It was almost December and the snow was starting to fall harder. They were able to get their bikes through because they were skilled at bike riding, but soon enough, it wouldn't matter because there'd be too much snow and no plows to clean it up. Alex wasn’t sure how they were going to make it through the winter. He was scared that the snow would take out their power, though he did look forward to playing in the snow with Alice and Jack, far from the zombies.
He shook his head to clear it, then turned away from the fence and zipped his coat up more. They had a few miles of fence left and they completed the task in silence. The snow began to fall harder, much to Alex's annoyance. They'd been lucky, they'd had an unseasonably warm November, but it looked like the weather was catching up to them. By the time they made it back to the airport, they were both soaking wet and shivering.
The showers, which were once staff only, had hot water, but Alex refused to think about how long it'd last. Instead, he concentrated on kissing Mal. On the way Mal's hands made him feel, the way their bodies fit perfectly together. They only took hot showers together, both to save hot water and because they liked it. Alex especially liked it because it was one of the times he didn't feel completely alone. He liked the feeling of Mal next to him. Of Mal naked against him. They couldn't even have sex, not because they shared Gate J with other people, but because it was always too cold at night and taking off layers was more trouble than it was worth. He'd wanted to, though, and they'd tried. Found a condom dispenser in one of the men's rooms. But it was too awkward and they'd settled for hand jobs under a pile of blankets.
But the hot water meant that Alex could look at Mal. Could runs his hands down his body, could kiss him until he could feel Mal hard against his thigh. It mean that Mal could sink to his knees and suck on Alex's cock until he felt like his whole world was just the two of them. It meant that Alex could cry if he wanted to. It meant that Mal could, too. And they wouldn't have to talk about it later, because only they would know and the water would just wash it away. Alex didn't want to run out of hot water because it'd mean they wouldn't have any more moments like this.
Their allotted shower time finally came to an end, leaving both of them shivering in the cool air of the bathroom. They dried and dressed quickly, piling on the layers. Alex slipped his hand into Mal's as they walked back to their gate.
“We should tell Frank.” Mal said.
“About the thinning of the herd.” Alex stated and Mal nodded. The herd was Hunter's term for the zombies and even though it bugged Alex, he didn't like the word 'hoard' and herd seemed to fit better anyway.
They reached the gate to find George, Jack and Alice waiting for them. Alex's heart skipped a few beats.
“Is something wrong?” He managed to get out. He felt Mal's hand tighten around his.
George shook his head, but it was Alice who answered.
“There's going to be an emergency broadcast at 9.” She said excitedly.
Alex's gaze met George's and he nodded.
“Any idea what it's about?” Mal asked and Alex could tell he was trying to keep his voice level, to keep any excitement, or disappointment, out of it.
George shook his head again. “No, but there are rumors flying around the concourse. Why don't we head down for dinner?”
Alex glanced at Mal, who nodded. “All right. Anyone know what's on the menu?”
Jack bounced up and down until Mal picked him up. “Tacos!”
Alex arched an eyebrow.
George laughed. “There was another Mexican grill upstairs, their freezer hadn't been off so all the food's good.”
As they approached the concourse, Alice and Jack ran ahead. Mal and Alex stayed back, with George.
“We're running low, aren't we?” Mal asked, slipping an arm around Alex's waist.
George glanced at both of them and nodded. “Us older folks are going to have to cut down, to make sure you young 'uns survive.”
“Don't talk like that, George.” Alex said immediately, enough though he couldn't fault the logic.
“Can't be helped, son.” George patted Alex's shoulder. “If the rescue doesn't come soon, there's not going to be much we can do.”
They walked toward the group in silence, then George spoke again. “Alexander, Malcolm, I want you to promise me something.”
“Sure, George. Whatever you need.” Came Mal's quick reply.
“Whatever happens to me, I want you to take care of Jack and Alice. I know Jack's not my grandson and I know the three of us have no relationship to you, other than what we have here, but they need someone ...” He trailed off, looking off in the distance and then at both of them.
“Of course.” Alex managed to choke the words out.
“You're both such good boys, I know you'll take good care of the little ones.” George ruffled Alex's hair, then Mal's, before walking toward a group of older folk.
“You don't think they've already started rationing.” Alex said, glancing at Mal.
Mal shrugged, but there was concern written across his face. “Your guess is as good as mine, but ...” He trailed off, unable to say what they were both thinking.
Dinner was a sullen affair, with only the children excited about the broadcast. At a quarter to nine, after all the food had been cleaned up and put away, chairs were pulled around the TV that ran 24 hours a day, in case there was a broadcast like this one. Alex sat on the floor, with Mal settled between his legs. He leaned against George's chair and they waited.
At nine a well dressed woman appeared on the screen. When she spoke, her accent was Australian. Alex felt himself tense and he could feel Mal doing the same. He felt George's hand on his head, no one moved.
We've been sending out recorded messages from different locations throughout the world up until tonight. As you may or may not have heard, a small group of survivors were rescued a month or so ago from a mountain in France. There have been a few individuals who ventured out to save loved ones, most have returned alive. We do not condone this behavior, but we will not stop you and we will, if possible, offer aid. But again, we advise against any unofficial rescue attempts.
The woman stopped talking and glanced at a sheet in front of her, then up at the camera. Alex shivered and it felt as though she was looking right at all of them. Then she went on.
I know some of you must be wondering who this 'we' might possibly be. The answer is that we're what's left of the governments of the world. I used to be in the Australian government and these men and women to my left ...
The camera panned out to show a group of people, all well dressed. None of them were smiling, though Alex figured they had nothing to smile about.
This is your new government. There's not much left of our world, but we're trying to rebuild it. There are three locations for this new world government. One in Japan, which is where we are now. One in Australia. And third in Hawaii, the only part of the United States to be untouched by the plague.
Apparently, Alex thought bitterly, zombies weren't the politically correct term to be using. He frowned, but just tightened his arms around Mal. He felt Mal's hands on his as they waited for the woman to continue.
It is our goal to evacuate and rescue as many people as possible
“It's it a bit late for an evacuation?” Someone closer to the TV muttered. Alex couldn't help but agree.
Therefore, we have some advice on how to make sure we know that you're alive. If you're unable to follow these procedures or to get to an evacuation point, we do have soldiers who will be combing through both urban and rural areas for survivors.
