Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part One

“It is in the moments of emotional crisis that human beings reveal themselves most accurately.” — Anaïs Nin

Two hundred seventy three days post incursion. 
Neil

The end of the world comes in a fit of red and black and every way that Nathaniel Wesninski does not expect. He has always imagined the death of his mother and by extension, the death of himself the result of their valiant life on the run. Instead it comes in the form of an upturned car as flames reach upwards towards the sky. The screams of a hundred death angels echoing around him as Neil flees.  

Death angels, monsters, sound seekers, whatever name they go by, wherever they are death surely follows. Things from nightmares that appear, attracted by the sounds of fear and hopelessness, they tear through their victims without mercy. Desecrating their bodies leaving nothing but terror in their wake. Neil has spent a lifetime around monsters, and he often thinks that death angels are easily comparable to that of his shared blood. 

Since the murder of his mother, Neil has lost count of the days he has kept moving. Never stopping in one place for long, scavenging from abandoned houses and stores. Creeping past groups of survivors, past packs of creatures and the brutalised remains of their victims. It’s a tiresome life and there are some days Neil wonders if another day is truly worth it. The ghost of his mother, a haunting figure of a past he can never shake, rids those thoughts right from his head. Her sacrifice for him, he won’t allow that to have been in vain, he can’t. 

It’s dark, night having long taken hold and it finds Neil limping his way as fast as he can down a long, empty road. His socked feet hit the pavement silently and he feels the debris of the ground beneath him digging through the already worn material, but it’s nothing in comparison to the fierce pain throbbing at his side. He looks over his shoulder, his pursuers are long out of his sight, but that doesn’t mean he is out of theirs. He doesn’t dare do something stupid like stop in such an open area and so he turns abruptly, pushing through into the forested brush. 

He knows he needs to stop eventually, catch his breath and check his wounds, but stopping means death and in his short life Neil has already escaped more than his fair share of that. He heaves a breath, his chest constricting with what little energy he has left. He can still hear the echo of his mothers voice, low and rasp a constant mantra that fails to let him forget. 

Don’t trust anyone. Don’t make a sound. Keep going. Silence is the only friend you’ll ever have. 

He slows his pace slightly in an attempt to avoid the cracking of sticks and leaves beneath him. Another five minutes and it’s almost too much. Neil grabs the nearest tree and slumps against it. Pulling away the hand he holds protectively at his side, he can just make out the dark, sticky stain of blood. It’s bad, he knows that, he can feel that. He needs to find shelter, somewhere he can bunker down for the night where he can fix himself up and work out his next move. More than that, he needs supplies, clean water and bandages at the most. 

Somewhere through the dark, he hears the screeching call of a death angel trampling its way through the wood. He freezes, ears straining for any sign that they are heading towards him. A flurry of birds soar into the sky above the treeline, crying out. Neil holds his breath for as long as he can, his body shaking with adrenaline and fear. The sounds die out and the forest is quiet again, but that doesn’t mean much. Complacency isn’t a feeling that Neil can allow himself to ever feel. Terrifying as though that may be. 

He groans and pushes himself off the tree to give himself some momentum to keep moving. It’s near impossible to see too far in front, and he uses the trees around him to keep him on course. The darkness is a double edged sword, friend as much as foe. While it poses a problem for him to see, it offers him a protective cover against anyone else following him and that alone gives Neil some relief in its security.  

He pushes through a thicket of bushes, and stops. Even in the low light he can make out the embers of thin light creeping through the leaves from somewhere beyond them. He tilts his head to the side, wary of moving too close to the trail else someone or something catches sight of him. Eventually, he breaks through and comes to a wide clearing, a farmhouse set in its centre. All around it are trails of wire with bulbs strung along. Each one emitting a dull hue of white. It’s quiet, the house itself looking abandoned with a few windows broken and the barn next to it its doors hanging limply off their hinges. They’re almost too well placed, looking purposefully decrepit and worn. A smart person would have made sure the windows were at least boarded to keep some of the sound from inside resounding out and the lights themselves are the biggest giveaway that there is at least someone who has claimed the property as theirs. 

It’s stupid, Neil berates himself, he has no way of knowing the kind of people that lay beyond, no way of knowing if they are the kind of people he has spent the better part of his life avoiding or simply other survivors that can offer him some sort of salvation. Even if they were, he’s never been one to be seduced by the false sense of security that kind of life offers. Nowhere is safe. Not from the angels and especially not from him. 

As if on cue, his side jolts in pain. Neil bites back a moan, knowing his time is running out. He doesn’t have a choice. Bleed out in the midst of the trees behind him or find something that may be useful in the house in front. He steels himself and hobbles through the clearing, anxiety winding itself tightly around his heart. It’s late, probably early hours of the morning if his guess is accurate, so there’s a miniscule chance he can break in and get what he needs before anyone even knows he has been there. It’s risky but at this point, risky is the only thing Neil has.

He presses his ear against the front door when he reaches it, trying to hear anything from the inside. He has no way to be certain, but he can’t seem to hear anything beyond the wood and so he kneels down to tackle the lock. It would have been easy enough to pick on any other day, but one of his hands is already slippery with blood and he drops his picks three times before he finally manages to get the lock to click open. He silently curses when he tries the handle and it slips through his fingers leaving a thick, wet residue along the metal. He arranges his grip a little tighter and tries again, sighing as the handle moves down and the door finally pops open. It creaks as he pushes it wider and Neil winces, freezing in the entranceway. There is no retaliating noise, just the calm sounds of the outside world and Neil could almost laugh with the rate his luck seems to be holding out. 

The home is clearly well lived in, barely lit by another string of small fairy lights along the ceiling. There is an empty glass left on the coffee table, a sweater folded over the back of the couch, a book overturned and open on the edge of an armchair. As he moves to take a step forward his foot catches on a piece of material. He picks it up, a red scarf, and balls it up to throw onto the armchair, watching as it unravels and drapes across the chair silently.  

There’s a set of stairs just in front of him to the left and Neil peers up them, the upper landing itself pitch black and so he can’t make anything out. He pauses, listening again for any further sound of life but when he hears none, he takes that for the sign it is and carries on. Slowly, he makes his way down the adjacent hallway, coming across the kitchen easily enough. There is an island set in the centre, the smell of cleaning products and a musk of cooking hit him. Neil moves around the counters, pulling open cupboard after cupboard in desperate search of something he can throw together as some sort of impromptu medical kit. 

A creak of a floorboard somewhere in the house has Neil hesitating when he goes to open the next drawer. He tries to lean back a little, but he can’t get a good look at the hallway from where he stands. He stays stock still waiting to see if there is any other noise but he is greeted again with nothing but silence. He shakes his head at his own paranoia and continues his search. 

Neil is ready to get the hell out of dodge when he finds nothing useful, that is until he opens the last cupboard and sees it, a bundle of crepe bandage sitting on the top shelf. It’s not perfect, probably isn’t even clean but it would definitely do for what he needs it to and he can worry about dying from infection later when he’s not already concerned about bleeding out. He leans forward on his tiptoes, damning his own shortness as he presses against the counter and it sends a flash of pain through his side. His fingers brush the edge of the shelf but it isn’t enough. Neil drops down onto the balls of his feet and pulls at his t-shirt, stuffing the top hem into his mouth to bite down on as he reaches up again. He pushes further into the counter and huffs out a whine at the pain, biting down on the material in his out as he forces himself as high as he can go. His fingers slide along the wood and then snag a loose thread of material. He grapples it with two fingers, sliding it back and forth trying to get it closer. 

He’s nearly there, can see the edge of the roll over the edge of the shelf now, all it will take is a couple more good nudges it’ll fall onto the counter leaving him free to get the hell out. His collar is soaked as he breathes heavily through the pain. He pokes at it once more, closer and closer and-

There’s a sharp prick against his neck. 

“Well hello.” 

Neil freezes, the feeling of a knife pressed against his skin all too familiar. He slowly drops down onto two feet, the roll following him off the shelf and hitting the counter with a near silent thump. The blade presses a little harder into his skin and Neil lowers his arm calmly, stopping short in a sign of surrender. Neil spits his t-shirt out of his mouth, his voice breaking into a quiet whisper when he speaks.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says and the person, the man, behind him laughs lowly and without humour. 

“As if you could,” he drawls quietly. “Turn around, slowly.” 

Neil does as he is told, eyes wide and jaw clenched. Through the faint light he can make out the figure of a blonde man, slightly shorter than himself which isn’t saying much considering how short Neil already is. His brown eyes are narrowed towards him and he holds his knife steadily with confidence, clearly born out of experience. Neil runs his eyes over him, making out a faint line of white scarring dipping from his neck and disappearing down under his shirt.  

“Looks like you picked the wrong home to break into.” 

“I don’t want any trouble, I just need-”

“I don’t care what you need,” the man cuts him off, stepping closer toward him. The press of the knife sends pin pricks of pain down Neil’s neck and he tries to stop himself from swallowing nervously. 

Footsteps sound quietly to the left of them and down the hallway an older man and woman appear, a bright lamp held up in the man's hands, illuminating the room completely. 

“Andrew!” The man snaps tacitly, his eyes shifting between the two of them. He’s dressed in obvious sleepwear, a discoloured white t-shirt with a giant fox paw adorned on the chest and a pair of loose sweats. He has tribal tattoos that trail mostly down both arms but one arm has three large, pink scars curving around his bicep, breaking the patterning of the tattoo. Neil recognises them immediately for what they are, claw marks. 

The woman beside him stares with wide eyes, her hair is pulled into a messy bun and she wears a bright orange sweater with the same, faded logo. She makes a choked off noise as her focus narrows on the red seeping through Neil’s clothes and the hand that presses against it. 

Andrew tilts his head, his own eyes trailing slowly down Neil’s body and taking in the wound. He turns his head to look at the two in the doorway with a bored expression.

“That wasn’t me,” he says, taking a step back. The knife comes away from Neil’s neck, but Andrew doesn’t lower it completely as he looks over at Neil. He waggles it in his face, but it is clear when he speaks again that he isn’t addressing Neil. 

“Seems we have a looter.” 

The woman huffs, pushing past the other man and stepping forward. Neil instinctively tries to take a step back, but all that is behind him are the cabinets and he bangs against them. She baulks, stopping still to hold both of her own hands up placatingly.  

“Hi, my name is Abby,” she says, her voice soft and quiet. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid, you’re hurt right? Let me help you.” 

Neil shoots her a distrusting look and tries to step away again. 

“Oh Abby, your poor, bleeding heart is far too trusting.” 

“Can it, Andrew,” the other man says but he doesn’t move, his gaze focussing intently on Neil. “It’s okay kid, we can help you.” 

“I don’t need help.” 

Andrew snorts as he lowers his knife and throws it in the air, catching it deftly by the handle. Without hesitation, he pokes it at the hand Neil is pressing fruitlessly against his side. Neil tries to side step away from him, but pain courses through his body and he hisses. 

“Liar, liar,” he says in a light, sing-song voice. 

“Andrew, stop,” Abby pleads. She tries for a reassuring smile over at Neil, but he doesn’t for a second believe it. “Please, it’s okay. I’m a nurse, or well I used to be. I can get you what you need, you can go right after if that’s what you want.” 

“Abby…” The older man says warningly, but she waves her hand at him dismissively.  

“I can see you’re scared, I understand why. But we’re not the kind of people you need to be scared of.” 

Neil bites out a harsh laugh. “You have no idea what I’m scared of.” 

“No, we don’t.” The man behind her interrupts. “But don’t presume that we don’t know what it’s like out there. You look like you’ve been through it, kid. We know what that’s like if nothin’ else.” 

Neil shakes his head, a wave of dizziness overtaking him. He doesn’t trust these people, he doesn’t trust anyone. He can’t because they don’t live in a world where trust can be afforded. Not anymore. He needs to get out, and quickly. He’s already lost too much blood by now and he knows it’s starting to get to him, if he keeps this up any longer he’s likely to collapse long before he can get anywhere safe to patch himself up. 

His heart aches however, he’s been alone for so long now and there’s a small part of him that wants to throw away all those notions that everyone around him is dangerous. People were dangerous, but not every person was. Loneliness claws its way through him daily, tearing him from the inside out. He wants- it doesn’t matter what he wants. The only thing that truly matters is survival and survival comes at a cost and his mothers relentless voice roaring at the back of his mind. 

G et out, get out, gET OUT.

“I…-” Neil can’t make out any more words, he stumbles and grabs at the counter behind him to steady himself but his legs give out anyway. Warm arms wrap themselves around his waist and he tries to fight back but he has little energy left to give. He looks up and the last thing he sees before the darkness finally takes him is angry, hazel eyes. 

Two hundred twelve days post incursion.
Jean

Jean shifts slightly in his position, his back bent awkwardly behind the wall he is situated behind. From this angle, he can make out the figures of Riko and Zane perching on the opposite roof across the court. Greyson and his brother Lucas are tucked further down around the side of the building. It’s a simple manoeuvre, one they have done countless times before and one that Jean still feels sits cold in his bones. Orders are orders however, and none of them, especially him, are in any place to not follow. They have camped out in packs of five, night after night after night, waiting, always waiting. Sometimes their waiting will pay off and a small group passes through their entrapment, other times it is only the odd straggler that has followed the sound of a friendly voice, desperate for comfort and companionship. Heroism never gets anyone far nowadays and those who sought it were far and few between. Either way, each person who passes here never leaves but what little possessions they have weigh heavy in Jean’s pockets. Burning with sick evidence of what he has done. 

He tells himself that it is just nature, the calling of man at the end of the world. Survival of the fittest. In truth, murder is murder no matter how prettily Jean tries to wrap up the sentiment and each life taken here is just another body, another soul covering his ledger in red. 

This time there had been a response, a calm soothing voice, a simple “ we are coming, hold on ” through the radio waves. It was all their group needed to head over, heady with greed and excitement of action. Thrill of the kill, Grayson says as his younger brother looks on with the same pale and sick expression that Jean knows is on his own face. This world is not for the kind hearted or the weak, yet Jean stands in it day after day wondering when his own salvation will come. 

