Chapter Text
And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass.
Ezra Pound
It’s been a year and a half since the world has gone to shit. It’s been seven months since Geoff has stopped asking to find coffee, six months since Geoff has stopped wondering about his family every single day, and about two months since Geoff has stopped hoping for normal again. It’ll be another three months before they stop finding updated calendars, and then at that point it doesn’t even matter how much time has passed.
This is it. This is the world now.
Those first few months in the summer were insane - Otto and Geoff hiding in Geoff’s apartment all through summer and winter, hearing rumors of the government bombing Houston and New York City and Chicago and Los Angeles. That last one worried them the most, more than anything close to where they were, because all they could think about was if Awsten was safe and alive. There was almost no communication coming except through the radio, and that was if you were lucky to get a signal. Come springtime they decided they would rather die than not try, so they trekked halfway across the country, determined to find Awsten through cities on fire and highways littered with cars and rotting bodies. But they made it to Los Angeles, and they made it to Awsten, and they will make it back to Texas.
Awsten doesn’t talk about his time alone. They found him in his apartment, locked in and near starved, hiding in the closet.
Awsten couldn’t even believe they were there. He’d been convinced he was dead, and his friends had come to collect him in the afterlife.
“I didn’t think Heaven would smell so bad,” Awsten had slurred, delirious. He’d soiled himself, stewing in his own piss and shit, too afraid to leave and see what the world had become. The smell was horrible, and all Geoff could think at the time was how has it come to this . And then he thought thank fuck the water still works. “Or maybe this is Hell. Maybe everyone was right about me.”
They took a few months to recoup - Awsten got used to having people near him again, and Geoff and Otto got to take care of their favorite boy and forget what the rest of the world was like for the most part. The army had cleared out so much of Los Angeles - it was honestly a miracle Awsten’s apartment building hadn’t been bombed - so their only real contact with humanity was via the CB radio Otto tore out of a Peterbilt and hooked up to a big battery Geoff had bought to jump his car a few years ago. The radio was good in the beginning on the way to LA, letting them know places to avoid or places to make a pitstop, but as time wore on it buzzed to life less and less and has been silent for weeks. Food surprisingly wasn’t hard to come by, if they didn’t mind a few miles’ walk, and Geoff tried very hard not to think about the reasoning behind that; how too many people died here for it to become an issue.
The day they left Awsten’s apartment, it took hours just to get out the door. Awsten has always been sentimental, and having to leave behind everything they’ve ever won and made together was hell. All of his album boards, all of their magazine features, all their awards…they could only carry so much. They all agreed to take the CDs in case they ever came across a working player again, because they were small and compact, and a flash drive that contained every song ever made by Waterparks - including the half finished ones - and even a few albums from other bands Awsten happened to have downloaded but that was it. They had no more room in the bags on top of clothes, food, and toiletries because Geoff will be damned if he has to forgo toothpaste anytime soon. Geoff will never forget the way Awsten’s hand pressed against the half-filled pink colored album board as he mourned the loss of his life’s work, the way he pressed his face into the last of his clothing samples.
Geoff and Awsten argued over taking any instruments, and settled on having Awsten carry an acoustic guitar strapped to his back and Geoff kept Awsten’s miniature guitar on his hip. He knew Awsten would be miserable without any way to make music - it was an easy compromise, even if it did hinder their ability to take more supplies. Otto carried a set of his old drum sticks from his home in his bag, and Geoff felt bitter in that moment, that he didn't think to keep anything of his own before they left.
Los Angeles is far behind them now, and they’re so close to home - well, no. Not home. Houston has been on fire since the beginning, and short of an act of God, it’s not likely it’ll go out anytime soon. Travis had been on a plane back home to Houston when the worst of it hit, and when he landed he had sent a voice note to all of them. That was the last time Geoff heard Travis’ voice. Not long after that the government sent out evacuation notices via text, and dropped bombs on the city twenty minutes later.
When they were passing the city on the highway, Awsten had begged and pleaded with them to go into the pyre to look for Travis, and they had to drag him screaming until he couldn’t see the city anymore. Miles and miles. Geoff doesn’t like to think about how Awsten’s feet kept walking with them - like his body knew it was better this way, even if his heart couldn’t give up.
No, they’re not going to Houston - they’re going to Esmerelda’s Petting Zoo.