The woman went on, but Alex tuned her out. He didn't need to know what to do to be rescued. He'd do what he was told, but he couldn't stop thinking about Australia. Home, he could go home. If they got rescued. He could see his parents, his friends. He might even be able to race again, if they were still doing that. He felt Mal move and realized that the program was over. People were talking excitedly and Alex couldn't stop the feelings of hope from flooding through him.
He glanced at Mal and suddenly felt guilty. None of his plans had included Mal. He had to turn away when Mal looked at him. It wasn't right, he thought, he needed Mal. His dreams should've included Mal. Of course, he suddenly thought bitterly, they probably weren't going to be rescued anyway.
It was Mal who first heard the planes. They'd followed all the directions and moved everyone upstairs. They hoarded food, they'd tried to keep warm as best they could. The downstairs was full of all their abandoned belongings, including Mal and Alex's bikes. The planes flew over late one night and the next morning they found fliers spread all over the snow.
It was Valentine's Day. No one cared, not even Mal. He'd kissed Alex in the morning, assured him that they'd make up for this when they were rescued. The fliers were written in about ten different languages, one of them English. They basically said there would be a rescue soon and that they shouldn't worry.
Except that February turned into March, which turned into April and people were dying. They were trying their best to stay alive, but every day, George looked thinner. But not just George, everyone over the age of 30 was rationing. They'd already lost a few people, starvation was a painful, if quiet, way to die. Even Mal found he was eating fewer and fewer meals. He and Alex were tired all the time, they barely had any the energy to do more than kiss, and then only for a moment or two.
By mid-April, they'd lost George. He'd died in his sleep and the only way they knew he'd gone was Alice's wailing. Without talking about it, Mal and Alex had taken to letting Jack and Alice sleep with them. It was better than being alone and even though Mal missed sharing his bed with Alex and Alex alone, he felt better with the kids around. Not that they were the innocent, care free kids they'd been only a month or two earlier. Alice had had her tenth birthday, complete with a tiny cake made with the last of the flower and sugar. She was aware enough of what was going to understand what happened, and Jack wasn't far behind. Though he'd stopped speaking when George had died.
Mal stood next to Alex, watching the zombies press against the gates. He remembered earlier, during the winter, when it seemed the numbers of zombies were shrinking. Thinking back on it, he realizes it was probably because of the approaching snowstorm. They’d gotten so much snow that it reached the bottom of the windows on the first floor terminal. But now that it was warmer, it seemed there were more zombies than ever. Alex and Mal helped bury their dead, there was a garden inside the terminal, surrounded on all sides by glass. That was where the bodies were, each with a shot in the head, in case the dead came back.
“We can't last much longer.” Alex said, shivering, though it was spring outside.
Mal stepped in closer, wrapping both arms around him. “I know.”
“We're running out of everything.” Alex murmured.
Mal turned Alex around in his arms. “I know.” He whispered, then leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, gently and filled with so much emotion that Mal thought he was going to breakdown.
“I don't … I.” Alex mumbled and Mal cut him off with another kiss.
“If we make it out of here alive, we're going home. You, me, Jack and Alice. We're going to go live on a farm in Australia and we're not going to talk about the zombies.” Mal whispered.
“You'd do that?” Alex looked at him, wide-eyed.
“You know that I love you.” Mal replied softly.
Alex looked at him, speechless, then kissed him.
The helicopters came two weeks later, the first of June. It was sweltering hot and Mal thought it was strange that they'd been here for almost a year. One more month, he'd told Alex, and I'd've lived with you for a year. They'd shared a smile, then boarded the helicopter with Jack and Alice.
They were taken to Japan first. Their group kept together and it was then that Mal and Alex realized how few of them were really left. What started as a group of over 200 was down to less than 80. People had died, from the zombies, but mostly from starvation. It hurt Alex to think about it, it hurt him to remember. And while he couldn't help the nightmares, he could hold up his end of the promise to Mal and to never talk about it again.
In Japan they were well fed and updated on what had been happening while they were trying to survive. In camps, which felt more like boarding school than any sort of camp, they met other survivors. People who were luckier than they were, people weren't as lucky. There was life mixed with death everywhere they turned. Alex found he couldn't bear being away from Mal and realized all his dreams of a life after this were futile. He only wanted to be with Mal, and with Jack and Alice.
Every morning, until they were finally granted permission leave, they'd walk to the camp's central computers, to check up on loved ones. The day before their release, they discovered the fate of Alice's parents, and then of Jack's. Both deceased, as were all living relatives. The day of their release, Alex and Mal were asked if they would be willing to take custody of the children, even though they were not related to them. They didn't even have to exchange a look before agreeing.
The next day they were on a plane bound for Australia, with Alice and Jack in tow.
Alex slept through most of the flight, Jack curled up against his side, also sleeping. Alice was too excited, and Mal decided it was his duty to stay awake with her. When they finally landed, it was July. It was the day, a year earlier, they should've returned home. As they deplaned, Alex slipped his hand into Mal's. Jack and Alice walked in front of them, each carrying new backpacks with all of their belongings. This was their family, now, Alex thought. He stopped when the children did, Mal standing close to him. Alice suddenly turned, running back to Alex.
“What is it, love?” He asked softly.
She looked at him. “There are so many people. I'm scared, Alex.”
“I know, baby.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Just take my hand, all right? We'll be okay.”
He glanced over at Mal, who'd picked Jack up. Tiny little Jack who was underweight and wouldn't talk to anyone he didn't know. He watched Jack wrap his arms around Mal's neck and then steeled himself up. He took Mal's hand again and the four of them walked toward the exits.
He didn't know what was waiting for them, but he should've expected tears and hugs. There were welcome signs and people he thought he should know, but barely recognized. He watched his parent's faces slip into shock as he walked toward them, one hand in Mal's and the other in Alice's. They'd all been ushered out to dinner and then put up in an expensive hotel. There were separate rooms for the four of them, but it didn't last. Mal moved his stuff into Alex's room, and Jack and Alice followed shortly. The real world, the separation, was too hard to handle.
Alex's mum found him the next morning, eating breakfast with Alice and Jack as Mal showered. He'd've liked to shower with him, but didn't think it was right for the kids to be left alone so soon. His mum sat across from him, glancing at Jack and Alice, who moved in front of the TV and pretended not to overhear the conversation.
“Where are their parents?” She asked.