It’s more than I deserve , he thinks. Though the thought of death terrifies him, after all that he has endured it seems worthless to lose everything, including himself, now. 

He twists his body around again, trying to get in a position that won’t give his back further grief when he returns back to their encampment later that evening. Broken concrete slides against his worn trainers, scratching against the ground underneath him and into his knees. He clenches his jaw at the feeling but doesn’t move further, a few leg scrapes are a best case scenario to return home with nowadays and he certainly isn’t going to complain about it now. 

There is a crackle of breaking twigs and Jean ducks his head down further. He knows he isn’t likely to hear any voices and so he turns his head to look against the glass mirror he had angled. He startles as a deer jumps out of the brush, hooves clicking against the concrete and it heads across the court and back into the other side of the forest. He sighs, shaking his head at himself until finally, he sees four figures precariously making their way through the forested area across the road. 

They must have scared the deer , he thinks. One of the women makes a gesture with her hands and the group stops. Jean flattens his body down when he sees her pull up a pair of binoculars from where they dangled down at her side. He knows it’s unlikely that they will be able to see him from their position, but being over cautious has never hurt Jean before and he certainly isn’t going to start getting reckless now. 

He counts to sixty in his head and then chances for another look. Riko and Zane have all but disappeared from his sight now, probably heading to a better position lower to ground, just as Jean should but he is captivated at the sight of the four strangers below. He could easily help them, one shout would be all it would take. One simple noise and everyone would be too distracted and he could make his own escape. It was certainly suicide, but he could do it. He toys with the thought, as he often did when it was his turn on a run. It’s a placid fantasy, a fair weather dream that he will ever get to leave his current predicament and find a safer haven with others. 

He isn’t Kevin. He doesn’t have the luxury of a hidden family that wants him. Jean knows there is no family waiting for him, no uncle or father or friend outside of the people he has spent the last few years of his life with, no one that would whisk him away to safer shores. It’s the kind of platitude that he knows if he isn't careful will get him killed. All his family rot somewhere he doesn’t know, forgotten to time in the midst of tragedy.  

He licks his lips, uncomfortably dry with the midday heat bearing down and he shuffles slightly, moring himself toward the roof door ready to make his calculated steps down. He curses to himself in French when with a quick glance to his right shows him that he has left his weapon. A chipped and fractured lacrosse stick with nails jutting through the wood like spikes. Its red and black colouring has faded with time, but the stains of Jean’s life never wash off no matter how much he prays it will. He crawls back across the edge, keeping as low and as flat to the wall as he can. The stick sits further into the centre of the roof, propped up against a pile of old construction pallets and Jean bemoans his own stupidity at leaving it there in the first place. Riko will make him pay if he finds out that Jean has been so careless with his only means of defending himself and retrieving their prize. He stops as close as he can get and leans forward, stretching out his hand to grab the bottom. His fingers graze the warm metal and he sighs, arm falling to the ground when he can’t quite stretch far enough. He tries again, this time leaning his body forward to cover those extra inches. 

It’s too much, it’s not enough. 

Jean falls forward, grabbing the stick as he does so. The top of the stick swings down and the nails smack against part of the metal framework to the left of it. The resounding clang echoes through the silence and Jean’s eyes go wide. He pulls back instinctively, pushing himself against the wall as much as he can but it’s too late. There is a rustle in the trees and a flurry of birds squawk loudly out as they fly out into the sky. Jean peers over the wall just in time to see the harried signals of the four below as they all try to run back in the direction they had come from. There’s an outlier however, one of whom has moved too far into the compound, curiosity getting the better of him. Jean can see he is young, with a head of caramel coloured hair. He freezes, his body poised down low as an angel stumbles out of the wilderness. It gives a piercing screech and Jean crouches down himself, covering his ears with his hands. He doesn’t dare move, instead he pushes his long limbs further down into the corner of the roof. He’s too out in the open, but he can’t will his body to move. He holds his breath until his chest burns, cowering under the beating sun and the calls of death below. 

A quiet chirp and clack of tiny feet has Jean peering up. He is greeted by the sight of a bird. A raven. Its black feathers shimmer in the bright sunlight. He can’t turn away at the sight, drawn so much to its natural beauty as the raven hops a little closer to him. It turns his head, its dark, beady eyes meeting his. It tilts its head to the side, almost as though it’s judging Jean. 

Don’t, he thinks, please don’t. 

The raven turns away from him and for a second Jean sighs a breath of relief that it is simply going to fly away. He shifts slightly, the sounds of his trainer cracks across the gravel like a gunshot through the quiet. The raven startles, spreading its wings as it caws loudly at Jean before flying away. A hallowed scream comes from below and the creature shoots its body to the side, the force of it shaking the whole building. It lifts one heavy claw and smacks it into the concrete, its razor-sharp nails piercing the wall as it pulls its thin, gangly body up toward him.  

He shoots up, not believing and chokes on his fear at the sight. Further down he meets the eyes of the man below, whose own expression of terror and shock mirrors Jeans. The angel snarls and Jean falls, his feet slipping as he desperately pushes himself backwards along the floor. The beast makes it to the top of the wall and slowly pulls itself over the edge, one gangly limb at a time. Its head flutters, opening up like a deathly flower. It’s like ear canal protrudes opens clicking as it scents the vibrations of the air picking up the heavy, fearful breaths of Jean. A tear slides down his cheek as he watches the monster pull itself to full height and move slowly towards him. A flash of his entire life flies in front of his eyes like a bad movie, the ending surmised in nothing but the single call of a raven. 

The angel growls, its head opening wide, showing its serrated, pointed teeth glinting in the light. The residue of the victims before Jean stained into the bone. 

Jean's whole body trembles as he squeezes his eyes closed, not daring to look, praying to a god that he doesn’t believe exists that his death will be quick, clean and nothing like those of the souls that have ended by his own hand. It’s shadow looms over him as it gets closer and closer and- 

A thundering crash suddenly echoes around them from below. The angel screams and turns toward the noise, a repeating bang that swims through the silence. It throws its head back to the sky, a sickening noise crushending from it again as its own body shakes. It crouches down and vaults over the wall and away from Jean. Jean lets out a terrified laugh, crawling as fast as he can to the wall and looking over. 

Below, he watches as the stranger hits the car next to him again, a rusty pipe clutched in his hands. When he has the angels full attention he launches the pipe to the side with a wide swing and ducks down as it skids across the pavement and the creature lunges for it. The last thing Jean sees is the edge of a foot as the man scrambles inside the building below. 

Jean moves as quickly and quietly as he can. Wrenching open the roof door and stepping slowly down the steps. The store below is dark and dank, shelves empty now that looters and scavengers have had their way with them. He peers around the corner to his left trying to make out movement through the glass when a hand from the right grabs his arm and pulls him around the corner, pushing him against the wall. He holds back a yell when another hand covers his mouth. 

Suddenly, he is eye to eye with bright, wide brown eyes. The man shakes his head and lets go of Jean’s arm, bringing a finger up to lips.

Be quiet. 

Jean nods his understanding and the man slowly removes the hand over Jean’s mouth. They both sigh and the stranger puts his hand on Jean’s chest as he creeps back around the corner partially, instantly shooting back with a grimace. Jean frowns, question already on his lips when there is the unmistakable sound of smashing glass as the angel barrels through the store window. The two men stare at each other until Jean finally covers the stranger's hand with his own. He taps the back of his hand and with his head motions for him to follow. 

Ducking down low, Jean weaves them through the shelves and leads him to the backdoor where they sneak through, gingerly closing it behind them. The two start a slow and soundless jog away when they hear it. The angel screams again, muted by the building but that doesn’t stop Jean from grabbing the strangers wrist without thinking. He pulls him faster into the trees, crashing through the brush on the opposite site ignoring the sounds behind them. 

Eventually they reach a small clearing, filled with old, long abandoned cars. Some are rusted, some overgrown, all victims of the passage of time. Their doors are all open, with clothes and other personal effects strewn around them. As Jean breathes heavily he realises exactly where they have come. The meeting spot. His and Riko’s. 

A hand lands heavily on his shoulder and Jean jumps, realising he is still gripping the strangers wrist now almost painfully. He doesn’t seem to mind, instead he gives Jean a bright smile that stretches beautifully across his face. 

“Jeremy.” He whispers, a breathless chuckle on his lips. For a second Jean looks at him confused, unsure what he means. It takes a second to realise the man means his name. Jean doesn’t respond with his own, like he knows Jeremy is expecting. Instead, he looks at him as a man filled with regret. This stranger, Jeremy his mind rudely reminds him, saved his life. Risked his own. The first and only person to have ever done that for Jean. He feels the fear shoot through his veins ice cold, his only repayment for this service will be this man's unfortunate death. 

Another soul. 

Redder goes the ledger. 

“You should not have come here. I should not have brought you,” Jean whispers back, Jeremy’s smile falls, his expression instead wary and questioning. He opens his mouth to reply when there is the low sound of someone clapping.  

“I’m sorry.” Jean mutters, already knowing it is too late. Riko and the rest of their group appear through the gaps in-between the cars like ghosts, surrounding them. Riko gives Jean an approving look which feels like a sickness in his stomach. 

Jeremy doesn’t get the chance to react as Grayson moves quickly, smacking him in the back of the head. Jeremy’s body hits the dewy grass below them hard, but Jean cannot bring himself to help him. He tries to not even allow the burning feeling of resentment to wash through himself, it is just survival, another day another nobody. Helping Jeremy would only mean punishment for him. Survive. Endure. Survive. Over and over again. Maybe one day Jean will truly accept the lies he often tells himself but until then… 

Well done, Riko signs, a smile on his face and suddenly, Riko's approval feels more like a death sentence than his anger ever did. 

Two hundred seventy four days post incursion. 
Neil

When Neil finally wakes, he wakes to unfamiliar surroundings. It’s not his first time waking with such disorientation, but it’s the first time to happen without his mother at his side. He blinks slowly and hazily awake, her name on his lips. It only takes a moment for him to realise that she isn’t asleep behind him, nor is he completely alone. He throws the sheet covering him off, horror sinking into his bones when he sees he is wearing nothing but a pair of sweats that are definitely not his. He pushes himself up, trying desperately to ignore the fiery pain flaring from his waist when the woman sitting at the end of his bed, stands. Her hand is warm but firm on his chest as she pushes him down with purpose.  

“It’s okay,” she says. “You’re safe.” 

Neil doesn’t say anything as he glares at the woman distrustfully.

“It’s okay, you can speak quietly here. The only way for one of them to hear us is to already be in the house.”

“I don’t know you,” Neil moans, struggling against the pressure.  

“No, you don’t. My name is Renee, I’m a friend of Abby’s and I’ve been watching over you for the last hour as she asked. I promise you I mean you no harm.” 

Neil curls his lip in a snarl, words meaningless in front of the terrors he has seen and he learnt long ago not to believe in them. 

“Let me go.” 

“You were hurt. Abby took a great deal of effort to make sure your wound was cleaned and stitched up. Please don’t let all her hard work go to waste by doing something silly.” 

Neil stays silent and stops fighting, falling back into the lumpy mattress. At his concession, Renee slowly moves her hand away, taking a few steps to sit back on the plastic chair. A large sheet curves around them, blocking off the rest of the room like some sort of make-shift hospital bay but Neil can hear an array of mumbled voices beyond it. 

“Where am I?” He asks, grabbing the sheet and pulling it back protectively over himself. 

“Our basement,” Renee replies, chuckling as Neil’s expression. “We sleep down here, it’s easier to keep the sound in and safer for us. Especially at night.” 

Neil doesn’t respond, choosing instead to poke at the bandaging at his waist and hissing when he feels the sparks of pain.  

“I believe that would be called ‘something silly,’” Renee says, looking over at him with an amused expression. “Would you like some help?” 

“Don’t touch me again,” Neil snaps, glaring in her direction. Renee doesn’t falter however, she just nods in acknowledgement at his request, giving him a serene smile. 

“Would you like anything to drink? I can get you some water?” 

“Water,” Neil nods, watching Renee closely as she stands up and pulls the curtain back slightly to leave. It’s not enough for Neil to make out much but a set of matching blonde heads bent down over something. 

He counts to ten in his head before he tosses the sheet off of himself and rolls off the mattress. He bites the inside of his cheek as he holds back a yell, feeling the stitches pulling at his waist. Neil ignores it as best he can, pushing himself up enough that he grabs at his clothes that are draped over the back of a broken table next to him. Someone has clearly tried to clean his shirt, the tackiness of blood is gone but a darkened stain still remains. It’s slightly damp but doesn’t smell and is still in good enough condition to wear so Neil pulls it over his head with a groan. His jeans are still soaked to the touch but the pants he’s wearing fit fine, if not a little short. 

The curtain is pulled back open and Renee appears, this time followed by Abby. They both still at the sight of him and Neil freezes as though he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Oh, are you going somewhere?” Renee asks and Neil scowls at her, using the wall next to him to pull himself shakily to his feet. Abby moves forward to help him, but stops when Renee touches her arm. 

“Am I a prisoner here?” Neil bites out and Abby makes a noise in the back of her throat, looking affronted. 

“Of course not!” She replies. 

“Then yeah, I’m leaving.” 

Abby purses her lips, muttering to Renee about ‘getting David’. Neil doesn’t care to know who that is and he certainly has no intention of sticking around long enough to find out. Renee nods and leaves as Neil grabs his duffle bag, searching through its contents quickly, making a mental note of any missing items. Everything seems to be accounted for, but that doesn’t mean that someone hasn’t rummaged through his personal belongings. The thought alone brings him a pang of discomfort.  

“I don’t want any trouble,” he says and Abby looks at him with something akin to pity in her eyes. “Or your pity.”

“We just want to help.”

“You don’t even know me. I’m a stranger to you, let’s keep it that way.” 

“I know enough to see when someone needs help. When someones alone. ” 

That obvious trust hurts, more than he thinks it ever would. 

