Chapter Text
It's like moving through water.
His body one with the ocean as he holds the bow in a firm grasp. Breath so deep he can feel it fill his chest to the brink.
The arrow went back with a beautiful slide, pulled back till his hand rested just close enough to his cheek that he could feel his breath on his fingers.
He lets the arrow fly and it hits the target, a big board with rings. The head of the arrow is firmly planted in the middle of the yellow.
"Excellent shot George” Sam praised him.
"Thanks” George mumbled, grabbing another arrow and loading his bow.
“What is it now?” George asked as he raised bow, feeling the burn in his muscles as he pulled the tight string back and aimed.
“I have good and bad news,” Sam said behind him. George liked Sam, he was competent, responsible and didn’t waste George's time by telling him shit he didn’t need. And he didn’t fuck around trying to avoid problems.
“What's the bad news?” George asked as he released the arrow.
"You didn’t make the cut for the Olympics” Sam said flat out as he watched the arrow hit mere millimeters from the other one.
“Okay” was all George responded before grabbing a third arrow.
“George, do you mind taking a break so I can talk to you about this” Sam phrased it as a question, but George knew it wasn’t. It never was.
"What’s there to talk about? I didn’t make it and so what?” George shrugged, moving the bow up in outstretched arm once again and pulling the string back.
“George, your parents pay me to make sure you do the best you can. This is the third year in a row. And you and I both know you can do better than what you demonstrate at the try outs” Sam folded his arms, seeing the arrow fly through the air and hit the middle of the target once again.
"I thought we agreed you’d try this year” Sam said, and George finally turned around to face him.
"I did try” George argued, with a frown. Sam didn’t answer, just raising an eyebrow at him.
"I did” George insisted.
“George, I know you try to make yourself try. But you have to actually do it” Sam said with a tired sigh.
"I did try” George looked down at his running shoes, kicking the plastic mat on the floor.
"And I believe you did. But I need you to try harder next time” Sam nodded.
"I will” George said, turning around and rolling his eyes as he walked over to the target to retrieve his arrows.
"Good” Sam said as he watched George pull out the arrows from the target.
"What’s the good news then?” George asked without looking back at sam.
“I sent your scores into the archery world cup stage, and you got in” Sam stated.
"The world cup? Where's that?" George asked.
“Haines City” Sam answered simply.
"Where the fuck is that?” George asked as he got the last arrow out.
“Florida, usa” Sam answered and George immediately groaned.
“Florida? Seriously?” George asked as he walked back towards his bow and Sam.
"You need to compete, George,” Sam reasoned.
"But why?” George just groaned further.
"Because you have sponsorship deals that need to be fulfilled and represented” Sam said simply, only receiving more annoyed groans and complaints from his employer.
"This isn’t a hobby anymore George, you know this. You need to work if you wanna make it in this line of business” Sam explained as if George was a kid.
"I know, but it just sounds so… annoying” George complained.
“I know. But just try and focus on the bright side of it. It’s a trip to america, you have the chance to set a new record maybe, before exposure” Sam started to list all the reasons George found it boring.
"Right” George just answered, turning back around, putting his arrows into their holder and grabbing only one to shoot it, letting Sam's voice fade into the background of everything else as he pulled the string of his bow back.
George remembers the first time he held a bow.
He was ten, at some medieval fair with his parents. A local shooting range had set up a place for kids and adults to try shooting a normal bow. The workers were dressed in medieval clothing and insisted on roleplaying through the entire exchange. George didn’t care too much for it. But he remembers the first time he released that arrow.
It was an easy shot, only about ten feet between him and the target. The string of the bow was easy to pull back, and the arrow was easy to hold. He remembers his dad trying to cheer him on, but it only distracted him. And he remembers seeing the arrow plant its sharp head in the middle of the target.
The moment did something in George's mind, making something click into place. Like this was exactly what George was meant to do.
George felt so proud that day, the first day of the rest of his life.
He begged for his parents to let him start doing archery, and spent many afternoons training at the shooting range, saving up money and buying more and more equipment, before getting a professional mechanic bow by his parents. George was fifteen when he won silver in the british junior tournament and his parents hired an agent for him.
George was a prodigy at his school. The archery champion from his small town. And according to his agent, his parents and all the adults in his life, he had his life set, he was gonna join the olympics at the rate he was going.
George was in love with the thrill of having a bow in hand and an arrow resting against his fingers.
That's the only way to truly describe it. George was truly in love with everything that went into the simple action of shooting an arrow from a bow, he didn’t care if it was a simple wooden bow or the most expensive and heavy mechanical bow.
George was so in love, he could never see himself do anything else but this.
and then George turned seventeen, and he lost all interest in archery.
That's not true.
George lost interest in everything.
He had dropped out of college just to pursue archery, doing nothing but training and mastering his talent, which had isolated him from his peers, and yet he didn’t care. Even if he decided to quit, school sounded exhausting and socializing even more dreadful.
He had no interest in making friends, he had no interest for school, no interest for romance, for parties, or for his beloved archery.
It cost him the championship for almost two years.
He just couldn’t find the care to actually do better.
An artform he had poured blood, sweat, pain and his entire heart into, he just didn’t care.
and he didn’t know if he ever would again.
………
George didn’t know if this was what a death wish felt like.
but George didn’t want to die. For once he didn’t want to make a joke about it.
The car doors were locked, and the sunroof had firmly slid shut, but it did little to comfort him as he was surrounded by bloodshot, sunken eyes and blood covered faces, all clawing and pushing against the car windows.