Alex looked up and met his mum's gaze. “Dead.”
She looked startled. “What?”
“Alice is French, she was with her grandfather and they were supposed to be going back to her parents.” He stopped and took a drink of orange juice. “Jack was on his way to visit his big brother in England.”
“What about her grandfather?” His mum asked, quietly.
“He died to keep Jack and Alice alive.” Alex couldn't help being blunt, he'd learned that tact was just another way of lying.
His mother was speechless.
“They're ours now, mine and Mal's.” He replied, steadying himself for what she would inevitably say next.
“Yours and … What about that nice young woman?”
“You mean Charlotte? I'm sure she's nice, but I'm with Mal.” And that, he thought almost smiling to himself, was how he came out to his mum. A great story for his grandkids.
“Honey, Mal's a boy.” His mum replied and Alex had to look at her to make sure she wasn't joking.
“I know, mum.” He said, with a sigh. He heard the bathroom door open and glanced over at Mal. He had a towel around his waist and Alex couldn't help smiling a little.
He could feel his mother's gaze on him and he refused to turn toward her. Mal held his gaze and he tried to project how much he loved Mal to him. It seemed to work, because he could see Mal's shoulders relax, just a little.
“If you'll excuse me, mum. I need to shower and then Mal and I need to get the kids ready. We have to find a place to live today.” He didn't want to stay in this hotel any longer than he had to. It was nice, but he wanted a home. Someplace he could have his nightmares in a different room as the two kids he considered his children.
They ended up living in the hotel for almost two weeks. It wasn't until one of their old cycling friends, Jack Bobridge, showed up at the door of their hotel room. Alice and and their own Jack were with Mal's parents, who had been significantly more welcoming than Alex's own. Though, Mal thought, they seemed to be slowly coming around.
“Jack!” Alex had said when he'd opened the door.
There was too much emotion and far too much hugging, but the three of them didn't seem to care. They hadn't seen any of their cycling teammates in over a year. Alex ordered room service and they sat on the balcony of their room.
“We were all worried about you.” Jack said, quietly.
Mal had pushed his chair next to Alex's, they still had trouble being apart. He didn't speak, but let Alex do most of the talking.
“It was hard.” Alex began, quietly. “We don't really … There's a lot of stuff we don't talk about. We're just happy to have survived.” He stopped.
Mal finally spoke up. “And happy to have Jack and Alice.”
Alex glanced at him, with a smile, then Jack started talking again.
“Mal, your mum said something about that when I called her. So you two …?” He asked.
Alex nodded. “Yeah.”
Jack laughed, but it wasn't anything other than pleased. “Mate, as long as the two of you made it out alive, I don't care whose bed you share.”
The three of them laughed and then Jack shifted forward in his chair.
“I'm not just here because I was worried about you both. Don't get me wrong, I was. But … I heard, mostly from your mum, Alex, that the two of you were looking for a place to live.” Jack stopped, looking at both of them.
Mal arched an eyebrow at Alex, who shrugged. “We are.” Mal said, quietly.
Alex continued. “A place for the four of us.”
Jack nodded, not looking phased at all. “Gerald Ciolek and Marcus Burghardt, you remember them?”
“Vaguely.” Mal said, wishing he'd had more time to race against real pros.
Jack went on. “They … they survived something like what you went through and they've started a farm. Kind of a collective? There are a lot of stranded pros, some from Australia, others from Europe.” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “They wanted me to tell you that you're welcome. They have plenty of room and work.”
Alex looked so surprised that Mal found himself doing the talking.
“Are you living there? Have you been there? There's room for all four of us?” The questions tumbled out of him.
Jack laughed, but it was a kind sound. “I'm still living at home, but I go there at least once a month, but sometimes more. There is plenty of room. Gerald and Marcus live in a old house on the property, but they've really created a strong community with help from the Renshaws.” Jack stopped.
Alex frowned a little. “Are you sure they'd welcome us there?”
Mal reached out and slide his hand into Alex's, he knew they shared the same fear. It was hard, talking to people who hadn't survived, who couldn't imagine the horrors they'd lived through.
Jack looked both of them in the eye when he spoke. “Like I said, Gerald and Marcus have been there. I might not know what it's like, but they do. It's a place for survivors. They understand what it's like, I promise you.”
Mal and Alex glanced at each other, then Mal spoke up. “We'll have to think about it, talk to the kids.”
Jack nodded, then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and then back at Mal and Alex. “This is what I do now.” He said quietly. “I find you, people like you and Alex, and try to make it easier for you. Marcus and Gerald have devoted their lives to helping survivors.”
Alex stood, but Mal stayed where he was, trying to process the conversation.
“We'll let you know, yeah?” Alex said, walking back into the room with Jack.
He nodded and than glanced back at Mal. “Take your time. I'm really happy you're both alive.” He said, then walked out of the room.
Alex walked back to the balcony, taking a seat on Mal's lap. He cupped Mal's face in his hand, kissing him softly.
“We're going to move there, aren't we?” Mal said, quietly.
Alex nodded. “We'll still ask the kids, but ...”
“I know.” Mal kissed Alex again.
It took them a week to tell Jack, another week to pack everything and a month after they were rescued, they moved onto the farm. What Jack hadn't told them was that they'd have a small house, nothing fancy, for the four of them. It came fully furnished and stocked with food and whatever else they needed. The house was one story, plus a shed and a porch. There were two bedrooms, a kitchen, living room/dining room, bathroom and a study type thing. They'd requested bunk beds for Jack and Alice, and that’s exactly what they got.
Both Jack and Alice seem to adjust easily, though he knew they were both suffering from the loss of their parents, and of George. Alex was worried about Mal and knew Mal was worried about him. It was becoming abundantly clear that they were going to have to talk about what happened, at least at some point, because they couldn't keep pretending everything was fine. But for now, Alex was content to try to find a comfortable existence. He'd gone home, by himself, to collect his personal belongings from his home.
He'd found it hard and exhausting, but he was pleased to realize that his parents had finally come around to accepting that he was going to spend the rest of the foreseeable future with a bloke and not a girl. They helped him pack and instead of making him take the train back, they took him. They helped Mal and Alex with their house and by the time they left, he thought his parents thought of Jack and Alice as their own grandkids. They had a similar experience with Mal's parents, and by the beginning of December, everything was starting to feel like home.