Geoff’s great Aunt Esmerelda had a petting zoo near the Louisiana border kinda-sorta near Big Thicket; she died shortly before Everything, and the will hadn’t exactly been parsed through yet so nobody was really sure what to do with it and then...well, then it stopped mattering very much at all. Geoff thinks there are goats there, maybe a cow, some horses; useful animals among the hodgepodge of more exotic animals like ostriches and miniature pigs. If they’ve even still alive, of course, but Geoff shuts that little naysayer voice inside up as often as he can. Geoff’s great uncle Joseph also had a garden on the property; if it wasn’t alive now, it could easily be revived again. Esmerelda had a few hired staff that helped keep it up since she and Joseph were so old; hell, they were old even when Geoff was a child, by the time they died they were positively ancient. Not that you could tell.
Outdoor latrines and showers and an irrigation system that relied on a dozen rain barrels and gravity and not on modern plumbing. Joseph was obsessed with reading and had a huge library of books, and after one too many storms knocked over a local power line, they got solar panels installed on the barns and the house. Yes, it was the ideal place to go during civilization’s collapse according to every dystopian YA novel Geoff’s cousins had devoured in high school.
Wintertime in Texas isn’t terrible, especially not this year, but Geoff does wish he had a bigger coat right now. Halfway between Houston and Esmerelda’s Petting Zoo, so close to crossing that horizon and reaching what may as well be fucking Shangri La, and Geoff’s hands are shaking he’s so cold. He tells himself to at least be grateful they aren’t in the desert anymore and to get it the fuck together.
“Wish I had my bomber jacket, man.” Awsten’s complaining. Awsten’s always complaining; his default setting, even back when they were just fucking around in Awsten’s mom’s garage together. Not even a zombie apocalypse is able to curb his love for complaining.
Otto hums in response, kicking a rock off the road and they watch as it clatters down the embankment down to the river. They’d taken a bath in it earlier that morning, at least as much of a bath they can take with having run out of soap a week ago. They pop into a store or two a day, whatever they happen to come across, but it seems most of this stretch has been picked clean. Not that there’s ever anything more useful than a few canned goods, all the fresh food long rotten, but it still sucks when there’s not even that available. Geoff has the briefest vision of a fresh, warm BLT and has to shake his head to rid himself of the longing.
“When are we getting there?” Awsten continues, a grating whine in his voice. “Can we take a break?”
Geoff rolls his eyes, but they all stop anyway.
“If we keep taking breaks, it’ll take us longer to get there,” Geoff points out, putting his backpack down on the ground despite his words because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t always give in to Awsten’s whims.
“Yeah, yeah,” Awsten waves him away, plopping down on his back right on the side of the road in the overgrown grass. “What do you think? Tomorrow?”
This highway is strangely clear of anything, no cars or bodies, which leaves Geoff feeling overexposed. At least if anything sees them, they’ll see it, too, and can hopefully mitigate the issue. They’ve been lucky to not come across people so far, and he’s not sure what would happen if they did.
“Probably,” Otto answers. He’s the one with the map, which is great because even though Geoff grew up with them, too many years of smartphones and Waze destroyed his navigational knowledge. He’s been getting better out of necessity, but Otto is still the best with it. Awsten doesn’t even try. “Either tomorrow or the day after. It’s close.”
“We should try to find a house for the night. I don’t want to stay out here.” Geoff says, looking around them again, suddenly paranoid. There’s something clicking in his head, that they should keep moving. “I don’t like that we can’t find food.”
“And you think a random house in a neighborhood will?” Awsten scoffs. “This is hardly survivalist country, this is the suburbs. It’s probably all rotten.”
“If the canned food is gone everywhere, that means people took it. And I don’t want to meet them.”
There’s no response, just Awsten picking at the clover under him and counting the leaves above him. His hair is so long now that it almost competes with Otto’s. With no way to keep dyed hair looking fresh, he’s taken instead to keeping it long and putting little braids in. Geoff takes the opportunity to use whatever mirrors they can find to at least try to keep his own hair short and manageable; he’s not sure how well he succeeds.
Eventually, Geoff lays down next to Awsten, and then Otto joins them. They watch the clouds roll by, and it’s like the world hasn’t changed at all.
The house in front of them looks worryingly unharmed. The neighborhood is overgrown, and most of the houses look like they caught fire at some point or another, but this one is - perfect. Perfect paint, a seemingly new roof, shutters in place and bushes beautiful and thriving. Most of the houses they come across aren't exactly crumbling to pieces - it hasn't been quite that long since society's downfall - but they're certainly not in great shape. They're definitely not polished and trimmed and new .