His ankle shooting with pain, bent the wrong way and he was too scared to actually check if he was bleeding. It didn’t matter anyway if those things didn’t leave, they’d kill him when they manage to break the window.
But it wouldn’t stop his heart from beating a hundred miles an hour out of fear, feeling it up in his throat as he laid on the back seat of the car he had found refuge in.
He was gonna die here, with nothing but his bow in his hands and the clothes on his body. He was gonna die in a country he never wanted to be in, in a place he didn’t care about. With his only love in life gripped tight in bruised hands.
George was gonna die here
and then, he heard yelling.
Not a scream, not a cry for help, he heard yelling.
"Over here! Look over here! Yes! Look at me! Yes! I'm so much more delicious!” He heard a man’s voice call. And the zombies seemed to actually listen, their feral gazes moving off him and towards the sounds.
And just like that they seemed to have forgotten all about him, running around and over the car to get to whatever fool was yelling. Sitting up slowly on the backseat, he managed to see a man jumping and doing jumping jacks on what looked like a fire escape, a group of zombies reaching up for him and trying to grab at the bars. He watched as the man swung a crowbar down at them.
George was frozen, unable to look anywhere else.
And then someone slammed against the car door behind him and he jumped, twisting his ankle further as he turned around and came face to face with another stranger, black hair falling in his eyes, slamming his palm against the window, a baseball bat with nails held to his chest.
"Open the door” George managed to hear him say, watching as the guy looked over his shoulder and back at him.
When George didn’t move, the guy slammed his hand against the glass again.
“Open the fucking door” the guy almost yelled at him, but seemed too afraid to actually raise his voice.
George didn’t know if he should trust this guy. Right now George was safe in this car, and whoever the stranger was could only wish to harm him.
But what couple of idiots would risk their lives for a stranger just to rob him.
“Open the door or I’m fucking leaving you here” the stranger threatened.
Not seeing much of a choice, George leaned over, unlocking the door and watching it fly open and the guy shove into the car, closing it again after. The guys baseball bat and backpack made it hard for them both to fit in the back seat.
“Are you hurt?” The stranger asked, leaned over and looking past George, probably to check on the man still yelling and jumping on the fire escape.
“My ankle. I think I twisted it when I jumped out the window” George informed him, finally looking down at his foot, seeing it had already started to swell and bend the wrong way.
“Fuck. Okay” the guy cursed, looking out of the car windows like he was trying to spot a way out.
George could see from the way the stranger held his bat and the shaking of his hands, he was just as terrified as George felt, if not more.
“Can you run?” The guy asked and looked back at George.
“I can try, but not on my own I think” George said truthfully. If this guy could get him to safety, George was willing to bite down any pain.
“Okay, okay, I can handle this. Bad is counting on me to handle this” the guy nodded, mumbling the words under his breath as he turned to look out of the windows again.
“Alright. Do you see that building over there? The cafe?” the stranger pointed across the parking lot, to what looked like a run down cafe with its name written across the window.
“Yes” George nodded.
“Alright. This is what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna help you get out over here, we’re gonna hurry our asses inside, and then my friend will join us. Got it?” The stranger asked, but it was clear he was talking more to himself than George.
“Got it” George answered anyway, gripping his bow tight and waiting for the guy to open the car door. The stranger took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out, looking around and then reaching to help George out of the back seat.
George grinded his teeth in pain as he stood up, limping on one foot. The stranger grabbed his free arm and moved it over his shoulders.
“Look out for any zombies coming for us” the stranger said and placed his hand on George's waist, holding his baseball bat in the other.
George's ankle was burning as he tried his best to keep up with the stranger, squeezing his eyes shut a few times to keep down a painful whine.
The stranger’s breathing was loud in his ears, and he was sure he could hear more than just his own heart beat. George tried to breathe through the pain, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other.
It felt like an eternity crossing the parking lot and reaching the cafe, like crossing the plains of a ruined battlefield. The stranger let go of his waist, helping George lean against the wall of the cafe.
George took deep breaths, focusing on looking around them in an attempt to ignore his pain. He turned his attention to the stranger as he heard him bash at the door, trying to break the lock.
When it finally snapped, George pushed against the wall to stand up right, but the stranger stopped him before he could walk inside.
“Stand back” the stranger warned, grabbing a rock off the ground and throwing it into the store, hitting a potted plant and causing it to fall off the table.
The stranger put both hands on the bat and took a step back. George heard something fall inside the cafe and then a zombie sprung out of the door. George scrambled back but watched as the stranger swung his bat. George heard bones break as it fell to the ground, and he had to look away when the stranger swung down at its head again.
"Come on” the stranger grabbed his arm again and helped him in through the door. The guy hurried to get George seated in a chair before he rushed back outside. George could almost see him wave his arms around and do jumping jacks.
He was probably signaling his friend.
George looked back down at his ankle, racing down to get his shoe off.
The stranger came back inside, closing the door and starting to push one of the tables up against the door. He grabbed his bat tightly and started to look around the café, hurrying over the desk and checking behind it. Pulling the handle on the door to the back, he found it locked.
"Hey” George spoke up, trying to get his attention. The guy spun around and looked at him.
"What’s your name?” George asked.
“Sapnap” the stranger panted.
"Thanks for the rescue mission, Sapnap” George said, leaning back in his chair.
"I’m George”
………...
George knew coming to America was a mistake.
He voiced his concerns a week before the plane, in the car to the airport, on the plane, and when they arrived at the hotel. Was George using the stress of the current world situation to his advantage by complaining? Yes, but it was only fair in his opinion.