Alex liked working on the farm. He enjoyed getting up early, riding out with Marcus to tend the crops or the sheep. He would return after in time for breakfast with the kids, then leave when Mal took them to the school near the farm. They didn't have to work all the time, the farm was a weird sort of collective, but both he and Mal tried to keep busy. One evening, when Jack was already in bed and Alice was at a friend's house, Alex thought they'd had enough about not talking about things.
“Mal?” He said, quietly.
Mal looked up from the paper he was reading. “Yeah?”
“We have to talk.” Alex watched fear cross Mal's face and felt horrible for his choice of words.
“About?” Mal's voice was strained.
Alex reached across the table, grabbing Mal's hands. “About what we never talk about. We need to talk about what happened.”
Mal turned away, but didn't pull away. “I know.”
Mal's reply startled Alex and he was caught off guard, and so Mal went on.
“It hurts, to think about what happened. That we'll never be able to go back there to race. That Alice and Jack will never get to see their parents again. That they'll never get to go home again.”
Alex stood up and walked around the table. He squats down, hands on Mal's knees. “It hurts that we saw people died, that we couldn't help them. Him. George. We'll never be able to get over it.” Alex whispered.
Mal cupped Alex's face in his hands. “I know. I just … I keep thinking if we pretend it didn't happen, then maybe this'll all be a dream.”
Alex's heart broke, because he knew exactly how Mal felt. “We're too young for this.” He whispered.
Mal leaned in, kissing Alex softly. “I know. But here we are.”
Alex shifted to his knees, resting his head against Mal's. “You have nightmares.”
“So do you.” Mal replied.
“At least Alice and Jack seem to have stopped having them.”
Mal nodded. “I think it's because we sent them to that doctor.”
“The one who said we have PTSD?” Alex replied.
Mal nodded. “He's smarter than we want to give him credit for being.”
Alex laughed softly and then stood up. He held out his hand for Mal, pulling him up. “Let's go sit on the porch.”
“In that new swing that Millar helped us put up?” Mal asked and Alex nodded.
They watched the sun go down, Alex leaning against Mal. And then, when the lights along their garden path lit in the darkness, they talked about the one month neither of them dared even think about before.
It was March, not the worst month, but the worst month for them. George, along with at least 20 other people, was dying of starvation. There was nothing Mal or Alex could do to help. They did their best to make everyone comfortable, but they couldn't stop the fights. George, and a few of the other older folks, were protected, but people died. No one, not even their rescuers, knew what had really happened.
A man, a few years older than Mal, Alex and Hunter, had opened one of the blocked doors, letting zombies in. It had taken all of their strength to stop the breach. Frank had killed the man, something Alex, Mal and Hunter swore they'd never tell. Hunter didn't have much of a chance because a young woman had lost her mind, thinking Hunter was hoarding food, and killed him. It was horrible.
Mal didn't know people behaved like this in real life. He didn't know how to handle it, but he forced himself to go on, for Alex's sake. For the kids and for George. The young woman had escaped from the airport and threw herself at the zombies. They were rescued soon after, but not before at least five more people died from fighting, and ten more from starvation - including George.
There were times when Mal didn't think he could go on. That it wasn't worth making it out alive, if they were just going to have more days like these. He wouldn't know, until the helicopters arrived, that there was any future. But he promised Alex, he promised Jack and Alice after George had died, that they would go to Australia and live happily ever after. He told stories, pulling them out of thin air, to keep both kids and Alex, and himself, from crying.
He held Alex at night, but he was mostly holding onto Alex, clinging to him. They pretended March didn't exist, that the fights, the horror, worse that the earlier breaches, hadn't occurred. It was easier, they'd both decided, not to talk about what happened. Even when they were asked for details about their survival, they knew no one would mention the horrors of March.
Frank found them later, in Japan, and asked what they remembered. It was then that Mal realized this was a shared secret, that perhaps they would never tell anyone. But he knew it would eat away at them, he was just content to live in denial, it was safer. But now, here he was with Alex, safe and alive, and they had to talk about it.
It was as though it had happened to someone else, remembering destroyed the feelings of the detachment Mal had carefully cultivated. It was almost like a film, played out in front of them as they talked about it. He could feel Alex trembling and he knew he was, too. At least, he said as darkness enveloped them, they'd spared Jack and Alice, at the rest of the children, from witnessing it. They'd been hidden away, safe from both zombies and people.
“I'm not sorry about what Frank did.” Alex said, twisting his fingers with Mal's.
“It was murder.” Mal said, though he didn't disagree with Alex.
“That doesn't mean ...”
Mal kissed the top of Alex's head. “I know.” He replied, softly. “Survival means the normal rules don't apply.”
Alex turned slightly, kissing Mal softly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being here. For not giving up.” Alex murmured.
“I wasn't ...” But Mal couldn't finish his sentence.
Alex stroked his fingers along Mal's face. “Mal, I … I knew you were struggling. I. Why do you think I wouldn't let you out of my sight?”
“Because you love me.” Mal said dryly, but he only pulled Alex tighter.
“Exactly.” Was Alex's soft reply.
Mal kissing Alex's cheek. “I wouldn't leave you.”
“I couldn't've done it without you.” Alex replied.
They descended into silence, the only sounds their breathing mixed with the gentle summer breeze and crickets. Alex rested his head on Mal's chest.
“I never thought I'd be grateful for crickets, but I am.” Mal said, with a slight smile, easing the darkness between them.
He could feel Alex grin as he answered. “Best sound in the world, Mal. Next to that sound you make when I fuck you.”
Mal couldn't help himself, he laughed. They weren't okay, they weren't ever going to be okay. But at least they were alive and together.
---
No one questioned when Alex and Mal couldn't be separated at all. It was almost as though nothing had changed, except George, Alice and Jack gave them a bit more privacy. They rarely went any place without the other and Alex wondered how he'd even managed to survive without Mal. He was scared they were never going to be rescued, but he was even more scared about losing Mal.
“I'm not cut out for this post-apocalyptic bullshit.” He muttered one morning as they were riding their bikes along the fencing.
“Me either, mate.” Mal replied, slowing his bike down to check some locks they'd recently changed. Alex parked next to him and brandished a modified torch, keep the zombies away from the gate as Mal checked how the lock was holding.
“It look good?” Alex asked.