“I don’t like it,” Otto murmurs. Awsten hums and agrees.
“Too perfect. Like someone’s keeping it up.”
Geoff knows in his heart there’s probably food in there, and it’s tempting.
“We should keep moving,” he says instead.
They walk through a few more roads until they’re fairly far from the perfect house, and they go inside one that seems the appropriate amount of decrepit without seeming like it will crumble if they touch it. It’s wild to think how not even two years could do this to some homes. Otto goes to check the backyard, and Awsten and Geoff carefully move around the one floor home, slowly opening doors and under beds and in closets to make sure nothing is hiding where it shouldn’t.
There’s a family photo on the wall of the kitchen, one of those really badly staged ones with terribly photoshopped backgrounds of the beach or a country club. There’s a page with dates underneath, little X-es and notes about dental appointments and soccer games. It shows last year’s May, a month before it hit. Was the family out of town at the time? Or maybe they were just bad at changing the calendar on time, like Geoff always had been?
“A calendar,” Geoff muses, taking it off of the wall, then calls out to Awsten, “How many days has it been since LA?”
“How the fuck would I know?” Awsten’s voice slightly echoes in the empty bathroom in the hallway. “Water’s busted. Oh, fuck yeah, they’ve got face wash!”
“I think it’s been like, two months. Ish.” Otto comes in from the backyard. “Nothing’s back there. We good in here?”
“Yeah, we’re good. Two months…,” Geoff flips through the calendar to where they think it was when they were in LA. “Two months since then…”
Awsten makes the connection before he does.
“Wait, is it Otto’s birthday soon?” Awsten pops back into the room, buzzing in excitement, his eyes shining. “Can we do something? Please? Please, please, please?”
Geoff looks to Otto who is standing frozen on the laminate tiles. The dying light of the day comes through the screen door, shining off the dust floating through the air and bathing him in shadow. He already knows what Otto’s answer will be, knows neither of them can say no to Awsten for shit, but he’s also sure Otto doesn’t want to think about how he was 34 when it began and how he’ll be turning 36 after. Or maybe he already has turned 36, who knows what the actual day is. Too fucking close to 40 either way. Geoff would know.
“Sure, honey. You plan it for me and I’ll show up, how’s that?” Otto jokes, then moves down the hallway to go through one of the bedrooms more in detail.
“Maybe I should write a song.” Awsten mumbles, then goes back to sorting through the bathroom, checking through bottles of soap and toothpaste to see what’s usable and what’s garbage. “Or maybe I could make something?”
Geoff doesn’t respond to his ramblings, instead opening up every cabinet he can in hopes of finding something, anything at all. There’s a couple cans of very expired vegetable soup, corn, and green beans. Great news considering Geoff wasn't expecting to find anything at all. There’s also an absolute miracle tucked in another cabinet: salt and pepper. Geoff actually gasps when he sees them, grabbing them quickly as though they’ll disappear if he doesn’t. He sets them out on the counter and continues searching, hoping he can find a sealable container or bag to put them in without using one of his own. Sure enough, there are some ziploc bags under the sink, and he stashes the salt and pepper shakers inside of them.
Awsten has begun humming to himself; maybe it’s a new song in general, maybe it’s something Geoff just hasn’t heard before, or maybe it’s nothing at all. Music just makes Geoff sad anymore, so he goes to find Otto.
Otto’s in a bedroom at the very end of the hallway; it must have belonged to a teenager, once. Or maybe not, what does Geoff know? There’s a billion band posters, half of them covered in mold and some falling off and some even already on the floor. A bookshelf in the corner filled to bursting with records, magazines, signed prints from every band in the scene. Geoff has no idea what’s happened to any of these people, any of his friends and colleagues, and he has to shove his grief down. He can hear that Otto hasn’t been as successful in preventing tears, his breath hitching.
Smack in the middle of the wall is Geoff’s own face, staring back at him from a million years ago. The poster is torn at the corners, like the owner tried taking it down off the wall at one point and then gave up.
“Don’t let Awsten see this,” Otto mumbles.
Geoff takes it a step further and tears the poster down, shoving it behind the dresser. Then he takes down the rest of them to make sure. The action is angry, pissed off that he’ll never see his friends again, and will never hear the music that saved and sustained his life again. He can’t bear it, so he destroys it.
They sleep together, in the living room. Awsten gets the moldy couch at first at his insistence, then he complains about the smell and smushes himself between Geoff and Otto on the floor. The street lamps are on, which is strange; Geoff half wonders if they run on solar before forcing himself to stop wondering. It’s nice not to sleep in the dark for once.