The pictures and videos circling around online were concerning, he had a right to voice his thoughts.
He was jetlagged, tired and wanted to sleep in his own bed that was now over 4000 miles away. But he had to settle for a hotel room shared with Sam.
George didn’t get to see the arena for the competition, he barely got off the hotel’s grounds when the news came out.
George had been asleep when it was announced, trying to get his sleep schedule fixed for the competition after Sam suggested it.
“George. Wake up, wake up it’s important” Sam had shuffled him awake, shaking his shoulder as his agent held a phone in his other hand.
"What?” George yawned, reaching to grab his glasses off the nightstand.
“Look at the news” was all Sam instructed, pointing at the TV to see a news anchor talking. Sam put his phone back to his ear, answering whoever was on the other end of the line. Probably George's parents, if he had to guess.
George watched as Sam stepped away and towards the balcony, walking outside to talk in private.
He turned his attention to the TV, grabbed the remote and turned up the volume with a yawn.
"We urge all citizens to stay inside your homes. Do not go outside unless it’s a last resort. The virus outbreak has been found here in the east coast states and our military is currently doing everything they can to contain it” George watched the man speak as a map of the united states showed up, florida, georgia, alabama and south carolina colored red.
"This lockdown is not expected to last more than a week or two at most. All work places except the bare essentials have been closed down. But we repeat, do not leave your homes or current whereabouts” the man repeated, moving a hand up to his ear and looking like he was getting new information.
“Alright, we have just received further information on the virus” the man turned back to the camera.
“According to medical staff the virus is not airborne, but can however be transferred through bodily fluids such as saliva. If you or a family member starts to show any of the following signs it is utmost important that you self isolate” the man informed them, George sat further up as a list on the tv showed up.
"The symptoms of the virus are the following. Headaches, heartburn, fever, dizziness, disorientation, drooling and in worse cases, violent behavior” the news anchor informed.
"This broadcast will be repeated until we have further information. But to summarize, stay inside, self isolate and do not leave your homes under any circumstances" George turned the TV down again, reaching for his phone to check it.
Opening it he found the screen completely blank from notifications. He unlocked it and opened up one of the first apps he saw, trying to figure out more.
The balcony door slid open again, gaining George’s attention. Sam looked down at his phone with a sigh and then at George.
"You saw the news?” he asked, as if he hadn’t turned it on for George.
"Yeah” George nodded and looked back at the TV.
"What does this mean for us?” he asked.
"Well, I just got off the phone with the front desk and your parents. We’re gonna be self isolating in here, the hotel staff will be bringing food to us, and we will not be charged for the extra days we are staying” Sam started off with explaining.
“Your parents have left your safety in my hands, but you are a grown adult, so it doesn’t impact the situation much” Sam nodded.
"What about the competition?” George asked, leaning back on his hands.
“Right now it’s been postponed till the lockdown is over” Sam said.
"Alright… well, I'm going back to sleep” George grabbed the covers of the bed and pulled it over his shoulders again as he laid back down.
"What?” Sam looked confused at him, like he couldn’t possibly believe George could sleep in this situation.
"What? It’s not like we can do anything” George snuggled up to his pillow.
"And I'm running on like four hours of sleep. So I'm going to bed again” George shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes.
"Alright” Sam moved a hand up to rub at his forehead.
"I’ll wake you up later” He sighed.
Being stuck in lockdown was awful, but being stuck in a random hotel room on the other side of the world in lockdown was hell.
There were zero things to do there. They couldn’t leave their rooms for anything, food and water was brought to them three times a day, and the only things George could do to entertain himself was watch TV or scroll his phone.
The news station was broadcasting the newest info, sometimes updating the situation but it never seemed to be good news.
Sam suggested George entertained himself by training, but you can only run from one end of a room to the other so many times, or do so many sit ups and push ups till that too became boring.
By the end of the first week, George and Sam had watched all the movies the hotel had to offer, had talked through every subject they could think of to death.
Sam insisted on remaining professional, but even he seemed to need a mental break. It entertained George for an afternoon, asking Sam personal questions. He learnt Sam used to work as a prison guard as a young man, then helped young people get their lives together and then became a sports agent through that.
George didn’t understand how anyone could wanna work in sports, depending solely on someone’s else’s desire and hobby to sustain them. If George was to break his wrist, Sam would be fucked financially.
Probably one of the reasons George didn’t actually try to break a bone, was knowing that guilt would be his.
George also learnt Sam was having relationship troubles back home, having an on and off situation with his current ex. He learnt that Sam was fascinated with architecture, and that he had a dog back home waiting for him.
All in all, the lockdown was long, and there were no signs of things getting better anytime soon.
By the end of the two weeks into the lockdown, there was a knock on the hotel door. George came face to face with a military uniform.
"Please remain calm. The hotel is being evacuated” the man spoke, not even greeting George or telling him his name.
"Evacuated?” George frowned, confused.
"Is it really that serious?” George asked, looking down the hotel hall. He could see other military people knocking and escorting people out of the building.
"Please remain calm and evacuate” the man just repeated.
"Are we allowed to bring anything with us?” Sam asked behind George.
"There is no time to pack. But bags may be brought with you” the military man nodded, turning his attention off George and onto Sam.
“George. Grab your phone and zip your bags. Let’s get moving” Sam grabbed George’s shoulder and tugged him into the hotel room again.
Ten minutes later, George was sitting in a big truck, with at least another ten people from the hotel.