“I’m not alone.” Neil spits out a bald face lie they both know. His mother is long gone and dead to the wind and he has nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. But Abby doesn’t need to know the truth to that. She gives him another look, as though she can see straight through him with an understanding that Neil doesn’t dare to dignify with a response. Instead, he pulls the strap of his duffle over his shoulder and takes slow and measured steps around the woman. Abby doesn’t move, but tracks his movement sadly, the knowing look of someone staring at a caged animal reflected in her eyes. The curtain draws back for a fourth time and this time the gruff man from earlier enters. He looks between Abby and Neil, sighing as he comes to his own conclusions about what exactly was happening. 

“Thanks Abby,” he says. “I think someone needs to play referee upstairs. Nicky is being…Nicky.” Abby chuckles, nodding before she casts one last look at Neil as she leaves. 

“Take a seat.” 

“I’d rather stand,” Neil replies, and David shrugs his shoulders, pulling a chair toward him and turning it around, straddling it. 

“So what was the plan?” 

Neil arches an eyebrow at him in question. 

“You break in here, steal some of our stuff and then what? I’d ask if you had a place to go but if you did I don’t think you would have come in here dripping all over my floor.” 

“I have a place. Just needed the supplies.” 

“Uh huh. It safe?” 

“Is anywhere?” 

“Point. Look, I don’t know your story kid and I don’t care. In this world we all got a shit history, but I can offer you safety, food, warmth and a place to not be alone. If you want it.” 

Neil stares at David, eyeing the scarring along his arm, his tired appearance. Any man nearing his fathers age is always someone that Neil has been wary of, but David doesn’t have the same nasty aura that follows the man Neil had grown up with. 

“What makes here any safer than anywhere else?” 

David contemplates him, tilting his head to the side. 

 “Look, the world has gone to shit. You know that, I know that. But it’s people like us, sticking together that make it better than what it is. You don’t have to stay, that's fine, no one will stop you. We’ll pack you up with some gear and you know where the door is, but think on this. There’s safety in numbers and there’s not just the four of us. We got a good group here, we all pull our weight and in return we all get to live another day. Clothes on your back, food in your belly, no need to look over your shoulder at night. What more can you want?”

“Not to get mauled, for one,” Neil motions to David’s arm who follows his gaze down and looks back up at him again.

“That was before this place. Couple of weeks after the first attack. Protecting my son.”

“He dead?”

“No,” David says pointedly, giving him a look. “He’s here. Safe.” 

“Not many people can say that they’ve come out from a fight with an angel and lived.” 

“We were lucky, I can’t lie about that,” David sighs, resting his arms across the back of the chair. “It’s not a heroic story. We got caught in the city, trying to get out. Angels were everywhere, people were throwing themselves out of danger, pushing others into it just to give themselves a couple of extra seconds. We were running down the street, Kevin, Abby and I. Angel jumped in front of us, split us up. Kevin locked himself in a car to get away. The noise was enough. I just had to make sure I was louder to give him time to get out.”

Neil runs his tongue over his teeth, giving David an assessing look. 

“And?” 

“And nothing, got it distracted enough to come for me. Tried hiding out in a store, but the angel was faster and caught me in the arm. Dan, you’ll meet her, she saved me. Abby patched me up and the five of us hit the road as fast as we could.”

“Who was number five?”

“Matt, her boyfriend.” 

“And they’re both here?” 

“Yep. Brought most of this group together in fact.”   

Neil looks down at his lap, the memories of his own run in with angels tears through his mind. All of which he had his mother by his side, right up until he didn’t. Being on his own hasn’t been easy and relying on anyone else was just as terrifying. Constantly moving and evading danger has been his life for so long now that having somewhere to even take a moment to breath is tempting. But Neil doesn’t know this man, doesn’t know these people and what they’re capable of and he’s smart enough to know that any offer that sounds too good to be true, usually is. 

“I can’t,” he says eventually. 

“Why not?” 

Neil doesn’t know what to say back, doesn’t know how to make this man understand what a danger it is to harbour someone like Neil here. 

“Why me? You have no idea how dangerous I could be. What I could bring here.”

“Why anyone? You won’t be the only one here with a shaded past. Trust me on that.” 

“And I can leave at any time?” 

“Any time at all.” 

Neil stares at David, torn between this dream of sanctity hanging so temptingly in front of his face and the need to keep close the rules his mother had imbibed on him before her death. Neil is not brave but neither does he have a death wish. The tiredness however, tiredness is a sure thing that will kill him. The tiredness of being alone and looking over his shoulder every moment, of having to scavenge for morsels of food and water and avoiding angels and infections. It would be nice, for fear not to wind itself so tightly around his chest even for one day. 

“Okay.” He says finally, looking up to see David giving him an appraising look. 

“You got a name, kid?”

“It’s Neil. My name is Neil.”

“David Wymack.” 

David holds out his hand and just like that, one handshake later, Neil’s life falls into place more than he could have ever hoped. 

Two hundred twelve days post incursion.
Jean

Jean sits with his back against the wall, a tattered blanket draped over his shoulders. He watches with a blank expression as Jeremy groans and rolls onto his side, gripping his head. He pulls a hand away to look at the tacky red now sticking to his tanned skin. 

“You’ll live.” 

Jeremy startles, his head swinging toward Jean. He immediately grimaces and squeezes his eyes closed. Jean wants to open his mouth, let a warning of not to move leave lips, but the words trapped themselves in his throat and he swallows them down, turning away from Jeremy completely. He won’t allow himself to continue to feel guilty, he can’t. 

Not for this stupid stranger who saved his life with no concern of his own. He did though, and it eats and eats at him, which is the only reason Jean offered to first watch their prisoner. He’d already signed his death warrant by bringing him to Riko, he isn’t about to prolong the man’s torture anymore than necessary. 

He hears shuffling as Jeremy sits himself up, his eyes squinting against the darkness. The room is barely lit by a couple of gas lanterns. One next to Jean and the other near the doorway. The windows themselves are boarded up, covered in wood panels and thick materials scavenged from bedding and mattresses. It isn’t perfect, but it keeps enough sound from getting out that no one in their compound had to spend their days and nights constantly using sign language. 

Jeremy clicks his fingers, trying to get Jean’s attention and winces at the noise as it echoes around the room. No one has ever accused Jean of being a strong man, and he caves easily as he turns toward Jeremy who points to his mouth in question. 

“It's soundproofed. Not perfectly so don't go yelling, but you can speak if you must.” 

Jeremy nods, eyes darting around. “Where am I?” 

Jean swallows again, “I cannot tell you that.” 

Jeremy looks at Jean, eyes ablaze. 

“You tricked me.” It’s a statement, not a question. A simple fact, as much as the sun rises and Jean will inevitably die before his time. 

“Yes.” 

“And kidnapped-” 

“You are lucky you are not already dead.” Jean interrupts. “Though in hindsight, you may wish you were.”

Jeremy casts him a fearful look and scrambles to try and stand up. A thick chain clanks and he looks down at his hand to see that he is tethered to the wall.

“What…?”

“Not me.” Jean says, finally unable to look at Jeremy anymore, because it will not be him that will make the final strike, but he is certainly the one who made the first cut. 

“Then-” Jeremy starts, but Jean holds up his hand to silence him.

“When he comes, and he will. Soon. You would be wise to keep your mouth shut unless spoken to.” 

“And what will he do?” Jeremy’s voice is quiet, solemn with acceptance. 

“I do not know, but your words will be meaningless and there is nothing to be said which will change your fate. Anything you say will only make it worse for you.” 

“I have family, is there anyone else who…?” 

“No. Just you.” 

Jeremy nods, accepting Jean’s answer for the dirtied truth it is. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you believe me?”

“You have no reason to lie to me right? If you wanted to keep me complacent you would have said you have them…my family. Or you would tell me that there was hope, if I just listened or did whatever he was going to ask that I would live. But you haven’t.”

Jean doesn't have anything to say back to that, so he doesn't bother. Instead he reaches down beside him and picks up his own water bottle, rolling it a few feet in front of Jeremy. Jeremy looks up at him in surprise, but Jean doesn't react. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, leaning against the wall in feigned sleep. 

He cracks an eye open at the sound of the bottle opening, and watches as Jeremy drinks greedily, then closes his eyes before he can get caught spying. A small kindness won't make up for any of Jean’s past, nor will it deter from whatever horror lay in his future but it certainly won't hurt. Not in these moments. Not like someone with Jeremy, so readily accepting of his fate as long as he is the only one. 

Jean has never brought anyone back before. Riko has, and it was Grayson’s favourite pastime. Back when the Master had been in charge of their group, it was almost a requirement. Bring back the entrapped, make them do the dirty work. Sacrifice them instead of their own. It is a cruel world, one that got worse by each day, but then the Master was killed and things changed. More people means more mouths to feed, more bodies needing to watch them, means more opportunities for betrayal. It is an easy change for most, kill and take. Don’t ask questions. Jean hates it as much as he hates himself most days. 

He is not sure how much time has passed. Jeremy hasn't tried to speak to him again and Jean is thankful for that. He has slept, a light doze at best but when he opens his eyes again Jeremy is lying down with his head cushioned by his arms and his own breathing evening out with sleep. 

Footsteps down the hall have Jean stumbling to his feet, just in time to see Lucas appear. Thin and worn, Jean often wonders how long it will be before Lucas finally gives up. He turned up not long after his brother had, with a smaller group than theirs. His life only spared when Grayson had realised that the young boy amongst them was none other than family. Lucas cried, whether it was for the reuniting with his family or the death of those he had travelled with Jean didn’t know, and that in itself left an unsettling feeling with Jean. 

“My watch,” he says to Jean as he looks between him and Jeremy. There is a pull in Jean’s chest, something that tells him he shouldn’t leave, not yet, but then Lucas’ lip is curling with disgust. 

“Riko wants to see you.” 

Ah. Okay, so this was not by choice. Jean nods, knowing that whatever Riko wants, he will get and arguing against him is a pointless endeavour. He pulls his blanket from his shoulders and drops it over Jeremy unceremoniously, his eyes on Lucas daring him to say anything. When he doesn't, Jean moves past him without so much of a word.

“He’s in a good mood,” Lucas mumbles. It is the only warning Jean will get when it comes down to Riko.

~

Once, when Jean was a child, before his parents had moved them to America to flee the French police, he used to dream of being an astronaut. It was a whimsical, childlike adoration of the stars that had created that dream. Like most children, Jean doesn't believe in the impossible. He has believed with his whole heart that one day, he would fly among the stars, the planets, and would find life outside our own. He would trail around on the beach with his younger sister in tow, pretending they were exploring new and uncharted worlds. They would return in the evening, after the calls of their mother echoed down from their home and across their sandy playroom and they would be reprimanded by their night nurse for trailing sand and sea water through the house. Jean didn’t care though, he was too high on reliving their adventures, desperate to sleep so could do the same in his dreams. 

When Jean was young, he believed anything was possible. Then his family was gone and the angel's attacked and Riko became the only home he knew. He wanted the stars but all he got was pain and death. Then there was Jeremy. 

“Hello.” Jean drops down onto the floor. It is raining outside, he can hear the beat of it against the roof, relentless and uncontrollable as the drips of water leaking through the tiling and onto the floor. Jeremy looks up at him with a small, haggard smile. Both eyes have deep purple and yellow circles around them and the cut on his lip hasn't yet healed properly, kept open with the way he continuously bites at his lips. 

“Hey stranger.” Jeremy says back, scratching at his wrist as the chain around it clunks. Jean leans over, grabbing his hand.

“You will only irritate it further. Stop.” Jeremy stares at him tiredly, sighing as he nods and moves his hand away. It takes a second longer than it should do for Jean to let go and lean back, but neither he nor Jeremy mention it. It has been eight days since Jean brought Jeremy here, and the fact he is still alive is a miracle. He has slipped up only once, in mentioning his own group, his family, he had said, where the others could hear and now they are obsessed with finding out where Jeremy had come from. Jeremy’s fairly kept appearance and full pockets has bought him an extension on the death warrant hanging over his head, but he has refused to give anymore information. Jean has to admire such a strength, even in the face of the beatings, the threats. There is no use killing Jeremy, not yet, not when there is still time to break him. 

In the moments between when Jean takes watch, he tells Jeremy stories of his childhood, the sea at Marseille, the dreams of the stars and Jeremy eats it all up, staring at Jean like he has never heard anything so wonderful. It is hard to bear, on some days. Others, Jean will mumble desperately that all Jeremy has to do is say something, anything worth their time and it will all be over. The other man just shakes his head, their lives are worth more than anything and he will protect every single one of them until his dying breath. 

Jean’s kindness only stretches so far, battered and broken down by Riko and the others but he will not allow it to disappear as long as Jeremy keeps looking at him like he is worth something. He doesn't know what his draw is to him, but he finds that thread and it keeps hold of it with all his might, terrified to let go of the only thing that is starting to keep him sane. Were they friends? No. There is something else there however, simmering under the surface. Kinship maybe? Jean isn't sure, but as long as Jeremy stays here, Jean will continue to keep watch.

Jeremy always smiles when he sees him, face alight with something that Jean has long thought he wouldn’t see again. Not since- 

No, he dares not to think of them again. The pain simmers so deep inside now, locked away tightly. Instead, he holds himself for these moments of quiet contentment between him and this man, this prisoner, this enigma wrapped in dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. It stirs something in Jean’s stomach, as he listens to the secret tales that Jeremy eventually releases to him. Barely loud enough through the silence to keep away from wandering ears, a place of safety he says, a place of family and friends and love and Jean, you would really love it there. 

Jean is long gone from loving anything, but the sentiment is nice all the same. 

“We are moving.” Jean says that morning, eyes cast downward, picking at some dirt under his nails. He looks up when Jeremy makes a confused noise in the back of his throat. 

“Going west.” Jean clarifies and Jeremy’s eyes widened. 

“Why?” 

“This place is no longer providing anything worth taking. We have been given orders to move on. There is talk of another encampment, that is where we are headed.”