Mal nodded, then stepped back as Alex extinguished the fire. He turned to Alex and pressed his mouth against Alex's, kissing him softly. Then, without speaking, got on his bike. They continued their rounds until they reached the northwest corner, the furthest from the airport.
“Something's not right.” Alex said as he got off his bike. He walked toward the fence, but not close enough to touch it.
Mal came up beside him, sliding his hand into Alex's. “There were more yesterday.”
“Zombies? Yeah.” Alex laced his fingers with Mal's as they walked along the fence.
“I don't see … no, wait. No. I don't see any bodies. D'you think they left?”
Alex shrugged. “I don't know. But usually they swarm more when we're here.” He stopped walking and looked at Mal. “You haven't, you know, hear any shots at night, have you?”
Mal shook his head. “No, you?”
“No.” He frowned, wondering what the hell could be going on.
It was almost December and the snow was starting to fall harder. They were able to get their bikes through because they were skilled at bike riding, but soon enough, it wouldn't matter because there'd be too much snow and no plows to clean it up. Alex wasn’t sure how they were going to make it through the winter. He was scared that the snow would take out their power, though he did look forward to playing in the snow with Alice and Jack, far from the zombies.
He shook his head to clear it, then turned away from the fence and zipped his coat up more. They had a few miles of fence left and they completed the task in silence. The snow began to fall harder, much to Alex's annoyance. They'd been lucky, they'd had an unseasonably warm November, but it looked like the weather was catching up to them. By the time they made it back to the airport, they were both soaking wet and shivering.
The showers, which were once staff only, had hot water, but Alex refused to think about how long it'd last. Instead, he concentrated on kissing Mal. On the way Mal's hands made him feel, the way their bodies fit perfectly together. They only took hot showers together, both to save hot water and because they liked it. Alex especially liked it because it was one of the times he didn't feel completely alone. He liked the feeling of Mal next to him. Of Mal naked against him. They couldn't even have sex, not because they shared Gate J with other people, but because it was always too cold at night and taking off layers was more trouble than it was worth. He'd wanted to, though, and they'd tried. Found a condom dispenser in one of the men's rooms. But it was too awkward and they'd settled for hand jobs under a pile of blankets.
But the hot water meant that Alex could look at Mal. Could runs his hands down his body, could kiss him until he could feel Mal hard against his thigh. It mean that Mal could sink to his knees and suck on Alex's cock until he felt like his whole world was just the two of them. It meant that Alex could cry if he wanted to. It meant that Mal could, too. And they wouldn't have to talk about it later, because only they would know and the water would just wash it away. Alex didn't want to run out of hot water because it'd mean they wouldn't have any more moments like this.
Their allotted shower time finally came to an end, leaving both of them shivering in the cool air of the bathroom. They dried and dressed quickly, piling on the layers. Alex slipped his hand into Mal's as they walked back to their gate.
“We should tell Frank.” Mal said.
“About the thinning of the herd.” Alex stated and Mal nodded. The herd was Hunter's term for the zombies and even though it bugged Alex, he didn't like the word 'hoard' and herd seemed to fit better anyway.
They reached the gate to find George, Jack and Alice waiting for them. Alex's heart skipped a few beats.
“Is something wrong?” He managed to get out. He felt Mal's hand tighten around his.
George shook his head, but it was Alice who answered.
“There's going to be an emergency broadcast at 9.” She said excitedly.
Alex's gaze met George's and he nodded.
“Any idea what it's about?” Mal asked and Alex could tell he was trying to keep his voice level, to keep any excitement, or disappointment, out of it.
George shook his head again. “No, but there are rumors flying around the concourse. Why don't we head down for dinner?”
Alex glanced at Mal, who nodded. “All right. Anyone know what's on the menu?”
Jack bounced up and down until Mal picked him up. “Tacos!”
Alex arched an eyebrow.
George laughed. “There was another Mexican grill upstairs, their freezer hadn't been off so all the food's good.”
As they approached the concourse, Alice and Jack ran ahead. Mal and Alex stayed back, with George.
“We're running low, aren't we?” Mal asked, slipping an arm around Alex's waist.
George glanced at both of them and nodded. “Us older folks are going to have to cut down, to make sure you young 'uns survive.”
“Don't talk like that, George.” Alex said immediately, enough though he couldn't fault the logic.
“Can't be helped, son.” George patted Alex's shoulder. “If the rescue doesn't come soon, there's not going to be much we can do.”
They walked toward the group in silence, then George spoke again. “Alexander, Malcolm, I want you to promise me something.”
“Sure, George. Whatever you need.” Came Mal's quick reply.
“Whatever happens to me, I want you to take care of Jack and Alice. I know Jack's not my grandson and I know the three of us have no relationship to you, other than what we have here, but they need someone ...” He trailed off, looking off in the distance and then at both of them.
“Of course.” Alex managed to choke the words out.
“You're both such good boys, I know you'll take good care of the little ones.” George ruffled Alex's hair, then Mal's, before walking toward a group of older folk.
“You don't think they've already started rationing.” Alex said, glancing at Mal.
Mal shrugged, but there was concern written across his face. “Your guess is as good as mine, but ...” He trailed off, unable to say what they were both thinking.
Dinner was a sullen affair, with only the children excited about the broadcast. At a quarter to nine, after all the food had been cleaned up and put away, chairs were pulled around the TV that ran 24 hours a day, in case there was a broadcast like this one. Alex sat on the floor, with Mal settled between his legs. He leaned against George's chair and they waited.
At nine a well dressed woman appeared on the screen. When she spoke, her accent was Australian. Alex felt himself tense and he could feel Mal doing the same. He felt George's hand on his head, no one moved.
We've been sending out recorded messages from different locations throughout the world up until tonight. As you may or may not have heard, a small group of survivors were rescued a month or so ago from a mountain in France. There have been a few individuals who ventured out to save loved ones, most have returned alive. We do not condone this behavior, but we will not stop you and we will, if possible, offer aid. But again, we advise against any unofficial rescue attempts.
The woman stopped talking and glanced at a sheet in front of her, then up at the camera. Alex shivered and it felt as though she was looking right at all of them. Then she went on.
I know some of you must be wondering who this 'we' might possibly be. The answer is that we're what's left of the governments of the world. I used to be in the Australian government and these men and women to my left ...
The camera panned out to show a group of people, all well dressed. None of them were smiling, though Alex figured they had nothing to smile about.