The military men on board were kind enough to at least inform them what was happening. Due to the severity of the virus and the lockdown, all important guests, politicians, and other significant people had been chosen to evacuate to a safer military base.
Base 404.
George had no idea what the building used to be used for, but it was big, and everything in it was clearly makeshift solutions. Bunk beds were placed in lines with barely any room between them, people in military uniforms were standing at practically all the exits and entrances of the building, and the food sucked.
George sat down on the bed, shoving his poorly packed bag under it. The mattress was hard underneath him, like it might as well not have been there to begin with.
George wanted to go home more than anything, he wanted to isolate himself in his own apartment, cook his own shitty food and crawl into his own bed and sleep the entire lockdown away.
But instead he's now stuck in a place a lot shittier than his hotel room, where he sleeps on a rough bunk bed with several other people meters away from him.
………….
The stranger, Sapnap, hadn’t stopped pacing since they entered the cafe.
He was constantly looking out through the windows, squinting his eyes as if it would help him see.
The yelling had stopped hours ago, and George’s new companion only seemed to get more tense by the minute, constantly looking towards the door, out the window, around the cafe as if anything in there would help him.
It was raining, washing the blood on the ruined streets away to the best of its ability. It was the only sound breaking through the tense air.
George had watched Sapnap go through the entirety of his backpack, looking for anything to help their situation or to treat George’s injuries, but he only had crumbled bandaids to treat him with.
Sapnap said his friend would have better things to help him, they just had to stay put till he arrived. Something George wasn’t a hundred percent sure would happen.
“... I don't think your friend is coming” George spoke up.
"Shut up” Sapnap snapped at him, looking back out the window.
"He’s coming, he told me it would take a while and to just stay put” he just repeated himself.
George just sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking down at his swollen ankle. Shutting up was probably the best thing George could do right now, the last thing he needed was to piss off the only source of protection he had.
His foot was propped up on another chair, and George swore he could feel the pain pulse through it. They had no way of treating it yet, so all George could really do was try and sit still.
“He’s here” Sapnap sprung to his feet and hurried to the door, pushing the table out of the way to let his companion in. The other stranger pushed in, and together they pushed the table and a few other tables and chairs up against the door to barricade it.
“Are you hurt?” George watched the stranger grab Sapnap’s shoulders, looking him over like a concerned parent. It was easy to see that the stranger was at least ten years, if not more, older than Sapnap.
“No, but he is” Sapnap said and pointed towards George. The new guy spotted him and rushed over, pulling his backpack off and pouring out the things in it.
“Well nice to meet you, my name is Bad” the stranger, Bad, introduced himself as he grabbed a red box that looked like a first aid kid.
“I’m George” he said, relieved to finally get some medical attention. He watched Bad open the box and grab what looked like a pill bottle shoved into it.
“Have you been bit?” Bad asked.
“If he has, he hasn’t shown any symptoms” Sapnap replied behind him.
“You didn’t check?” Bad looked back at him.
“I was panicking!” Sapnap defended himself.
“Always check survivors for bites” Bad threw over his shoulder and turned back to George.
“Have you been bit?” Bad asked him directly.
“No, but my ankle is killing me, can you please do something?” George asked and was immediately handed two white pills and a water bottle.
“I don’t have anything stronger. Let me look at your ankle” Bad said and George was quick to swallow the pills. He let Bad grab his foot carefully and bit back pained groans as he was manhandled and his ankle carefully bent back and forth.
“Is it broken?” George asked through gritted teeth.
“Maybe, but it can’t be too serious if it is. Else you would be crying right now” Bad said, still focused on his ankle.
“One thing is sure, you won’t be walking anytime soon” Bad said and carefully placed George’s foot back down.
“Sapnap, look for anything we can use to straighten and realign his foot” Bad said as he turned back to the first aid kit.
“On it” Sapnap nodded and disappeared to go look behind the counter.
“What are you? A nurse?” George asked and took a deep breath through the pain.
“Used to be a firefighter, then a volunteer to help the military” Bad answered him without looking up.
“Okay, cool” George mumbled through his teeth, moving his arm up to cover his eyes and breathe through the pain.
Sapnap must have found something, cause a minute later, Bad lifted George’s foot off the chair again and started to realign and wrap his foot in bandages, two sticks on either side of his foot.
“Just keep breathing, you’re doing great” Bad said, eyes still planted on George’s ankle.
“Keep breathing” and George didn’t think there was much else he could do.
………..
The tension in base 404 kept growing more and more with every day that passed.
No one knew anything about what was happening outside the walls of the base, and the ones who did wouldn’t tell them anything.
George couldn’t have cared less, he just wanted to know when the airports would be opening up again so he could go home.
But when he wasn’t sleeping the time away, he couldn't help but watch.
Every few days, there were less and less military uniforms walking around the base. They’re thinning out, but George couldn’t find it in himself to care about why.
George was lucky he had Sam, who kept asking questions and trying to get any new information, even if he never got anything new. The other civilians were growing restless, having nothing to do but talk, play cards or try to get information the military personnel didn’t have. George was still lucky to have Sam, or else he might actually never leave his awful bunk bed.
Then one day everything seemed to come crashing down. The soldiers seemed panicked as they rushed to get through the building, more irrational and scared as they tried to fix whatever issue was going on outside.
"What do you think is going on?” George asked bored, looking over the table at Sam, shoving his food around on the plate in front of him.
"I don’t know, it doesn’t seem too good. But it’ll be fine” Sam said. George didn’t know if he was trying to assure George or himself.