“We?” 

“I do not think they will entertain your non-answers anymore.” 

“I see.” Jeremy nods, a faraway look in his eyes that Jean cannot bear to see. His heart hammers heavily in his chest, knowing he is about to make probably the stupidest decision of his life. It feels worth it, somehow, like everything that has happened has come to this moment. That Jean is finally in the right place at the right time. 

“That is why I will create a distraction and you will leave,” he says, and Jeremy turns wildly to him, surprise flitting across his delicate features. 

“What?”

“You know these walls have ears and I refuse to repeat myself. When I give you the signal, you will leave,” Jean says, his own expression unchanging. 

“What about you?” Jeremy asks, concern colouring his own and how long has it been, that anyone has felt anything for Jean other than disdain? It feels like hope, it feels like damnation. 

Because what about him? He thinks, what does it matter, whatever fate befalls Jean? He is long past any sort of redemption. Still, the earnest way that Jeremy speaks, as though Jean is worth something worrying about causes his stomach to clench uncomfortably.  

“I will stay, as I am supposed to,” Jean says after a moment and Jeremy faces him furiously. 

“No.”

“Jeremy…”

“I will not leave you here, Jean. Not with them.”

“You do not have a choice,” Jean snaps. “I told you about my sister, yes?”

“I don’t see-” Jeremy cuts himself off at the look Jean casts at him. “I remember.” 

“When we came to America, neither of us could speak English very well. Mother bought us beads with the little money we had and we would make words, sentences with them to help us learn. We used the ribbon that ma soeur would have for her hair to make bracelets, one for each of us.” Jean lifts up his sleeve, amongst the scarring there are two bracelets tied to his wrist. They are dirty with time, the material slightly fraying and it’s glossy colouring long gone. The lettering along the beading is fading, but even through the dim light Jeremy can make out the words on each. 

E L O D I E

J E A N 

Jean removes the banding with his name on and leans forward, tying it around Jeremy’s undamaged wrist. Jeremy watches with a tenderness in his eyes that Jean refuses to acknowledge. 

“You will see me again, Jeremy Knox. And you will return this to me as my own precious possession. Until then, you will take care of it and you will live as I have asked you to.”

LiarLiarLiar

“I can come back wi-”

“No.” Jean interrupts. “You will not. Even if you do, we will have moved on, but you will return to your own people and you will warn them of us and you will protect them as you said you would and as you have done.” 

“Jean, please. I can’t- let me help you,” Jeremy begs, but Jean simply shakes his head. 

“I do not need your help Jeremy, for once I need your compliance. I am not a good person, and pretending I am would be an insult to us both. Let me do this, I cannot make amends for what I have done but if I can save one good person, I will.” Jean says, his mind already made up. When he first heard rumours of their departure and then subsequently when the order came through, he knew he could no longer stand aside while others died at the hands of those he allied himself with. Survival, he says to himself, again and again. It’s just survival. 

Jean has cleaned his wounds, given him water and snuck him scraps of his own rations for days now and he will not allow that effort to go to waste, Jeremy has to live. 

Three days later, Jean ensures his promise is kept and carries out his plan. It's simple enough, and the keys are heavy in his pocket as he heads to Jeremy's room that morning during breakfast. The weather is on their side, rain again, the perfect cover for someone to disappear into. 

The chain around Jeremy's wrist clangs as Jean unlocks it and it falls to the ground. 

“We must be quick,” he says and Jeremy nods, accepting the backpack Jean hands him. “You will not have long, once they realise you are gone they will try and follow you, make sure there is nothing to follow.” 

Jeremy nods again, eyes wide. 

“Jean-” He starts, but Jean cuts him off with a look. 

“Thank you,” he says instead and Jean brings a hand up to Jeremy's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

“Make it count.” 

They head through the hallways, blessedly empty but dark and dreary and as suffocating as always. 

“What was your distraction?” Jeremy whispers as Jean peers around a corner, checking it's clear before he drags Jeremy behind him. 

“Vodka. At least half of our group are nursing hangovers and the other half are, I'm sure, still drunk.” 

Jean cannot ignore Jeremy's bright, amused smile as he responds with his own, slightly smaller one. 

“Where the heck did you get that much vodka from?”

“Scavenge a few months back. I found a stash that someone had hid and didn’t report it. We’ve been back to that area a few times and I’ve been slowly bringing the bottles back.” Jean doesn’t feel the need to expand on the story and tell Jeremy the real reason he has stored so much alcohol, nor that that was not the only thing he had found. The boxes of pills hidden secretly amongst his cot are a truth only kept between him and God. 

They make it to a back entrance fairly undisturbed, and Jean pushes the door open to the world outside. He points to the three towers surrounding the building. 

“Stay low, avoid those towers. Head for the treeline just there.” 

Jeremy looks at Jean with longing, cupping his face with both his hands.

“Come with me, Jean. Don’t stay here. You know they-”

“It is what I deserve, Jeremy. Please do not make this any harder than it needs to be.” Jean grasps at Jeremy’s wrists, their eyes boring into each other. Pulling away, Jean knows, will be one of the hardest things he will have to do. He never thought he would ever meet someone like Jeremy and now he has, his heart aches at having to let go. 

“I will find you, I promise.”

“Stay safe, soleil.” 

“What does that mean?” Jeremy asks with a small smile. Even in the poor light, the rain beating down next to them, Jean thinks that he will miss that smile most. 

“Find out and tell me when we next meet.” 

Jeremy nods sadly and pulls Jean’s head towards him so he can rest their foreheads together. Jean is the one who finally lets go, pulling Jeremy’s hands away from his face.  

“Go.” 

Jeremy doesn’t fight him, taking a breath as he steps into the rain. He is immediately soaked, but he doesn’t seem to care, casting one last solemn look at Jean before he runs out into the storm. His figure is just disappearing, swallowed up by the thick line of trees in the distance when he hears the call of angry footsteps behind him. Jean doesn’t turn yet, whispering one last goodbye to the outside, knowing deep down that there is no place or time in this world that he is ever likely to see Jeremy again. A broken promise for his life will have to be enough.  

Jean doesn’t need to see to know exactly who is behind him as he is grabbed and a body is pushing him hard against the wall. The anger is palpable and Jean prepares himself for the oncoming retribution. 

“Where is he?” Riko snarls in his face, his body shaking. Jean shakes his head and Riko answers with a slap across his face.

“Where is HE?” He asks again, the question burning in his eyes and Jean can’t help himself when he turns to cast one last harrowing look toward the forest. Riko grabs his face in a bruising grip, his stare filled with hatred and in that second Jean is not afraid. He knows he should be, knows how unforgiving Riko and their new master is, but in the eight or so days Jeremy has been their prisoner he has given Jean something back that he hasn’t realised he was even missing. 

A flare of rebellion surges through him and without even a single thought, Jean spits in Riko’s face. He has never so much as raised a voice at the man before, knowing exactly who the true monsters of this new world are; but he also knows the capability of these men who think that they are above them. Riko doesn’t fear death because he has never had a reason to and now, neither does Jean. 

Riko sees the moment where something has changed, or maybe he felt it in the loose way Jean holds his body. It doesn’t matter, not a moment later Riko snarls and headbutts Jean. Pain courses through his body as he stumbles back against the fall, sliding down it as Riko lets him go. There’s a sharp pain in his stomach as he’s kicked, over and over again and then a foot comes down, straight on his head. The last thing he thinks of, he sees in his mind's eye before the world around him disappears in a flare of pain and darkness, is Jeremy’s bright smile and warm hands. 

It was worth it. 

Three hundred days post incursion.
Neil

Life is a funny and fickle thing. Neil has never wasted much time asking for much except survival. He has never anticipated a time where peace and complacency would ever be words in his repertoire, but a few weeks at the house are slowly changing that. His first few days were the hardest, after Wymack had gifted him some new clothes from a storage cupboard of spares they have and made up his own cot for him to sleep, he had expected some sort of regimentation. A quid pro quo of rules that he has to tie himself to for the price of staying. Instead, he’s met with choice. Something that has always been so foreign to him. 

Every morning, David - or Wymack as he repeatedly reminds Neil he prefers to be called - hands out a list of jobs that need doing around the encampment and each job is assigned fairly between the group. No one ever does the same job more than one day in a row, and everyone is always divied up with a different person. Neil’s not sure if it’s some weird way of getting everyone to bond or just a way to try and stop the arguments that always seem to ensue when a group of people live in such close quarters. Either way, it works and Neil finds himself suddenly with friends , people he is slowly learning to count on and in return, are counting on him. 

He admits to himself, and eventually Matt who he develops a close kinship with, that the group itself has a lot of mismatched personalities. People that probably wouldn’t have bothered to trust each any other time had it not been the end of the world. Matt laughs at his admission, agreeing with him wholeheartedly. There’s something about him, and his girlfriend Dan, that Neil just likes. He’s easy to get on with, and even easier to work with. He laughs at Neil’s dry humour, and speaks of his own experiences easily without ever questioning Neil about his. He shares his fears about his mother, who was living in New York at the time of the initial attack, a sad acceptance that, like the rest of the world, he has long lost her. With no feasible way of reaching her, he focuses instead on the present and the life he builds here, thankful to Wymack that he and Dan have a place to call home. 

As time moves on and Neil slowly heals, Wymack starts to give him more physical jobs. Gone are the days spent patching up clothes and taking stock of their supplies. Instead, Neil gets to venture outside. Collecting water with Allison, fierce as anything with always something to say. Usually about her own boyfriend Seth, who Neil can’t work out if she loves or hates. Her sharp tongue can spend hours cutting him down only for Neil to accidentally stumble on them furiously making out in one of the upstairs bedrooms. 

He thanks whatever deity he needs to, that they all already have a basic knowledge of ASL. Meaning trips outside are easy to navigate with no language barrier. Wymack points out the study books for it on the bookcase in the living room on his second day but Neil, already fluent in more than three languages as well as ASL, signs to him about his proficiency. Wymack gives him an appraising look, clapping him on the shoulder before directing him to the couch where he spends a good week resting. 

Neil’s introduction to the rest of the group hasn’t been completely smooth sailing. Andrew has barely looked his way since he arrived, and Wymack has purposefully refused to send them out on any task together. Aaron, Andrew’s twin brother, tends to only speak to a couple of people and the rest of the group gets minimal answers, if not complete silence. 

Ever since their mother died , Nicky - their cousin - signs at him one afternoon. The sun is high in the sky, and Neil wipes at the sweat gathering at his forehead as he picks berries from the bushes they maintain. 

Some days I’m lucky if he even looks at me, but he spends a lot of time with Katelyn and Kevin, so I suppose I gotta be grateful he’s talking to someone.  

Nicky doesn’t explain exactly what has happened between them, or to their families but Neil puts the pieces together himself that things weren’t great before the angels, let alone after their probable deaths. 

As day to day life becomes routine, calm and familiar, Neil finds himself referring to the house as home. He feels it, in his bones despite what’s happened, that this is a place that he is going to stay. Thoughts of leaving dwindle until they are nothing more than wayward strays, crawling into his brain late at night when he can’t sleep and the sudden fears of his past creep up on him. He pushes them away, locking them tightly in the back of his mind. 

Every night, Wymack turns the outside lights on and they sit outside, watching as they glow through the darkness. Returning only when meals are prepared and eaten by lamp light with evenings progressing to silent board games or reading. Comforts that Neil grows used to as each day passes. 

“Neil.”

The whisper of his name has Neil looking up from where he is washing plates in a bowl of lukewarm water. Wymack leans against the counter next to him, arms folded. 

I need you out on a scavenge tomorrow. You up for it? He asks, and surprise flits across Neil’s face for a second. He looks away for a moment, thinking of his reply before he nods. He turns back to the dishes but Wymack lingers still so Neil grabs a cloth and dries his hands, dropping it on the counter and mimicking Wymack’s pose. 

Something else?

Andrew is going with you . 

Ah, there it is, the reason Wymack has a look on his face like he’s eaten a particularly sour lemon. 

Has Andrew agreed to that? Neil retorts with an arch of his eyebrow. 

He has been told. 

That’s not an answer.

He’ll deal, Wymack signs back with finality. Neil can only imagine how that conversation had exactly gone. 

Andrew hates me. Neil finally replies, motioning to himself. 

It takes a lot for Andrew to hate, don’t think of yourself as that special kid. You’ll be okay? Wymack nods down to Neil’s waist and Neil’s hand subconsciously goes to the healed wound. Scavenging means leaving the safety of the house and a long day out. There is an amount of trust that Neil is afforded in being asked and he doesn’t want to jeopardise that with a wound that definitely has not been his worst.  

I’m good. Thanks.

Good, you’ll need to leave before sunrise. Andrew will meet you out front.

Neil barely sleeps well that evening, too caught up in the thoughts of Andrew and the impending day. He lays in his cot, well until late in the evening, listening to the rustle and deep breaths of those around him. By the time he hears Andrew rise, tiredness has seeped heavily into his bones. He waits a few minutes before he finally decides to pull himself up and gets ready, following Andrew’s footsteps and meeting him outside. 

Andrew glances up when he steps out onto the porch, casting an assessing look over him and the bag he has slung over his back. Apparently appeased by whatever he sees he turns and begins to walk away. Neil assumes Andrew knows where they are heading, having never been on a scavenge with anyone of the group before, there must be a particular location they travel to first. The two of them walk in silence for over an hour, with nothing but the sounds of the woodlands around them. The sun slowly creeps up over the trees when they finally break through and hit the road. Neil takes a few quick steps until he is just ahead of Andrew and holds out his hand in front of his face, not touching him but attracting his attention regardless. Andrew turns an unimpressed look toward him.

How far? Neil signs. Andrew doesn’t reply straight away, staring at him with that blank expression he always seems to wear, like he’s bored of everyone's existence in his personal space. 

Another couple of hours. He finally signs back, raising an eyebrow at Neil and pointedly looking down at his arm. 