This is your new government. There's not much left of our world, but we're trying to rebuild it. There are three locations for this new world government. One in Japan, which is where we are now. One in Australia. And third in Hawaii, the only part of the United States to be untouched by the plague.
Apparently, Alex thought bitterly, zombies weren't the politically correct term to be using. He frowned, but just tightened his arms around Mal. He felt Mal's hands on his as they waited for the woman to continue.
It is our goal to evacuate and rescue as many people as possible
“It's it a bit late for an evacuation?” Someone closer to the TV muttered. Alex couldn't help but agree.
Therefore, we have some advice on how to make sure we know that you're alive. If you're unable to follow these procedures or to get to an evacuation point, we do have soldiers who will be combing through both urban and rural areas for survivors.
The woman went on, but Alex tuned her out. He didn't need to know what to do to be rescued. He'd do what he was told, but he couldn't stop thinking about Australia. Home, he could go home. If they got rescued. He could see his parents, his friends. He might even be able to race again, if they were still doing that. He felt Mal move and realized that the program was over. People were talking excitedly and Alex couldn't stop the feelings of hope from flooding through him.
He glanced at Mal and suddenly felt guilty. None of his plans had included Mal. He had to turn away when Mal looked at him. It wasn't right, he thought, he needed Mal. His dreams should've included Mal. Of course, he suddenly thought bitterly, they probably weren't going to be rescued anyway.
It was Mal who first heard the planes. They'd followed all the directions and moved everyone upstairs. They hoarded food, they'd tried to keep warm as best they could. The downstairs was full of all their abandoned belongings, including Mal and Alex's bikes. The planes flew over late one night and the next morning they found fliers spread all over the snow.
It was Valentine's Day. No one cared, not even Mal. He'd kissed Alex in the morning, assured him that they'd make up for this when they were rescued. The fliers were written in about ten different languages, one of them English. They basically said there would be a rescue soon and that they shouldn't worry.
Except that February turned into March, which turned into April and people were dying. They were trying their best to stay alive, but every day, George looked thinner. But not just George, everyone over the age of 30 was rationing. They'd already lost a few people, starvation was a painful, if quiet, way to die. Even Mal found he was eating fewer and fewer meals. He and Alex were tired all the time, they barely had any the energy to do more than kiss, and then only for a moment or two.
By mid-April, they'd lost George. He'd died in his sleep and the only way they knew he'd gone was Alice's wailing. Without talking about it, Mal and Alex had taken to letting Jack and Alice sleep with them. It was better than being alone and even though Mal missed sharing his bed with Alex and Alex alone, he felt better with the kids around. Not that they were the innocent, care free kids they'd been only a month or two earlier. Alice had had her tenth birthday, complete with a tiny cake made with the last of the flower and sugar. She was aware enough of what was going to understand what happened, and Jack wasn't far behind. Though he'd stopped speaking when George had died.
Mal stood next to Alex, watching the zombies press against the gates. He remembered earlier, during the winter, when it seemed the numbers of zombies were shrinking. Thinking back on it, he realizes it was probably because of the approaching snowstorm. They’d gotten so much snow that it reached the bottom of the windows on the first floor terminal. But now that it was warmer, it seemed there were more zombies than ever. Alex and Mal helped bury their dead, there was a garden inside the terminal, surrounded on all sides by glass. That was where the bodies were, each with a shot in the head, in case the dead came back.
“We can't last much longer.” Alex said, shivering, though it was spring outside.
Mal stepped in closer, wrapping both arms around him. “I know.”
“We're running out of everything.” Alex murmured.
Mal turned Alex around in his arms. “I know.” He whispered, then leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, gently and filled with so much emotion that Mal thought he was going to breakdown.
“I don't … I.” Alex mumbled and Mal cut him off with another kiss.
“If we make it out of here alive, we're going home. You, me, Jack and Alice. We're going to go live on a farm in Australia and we're not going to talk about the zombies.” Mal whispered.
“You'd do that?” Alex looked at him, wide-eyed.
“You know that I love you.” Mal replied softly.
Alex looked at him, speechless, then kissed him.
The helicopters came two weeks later, the first of June. It was sweltering hot and Mal thought it was strange that they'd been here for almost a year. One more month, he'd told Alex, and I'd've lived with you for a year. They'd shared a smile, then boarded the helicopter with Jack and Alice.
They were taken to Japan first. Their group kept together and it was then that Mal and Alex realized how few of them were really left. What started as a group of over 200 was down to less than 80. People had died, from the zombies, but mostly from starvation. It hurt Alex to think about it, it hurt him to remember. And while he couldn't help the nightmares, he could hold up his end of the promise to Mal and to never talk about it again.
In Japan they were well fed and updated on what had been happening while they were trying to survive. In camps, which felt more like boarding school than any sort of camp, they met other survivors. People who were luckier than they were, people weren't as lucky. There was life mixed with death everywhere they turned. Alex found he couldn't bear being away from Mal and realized all his dreams of a life after this were futile. He only wanted to be with Mal, and with Jack and Alice.
Every morning, until they were finally granted permission leave, they'd walk to the camp's central computers, to check up on loved ones. The day before their release, they discovered the fate of Alice's parents, and then of Jack's. Both deceased, as were all living relatives. The day of their release, Alex and Mal were asked if they would be willing to take custody of the children, even though they were not related to them. They didn't even have to exchange a look before agreeing.
The next day they were on a plane bound for Australia, with Alice and Jack in tow.
Alex slept through most of the flight, Jack curled up against his side, also sleeping. Alice was too excited, and Mal decided it was his duty to stay awake with her. When they finally landed, it was July. It was the day, a year earlier, they should've returned home. As they deplaned, Alex slipped his hand into Mal's. Jack and Alice walked in front of them, each carrying new backpacks with all of their belongings. This was their family, now, Alex thought. He stopped when the children did, Mal standing close to him. Alice suddenly turned, running back to Alex.
“What is it, love?” He asked softly.
She looked at him. “There are so many people. I'm scared, Alex.”
“I know, baby.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Just take my hand, all right? We'll be okay.”
He glanced over at Mal, who'd picked Jack up. Tiny little Jack who was underweight and wouldn't talk to anyone he didn't know. He watched Jack wrap his arms around Mal's neck and then steeled himself up. He took Mal's hand again and the four of them walked toward the exits.