"Do you think the british bake off finale has aired yet?” Sam asked, trying to change the subject, and shoved a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"I don’t know, I don’t really care for reality TV” George just shrugged and looked back down at his plate. Sam seemed to take that as an invitation to talk about the british bake off, talking about who Sam thought should win and why.
"Don’t touch me!” someone suddenly screamed, and then a gun fired.
A few people screamed in shock, most people looking towards where the sound came and hiding under the tables. Sam had reached across the table, grabbing George like he was scared he might have gotten hit. Sam's hand offered little protection against a bullet, but it was only an instinct after all.
Across the room, a young man in a green camouflage uniform was pointing his gun around the room and screaming for people to get away from him.
"I’m not fucking dying here! I'm not!” the man screamed at a man in a suit, probably one of the more important people’s staff. George thought he looked sleazy enough to be a politician.
"The world is ending! and I am not fucking dying here!” the guy screamed again.
Sam grabbed George’s arm firmer, pulling him slightly to get George’s attention.
"We need to get out of here, the staff will handle this” Sam said and George watched as Sam slowly got up from his chair, crouching slightly. There was no way the man would notice if they stood up or not among the rest of the people in the room.
George took one last bite of his food before getting up. He followed Sam out the doors of the cafeteria, going back to the room full of bunk beds they stayed in.
George didn’t know what happened to the man with the gun, but he didn’t see him after that.
He heard a rumor later that the other staff in the room managed to talk him down and escorted him out. It was probably for the best, but it felt like a bad omen.
That same night the power went out at the base, drawing them all in total darkness for almost an hour before the light turned on again.
The next day, they got the news over the speakers.
The virus had gotten out of control, they no longer had any communication with any of the other bases, some of the staff were leaving the base, while the remaining military had decided to help prepare and train civilians to use guns and self defense.
They were officially under martial law.
Shooting a gun was a lot different than a bow.
You can shoot a gun from almost any position, crouching, laying down, sitting, while a bow can almost only be shot while standing. The likelihood of hitting your target is far greater with a rifle than with a bow.
At least if you’re untrained and lack the skills of a professional.
The gun was also a lot easier compared to George's recurve bow. They were lighter, easier to hold and so much louder. The push back of the gun was a lot harder to get used to, but his aim and his skill carried over easily once he got the basics down.
There were barely any green uniforms left, but those who stayed had made it clear who was in charge. They controlled the food and water, and now everyone had to pull their weight at the base.
A shift plan was made, who worked the kitchen, who was patrolling the outside, who was managing the supplies, who kept the place clean.
It didn’t matter who you were, an athlete, a politician, celebrity or an assistant.
Everyone had to pull their weight.
At least it kept George busy and the boredom at bay, even if some of it seemed like mindless work.
It had been four months now since George landed in america, and even though it seemed pointless, he still waited for Sam to tell him they got a plane to take them home.
George missed his apartment, his own bed.
Four months, trapped on the other side of a world, in a country he could care less about, for a competition he didn’t even want to attend.
George knew Sam blamed himself for their situation, and a bitter part of George blamed him too. But pointing fingers at the only person he knew here wasn’t gonna fix anything, it wasn’t gonna bring him home.
So Sam could blame himself for all George cared.
Their food had begun to run low, and the power generator was running out. They had already burnt through all the fuel the base had to spare, and had struggled trying to find more. The power kept going out, lights flickering and scaring people.
The people at the base were growing uneasy, the lack of food, the constant demand for work and lack of answers to any questions they had was starting to stir up things among the people
But when George thought a riot was about to break out, they got a message from another military base, calling out for any survivors and offering help.
The military personnel managed to get a hold of the base.
They had plenty of food, water, space and power.
All they had to do was get there.
The options were presented to the group.
The choice seemed harder than it should be. They were already running out of everything. They would have to leave regardless of whether or not they waited or left now. But base 404 was still safe, they hadn’t seen any signs of the infected and the uncertainty seemed to plant hesitance in the group.
George was leaving.
Sam didn’t want to.
“George, are you sure this is a good idea? You have no idea what could be out there” Sam worried, watching George pack a backpack with the essential things from his suitcase, some of his clothes and water. His bow strapped along with arrows to the back of it.
“What? You don't think I can handle it?” George asked, not sparing Sam a glance.
“I do, it’s your self preservation I don’t trust” Sam said, arms crossed over his chest.
"I promised your parents I would look after you” Sam tried.
"And you also said I was a grown adult” George reminded him as he zipped his backpack shut.
“George, you don’t know what is out there, and I'm sorry, but it doesn’t seem like you care” Sam said with a worried frown.
"You’ll get yourself killed” Sam looked at the suitcase sitting on George's bunk bed.
"So what am I supposed to do? Stay here and starve?” George asked and finally looked back at Sam.
"The question isn’t whether we leave or stay, It's about when we do leave. And I'm leaving now” George said as he stood up fully to face Sam.
"If you’re worried about me, you can come with us?” George reminded him, a part of him hoping Sam would change his mind.
but Sam stayed silent, his eyes traveling down to look at the floor.
He’s scared. George is scared too, but he can’t stay when he knows leaving is inevitable.
“... Okay then” George nodded to himself, grabbing his backpack and pulling it up over his shoulder.
"We’ll try to get a message back to you over the radio, and when you do leave, you’ll know where I am” George offered, but it was little to no comfort.
"We’ll see each other again” George promised.
"Yeah… I hope so” Sam offered a soft smile. He unfolded his arms and held them out for George, offering him a goodbye hug. If the situation was different, George would have denied it. But he found himself moving into Sam's arms and hugging him, feeling Sam clapping his shoulder.