Neil nods and moves out of Andrew’s way and they both continue on. It’s another half hour before Andrew pulls at a small canteen hanging at his hip, taking a swig from it and holding it out to Neil. He takes it gingerly, signing a quick thank you before he takes a large swig. The water was somewhat warm, but feels good going down Neil’s throat anyway, realisation hitting him of exactly how thirsty he is. He wipes his mouth with his arm and hands it back to Andrew who doesn’t falter walking as he takes it back and reattaches it to his hip. 

Neil, after getting used to some sort of conversation over the last few months with the others, clicks his fingers once to get Andrew’s attention once more.

You usually come out this far?

No. 

Andrew pulls a piece of paper out from his pocket and hands it over. On it is a map with numerous locations drawn around the area with the house centred in the middle. Each location is marked with a time stamp, which Neil assumes is how long it takes to get to. Some have large scrawled Xs on, others a simple question mark and one or two have a percentage. 

Neil taps the page and Andrew points to a gas station in the top right corner. It has a question mark next to it and is circled in green pen with the letters NL above it. 

New location , Andrew says as he takes back the map and hands Neil another piece of paper with a list of items. 

What we need? Neil asks and Andrew nods in reply.

And whatever else is useful.

Neil scours the list until he gets to the bottom where the word, Cigarettes has been written and then crudely scrawled out with an angry face drawn next to it. 

Abby? Neil guesses amusedly, and Andrew rolls his eyes in answer. 

He hands the list back and shoves his hands in his pockets as they walk on. The sun has finally hit a mid-morning heat when the gas station comes into view. Andrew grabs the sleeve of Neil’s hoodie and pulls him off the road, crouching down in the grass. There is a thin line of sweat on his forehead and Andrew shrugs off his backpack to pull off his own sweater, wiping his face with it and tying it around his waist. Underneath, he wears a black vest top that hangs loosely, giving Neil a better look at the thin scarring that trails down his neck and along the top of his chest and down. On his forearms he has thick, black armbands that are slightly frayed at the edges. 

Andrew frowns at him and pinches his shoulder, pointing at him to keep his eyes forward. The station looked abandoned, but Neil knows that doesn’t mean much and he presumes that Andrew is aware of the same thing. They stay knelt down for around five minutes, watching to see if anyone comes out but everything stays quiet. Slowly, Andrew gets to his feet and Neil follows, adjusting his backpack. 

Stay close. Don’t do anything stupid, Andrew signs. Neil rolls his eyes but nods anyway, and the two of them make their way forward. The station has been almost overtaken by growth, weeds and flowers alike curling around the pumps. The glass on the door and windows are too dirty to see properly inside and it is pure luck that the door barely creaks open as Andrew pulls at it. 

With the door open, a repugnant smell hits them. Neil and Andrew both turn away, taking a step back outside. It isn’t something Neil thinks he can ever forget, the smell of rotting flesh, but he doesn’t hide his surprise that Andrew doesn’t seem overly panicked by it either. Andrew swings his backpack off and opens one of the pockets, pulling out a square piece of material which he fashions into a mask and ties around his face across his nose and mouth. He looks at Neil expectantly but Neil shakes his head. 

I don’t have anything. I’ll be fine. 

Andrew rolls his eyes and pulls his sweater from his waist, holding it out to Neil. He takes it slowly, rolling it a couple of times and copying the way Andrew has tied the material. The sweater is thick and clunky around his face and in the heat feels almost too much, but it is better than nothing so Neil is grateful.

Andrew opens the door again, unclipping the flashlight dangling from his bag before he swings it back on. They edge into the store, Neil holding the door as it closes to prevent it from slamming. The sound of flies buzz around them and Neil looks around to see if he could find the source. The floor is littered with rubbish but Andrew is already kicking through it, checking if there is anything worthwhile. Neil moves past him, picking up a rag from the floor and wiping it against a window allowing sunlight to flood in. 

A loud scuttling sound has him jumping and Neil spins on his feet to see the tail end of something speed under the shelving. Andrew appears in his vision, knife out and a frown on his face. 

Animal, Neil signs, his heart beating heavily in his chest. Andrew nods and moves around the units, checking each and every one. Neil starts his own search, the place has pretty much been picked clean but there are a few cans of fruit and beans lying around that he begins to pile up ready to put in his bag. 

He turns to check some of the lower shelves when he sees it, a hand lying flat from around a corner. He approaches it slowly, the smell intensifying the closer he gets. As he rounds the corner more of the body comes into view and bile rises up into his mouth. Whoever it was had been split down the middle, their legs pulled a foot away from the top half of their body. They are face down and surrounded by the dried staining of blood. They have been there a while judging by the state they are in and Neil can’t control the way his face distorts in disgust. Behind them, the door to the stock room is hanging off by its hinges, deep claw marks embedded into the wood and plaster. 

A hand suddenly clamps down on his shoulder and Neil startles, turning and meeting Andrew’s impassive gaze. He looks down at the body himself, eyes trailing slowly at the scene in front of them.

Let’s go. He says and Neil nods, walking backwards until he reaches his backpack, quickly throwing the cans he had found in until his bag is significantly heavier. Neil meets Andrew at the front entrance when there is a piercing scream from outside. Both of them shoot down to their knees, listening intently. There is a rumble through the trees and the pounding of heavy feet against the ground. Neil creeps to where he has wiped the window, Andrew watching him purposefully as he peers up through the glass. The angle isn’t great and Neil can’t see much but that doesn’t matter as two angels storm their way through the treeline. They cry out as they scrap with one another, one angel finally getting the upper hand and tackling the other causing them both to roll across the cement and into one of the pumps. The station rattles and Neil drops down. He holds up two fingers and Andrew ducks his head towards the back in question. 

They can either wait it out and see if the angels eventually pass or sneak out the back of the station. That however, means clambering over the body that’s sprawled right in front of the staff only door. 

There is another screech and suddenly the window above Neil smashes, a clawed arm missing him by inches. He crawls along the floor desperately, shards of glass cutting into his hands. He makes it to the end of the aisle where Andrew appears on the other side of the shelving, hauling him up by the scruff of his hoodie. There is another loud crash as the two creatures barrel into the building, causing the units to fall like dominos toward Andrew and Neil. Running, they both reach the end of the aisle, not looking as they jump over mutilated remains and push through the stock room door. 

Inside, the shelves aren’t as bare as the rest of the store. Whoever had died had obviously tried to use the station as a base, and had lined the walls with supplies. 

“Don’t.” Andrew growls lowly but Neil ignores him and pulls open his bag, swiping at the shelf and at whatever he can get into his bag. The walls tremble again and cans clatter to the floor with a loud bang. Both Andrew and Neil freeze. There is a clicking sound and then another scream and both of them spin toward the back exit before the door behind them is pulled completely off the frame. Andrew turns to the back exit and pushes the emergency bar but it doesn’t budge. Andrew curses under his breath and kicks at it, trying to force it open.

Neil looks behind them, eyes widening as an angel starts to shove itself through the doorway. There is a line of thick drool dripping from its teeth, pointed and sharp. It turns its gangly head to the side, its ear canal opening as it picks up the vibrations of sound in the air and snarls harshly, pushing its arm through the doorway wildly, desperate to reach its prey.

“Andrew…” Neil chokes as Andrew kicks the door harder over and over again. Neil holds his breath as the sudden thought of finality that this is it settles into him. A second later there is an audible crack of the aged lock eventually giving in and the door flies open letting Andrew and Neil burst out into daylight. 

They blink furiously as their eyes adjust to the brightness of the sun. There is a howl behind them and as fast as they can they begin to run to the line of trees ahead. The weight of Neil’s bag and Andrew’s sweater still tied loose around his face drag him down, and so with all the strength he can muster he pulls it off, dropping it to the ground and throws his bag over his shoulder onto his back, pushing himself forward faster.

Behind them, the call of the angels echoes and the sound of breaking branches follows. Neil looks over his shoulder, noticing it isn’t them that the others are heading towards, but more toward the calls from the station. He doesn’t stop though, neither of them do until they are panting heavily, sweat dripping down their bodies and they collapse against the trunk of a thick tree. 

Andrew punches Neil’s arm, glaring at him as he rips the mask off his face. 

You idiot. Was that worth it?

Trying to catch his breath, Neil pulls off his bag and digs through it until he grabs out three boxes of cigarettes, smirking as he dumps them in Andrew’s lap. 

Don’t know. You tell me. 

One hundred twenty two days post incursion.
Jeremy

Jeremy Knox tugs at the collar of his shirt, sighing as he trundles down the train tracks they’ve been following for the best part of a day. The heat has become almost unbearable, his feet ache, and there is a burning thirst at the back of his throat but he knows they are so close he can almost taste that sea air. 

It had been Cat’s idea to head to the water. Rumours had flurried around their group constantly. Someone knew someone who knew someone else who had seen it, seen how the angels reacted to it,  how they avoided it. Where else could they go now that would offer such protection? The gold court, affably named for its golden décor, had fallen and they had already lost a large number of their group. Friends, disappearing in the frenzy or their lives cruelly stripped by the terrifying creatures that stalked them. It was heart-breaking, but Jeremy couldn’t lose his focus. The rest of them needed him to get them somewhere safe, somewhere where they could find other survivors and band together in the midst of all the tragedy and death. 

He turns and sends a small smile to Laila and Cat who are walking just behind him, hands held tightly together. He’s glad he has them, out of everyone. He probably shouldn’t think that, none of them deserve the cards they have been dealt, but they have been friends of his long before the initial attack and he doesn’t think he could ever cope with losing them.

There’s a tap on his shoulder, and Rhemann holds a hand up his forefinger and thumb circulating making an okay sign as he frowns. James Rhemann is older than them, a retired teacher from a nearby school who had lost his wife and children during the original incursion. He carries a picture of them in his wallet, useless now money has no value but every so often, Jeremy catches him pulling it out and opening it so stare at the picture. He had never been close to his own family, and while he mourns their loss he knows his pain will never eclipse what Rhemann feels. Even now. 

Jeremy nods, bringing his own hand up and shakes it side to side with a weak smile. 

I know, Rhemann mouths, and he does. He gets it, that clawing feeling of failure that rips you apart from the inside. He gets how Jeremy feels solely responsible in the midst of everything that has happened, even though he wasn’t. He’s just a kid, barely twenty-three, he isn’t sure how he became a de facto leader but he took on that role and swore to himself to keep his people safe. They were living as peacefully as they could, treating every day as a gift, glad for the sight and feel of the sun on their skin and the air in their lungs. Nothing could have prepared them for what was going to happen. Jeremy vowed the next time, the next time he was going to do better so that the memories of those they lost would live on through them.  

It’s another hour or so when they finally come across it. A small town, hidden away on the precipice of the hill. They rest before they venture on, Laila’s hand comforting on Cat’s chest as they count their breaths and Cat takes a pull on a blue inhaler from her pack. She’s running low, and Jeremy feels worry teeter at the edge of his mind. There’s been no way to have travelled any other way than on foot, at least not silently and they haven’t passed any other sign of life since they left. Desperation slowly becomes an all too familiar feeling. 

As they start their hesitant stumble into the main part of town, they stare through broken doors and smashed windows. Whole walls, crumbling under their collapsing foundations. The path they take winds through the side of the hill, homes once housing families, generations of people built into the very side of it. It’s eerily quiet instead of the usual hustle and bustle a place like this should have been, its streets teeming with life as people went about their usual routines. It doesn’t take them long to find out why.

Cat notices it first, pulling Laila to keep her from seeing it but she turns her head anyways and gasps. Jeremy and Rhemann follow their eye line, to see what once used to be a house, but now half of it lay destroyed in a mountain of brick and dust. Hanging over the side of one of the walls is a body of a woman, her bare arms covered in dried blood. The front door, miraculously still in one piece, is open and halfway in the entranceway are too small bodies, piled on top of each other. The bigger of the two covering the smaller as though they were using their own body to protect the other. 

Jeremy feels sick, and he doesn’t realise he’s stopped walking until he feels a tug on his arm as Rhemann pulls him to move. 

“There’s nothing we can do,” he says, his voice low and hushed and Jeremy knows this, he knows there isn’t anything to do for those already lost but he hates it anyway. Here, it's like a whole world in itself has just been ripped from existence. 

The path they’re on eventually leads them to the main street of the town. Abandoned cars dot the road, doors thrown open. They take time to silently search through the empty stores. Most look like they have already been picked clean, but there are a few straggled cans, packets of dried food, tampons, that Jeremy shoves into his bag. It doesn’t leave much hope for when they finally find the town's local pharmacy, and Jeremy rushes forward at the sight of it jumping over shards of broken glass and under the damaged security gate with three long gashes tearing through the metalwork. 

He’s right, in his assumption that this place too is just as empty as the rest. He’s on his hands and knees, rummaging through debris and paper when Catalina kneels down next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. She looks at him with understanding and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. She shakes her head this time and pulls him into her chest, giving him a gentle kiss along his temple. 

“Everything will be okay,” she whispers back, rubbing a soothing hand through his hair. He feels like he’s losing everything all over again, trying so hard to hold it together for everyone else when he can’t even protect those he loves. Jeremy swallows and takes a breath, moving back so he can sign to Cat when he sees it, almost impossible considering how small it is. He pushes away from her completely, nearly sliding over the floor in his haste to get to the unit and flattens his body, arm stretching underneath as he pushes it as far as it can go. He feels triumph course through him as he eventually holds part of the plastic in his hand and withdraws his arm to hold the inhaler up proudly with a bright smile on his face. 

He turns to Cat who has her own smile in place, until she suddenly doesn’t. Her eyes are wide and fearful, fixated on something behind Jeremy and he turns around slowly to see an angel, slowly traipsing it’s way from the back rooms. He turns his head to Cat, putting a finger to his lips and points back to the way they came, she nods and slowly as she can takes the smallest steps back. Jeremy can feel the pounding of his heart in his head, but he knows how this plays out. He’s been in this exact situation before and he knows how to play this game. He just has to be quiet, silent. That’s all. It’ll eventually pass by, just stay quiet, low, make no sign you even exist. 