He watches as Otto reaches out and pulls Awsten closer to him, the way Awsten sighs, comfortable and content. Geoff moves himself closer to them, swinging his arm over them both and hooking his feet between Awsten’s. He likes when they get tangled like this. He likes sharing.
Otto blinks open, and they look at each other with Awsten asleep between them. It’s good, being together. All of them.
“Are you ready to see the petting zoo?” Otto asks, his voice muffled by sleep and Awsten’s hair.
Geoff huffs a laugh.
“I’m worried about the state of it. I’m not exactly handy, or strong. I don’t know anything about farming. Or, fucking, animal husbandry, or whatever. I don’t know what it’s going to look like, if anything is left at all, or -- I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“We’ll all learn together. Neanderthals figured it out, surely we can. Just trial and error, right?”
“Neanderthals didn’t farm. They had some tools, they, like, cooked and stuff, but they didn’t make it to farming.”
“What?”
“Neanderthals were a different species. Humans got to farming. Neanderthals just died.”
Otto yawns.
“Well, guess it’s a good thing we’re humans, then.” There’s a beat, and then, “I hope there’s still horses when we get there. Finally gonna be a cowboy, baby.”
Geoff laughs, a bit too loud because it jostles Awsten between them, and he proceeds to grumble about needing his beauty rest and could they please let him sleep. They soothe him back to bed, playing with his hair and chatting about the different flowers they saw today on the highway. They picked up a book on local flora and fauna back near Odessa, just for something to keep them occupied. Playing the alphabet game was good for only so long.
“You’ll make a good cowboy, Otto.” Geoff murmurs as his eyes are growing too weak, succumbing to sleep. “The best.”
Otto smiles, and Geoff is already asleep.
It's the middle of the night, or maybe even very early morning when Geoff is woken up. Awsten and Otto turn with him, but he hushes them back down to sleep. He's not even really sure what woke him up, so he sits there in the darkness for a long time, the world steadily getting lighter and hazier.
And then - creaking of wood, like someone has stepped on a rotting step. It's not really close by, but if it's close enough to hear then it's too close for comfort. Geoff gets up as quietly as he can, sneaking over to the window and moving the half torn curtains.
A young girl sits across from the house they're in. She's not dead - or if she is, she's very newly dead. She's staring right at the front door, and it's freaking him the fuck out. She can't have survived by herself, probably lives nearby in one of the...
Geoff’s eyes grow wide with realization. Fuck. The house from earlier. The picture perfect flawless house they stared right at like idiots for five minutes before deciding to move on in broad daylight. Stupid, so stupid.
Geoff stares out at her in the darkness, wondering if she can see him, too. She doesn’t move for a long time, and they stay like that until the sun is up higher, staring at each other, and only then does she leave again. Geoff doesn’t waste any time in moving back into the room, shaking Awsten and Otto up from their sleep. He doesn’t want to see if she’ll come back, and what - or who - she may bring with her.
“We have to move. Right now.” He leaves out the why, but it doesn’t matter to them. They’ve learned to trust each other in moments like this and not ask too many questions.
“I wanna take a piss in a real toilet, though,” Awsten comments, and Jesus, is that what they’ve really come to? Relishing in being able to use a bathroom?
“Awsten, dude, we need to go,” Geoff urges, and Awsten sighs, looking longingly down the hall. “You can take a piss later. I promise I’ll find some other gross crumbling house with a toilet for you.”
Geoff’s senses are on high alert as they leave in the early morning sun. They leave a trail of footsteps in the morning dew of the yard. Awsten holds onto one of the extra straps on Geoff’s backpack, always tactile, and Geoff appreciates that he can feel Awsten behind him and see Otto in front of him. They don’t come across any humans, but Geoff won’t feel peace until this place is far behind them.
They see one on the way out of the neighborhood, slow and lumbering. A stupid one. They’re not all stupid and slow, of course, but this one is. His ankle is broken or sprained or something, and he’s limping badly. He must have smelled them because he’s on a fairly straight path to them, but he’s so fucking slow.
Geoff thumbs his knife handle, wondering if it’s even worth the effort, if it’d be worth their time while they try to get out of here. They’ve been insanely lucky on their trip so far (knock on wood), and have barely come across any of the undead since leaving Los Angeles. The trip to LA felt like he and Otto came across hundreds of them; he’d stopped counting after a while. He doesn’t exactly want to test that luck.