He didn't know what was waiting for them, but he should've expected tears and hugs. There were welcome signs and people he thought he should know, but barely recognized. He watched his parent's faces slip into shock as he walked toward them, one hand in Mal's and the other in Alice's. They'd all been ushered out to dinner and then put up in an expensive hotel. There were separate rooms for the four of them, but it didn't last. Mal moved his stuff into Alex's room, and Jack and Alice followed shortly. The real world, the separation, was too hard to handle.
Alex's mum found him the next morning, eating breakfast with Alice and Jack as Mal showered. He'd've liked to shower with him, but didn't think it was right for the kids to be left alone so soon. His mum sat across from him, glancing at Jack and Alice, who moved in front of the TV and pretended not to overhear the conversation.
“Where are their parents?” She asked.
Alex looked up and met his mum's gaze. “Dead.”
She looked startled. “What?”
“Alice is French, she was with her grandfather and they were supposed to be going back to her parents.” He stopped and took a drink of orange juice. “Jack was on his way to visit his big brother in England.”
“What about her grandfather?” His mum asked, quietly.
“He died to keep Jack and Alice alive.” Alex couldn't help being blunt, he'd learned that tact was just another way of lying.
His mother was speechless.
“They're ours now, mine and Mal's.” He replied, steadying himself for what she would inevitably say next.
“Yours and … What about that nice young woman?”
“You mean Charlotte? I'm sure she's nice, but I'm with Mal.” And that, he thought almost smiling to himself, was how he came out to his mum. A great story for his grandkids.
“Honey, Mal's a boy.” His mum replied and Alex had to look at her to make sure she wasn't joking.
“I know, mum.” He said, with a sigh. He heard the bathroom door open and glanced over at Mal. He had a towel around his waist and Alex couldn't help smiling a little.
He could feel his mother's gaze on him and he refused to turn toward her. Mal held his gaze and he tried to project how much he loved Mal to him. It seemed to work, because he could see Mal's shoulders relax, just a little.
“If you'll excuse me, mum. I need to shower and then Mal and I need to get the kids ready. We have to find a place to live today.” He didn't want to stay in this hotel any longer than he had to. It was nice, but he wanted a home. Someplace he could have his nightmares in a different room as the two kids he considered his children.
They ended up living in the hotel for almost two weeks. It wasn't until one of their old cycling friends, Jack Bobridge, showed up at the door of their hotel room. Alice and and their own Jack were with Mal's parents, who had been significantly more welcoming than Alex's own. Though, Mal thought, they seemed to be slowly coming around.
“Jack!” Alex had said when he'd opened the door.
There was too much emotion and far too much hugging, but the three of them didn't seem to care. They hadn't seen any of their cycling teammates in over a year. Alex ordered room service and they sat on the balcony of their room.
“We were all worried about you.” Jack said, quietly.
Mal had pushed his chair next to Alex's, they still had trouble being apart. He didn't speak, but let Alex do most of the talking.
“It was hard.” Alex began, quietly. “We don't really … There's a lot of stuff we don't talk about. We're just happy to have survived.” He stopped.
Mal finally spoke up. “And happy to have Jack and Alice.”
Alex glanced at him, with a smile, then Jack started talking again.
“Mal, your mum said something about that when I called her. So you two …?” He asked.
Alex nodded. “Yeah.”
Jack laughed, but it wasn't anything other than pleased. “Mate, as long as the two of you made it out alive, I don't care whose bed you share.”
The three of them laughed and then Jack shifted forward in his chair.
“I'm not just here because I was worried about you both. Don't get me wrong, I was. But … I heard, mostly from your mum, Alex, that the two of you were looking for a place to live.” Jack stopped, looking at both of them.
Mal arched an eyebrow at Alex, who shrugged. “We are.” Mal said, quietly.
Alex continued. “A place for the four of us.”
Jack nodded, not looking phased at all. “Gerald Ciolek and Marcus Burghardt, you remember them?”
“Vaguely.” Mal said, wishing he'd had more time to race against real pros.
Jack went on. “They … they survived something like what you went through and they've started a farm. Kind of a collective? There are a lot of stranded pros, some from Australia, others from Europe.” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “They wanted me to tell you that you're welcome. They have plenty of room and work.”
Alex looked so surprised that Mal found himself doing the talking.
“Are you living there? Have you been there? There's room for all four of us?” The questions tumbled out of him.
Jack laughed, but it was a kind sound. “I'm still living at home, but I go there at least once a month, but sometimes more. There is plenty of room. Gerald and Marcus live in a old house on the property, but they've really created a strong community with help from the Renshaws.” Jack stopped.
Alex frowned a little. “Are you sure they'd welcome us there?”
Mal reached out and slide his hand into Alex's, he knew they shared the same fear. It was hard, talking to people who hadn't survived, who couldn't imagine the horrors they'd lived through.
Jack looked both of them in the eye when he spoke. “Like I said, Gerald and Marcus have been there. I might not know what it's like, but they do. It's a place for survivors. They understand what it's like, I promise you.”
Mal and Alex glanced at each other, then Mal spoke up. “We'll have to think about it, talk to the kids.”
Jack nodded, then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and then back at Mal and Alex. “This is what I do now.” He said quietly. “I find you, people like you and Alex, and try to make it easier for you. Marcus and Gerald have devoted their lives to helping survivors.”
Alex stood, but Mal stayed where he was, trying to process the conversation.
“We'll let you know, yeah?” Alex said, walking back into the room with Jack.
He nodded and than glanced back at Mal. “Take your time. I'm really happy you're both alive.” He said, then walked out of the room.
Alex walked back to the balcony, taking a seat on Mal's lap. He cupped Mal's face in his hand, kissing him softly.
“We're going to move there, aren't we?” Mal said, quietly.
Alex nodded. “We'll still ask the kids, but ...”
“I know.” Mal kissed Alex again.
It took them a week to tell Jack, another week to pack everything and a month after they were rescued, they moved onto the farm. What Jack hadn't told them was that they'd have a small house, nothing fancy, for the four of them. It came fully furnished and stocked with food and whatever else they needed. The house was one story, plus a shed and a porch. There were two bedrooms, a kitchen, living room/dining room, bathroom and a study type thing. They'd requested bunk beds for Jack and Alice, and that’s exactly what they got.