He pockets Cat’s inhaler and then moves one hand back, and then the other. Then his foot and then another. He gets about halfway back out from behind the counter when his hand slips on a piece of paper and it rustles as it slides against the floor. The angel turns its head sharply, its ear canal opening wide as it click, click, clicks. Its skin clings barely to its bones, looking almost paperthin against its body. 

Jeremy freezes, closing his eyes as he works on keeping his breathing quiet. When he opens his eyes again, the blood in his veins turns cold. The angel has moved, so close now if he were to lean his head to the left too far they would touch. His whole body trembles with fear and he pulls himself into a ball, tucking his head into his knees. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed, but the next thing he knows Rhemann is grabbing the scruff of his t-shirt and dragging him out the pharmacy. 

Jeremy looks around wildly, trying to see where the angel has gone but they are outside and then Laila has his face cupped in between her hands. 

“It’s gone, it’s gone,” she whispers, pulling him into a hug. “We need to move.” 

Jeremy nods his head as he pulls back, mouthing a thank you to Rhemann. The older man claps him on the back as they start to walk. They don’t talk as they move swiftly, not daring to explore any of the other stores as they make their way through the main street, seeing exactly what they came here for in the first place as they veer to the end.

The pier is fairly small which is suited for a town like this. It stretches out in front of them, a crossroad of wood in the middle that breaks off into two separate other paths with a large pole in the centre, a limp and torn American flag hanging from it. They move from boat to boat, but many of them are in too much disarray for them to even consider trying to work.  

At the end of the pier however, is where they find it. A reasonably sized motor boat, floating carelessly in the water, dirty but perfectly usable. As they amble down the main walk way toward it the pier rocks slightly, the water lapping at the sides gently. 

The boat sways violently to the side as Jeremy clambers into it first, thanking whatever deity that’s looking out for them when he notices that the keys are miraculously still in the ignition. It’s almost too good to be true and Jeremy feels the beat of excitement running through him that they may just make it out of this. 

“You better get in,” he whispers to the others, “it’s going to be noisy.”

Jeremy holds a hand out to help Laila, who in turn helps Cat and Rhemann. He takes a breath and turns the key and the boat chugs loudly but doesn’t stay on. He kills it quickly, and looks at the dials, he’s never driven a boat before but he’s hoping that the gauges are pretty similar to that of a car. His assumption is somewhat right, when he doesn’t recognise any of the other dials but one, showing a gas sign with the arrow sitting heavily in the red. 

“Out of gas,” Jeremy says with a droop of his shoulders. “There’s gotta be some around here somewhere.” 

Rhemann and Laila climb out of the boat but Jeremy puts a hand on Catalina’s shoulder when she goes to do the same. He points a finger at her, a signal to stay as he follows the other two. They’re only looking for a minute, peering into the wrecks of the other boats when a small figure appears at the centre of the walkway. 

A young girl, looking around the age of seven or eight, stands there. Her once blonde hair tangled and matted. Her clothes are torn and filthy and when she smiles, her teeth are rotten. She stares at them without an ounce of fear. She brings a finger up to her mouth, a sign for them to be quiet and then silently giggles into her hand as though that’s the funniest joke she’s heard today. 

Jeremy, Laila and Rhemann move as one, slowly walking closer together, their faces matching looks of confusion. Jeremy glances over at Cat as she climbs out the boat to stand with them, her hand grabbing the back of Laila’s t-shirt. 

What the fuck? She mouths and Jeremy shrugs. Rhemann is the first one to move out of them, taking a few steps forward and holding his hands up placatingly. He tilts his head to the side, going down onto one knee and beckons her over. She shakes her head and laughs again as she looks to her left. 

It’s then a man and woman appear, their own clothes as tattered as the child’s. There is deep scarring up the man's arms and the woman has a still healing claw mark down the left side of her face, running through her eye. They move to stand behind the girl, the woman laying a hand on her shoulder and in the man’s hand he carries a bright red gas canister.  

Rhemann stands to his feet and takes a few steps back towards Jeremy and the others, a frown on his face. 

The man holds up the gas canister and tuts, waggling his finger at them as he shakes his head. Beyond them, more people appear and it slowly hits the four of them that they are very, very outnumbered. They close in until they’re only a few feet away and Jeremy takes a step forward, dodging the hand that Rhemann throws out to pull him back. 

The man makes a gesture with his hands, but Jeremy shakes his head to show he doesn’t understand. 

“Lookin’ lost, I said,” the man mutters and a couple of the others behind him laugh silently. 

“We don’t want any trouble, we didn’t know this boat was yours. We’ll leave,” Jeremy says quietly, taking a step to the side and waving a hand behind his back for the others to do the same. 

“Now why would you do that? You’re just what we’re looking for,” he says with a smirk. More people creep slowly toward them, closing in their ranks so the four have no option but to move closer together. 

Fear clenches in his chest as Jeremy looks to the left and right furiously. They have nowhere to go, unless they choose to jump into the depths of the water. The realisation they have walked right into a trap dawns on them as the glimpses of hope they held slowly diminishes. 

The man in the centre makes a signal with his hand and five others move around him, stripping the four of their backpacks and coats and throwing them into the boat behind them. They are pulled forward down the pier walkway to the centre and tied together against the pole. 

The sun behind them starts to set, casting a golden glow across the sky. A cruel irony on the moment of their death if there ever was one. 

The woman moves to stand in front of Jeremy, pulling a knife from her belt and dragging it lightly across his skin turning his head side to side. 

“Such a pretty boy,” she mumbles. “Such a shame.” She leans in, nosing along his neck and then sniffs him. 

“Lola, stop playing with him,” the man says and Lola pouts, pecking Jeremy’s cheek as she takes a step back.  

“Why are you doing this?” Jeremy hisses, “We don’t have anything, we didn't do anything to you.” 

“We know,” Lola murmurs, looking over at them. “My brother and I just want to.” She holds up her hand and the man, her brother, carefully places a long material necklace into it. The necklace chimes ever so slightly, made with a banding of bells and she hangs it around Jeremy’s neck. 

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, or do. That’s part of the fun.” And before anyone can even react, Lola lifts up her knife and in a flash stabs Laila in the leg. Laila lets out a yell of pain and Cat fights furiously against her chains, the movement knocking Jeremy and the bells around his neck ring out loudly. 

“Cat! Catalina, stop!” Jeremy snaps, the sound has her looking wildly between him and Laila, who is biting at her lips to desperately silent her sobs. Cat turns an angry look at Lola. 

“Fuck you asshole-” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence as Lola’s brother steps forward, striking her across the face. 

“Leave them alone-” Rhemann begins, but he is cut off when there is an echoing screech in the far distance and Lola smiles at them. She pulls her blade out of Laila’s leg causing Laila to whimper, blood soaking through her clothes and running down her leg. Lola wipes it against her pant leg, smarming as she leans in.  

“Be good and die loudly.”

Suddenly, there is a rumbling explosion from the town main street, causing everyone to flinch. A man runs down the dock toward them, breathing heavily as he reaches Lola and her brother. 

“Romero, they’ve breached the supplies,” he mutters, hands braced on his hips as he catches his breath. Malcolm turns an angry head towards Jeremy. 

“Who else is with you?” 

Jeremy shakes his head, confused. “N-No one it’s just us.” 

Malcolm snarls, dropping the gas can at the foot of another man. He makes a sign at him, an obvious signal for him to stay while the rest of them leave quickly. The group part for Lola and Malcolm as they march down the centre of the dock, following dutifully. 

The man left alone eyes them nastily, perching himself on the edge of one of the half sunken boats. Rhemann tries to wriggle against the rope that binds him, but he ends up jostling Jeremy and so he freezes. 

“Laila, Laila baby you okay?” Cat desperately murmurs.   

“I’m okay,” she says weakly. “Was only my leg.” 

“We’re not getting out of this are we? It was all for nothing.” Jeremy says, a finality to his words. The man watching them snorts, turning away and looking toward where the smoke starts to melt into the already darkening sky.  

The water around them is still and they stand in silence for what is only a couple of minutes but feels like an eternity. Until there is a rapid thump from underneath them. They all look around, wildly and the man frowns. 

“Whatever you’re doing, stop,” he hisses. 

“It’s not us.” Cat bites back as there is another thump under the dock. The water on either side of them starts to ripple and a half sunken boat to the left of them rocks, banging against the wood. The man goes to the edge of the pier, getting down on his knees as he looks closely at the water. 

The tied up four watches, tense and expectant for something to come out and grab him but after a moment, nothing happens and he leans back slightly.

Almost, as in slow motion, something catches Jeremy’s eyes from the right and he watches as a woman slowly pulls herself from the water and onto the dock. She has a pipe in her hands and the sound of the water dripping onto the wooden dock surface is enough to make the man turn around but he’s too slow as she runs at him, her weapon raised and swings it down, once, twice against his head before pushing him into the water. He gasps, the water around him turning pinkish as he’s pulled down. The woman watches for a few seconds, and then places her pipe down on the ground. The water bubbles and then the man's body floats up to the top, face down and motionless. A second later another man appears, he holds out his hand and the woman grasps it, pulling him out. They turn to look down the dock and Jeremy follows their eye line, seeing another person jogging towards them. They brandish another gas can above their head and the man leans forward, kissing them on the head as they reach him.

“Good job, Cody,” he mutters and the person smiles up at him. 

“We’re not going to hurt you, okay?” The woman says and Jeremy watches as she moves around them, undoing the ropes that tie them and then slowly lifts the necklace of bells from Jeremy’s head, putting it down quietly. 

“My names Ananya,” she says before pointing at the other two. “That’s Pat and that’s Cody.”

“You saved us...” Jeremy says. 

There’s a cry from the end of the dock as an angel skids across the ground. 

“Time to go.” Pat says, grabbing the gas can on the floor and the three head straight for the boat.  

“You saved us.” Jeremy repeats, confused as Rhemann grabs him and pulls him to follow them.  

“Well it’ll all be for nothing if you don’t get on this boat.” Pat says, prying open the gas canister and filling the engine. 

“You coming?” Cody says and the angel behind them screams again as it closes in. Ananya starts the boat and the creature roars at the sound, propelling itself forward faster. 

“Anytime Ananya!” Pat shouts. 

“We’re going we’re going!” Ananya turns the key and the boat begins to move forward with a rumble. They all sway to the side immediately, grabbing on to the sides as it starts to pick up speed. The angel gets to the end of the dock and jumps, its arm just missing the boat as it crashes into the water with a splash. 

It flails around helplessly and desperately, trying to get purchase on anything but it’s too far out and with one last distressed cry it plunges down. 

“It’s true.” Rhemann says, “the rumours are true they can’t swim!”

“Fuck no they can’t, and we’ve been trying to get this boat forever.” 

“How-” Jeremy starts but Pat cuts him off with a sheepish look.

“Sorry, we saw you come into town. We would have said something but we didn’t know if you were like them. When you came down to the docks…it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.” 

“Well you got us out of there, that’s the main thing and we’re grateful.” Rhemann says with a nod towards him. 

“You used us as bait?” Cat says quietly. She has an arm around Laila, pulled into her lap as she sits in the corner of the boat on the floor. Her hand is pressed over Laila’s wound as Laila tucks her head into her neck. 

“We didn’t have a choice. We didn’t know who you were, how dangerous you could have been. When we realised you were just like us, looking for a way off here we wanted to help, but there was no way we would have been able to get that second can, we need a way to get back if the island is compromised and one can wouldn’t be enough.” 

“They hurt her!” 

“Catalina, I’m fine. I just need this bandaged and it will heal.” Laila murmurs into her skin, Cat opens her mouth but Jeremy cuts her off. 

“Cat, please,” he says, turning to the other three. “What island?”

“The island!” Pat replies, as if that explains everything. “Isn’t that where you’re headed?”

“We don’t know about any island, we were just wanting to get on the water. Find safer shores somewhere away from here.” 

Pat nods, “Well…hopefully we’ve found it.” Pat points and the other four turn to see a small dock coming into view. When Jeremy turns back, the other dock is barely in sight. 

“What is this…?” 

“We used to come here as kids. It’s not much, but we knew the creatures didn’t like the water. We thought this was probably the safest place we could go that they couldn’t get too.” Ananya says as she looks between Cody and Pat, but it’s Cody who speaks next. 

“We want to start a commune here, then we want to find other survivors. Like us.”

“Save as many as we can.” Pat says.

“Build a new home.” Ananya says. 

“A new home…” Jeremy trails off. The island comes further and further into view and a new home has never sounded so good. 

Three hundred sixteen days post incursion.
Neil 

He should have known the good things never last. 

That morning, Neil wakes early with the rise of the sun and the pounding beat of his heart after a night of restless nightmares. The others continue to sleep around him, that is all apart from Andrew and Aaron who are missing from their cots. Neil frowns up at the ceiling, but he can’t hear anything so he pulls himself up and clambers quietly up the stairs. The heavy mattress that is usually pressed tightly against the basement doorway has been pulled over and almost carelessly pushed back. Neil slides through the small gap, not bothering to fix the mattress back how it should be. The front door is still closed and the red scarf that hangs across the back of it is still tied tight. The scarf itself serves only one singular purpose, if anyone goes outside out of expected hours, they  remove it so that everyone knows someone has left. You can’t tie it back up from the outside and so it becomes the houses’ most foolproof way of ensuring no one goes wandering when they shouldn’t. With all the windows bordered up, there are only two definitive ways in, the front and back doors. It’s as secure as it was suffocating. 

There is a creak of a floorboard upstairs, so Neil makes his way slowly to the second floor. One of the rooms has its door partly opened, and Neil can hear harsh murmuring from inside. He creeps forward, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“...old you, there is nothing going on.” So there Aaron was, which meant…

“You made a promise. A deal.” That was Andrew, his voice unmistakable anywhere. 

“So did you.” 

“I kept my side.” 

"You killed our mom Andrew." Aaron’s tone is angry, more emotion than Neil has ever really heard from him before. 

"She would have killed us eventually."