“Should I…?” He doesn’t finish the question.
“We probably should.” Geoff is surprised Awsten is the one to answer. “Put him out of his misery.”
“How do you know he’s miserable?” Otto asks. “Maybe he’s just dead.”
“You don’t think there’s still a person in there?” Awsten asks back. “A soul? A conscience?”
“Do you?” Otto scoffs. “Look, kill him or don’t, but we should get moving.”
The zombie keeps walking, slowly, step by step to them. He’s lost his pants somewhere along the way, or maybe he was bitten and turned without them. Geoff can smell the rot from here, and if they were any closer he’d be able to see the flies around him, feasting on the moving corpse.
Geoff wonders for himself if he thinks there’s still a person inside of the monster before them. Then he decides it doesn’t change anything; either way, the zombie wants to kill them. Is it so different from a real person also wanting to kill them? Does it matter if he still has a soul if he’s missing his morals as well?
They stare another few minutes, watching it lumber towards them, and then Awsten shrugs.
“Let’s just go.”
Otto is staring hard at their map, and has been for some time. The sun is bearing down but it’s still cold, and Geoff wishes they’d keep moving to get some warmth back into his bones, but they’re lost.
“I didn’t think about how we left out a different way from the neighborhood.” Is the best Otto can come up with. “Got turned around…”
“Suburbia,” Awsten muses with a vague hand gesture, but doesn’t elaborate. He’s splayed out on the road, next to the wreckage of a sprinter van covered in - something. Decay. “That house is gonna give me nightmares.”
“Just the house?” Geoff asks, and Awsten laughs because what else is there to say to that. They’ve been really lucky they haven’t experienced any intense danger yet. They’ve had a couple scares, and they’re so close to victory.
“Here!” Otto yells, pointing at the map. “Okay…okay. We’re going the right way - or, well. We weren’t, but we need to keep going this way to get back to the highway.” Otto folds the map back up and carefully tucks it into his backpack.
There’s a crackle from the CB radio as Otto messes with his bag; it’s usually nothing these days, so they don’t pay attention to it as they help Awsten get up and carry on their way. It crackles again as they continue walking, and then it gets stronger as they move on.
“D’you think it’s picking up a dead station again?”
A lot of radio towers are still running. Off of what power source, God knows; Geoff doesn’t have any idea how radio signals work, and likely never will. But sometimes they get near a tower that’s still running, except there’s nobody on the other end, so their CB buzzes endlessly until they shut it off.
Otto shrugs.
“Probably. We’ll let it run a bit more just in case.”
They leave it for another mile, turning the volume down and trying to ignore the static. They begin the walk up the incline to the onramp of the highway, and then Awsten says he really needs to take a piss now and walks a bit into the woods. At least they haven’t lost all sense of society and still try to relieve themselves in privacy.
The CB gives another crackle, and then,
“-canvas I’ll be making my mark, armed with a spraycan soul-”
It cuts out again, and Otto and Geoff just stare at each other. That was - that was music . Lyrics that itch at the back of Geoff’s mind; he can’t place them but he knows them. Otto’s eyes are saucers, and when Awsten comes back from the woods he asks what’s going on. Geoff holds his breath, worried they’ve lost their miracle.
“-when you use your-” It cuts in, then out again, then back in. “-hurts like heaven-”
“Is that fucking Coldplay ?” Awsten’s voice reflects all of their disbelief.
When was the last time any of them heard music? Before the world turned? It must have been, because Geoff doesn’t remember hearing since.
“Well, get the fucking radio out!” Awsten is desperate, reaching out for Otto’s bag, and Otto just lets him take it and mess with it, pouring everything out onto the side of the road. Geoff has to chase after some cans that roll down the incline, but Awsten’s whole focus is on making music happen again, something desperate overtaking him.
When Geoff gets back with the food, Awsten is holding the radio as high as he can, the antenna extended out and the volume up on full blast. The signal is still fading in and out but it doesn’t matter to any of them. It’s like Christmas day, no, it’s absolutely better.. Coldplay has finished, and in comes a really old song, another one Geoff recognizes but can’t quite recall at the same time.
Awsten knows it, though, and is singing along at full volume, running up the onramp, chasing the signal. Otto and Geoff follow after him, slower, relishing in Awsten’s voice.
Geoff gets choked up listening to him sing. It’s been - fuck, it’s been so long since he heard Awsten actually sing anything like this. Geoff can’t help it, and cries, covering his face. It’s just him alone with the bags then, Otto having dropped his down and gone chasing after Awsten as they dance around each other, holding onto each other and singing and laughing. They hold onto each other and the radio, chaotic joy.