George wished he had stayed in that hug just for a few more seconds.
Just a bit longer.
………….
George didn’t know if he should trust these two strangers.
Sapnap was jumpy, his bat not leaving his hands for even a second and constantly walking over to look out through the windows. And Bad seemed too calm, like he wasn’t bothered by the fact the only thing separating them and the outside world was a big glass window.
But his stomach really wanted to trust them, cause whatever Bad was cooking in the pot standing over the tiny lime grill smelled delicious.
The grill was the only thing illuminating the room, casting long shadows up the walls behind them.
“Sapnap, stop pacing, you’re scaring yourself” Bad threw a glance over to the window, but George was far too busy trying to ignore the pain in his ankle and trying to stop himself from drooling.
He hadn’t smelled something so good in months, even if he knew it came from a can. He had watched Bad rummage through the cabinets and drawers behind the desk, finding spices, tea bags and coffee.
God, George hoped Bad would try to make coffee.
He was so lost in watching Bad cook, that he didn’t notice Sapnap grabbing his bow.
"Jesus, how do you even use this thing? I can barely pull it” Sapnap groaned, causing George to look over at him. Sapnap was sitting in a chair, holding George’s recurve bow completely wrong and pulling the string wrong
"Put it down, you asshole, it’s a fucking weapon” George cursed at him and reached to grab the bow out of Sapnap’s hand, but he was too far away to reach.
"If you can use it, it can’t be that hard” Sapnap argued back, holding the bow out of George’s reach.
"Because ‘I’ can use it? Are you stupid?” George asked with a glare in his eyes.
"I’m not just some dumb kid who was handed a piece of sports equipment and started swinging” George tried to reach for it again.
"I’m not a kid!” Sapnap almost shrieked at him.
"You’re what? Seventeen?” George asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I’m eighteen!” Sapnap turned red.
"That’s barely a difference” George swung his hand out for his bow again
"Oh and how old are you then?” Sapnap snapped.
“I'm twenty one. So unlike you, I can actually drink in this god forsaken country” George mocked him.
"Well- I- what do you know about bows anyway?!” Sapnap said flustered, clearly pissed at George's words.
"You mean archery? A sport I have spent over half my life mastering? I'd say I know more than you’ll ever get to” George snapped at him.
"Oh, so you’re some kind of expert then?” Sapnap glared at him.
"Compared to you? Yes” George said.
"Compared to me? Compared to me?” Sapnap repeated himself.
"I bet you’ve never won shit” Sapnap pointed a finger at him.
“I'll let you know I've won plenty and I almost made it to the olympics team three times” George snapped at him again, swinging out for his bow again.
"I’m gonna focus on the word ‘almost’ in that sentence” Sapnap squinted at him with mockery.
"Alright” Bad interrupted them.
“I get you two are scared, but fighting with each other is the least productive thing you could possibly do right now” Bad said, a clear warning for them to shut up in his voice.
“Sapnap. Our new friend is clearly in pain and stressed. Stop antagonizing him and leave his belongings alone” Bad looked sternly at Sapnap.
"Yeah, listen to your dad” George crossed his arms over his chest.
“He's not my dad!” Sapnap shrieked again.
“Sapnap” Bad said with a stern look in his eyes.
Sapnap placed the bow on the table and stood up.
"Whatever” he mumbled and grabbed his bat off one of the tables, walking towards the window of the shop again,
"And you” Bad turned his gaze towards George.
“I get you don’t trust us, but that’s no reason to act like a muffinhead. We only want to help you, so if you don’t have anything nice to say, zip it” Bad said, moving his hand over his mouth like he was zipping his mouth shut.
George grabbed his bow off the table Sapnap placed it on. He didn’t say anything as he put it by his side and leaned back in his chair with crossed arms.
Bad just sighed, looking back down at the pot in front of him and reached for one of the plates he had found in the cabinet.
"Dinner’s ready” he spoke up again.
……….
It was all for nothing.
The outside world was a thousand times worse than anything they could ever have imagined. The streets were filled with blood covered bodies. If they hadn’t left base 404 in a vehicle, George didn’t think they would actually have made it.
They spent almost a week trying to get to the other base, it was only supposed to take them two days to get to the base, but every road they tried to take was covered in car wrecks or infested with the infected.
It was like walking through hell trying to get there.
Their group had started out with about thirty people, five trucks. Over seven days they had lost almost ten people.
Stopping to rest was not an option, not with the streets full of those things. So a two day trip turned into a week.
and it was all for nothing.
They reached the other base, but something must have happened there during that week, cause when they finally got there, it was overrun with infected. They could see it from almost a mile away, the bodies walking across the fields and gathering around the building.
The trip was for nothing. There were no survivors, and the risk was too big to go inside and look for food.
Without any other ideas of where they could go, they turned around, heading back to base 404.
but the safety they knew and expected was gone.
It was nowhere near as bad as the other base, but it didn't change that it was gone.
They dared venturing inside, most of them knowing people inside and begging to find survivors.
The halls inside the base were covered in blood, bodies almost littering the floor like abandoned trash. There were a few infected zombies inside the base, but with a gun in hand they were easily taken care of.
A few people broke off from the group to find food, while others tried to find their friends and other survivors.
Even with the base reeking of death and the walls covered in blood, it didn’t occur to George that Sam might not be here anymore. A part of him was almost convinced that it was just everyone else, that Sam was fine, and that George would find him somewhere.