"She wouldn’t-" Aaron begins, but Andrew is quick to cut him off. 

"Her survival was above our own. She knew it and you played into it."

"She needed to be strong, so...so we could live." 

"She needed you scared so she could live. Do not mistake her manipulation for love."

"Well there's something you have in common with her at least…" Neil frowns, already moving forward before he stops himself. He doesn’t know much about the twins' history, but since that day at the station he and Andrew have developed a grudging tolerance of each other and through all that even Neil knows that assessment is wrong. 

"I protected you because you asked. Because you are my brother. We made a deal. I did not forget nor change my mind just because the circumstances changed."

"I wanted us to protect each other from the monsters outside. Not from our own family."

"What about the ones inside? She would rather have seen you dead than let herself be taken."

“That’s not true-”

“Aaron. This conversation is meaningless and I am no longer bothered to have it. Believe me or don’t. I will not apologise.”

“I never said I-…fuck.” 

“If I find out you are lying to me...” 

“I’m not. I just- they’re…” Aaron goes so quiet that if Neil wasn’t standing just outside the door, he would have thought that he had left.  “ Important …to me.” Aaron finally carries on. “But I’m not about to…I told you, nothing is going on. With either of them.” 

“Make a choice. One or neither.” 

“Neither.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

As quietly as Neil can, he makes his way back down the stairs and into the kitchen. He lingers there, pottering through the cupboards silently when Andrew finally steps in. He raises an eyebrow at Neil when he turns around to acknowledge him, but otherwise pays Andrew no mind as he pulls down a tin of coffee. 

“I remember when coffee didn’t taste like shit.” Andrew mutters, watching as Neil turns on the gas burner and fills the kettle with water from the barrel kept in the kitchen. 

Bit of a coffee connoisseur were you? Neil signs with an amused smile. 

No, Andrew replies, not elaborating any further. 

So…you don’t want one? Neil asks and Andrew levels him with a look, moving around the island to sit on the counter. Neil watches him from the corner of his eye, the smile on his lips growing as Andrew slides closer to him. He’s handing a cup to Andrew when Aaron stomps his way in, shooting a glare at both of them. 

He points to the mug in Neil’s hand and Neil nods in response, moving to make Aaron his own cup and slides it to him across the island. Aaron takes it and stands, sipping slowly as he looks between Andrew and Neil. They both stare blankly back at him until Aaron scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Hypocrite,” he spits out quietly, turning on his heel and storming out. Neil looks over at Andrew.

Do I want to know?

Shut up.  

Neil chokes back a laugh into his drink when Wymack and Abby appear in the doorway. 

I’m guessing you’re to blame for his bad mood that we’ll all have to deal with later? 

Andrew shrugs. That falls above your paygrade.

Pay grade? As if I get paid to watch out for you assholes. If I did whatever it would be wouldn’t be enough. Wymack furiously signs back. Abby laughs, smacking Wymack on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

Behave! She says, giving them all a fond look as she makes her way around the island. I’ll get on with breakfast, go on, off with you both. Stop making a nuisance of yourselves. 

Andrew jumps down off the counter, casting a look at Neil as he leaves. Neil goes to follow him but Wymack holds a hand out in front of him before he can pass.

I thought you said Andrew hated you.

He does, Neil replies and Wymack gives him an assessing look as he lowers his arm. 

Uh huh. Let me know how that works for you.

What?

David, stop bothering him and come help me.

Wymack moves across to Abby leaving Neil just as confused as he was before.

The day itself passes slowly, the sun high in the sky and bearing hotly down. Breakfast is a quiet affair as the group disperse to their daily jobs after. Aaron remains in his usual sullen silence, glaring at Neil and Andrew as often as he does at his own plate. Neil doesn’t have it in him to even begin to question what his problem is, so he takes his cue from Andrew and steadily ignores him. 

Neil is returning back from his water run when the smell first hits him, the stench of burning wood and underbrush curling around him. He stops, looking around with narrowed eyes. It is almost imperceptible amongst the sound of the forest itself, but Neil eventually hears the low crackle of flames tearing their path. Moving slowly, he heads towards the noise, the smell growing stronger with each step. The air around him grows warmer and muggier as smoke begins to tendril its way through a line of thick bushes ahead of him. He pushes through him and is hit with a thick plume, through it in the distance he can make out the orange flames, flickering high toward the sky, destroying everything they touched. 

Neil’s body surges back a few steps, head shaking at memories of a battered car, the bloody face of his mother, the screams of a hundred angels. He grabs his hair and pulls tightly, desperate to orientate himself. The pail he carries falls to the ground, its contents spilling across the soil. 

There is a loud cry, shattering through the air and Neil doesn’t wait to find out how close it exactly is. He turns and sprints back toward the house as fast and quietly as he can. Stray branches catch at his bare arms as he pushes past them, scratching at his skin but he ignores the sting. The house eventually comes back into view, the front door left open. Neil looks back, just seeing the wisps of smoke disappearing into the sky above the treeline. They don’t have much time. 

He jumps up the porch steps, only stopping when he comes face to face with their entire group gathered in the living room. They all turn towards him as he bends forwards, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. Andrew is by his side in an instant, gripping his chin and turning it side to side. 

I’m fine, Neil signs, ignoring Andrew and dragging his chin out of his grasp in favour of looking over at Wymack instead. 

“We have a problem,” he murmurs. Wymack looks back at him warily, motioning toward Kevin who is knelt down on the ground, his head nestled on top of his knees. 

I’m aware. What's your deal?

Fire. About a mile east. What’s wrong with him? Neil waves an arm in Kevin’s direction.

His past is apparently catching up with him .

Coincidence?

I don’t believe in em’ . Wymack replies, turning back toward everyone else. Stay here in the house, no one leaves. No exceptions. Wymack shoots Abby a look as he strides past Neil, walking with purpose out of the house. Neil goes to follow him but a warm hand wraps around his wrist. Neil looks at Andrew, whose usually blank expression is down turned to a frown. Neil shakes his head and moves to leave again but Andrew tugs him back. 

Stay , he mouths. Neil is ready to argue but his attention is drawn to Kevin as he lets out a haggard breath. Abby drops down next to him, rubbing soothing circles across his back, but it doesn’t seem to placate him much as Kevin digs his nails into the wooden floor. 

“How did he find us?” Kevin chokes out.

Neil frowns, a tightness curling itself around his heart. That phrase has never been followed by anything good, on the run it was usually a sign that he and his mother had run out of time and escape routes. Logically, Neil knows it was impossible for Kevin to be talking about anyone from Neil’s own past, but that didn’t stop the uncomfortable shiver of fear rolling through him. 

Andrew, who still has hold of his wrist, jerks his arm a little to get Neil’s attention. Neil opens his mouth but any of the words he could have said get lost. He doesn’t know how to admit that the angels aren’t the only monsters that Neil is running from, that being heard by creatures that would tear you to shreds isn’t nearly as terrifying as being caught by his own father. 

You have no idea how dangerous I could be. What I could bring here.

The memory of that lone conversation he had with Wymack floods to the surface of his mind. He should have told them, his warnings should have been clearer, because whatever is coming…if Kevin is this worked up about it, can’t be good. Six degrees of separation is Neil’s very own worst enemy and it’s just a matter of time before it finally catches up with him. 

“It doesn’t matter, you’re gonna be fine,” he hears Abby say as she pulls Kevin closer to her chest. Kevin shakes his head, sucking in a breath.

“He's going to kill me, isn't he?.”

“No one is dying today.” Abby says firmly. She looks up over Kevin’s head at the others. “Start getting supplies downstairs, prepare for lock-in just in case.”

No one moves, looking around at each other instead. Confusion, fear, anger…it’s written all over their faces. Seth is the one who finally breaks the tension as he pulls Allison towards him protectively, glaring down at Kevin. 

“What the fuck have you brought here?” 

“Seth, not now. Please.” Abby begs and next to him, Neil feels Andrew stiffen. Seth opens his mouth, ready to argue but Allison puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back. She has a look on her face which Neil couldn’t quite decipher as she turned to her boyfriend. 

“She said no, Seth. Now shut up and stop making so much noise. Move, c’mon, with me.” Allison grabs one of his hands and tugs, leading Seth down to the basement. 

It’s the prompt everyone needs to move. Nicky and Renee head into the kitchen while Katelyn sits down next to Abby, taking Kevin’s hand in her own. Neil doesn’t miss the way Aaron falters in his steps, looking back at the three on the floor and Katelyn sends him a reassuring smile, waving her hand away as a signal for him to go with the others. He must see something in her expression because he turns away a second later and follows. 

Andrew squeezes Neil’s wrist and lets go, shoving at his shoulder lightly for him to move, and they both make their way into the kitchen. 

“Who is Kevin worried about?” Neil says, as soon as they are out of earshot of him. Nicky looks over his shoulder where he’s packing packages of food into a cardboard box and gives him an apologetic look. 

“Sorry, forgot you haven’t been here long enough to have unlocked Kevin’s backstory yet.” He says quietly. “He’s talking about his old foster brother? I think that’s what they were to each other anyway. Kevin never knew who his dad was, so when his mom died when he was like, four, he went to live with this family that were friends with his mom, I guess. But they were into all kinds of weird, cultish stuff.”

“It wasn’t a cult, Nicky,” Renee cuts in with a gentle touch to his arm. She passes him and picks up where he’s stopped packing and so Nicky leans forward on the island, folding his arms across the surface. 

“Well it sounds like it, with the way he used to talk about it. Anyways, they had this kid, Riko, reeeaaaal asshole. Used to like, hurt Kevin and make him do all sorts of crazy stuff. Sacrifice cats and foxes and stuff.”

“Nicky, stop making shit up,” Aaron looks over at him, annoyed. 

“I’m not, I swear this is what Kevin told me! They collected kids with like, potential or something. Kevin said there were three of them that he used to hang with. Him, Riko and some kid named, er…John? Jan? Whatever, anyways. When Kevin was like, ten, he found a letter that said that Wymack was his dad so he tracked him down and got in contact with him and Wymack apparently lost it because he didn’t even know he had a kid or that Kevin’s mom had even died. Took the whole family to court and everything and got Kevin back. But…whatever went on it’s like, traumatised Kevin for life. Riko was still trying to get back in contact with Kevin for years after he left, would send him all these fucked up packages and shit.

“Obviously after everything happened with…” Nicky waves his hand around them,“...they lost contact. Suppose that was one good thing to happen out of all of this.”

“Lots of people have died, Nicky.” Renee casts a disapproving look at him before turning back to the box. Nicky shrugs, as though that doesn’t deter from the point he’s trying to make. Neil lets everything wash over him, trying to connect dots and pieces of information where he can.  

“So what’s that got to do with now?” He says. Renee slides her box across the counter and Andrew takes it, placing it on the floor silently. 

“It was our turn for scavenge, we were barely out of the house perimeter when guess who we found?”

Neil turns to face Aaron with his eyebrows raised. “There is no way he knew Kevin was out here, everything is completely off the grid.”

“No way at all, but there he was. Saw Kevin, we had an…altercation and we bailed as soon as I could get us out of there.” It’s probably the most Aaron has ever spoken to him, and in that moment Neil can’t help but notice all the ways that he and Andrew are similar. From the clench of their jaw to the natural protective streak that has them lashing out first and asking questions later. 

Neil points down to Aaron’s hand, “Looks like you got a good right hook.”

Aaron looks down at his bruised knuckles and gives Neil a smirk. 

“You could say that.”

They’re interrupted as Wymack appears in the doorway, a dark expression on his face. 

“What the fuck are you all doing standing around? Get a move on,” he barks quietly. None of them move however, instead all looking at him expectantly. 

“Well?” Aaron finally says, and Wymack sighs rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. 

“We definitely have company. We need to hurry, the fire is distracting enough but the noise it’s making is going to attract even more unwanted guests and I don’t want to be up here when they arrive.”

Neil cast’s a look back at the door solemnly, his heart beating heavy in his chest. He has never had to worry about so many other people before. When he and his mother were on the run, it was easy to compartmentalise everything, to tune the world away and focus on nothing but your own safety. Running is easy and he knows it well. Everything in his body is telling him to get out, just grab his packed duffle and head straight away from the danger, but this isn’t just about him anymore.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between them that’s suddenly broken by a low whistling. They look at each other in confusion and quickly make their way to the living room. Kevin is already on his feet, grappling with Katelyn who is trying to keep him away from the window. Kevin pulls away from her, taking a step back and covering his mouth with a choking sob when he sees what’s there. It’s enough for the rest of them to all surge towards the window themselves, peering through the gap in the boarded wood.  

In the clearing stands a solitary figure, someone Neil can only assume is Riko. That isn’t what has Neil’s attention however, it’s the body knelt next to him limply. Riko is holding their arm up like a prize. There is no way for Riko to know they are watching, but the look on his face tells Neil that he doesn’t need to be able to see them to know that somewhere, Kevin has his eyes on him. 

In his other hand Riko brings up a knife. The blade looks aged and rusted and Riko waves it in the air before he swings it around and down, right into the other person's shoulder. There is a loud cry of pain as the blade is pushed in and twisted. Kevin cries out, grabbing at one of the boards. 

“Riko…” he whines, terrified and Riko, as though he can hear Kevin’s pleas, laughs as he pulls the blade out and drops the arms he’s holding, letting the figure collapse completely onto the ground. He waggles his fingers in a wave and then turns, running into the tree line behind him.  

“What is he…?” Nicky begins, soon answered by the monstrous screech of an angel in the distance. 

“He’s gonna kill him. He’s gonna let them tear him apart. Jean…” Kevin backs away from the window, falling down onto the ground. 

“David…” Abby says, but Wymack shakes his head, a haunted look on his face. 

“I know, I know! But we can’t. We go out there, we’re all at risk.” 

“But he’ll…” 

“I know ,” Wymack clenches his fists angrily as his sides with utter loss at what to do. It’s a harsh truth, Neil knows. The reality of this world, but survivor is as survivor does and he’s not wrong. Stepping one foot out there could attract attention that none of them want. It was better, this way, to let them take their meal and go. 