They spend a long time like this, Geoff eventually recovering enough to dance and sing with them, as they dance in circles and celebrate the fact that they’re alive and they have music and each other. They put the radio down even if it has a worse signal, grabbing each other’s hands and spinning each other around like they’re ten years old on the playground until they make themselves so dizzy they have to lay down and watch the sky go around and around and around.
They make no progress that day, splayed out on the side of the highway under the stars and listening to music. There’s no rhyme or reason to the tracks that come through, top 40s to oldies to country to hyperpop to metal. Someone out there is sharing anything they can. It’s cold and they’re always hungry and exhausted and he’ll never have his family again but he has Awsten and Otto and nothing else matters.
“We’ll probably get there today,” Otto says in the morning. “At worst tomorrow morning.”
“You’ve been saying that for like three days,” Awsten mumbles, rolling over to hide his face from the sun.
The radio is still playing, cycling through everything under the sun, like someone hit shuffle on all of Spotify right before dying. Maybe their zombie is still sitting there at the desk, queueing up songs.
“Can you do my hair?” Awsten mumbles into the crook of his own arm.
“I would love to, baby,” Otto comments, kneeling down next to Awsten and patting his lap. “Sit up.”
Geoff loves their mornings together. Awsten is almost always needing to be forced to get moving, but sometimes all he needs is someone to play with his hair and have a small chat and he’s good to go. Otto is usually the one to give in, braiding his hair over and over again, and Awsten in turn braids Otto’s. They’ve gotten pretty good at doing intricate designs, and Awsten has taken to plucking out little flowers from fields and ditch banks alike to decorate each other with.
There’s not much to gather back up into their packs, so Geoff makes quick work of getting their stuff together. As much as he’d like to take their trash from yesterday’s dinner with him to dispose of somewhere properly, there’s just frankly not really a point, so he makes a game of seeing how far he can throw the cans across the highway.
“Are we having breakfast today?” Otto asks, tying a rubber band on the end of Awsten’s hair.
Geoff purses his lips. They didn’t even really have enough for dinner yesterday…his stomach rumbles, as if on cue.
“Most important meal of the day,” Awsten sing-songs.
“Alright…but unless we find something else, we can’t eat anymore until we get to the Zoo. Alright?”
Geoff tries very hard not to think about how there might not even be a Zoo anymore. One step at a time.
It’s not until the late afternoon, after a very long day of walking, that they come across another store. They see it off the highway, tucked back in the fresh growth of woods a bit - an old Dollar General. It’s as good a time as any to take a break and get some food in. They go through the place thoroughly, finding some expired chip bags but, well, they’re not rotten, and beggars can’t be choosers. They try the sinks in the bathroom, and are pleasantly surprised by the water flowing from the taps. Most places out here use wells, which require power to pump, so it’s been hard to find any usable water sources. Not that city water is the best, after having not been cleaned or treated for years, but it’s better than nothing. They let it run for a bit, to try to maybe flush anything unsavory, and then fill up their bottles and do their best to clean themselves up before exploring some more.
Awsten has been messing around in the toy and craft section of the store for a long time. They really should get him moving again; knowing him, he’ll complain they’re not there yet, when he’s the reason for the majority of their setbacks, but it’s nice to see him occupied. Most days Awsten is vibrating out of his skin for want of distraction.
“You two need to get out, I have an idea,” is all Awsten says as he rounds the corner back to them, pushing on Geoff and Otto until they comply.
“Why?” Otto asks, laughing as he is shoved out the door.
“It’s a surprise! Leave me alone!” Awsten forces the soft-close door to slam hard, punctuating his point.
Geoff shakes his head fondly, laughing with Otto. They begin to set up a spot to sleep; the sun’s low enough they may as well just stop here the rest of the night, even if it does delay their destination yet again.
“Sunset’s beautiful,” Geoff murmurs, watching the birds flock off into the distance. Otto hums in agreement.
“Think we should make a fire tonight. It’s been getting colder,” Otto points out.
Geoff looks around them at the short, new trees that have begun to take root in the parking lot. Luckily they’re not hard to pull up and pile together, and Geoff sneaks back into the Dollar General to see if they can find something better to start the fire with than their dwindling set of matches.
“Hey, I said out!” Awsten yells at him, popping his head around an aisle. “I’m working.”