George walked towards the radio room, something was almost dragging him there, like something was pulling him towards the door. It was a small room, only a desk and a big radio set up with a microphone and a bunch of wires.
It would be a good place to hide.
but as he came up to it, he could see the door handle was broken off.
George took in a breath and pushed the door open.
His heart sank to the floor.
Sam's body was propped up against the wall, blood splatter up behind him by his head, and a gun in his hand. Even standing in the door, George could see the open head wound.
George stepped closer, feeling the first tears threatening to fall.
It felt unreal.
Seeing Sam's face so emotionless and covered in blood.
George squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself choke up and struggle to breathe. They were supposed to see each other again, but not like this, not with one of them dead on the floor.
Not knowing what he could do, George stepped closer to Sam's body, his hand moving out and closing Sam's eyes. George dropped his backpack onto the floor, he didn’t care if it was unsafe, if something might sneak up on him, or if this was a waste of supplies.
George didn’t care.
Out of his backpack he pulled a fleece blanket, as he unfolded it he noticed a note resting in Sam's other hand.
Bending down carefully, George grabbed the note out of his hand. He threw the blanket on Sam's body and stood back up, looking down at the poorly written note in his hand.
George saw his name written at the top of it.
‘Dear George.
I don't know if you will ever read this, and a part of me hopes you never will. But in case you find this, I’m sorry.
I'm sorry I am the reason you are trapped in this hell.
I'm sorry I brought you here, even when I knew you never wanted to compete in the first place.
I’m sorry I pressured you, even when I knew you never cared. I should have done more to help you, and I'm sorry I will never get the chance to do so.
I know you’re tired George, I've known for years, and I'm so sorry I didn’t do more to help you, that I just stood on the sideline and watched as you got worse. I should have done more for you, I'm sorry.
and even now, after I took the coward’s way out, I beg of you to not do the same.
The gun has about three more bullets in its chamber, if I didn't miss. Take it, and please, use it for something good. Protect yourself and stay safe.
If you find a way home, if it even still exists, please tell my family I went out on my own terms. Tell them I love them.
i’m sorry - Sam’
It was barely coherent, written in a hurry and misspelled multiple places. The fear was clear as day and the tears on George's face just kept falling, rolling down his cheeks and chin, he pulled his glasses off to wipe his eyes.
George bent down, shoved the blanket slightly to the side to grab the gun out of Sam's hand before covering it up again and standing up..
George couldn’t help but think there's a cruel irony in this.
All these people wanted to live, all these people had worked so hard to stay alive, and George would never know what happened in the time he was gone.
All these people just wanted to survive, and here George was standing in their remains, struggling to find a reason to get out of bed in the morning or to find a single reason to care for anything.
All these people wanted to live, and George didn’t even know if he wanted to.
"I’m not promising anything” George looked down at Sam’s covered up body,
"But I'll try, for you” George grabbed the strap of his backpack and turned around. He grabbed the broken door handle and pulled the door shut, leaving Sam in his final resting place.
He wouldn’t get a chance to bury him, not if George didn’t want to be left behind.
The group had to keep moving. There was not enough food already and they had to find somewhere safe soon.
George didn’t know where they were, and he really didn’t care. The remaining people in the group voted for who to be in charge, who did what and where they went. It was supposed to make things easier, but when everyone had a gun in their hand or a bow strapped to their backs, it only made the tension grow faster.
People argued almost constantly, disagreeing with their next cause of action. A gun was drawn more than once and the position of power changed hands constantly.
But George didn’t care who was in charge or what they did. He'd just follow after whoever seemed to scream the loudest.
He didn’t trust these people, he’s seen multiple times how they are willing to sacrifice each other if it meant saving their own skin. None of them would risk their own safety to save another member of the group.
and George can’t blame them, he wouldn’t either.
They were all just supposed to get more supplies, find food and return back to their current hideout.
They were searching through what seemed like a run down apartment building. The doors were easy to break down, some of them even standing open already. It was eerie walking through the halls of a strangers home, seeing pictures of smiling faces and drawings made by small kids hanging on the fridge.
It was weird to think someone used to live here, have a home here, come home from work and eat dinner with their families here. George wondered if his apartment was still there, if that too had been left to gather dust and for strangers to rummage through for food, or if his parents had moved all his stuff back home to them, cause George definitely hadn’t paid his rent in months now.
George wondered if his parents missed him.
"Yo, earth to four eyes” a guy not much older than George waved his hand over his head to get George’s attention.
"We got this here covered, go scavenge the next one” the guy ordered, and George just gave him a dirty look despite his feet moving towards the door.
George wondered if he missed his parents.
He didn’t really know.
George walked out of the apartment, looking both ways down the hall. They hadn’t encountered any of the infected yet today, which was fairly odd, but George wasn’t about to complain about it.
George walked down the hall to the next door, grabbing the door handle and tried to open it, but the door remained locked. George sighed and stepped back, deciding to try kicking the door open.
He kicked once, twice, but before he could give it another kick, he heard something fall further down the hall.
George turned his head to look in the direction of the sound, standing completely still as he waited for another noise.
Then he heard a groan.
George took a slow step backwards. The hallway was too short for him to use his bow. His aim might be great, but even his reaction time would be too slow compared to those things.
So instead he reached for the gun Sam had left him.
He spotted the first one, and with the way it charged at him, it was clear as day it saw him too. George fired his gun, shooting the zombie in the chest. It hit the ground with a wet sound and George could hear it gasping for air. He heard his group running out of the apartment they had been in, having heard the shot and assuming the worst.