Both Jack and Alice seem to adjust easily, though he knew they were both suffering from the loss of their parents, and of George. Alex was worried about Mal and knew Mal was worried about him. It was becoming abundantly clear that they were going to have to talk about what happened, at least at some point, because they couldn't keep pretending everything was fine. But for now, Alex was content to try to find a comfortable existence. He'd gone home, by himself, to collect his personal belongings from his home.
He'd found it hard and exhausting, but he was pleased to realize that his parents had finally come around to accepting that he was going to spend the rest of the foreseeable future with a bloke and not a girl. They helped him pack and instead of making him take the train back, they took him. They helped Mal and Alex with their house and by the time they left, he thought his parents thought of Jack and Alice as their own grandkids. They had a similar experience with Mal's parents, and by the beginning of December, everything was starting to feel like home.
Alex liked working on the farm. He enjoyed getting up early, riding out with Marcus to tend the crops or the sheep. He would return after in time for breakfast with the kids, then leave when Mal took them to the school near the farm. They didn't have to work all the time, the farm was a weird sort of collective, but both he and Mal tried to keep busy. One evening, when Jack was already in bed and Alice was at a friend's house, Alex thought they'd had enough about not talking about things.
“Mal?” He said, quietly.
Mal looked up from the paper he was reading. “Yeah?”
“We have to talk.” Alex watched fear cross Mal's face and felt horrible for his choice of words.
“About?” Mal's voice was strained.
Alex reached across the table, grabbing Mal's hands. “About what we never talk about. We need to talk about what happened.”
Mal turned away, but didn't pull away. “I know.”
Mal's reply startled Alex and he was caught off guard, and so Mal went on.
“It hurts, to think about what happened. That we'll never be able to go back there to race. That Alice and Jack will never get to see their parents again. That they'll never get to go home again.”
Alex stood up and walked around the table. He squats down, hands on Mal's knees. “It hurts that we saw people died, that we couldn't help them. Him. George. We'll never be able to get over it.” Alex whispered.
Mal cupped Alex's face in his hands. “I know. I just … I keep thinking if we pretend it didn't happen, then maybe this'll all be a dream.”
Alex's heart broke, because he knew exactly how Mal felt. “We're too young for this.” He whispered.
Mal leaned in, kissing Alex softly. “I know. But here we are.”
Alex shifted to his knees, resting his head against Mal's. “You have nightmares.”
“So do you.” Mal replied.
“At least Alice and Jack seem to have stopped having them.”
Mal nodded. “I think it's because we sent them to that doctor.”
“The one who said we have PTSD?” Alex replied.
Mal nodded. “He's smarter than we want to give him credit for being.”
Alex laughed softly and then stood up. He held out his hand for Mal, pulling him up. “Let's go sit on the porch.”
“In that new swing that Millar helped us put up?” Mal asked and Alex nodded.
They watched the sun go down, Alex leaning against Mal. And then, when the lights along their garden path lit in the darkness, they talked about the one month neither of them dared even think about before.
It was March, not the worst month, but the worst month for them. George, along with at least 20 other people, was dying of starvation. There was nothing Mal or Alex could do to help. They did their best to make everyone comfortable, but they couldn't stop the fights. George, and a few of the other older folks, were protected, but people died. No one, not even their rescuers, knew what had really happened.
A man, a few years older than Mal, Alex and Hunter, had opened one of the blocked doors, letting zombies in. It had taken all of their strength to stop the breach. Frank had killed the man, something Alex, Mal and Hunter swore they'd never tell. Hunter didn't have much of a chance because a young woman had lost her mind, thinking Hunter was hoarding food, and killed him. It was horrible.
Mal didn't know people behaved like this in real life. He didn't know how to handle it, but he forced himself to go on, for Alex's sake. For the kids and for George. The young woman had escaped from the airport and threw herself at the zombies. They were rescued soon after, but not before at least five more people died from fighting, and ten more from starvation - including George.
There were times when Mal didn't think he could go on. That it wasn't worth making it out alive, if they were just going to have more days like these. He wouldn't know, until the helicopters arrived, that there was any future. But he promised Alex, he promised Jack and Alice after George had died, that they would go to Australia and live happily ever after. He told stories, pulling them out of thin air, to keep both kids and Alex, and himself, from crying.
He held Alex at night, but he was mostly holding onto Alex, clinging to him. They pretended March didn't exist, that the fights, the horror, worse that the earlier breaches, hadn't occurred. It was easier, they'd both decided, not to talk about what happened. Even when they were asked for details about their survival, they knew no one would mention the horrors of March.
Frank found them later, in Japan, and asked what they remembered. It was then that Mal realized this was a shared secret, that perhaps they would never tell anyone. But he knew it would eat away at them, he was just content to live in denial, it was safer. But now, here he was with Alex, safe and alive, and they had to talk about it.
It was as though it had happened to someone else, remembering destroyed the feelings of the detachment Mal had carefully cultivated. It was almost like a film, played out in front of them as they talked about it. He could feel Alex trembling and he knew he was, too. At least, he said as darkness enveloped them, they'd spared Jack and Alice, at the rest of the children, from witnessing it. They'd been hidden away, safe from both zombies and people.
“I'm not sorry about what Frank did.” Alex said, twisting his fingers with Mal's.
“It was murder.” Mal said, though he didn't disagree with Alex.
“That doesn't mean ...”
Mal kissed the top of Alex's head. “I know.” He replied, softly. “Survival means the normal rules don't apply.”
Alex turned slightly, kissing Mal softly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being here. For not giving up.” Alex murmured.
“I wasn't ...” But Mal couldn't finish his sentence.
Alex stroked his fingers along Mal's face. “Mal, I … I knew you were struggling. I. Why do you think I wouldn't let you out of my sight?”
“Because you love me.” Mal said dryly, but he only pulled Alex tighter.
“Exactly.” Was Alex's soft reply.
Mal kissing Alex's cheek. “I wouldn't leave you.”
“I couldn't've done it without you.” Alex replied.
They descended into silence, the only sounds their breathing mixed with the gentle summer breeze and crickets. Alex rested his head on Mal's chest.
“I never thought I'd be grateful for crickets, but I am.” Mal said, with a slight smile, easing the darkness between them.
He could feel Alex grin as he answered. “Best sound in the world, Mal. Next to that sound you make when I fuck you.”
Mal couldn't help himself, he laughed. They weren't okay, they weren't ever going to be okay. But at least they were alive and together.