“I’m just looking for some matches or something, I promise I won’t look,” Geoff swears. Awsten glares at him before getting back to - whatever he’s making. Eventually Geoff finds a couple of lighters and tries them out before finding one that works, and takes it back outside with some torn polyester garden flags as well.
They set up the fire, and wait in the dying light for Awsten.
As they wait and get warm, Otto curls up next to Geoff, laying his head on Geoff’s shoulder. It’s nice. If Geoff’s favorite place is the three of them tangled together, his second favorite place is cuddled next to Otto. Don’t tell Awsten.
“Can I say something?” Otto asks, his voice quiet. Shy.
“Could I even stop you?” Geoff jokes, then smiles. “Of course you can.”
“I want to kiss Awsten.” Otto sits up again, then looks at Geoff. Geoff isn’t even surprised, and Otto notices. “What, no jaw drop?”
“Am I supposed to be shocked when you two have done nothing but play with each other’s hair and hold hands for months?” Geoff tries to joke, even if he is a bit jealous of the both of them. He’s been feeling drawn to them for months, probably even forever, but how do you even say to your two best friends you want to kiss them both?
“We do that, too,” Otto points out, and this makes Geoff go still and flush. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said anything.
Otto’s hand reaches up, cupping Geoff’s cheek, gentle. It feels so nice. All of their hands are covered in calluses; it used to be from music and now it’s been from violence, but his are still gentle. “We hold hands…we dance...Should I kiss you, too?”
Geoff’s breath hitches. He feels so warm, like summertime. Otto’s face gets closer.
“Is it weird I want to kiss you both?”
Geoff shakes his head, hardly believing what Otto’s saying but he still closes the gap between them, his heart racing and his blood on fire. Maybe it would have been weird two years ago, to kiss Otto and talk about kissing Awsten and mean it , but the world is so different now. Geoff is different, Otto and Awsten are different, and they mean something else to each other, now. Maybe they always have, and would have ended up here regardless, but there’s no way to ever know. Geoff reaches his hand up to hold onto Otto’s, moving closer, their mouths moving against each other. Their breaths hitch, their tongues play, and they push and pull against each other like spirits in tandem.
A branch snapping makes them part with a gasp. Otto looks around them, behind Geoff, then sighs.
“There’s one back there,” He sounds annoyed. Geoff feels the same. “I’ll take care of it.”
Geoff stands with him.
“Let me go with-”
“Nah, I’ve got it. Stay here, in case Awsten comes out.” Otto smiles. “Don’t kiss him without me. I mean it!”
Geoff laughs, shoving Otto away from him.
“Get back here quick, fucker. Don’t piss me off.”
Otto winks, then moves off back into the bigger, older trees. Geoff stays where he is, hand on his knife just in case.
Some scuffling sounds behind him, then a groan, then a shout.
Complete silence.
Geoff turns to look back at the woods, and doesn’t see Otto at all. Maybe he had to chase it further in? He can’t have gotten very far, right? Geoff will just get him and come back and they can kiss some more. Or something.
The zombie’s body is not far into the shadows, and even though Geoff can see the hole in its skull, Geoff sinks his knife in its brain until it reaches the hilt just to be sure. Otto is nowhere to be seen, and he has to move further into the darkness. He’ll find him and bring Otto back. He will. Except he’s not around this tree, or that one, or in that clearing. He’s not sitting on a tree stump, he’s not near the stream, and he’s not - he’s not -
When Geoff finally sees him, his stomach gives out. There’s - fuck, there’s so much blood . It is absolutely everywhere, covering the grass and moss and roots and flowers, Otto desperately holding onto his arm to try and stop the blood rushing out from him. He’s so weak, laying against a tree. Geoff probably wouldn’t have even seen him except for the spray of red.
When Otto catches sight of him, he groans, hitting his head back against the bark.
“Get away, man,” Otto yells at him. “It got me. I couldn’t-” Otto coughs, spitting up even more blood, and Geoff finally unfreezes, rushing in to hold him. “I tried to get away. I tried. I tried so much, but-” He coughs again.
The tears hit Geoff, and they’re ugly. He cups his own hands around Otto’s, trying to put pressure on the wound and close it up but the zombie tore a good chunk of Otto’s skin off. Geoff sees bone and has to shut his eyes, tight, because if he doesn’t he’s going to throw up all over Otto’s gaping wound and then it definitely won’t heal.