But George didn’t get a moment to think as another one came running, and one more, and more. George fired his gun again and again, only to kill one of them. When he tried to pull the trigger again it only made a clicking sound.
He was out of bullets.
In a panic, George pulled his bow off his shoulder in time to hit it across the face of the approaching zombie. He turned on his heel, and ran for the stairs in the middle of the hallway, but as he reached it he only saw another zombie down the steps.
George panicked, looking behind him and seeing a window at the other end of the hall, the only direction clear of any zombies.
Not seeing any other way out of there, George ran for it.
He covered his face as he jumped, the glass breaking as he went through it. As he flew through the air, he tried to convince himself that a broken neck was better than getting ripped limb from limb.
George almost hoped he did break his neck.
But instead he hit the concrete of the parking lot seconds later and an awful pain shot up through his leg. George wouldn’t have been able to fight the painful cry that escaped him as he reached for it.
The pain was clouding his mind fast, but he saw his group run out of the doors. He tried calling out to them, even if he knew they wouldn’t do anything to help. He caught one of their eyes, and he saw them hesitate.
They looked at George, at the doors they just ran out, at the gun in their hand and then at George again. And then they just mouthed what George thought was a pathetic ‘sorry’ before running off.
George would have cursed at them, if he didn’t hear the fast approaching zombies trying to find their way out and after them.
George had to think fast, he had to get off the parking lot and somewhere safe.
Looking around, he spotted multiple cars, many of them broken and windows shattered. George spotted his bow lying among the broken glass just a few feet ahead of him.
George grinded his teeth as he forced himself up, grabbing his bow off the ground and limped towards the nearest car.
He pulled the door handle as the first zombie emerged from the shadows of the apartment building and ran for him. The door was locked, but George spotted the car's sunroof standing open.
George managed to pull out one of the unbroken arrows from the holster on his back, drew the string back in time to hit the zombie in the chest, but more just came running out of the building.
George hurried to the front of the car, climbing onto the hood of the car and onto the roof. He kicked one of the zombies that reached him in the face, sending it flying back on the ground.
He shoved his bow through the sunroof, watching it land on the floor of the car. Taking in a deep breath through the pain, George forced himself to crawl through the sunroof, landing on the backseat and twisting his already hurt ankle.
George reached up and slid the sunroof shut just in time as the rest of the zombies surrounded the car and started to shove against its sides.
George looked at all the doors, seeing them all locked to his own relief. But as he looked up at the windows, he was only met with bloodshot, sunken eyes and bloody faces.
He found a safe space, but for how long it would last, he didn’t know.
He had no way out of the car, he had no food or water, and he had no one who would come for him now.
With those thoughts running through his head, George laid down on the back seat, hugging his bow to his chest, and waited for death.
……..
For the first time in years, George can’t sleep.
And it’s all thanks to the pain pumping through the veins in his ankle. The painkiller did little to help, only numbing it slightly. He’d taken two more before he tried to sleep it off, but it just wouldn’t come to him.
"Are you awake?” Bad’s voice broke through the sound of the rain outside the empty cafe.
"What gave it away?” George peaked his eyes open, looking towards where Bad was sitting in one of the chairs.
"You’re frowning” Bad said, his arms crossed over the table. He looked down at where Sapnap was sleeping on the floor, barely a foot away from Bad.
"I’m sorry about Sapnap” Bad apologized before looking back at George.
"He’s just scared. It took a lot from him to get you out of that car” Bad tried to explain, but it didn’t really do anything to lighten George's annoyance.
"Wow. How nice of him” George said sarcastically.
“Do reckless acts give you a pass to be a dickhead in your group?” George asked.
"Language” Bad just replied.
“We saw a group of people run away from your direction earlier. Are they your friends?” Bad asked instead, seeming to change the subject off the sleeping teen on the floor.
"Friends is a strong word” George huffed and looked down at his bandaged and swollen foot.
"Especially since they didn't even want to do the courtesy of putting me out of my misery before the zombies could get their hands on me” George shrugged.
"You didn’t expect them to help you?” Bad raised a concerned eyebrow.
"Not really. They don’t help anyone but themselves” George just sighed,
"It was only a matter of time before it was my turn to be left for dead” George crossed his arms, rubbing his hands up and down in an attempt to stay warm.
"So I take it you don’t wanna go back to them?” Bad then asked, and when George looked back at him, Bad was standing much closer, holding out a blanket to him.
"We can help you get back to them, if you want?” he still offered.
"If they saw you two and the stuff you have, they’d probably kill you for it” George said but took the blanket.
"Probably, yeah” Bad agreed and watched as George covered himself up with the blanket, waiting to see if he might want help.
"You’re free to stay with us too. It’s just me and Sapnap, so there's plenty of room for one more” Bad suggested before walking back towards his chair and sitting back down.
George frowned, looking back down at his ankle before looking at Bad again.
"Why would you wanna take in dead weight like me? You’re the one that concluded I wouldn’t be able to walk for the next few weeks. I'm literally gonna be eating your resources up” George asked.
"Cause to me you’re not dead weight” Bad offered a smile.
"You’re a person in need of help and protection” Bad said as he leaned back in his seat.
"You can sleep on it if you’re unsure” Bad shrugged.
"But rest is definitely something you should be getting. We’ll find a safer place tomorrow” Bad said and looked out of the window, watching the rain fall outside, the street only lit up by the moon.
"I don’t think I need to sleep on it” George said and looked out at the street as well.
"I think I'll stick around for now” George shrugged, like he didn’t really care whether or not Bad was offering to begin with.
"Good” Bad just smiled.