“You were - just a few minutes ago -,” Geoff can hardly breathe, can’t get any words out as he shakes and desperately holds onto Otto, tries to get him closer, tries to put Otto inside of him where it will be safe. “You’ll be fine. It’s not - it’s fine. It’s fine, it’s okay, it’s fine, you’re good. I’m sure the store has stuff, we can just, like, wrap it, or something.”
“Don’t let Awsten see me,” Otto pleads. “Not like this. Please.”
“I won’t but - look, we’ll get you better. It’s going to be okay.” Geoff sobs. “You can’t leave us. You’re going to be okay. We’ll get to the Zoo and have all the time in the world for you to get better.”
“You have to take care of him. You have to promise me.”
There’s so much blood. It won’t stop coming, spurting between Geoff and Otto’s intertwined fingers.
“I promise. Of course. We’ll take care of him together.”
“You can’t give up on anything. He’s going to fall apart. You have to keep him together. You have to feed him and - you remember LA. You have to keep him together.”
His vision has gone blurry, panic finally hitting him, and he can barely see Otto through his tears. Otto’s breaths are getting more sporadic, and then slower, and slower.
Geoff vaguely hears the sound of Awsten’s voice asking where they are. Otto lets go of his wound and clutches onto Geoff instead. His eyes are so intense, blazing with the final rush of death.
“You promise me you’ll love him.”
This can’t be fucking happening.
“Always. Of course I love him. Forever.”
“You keep him safe, and you keep him alive out there. Together.”
This can’t be real.
“I promise.”
“And you gotta promise you’ll kill me. Again. When I turn, because I will, Geoff, I will, and you gotta kill me. You have to do it.”
Geoff can’t speak, he -- he can’t promise to do that, what the fuck --
“Promise me!”
“I promise!” Geoff swears, so, so, so terrified.
Otto breathes out with relief, and then goes limp in Geoff’s arms, heavy; too heavy. The kind of heavy only a corpse can be.
Geoff’s experienced a lot of death since the outbreak. Violent, blood soaked, right in front of him. He’s watched people eaten alive, once not even by a zombie but by some freak in Phoenix who had been convinced zombies were their new overlords there to show them the light or whatever the fuck. He’s seen headless bodies, lone arms and legs dangling off of buildings, flattened corpses on the highway.
But this is Otto. This is Otto .
Geoff wants to scream, wants to stay there forever and never let go of Otto’s body even after he turns, but he - but Awsten can’t see. He promised, he promised . He wipes his face of tears, taking a few deep breaths as he tries frantically to figure out what to do with Otto before Awsten finds them. They’re not that deep into the woods that it would take long for Awsten to come across them, and the site is harrowing. Blood gets smeared all over Geoff’s face, Otto’s fucking blood everywhere, all over him, and congealing in the cold.
Geoff props Otto back up against the tree, and he shakily gets up. There’s a few long moments, knife in his hands, as he stares at Otto and wonders if he should do it now…when does it happen? When does someone turn? Geoff’s never stuck around long enough to watch. God, he can barely breathe.
“Geoff? Otto?” Awsten’s voice comes from close by, worried.
Fuck, he cannot let Awsten see this. He takes a few deep breaths, fruitlessly attempts to still his shaking hands, knowing he has to leave and dreading it. He shakes his head as he stares at Otto’s propped up body and instead lays Otto down in the grass, among the strangely beautiful weeds. He kisses Otto’s forehead, his tears falling down, and then finally, painfully, forces himself away. He follows the sound of Awsten, and pulls him close when he sees him; away from Otto’s body.
Awsten looks shocked to see Geoff covered in blood and alone.
“Dude, what happened? Are you okay?” Awsten’s voice and hands are shaking as he holds onto him. “Where’s Otto?”
“I’m okay,” is all Geoff can answer. Awsten nods, patting Geoff all over, checking for wounds. “I’m okay.”
“And Otto?”
Geoff can’t answer. He can’t bear to speak the words.
It was hard to get Awsten to leave. He had demanded proof, demanded to check on Otto himself, begged and pleaded with Geoff and then with God and then with the dirt.
By the time Geoff dragged Awsten, who was hysterical and barely able to speak from grief, to the parking lot, the light was almost completely out. But the just-set sun and the fire allowed just enough light to see the homemade banner Awsten had spent so long putting together out of mismatched crafting wood and banners and deflated balloons.
Happy Birthday Otto!
It’s not until they are far, far away that Geoff realizes he’s already broken one of Otto’s promises. He didn’t wait until he’d come back. Otto is out there, now. Turned and wandering, cursed forever.