The sound of the front door suddenly clicking open has Neil turning his head to the side. Renee stands there, a determined look on her face. 

“I will not let another person die,” she says and then she’s gone. Undeterred by fear, pushed along with compassion. 

“Renee!” 

“Don’t!”

They watch, as Renee takes off down the porch and across the clearing. She makes it to Jean in almost no time at all, but it’s not fast enough and just as she is heaving one of Jean’s arms over her shoulders, two angels break into the open grassland behind her. She doesn’t look back as she pushes forward, half carrying Jean back to the house. She’s too slow, the weight of Jean slowing her down. The angels home in on the sound, the vibrations in the air and immediately they scream, heading straight towards them.

Wymack is moving before Neil even realises it, pulling open one of the cabinets and wrenching out a bottle of whiskey. 

“Cloth. Now.” he says and Neil pulls the red scarf that’s hanging off the door handle and rips the material just enough that Wymack can stuff half of it in the bottle. Andrew is already at the door, hand open expectantly, other with his lighter. He lights the edge of the material as Wymack hands him the bottle and Wymack shouts out at Jean and Renee. 

“GET DOWN!”

Renee throws her body forward, Wymacks shout has her moving quick enough that she narrowly avoids her and Jean being struck by a swinging arm. Andrew jumps down the steps of the porch, his arm pulled back.

“Hey!” The angels screech in his direction and he launches the molotov cocktail slightly to the left of them. It explodes as it lands, a ball of flame just licking where Jean and Renee lie. The angels behind them rear on two legs, screaming at the sky as they back away from the heat. Andrew and Wymack surge forward, reaching Jean and Renee in moments. Wymack pulls Jean into his arms, throwing his body over his shoulder in a fireman's carry as Andrew pulls Renee up and drags her back to the house.  

They burst through the entranceway and Neil slams the door shut behind them. Abby is next to Wymack in seconds as he goes to settle Jean on the floor. 

“David we can’t stay here…” She starts to say when there’s a crash against one of the walls and splinters of wood and glass ricochet everywhere. The house shakes as an angel pounds against the wall again, this time cracking it open. The hole is large enough for it to push its head through and it rears towards them, growling loudly. There is no time for carefulness now. 

“Move!” Wymack shouts, grabbing Jean and lifting him into his arms. They all move to run when the front door flies off its hinges and another angel crashes through, causing them all to split up. 

Neil, too close to the door, darts up the stairs two at a time. He turns to see Aaron, Kevin and Andrew on his heels, an angel behind them screaming as it throws itself up the stairs after them, its clawed hand crunching into the wall leaving long gashes in its wake. 

For the first time in months, fear winds itself around Neil’s heart. He got too comfortable, too complacent. The sound of his mothers voice is screaming at him over the static sound pulsing in his head. 

What have you done? You are going to die here. You have wasted the gift I gave you-

The entire house shakes as the angels rampage through it. Neil hears screams but he can’t make out whose exactly they are and there is no time for him to dwell on it now. He bangs one of the bedroom doors open and holds it open for Aaron, Andrew and Kevin to follow through before slamming it shut and turning the lock. He runs to a dresser just to the right and pushes at it, trying to get it in front of the door. Andrew pushes Kevin and Aaron towards the cupboard and then is at the other side of the dresser in seconds, pulling it. Halfway across, it lurches forward as the angel bangs against the door, the lock cracking instantly. Andrew and Neil steady it immediately, moving faster to block the door as Kevin pleads behind them to hurry up. Once in place, they both move toward the cupboard but Neil isn’t fast enough and he is forced to jump out the way as the dresser flies back a few feet and the door breaks open. Andrew turns, taking a step towards Neil but he points to the cupboard as he dives under the bed, just able to see the bottom edge of the door close slowly and quietly as the rest of the door splinters open and the angel barges in. 

Neil closes his eyes, covering his mouth and nose with his hand in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. The angel screeches, and Neil can feel his whole body trembling as beads of sweat slide slowly down his forehead. The angel moves slowly around the room, crashing into furniture, as it clicks loudly searching for its prey. 

The bedsprings begin to creek and Neil feels the mattress sink down, pressing heavily against his back as the angel climbs onto the bed. Neil bites the insides of his cheeks, squeezing his eyes shut as he holds back a painful moan. The weight presses down further and Neil thinks he’s about to be crushed. He jumps when there is a thump in front of him and an arm slams down onto the floor in front of him. Its skin is dark and grotesque, so inhuman it’s almost too sickening to look at. The large claws scrape across the wood, leaving deep scratches and memories flash in Neil’s mind of just what exactly it can do to a person. 

Tearing flesh, blood pouring, screams of pain-

A loud crash sounds from downstairs and the limb retracts back as the bed dips down further. Neil bites back another cry of pain as the angel growls and leaps off of it and back out into the hallway. He crawls quietly to the end of the bed, eyes shooting between the cupboard and the hallway. From where he lies he has a good view of both, but there is no way that any of the three hiding away will be able to see if the angel has really gone.

The cupboard door begins to open slowly but Neil waves a hand out from under the bed, pointing rapidly toward the hallway. There’s another screech from outside and the angel turns its head, answering with a call of its own as it jumps back into the bedroom and Andrew, Kevin and Aaron stand stock still, too late for the door to close now. The angel runs straight to the outer wall, smashing against it over and over until the wood finally breaks and it’s able to claw its way through to the outside and grapples down the side of the house. 

With it gone, Neil finally crawls out from under the bed, body still shaking as Andrew makes his way over to him. He grabs his shoulders and turns him round, poking at the raw scratches down Neil’s back. He hisses, shrugging Andrew off. 

I’ll be fine, he signs. We have to go. We have to find the others. 

They all move to the large hole the angel had left, seeing two on the grass tussling with each other over something limp between them. There’s a sick realisation when Neil realises it’s a body, but from their distance he can’t make out who it is or if it’s one of their own. There’s a bitter part of him that hopes it’s Riko. 

Andrew tugs at the back of his and Aaron’s shirts, nodding his head to the doorway. Aaron grabs Kevin’s hand and the four of them creep back through down the stairs slowly. It’s eerily quiet now, disconcerting and harrowing. 

They look solemnly as they see how ruined the rest of their home is. There are deep gashes in the floors, the walls, the furniture, all of which had been upturned and thrown across the room. 

“What is that?” Kevin whispers, freezing on his step as he points to a dark red stain, smeared across the floor. The other’s follow his lead, pausing to look where he shows them.  Andrew and Neil share a knowing look and don’t answer, but that seems to be the only answer Kevin needs. 

“Oh god,” he chokes out. Neil turns around instantly, pushing Kevin back against the wall and covering his mouth with his hand and holding a finger over his own.

There is a loud thump from the right of them and an angel slugs its way out from the direction of the kitchen, its feet thudding heavily against the ground as it slowly moves past them. The four press their bodies back against the wall, flattening themselves as much as they can, holding their breaths. 

The angel turns its head left and right, the deformed ear on the side of its head open. 

C̵̨̲͙̬͕͓̰̮̈̀͛́̑͘͝ļ̷̤̳̝̰̠͕̠͉̆̎̕͠ị̶̧̺̩͔̘̗̈́͒̔̾̓͌͂͜c̴̹̜̥̅͋͊̋̔̀k̴̙̱͛͛̒̃͋̇̓̌̾.̵͖̄͛

C̵̨̲͙̬͕͓̰̮̈̀͛́̑͘͝ļ̷̤̳̝̰̠͕̠͉̆̎̕͠ị̶̧̺̩͔̘̗̈́͒̔̾̓͌͂͜c̴̹̜̥̅͋͊̋̔̀k̴̙̱͛͛̒̃͋̇̓̌̾.̵͖̄͛

C̵̨̲͙̬͕͓̰̮̈̀͛́̑͘͝ļ̷̤̳̝̰̠͕̠͉̆̎̕͠ị̶̧̺̩͔̘̗̈́͒̔̾̓͌͂͜c̴̹̜̥̅͋͊̋̔̀k̴̙̱͛͛̒̃͋̇̓̌̾.̵͖̄͛

C̵̨̲͙̬͕͓̰̮̈̀͛́̑͘͝ļ̷̤̳̝̰̠͕̠͉̆̎̕͠ị̶̧̺̩͔̘̗̈́͒̔̾̓͌͂͜c̴̹̜̥̅͋͊̋̔̀k̴̙̱͛͛̒̃͋̇̓̌̾.̵͖̄͛

Neil can feel Kevin shaking next to him and he watches as Aaron grabs his chin and turns his head towards him so they are staring at each other and away from the creature in front of them. Whatever Aaron is signalling to him, it works and Kevin seems to control his tremble enough that they all remain unnoticed. 

Eventually, it passes them, stomping its way outside through the front door and into the clearing. The smell of smoke and fire wafts in, the not far off sound of crackling whispers just beyond the house. 

As the angel moves completely out of sight, the tension palpably leaves them if only for a moment. Neil nods his head forward, and the three of them follow him to the backdoor in the kitchen. It hangs limply on a remaining hinge, and they discreetly make their way outside. The fire is deterring the angels as much as it is attracting them, and bending down Neil makes a slow jog to the far forested area in the clearing where the flames haven’t quite reached yet. 

They just break through the treeline when there is a terrified yell and the four of them press themselves down to the ground against the nearest tree. There is a clamour of footsteps and the figures of two men he doesn’t know are running between the trees. They must have been with Riko, split from the group as the angels descended. There’s a viscous sort of feeling that runs through Neil, as an angel closes in on their tail. It leaps through the air, landing on one of them and his screams echo through the woods as it brings down one heavy claw and silences him immediately. 

Aaron gags next to him as the sound of cracking bone and ripping flesh hits them. Andrew grabs his brother's head and brings it down onto his chest, covering his ears. 

The other man hasn’t stopped nor does he look back, as he uses the death of his companion as a useful distraction for him to make his own escape. 

The sounds of breaking twigs as Neil turns back to the clearing to see Renee, Seth and Allison this time running straight towards them. There is no way to warn them of the angel, quite among the trees as it feasts on its victim without drawing attention to themselves. Andrew and Neil share a look and Neil picks up the largest stick he can find, ready to throw it toward them to get their attention but it’s too late. The angel looks up at the approaching sound, it’s head twitching as it snarls toward the noise. The three skid to a stop, Allison falling back as she tries to slow herself. Renee and Seth bend down to help her up as the angel lets out a deafening roar, rushing toward them. Allison yells Seth’s name as it gets closer and Renee and Seth throw themselves to the side, dragging Allison with them as the angel storms past, veering only a few feet as it changes direction back to them. 

Seth pushes Allison and Renee against a tree, cupping Allison’s face as he says something to her that Neil can’t make out. He pulls Renee forward and forces her into Allison as he makes a dash away from them, turning around and skipping backwards and he cups his hands around his mouth. 

“Hey you ugly fuck, come and get me!” He turns back around and runs as fast as he can. Allison fights against Renee, desperate to get to Seth as the angel screeches past them. A cry barely leaves her lips and Neil looks over at Seth in time to see the angel catching up to him, swiping one lethal claw and catching him in the back. He cries out falling to the floor. 

“No- No- No-N-!” His panicked voice echoes around them and then there is a sickening thump, the awful sound of gurgling and then silence.  

Neil stares over at Allison, to see her back pressed to the trunk of the tree by Renee, her hand covering her mouth as she says something to Allison. Tears stream down Allison’s face and Renee is shaking her head, bringing their foreheads together. 

Neil has experienced loss before, it’s become a part of the reality of his life long before the first incursion ever happened. The truth, no matter how ugly it is, is always the hardest to bear. 

Seth is dead. 

Day of Incursion
Wymack

Kevin hates Mondays. It’s an intrinsic fact that David Wymack knows about his son. More so than he likes history, that he loves playing lacrosse, that he may or may not have a thing with a girl called Thea that he is refusing to talk about with his father. Kevin Day hates Mondays.

He’s in the kitchen, on his second cup of coffee when he hears Kevin’s alarm go off. He glances at the clock on the cooker, 6AM glaring back at him. It blares for a minute more and then is silenced. Wymack doesn’t need to go upstairs to know that Kevin has just hit the snooze button, already curled back up under the warmth of his covers and hoping that sleep will steadily take him until a more appreciated time crops up. It never happens, but this is the same dance he and Kevin have played ever since he brought Kevin home to live with him and Wymack doesn’t see that changing any time soon. 

It finishes his coffee, pouring out another one that he knows he’ll never finish and heads upstairs just as Kevin’s alarm starts ringing again. He stands outside his room, listening for any sign of life, but is only answered by the irritating call of the alarm so he raises a fist to the door and pounds against it. 

“Kevin! Turn that damn alarm off and get your ass up!” There’s a loud groan beyond the wood and Wymack grunts in approval, turning to go back downstairs as the alarm is quieted and silence rings through their house. 

He heads back into the kitchen, packing his bag for work and making himself a slice of toast when the sound of the toilet flushing and the shower turning on rattles down. The news plays on the TV, some newscaster reporting something to do with NASA and satellites and whatever else that quickly loses Wymacks attention and so he grabs the remote and changes it to one of the sports channels instead. 

He watches it with avid interest, finishing his toast and half of his coffee before he glances at the clock, cursing when he sees the time and can still hear the shower running. He jogs up the stairs two at a time, leaning against it as he shouts as his son. 

“Kevin! If you want a ride you better be ready in the next ten minutes!” The shower cuts off immediately and Wymack hears Kevin swear as he no doubt slips in his haste to get out. Another known fact: Kevin hates the bus. He hates that there are so many people, bodies pressed tightly together with no room to breathe. Hates the noise and feeling of being so closed in. Wymack has no intention of leaving Kevin behind, not after the last time Kevin had tried to get the bus, but that doesn’t mean he’s above threatening it if only to make sure they’re not late. 

Thumping from the stairs finally brings down Kevin, who is still pulling on his shirt. Without pause, he heads around to his father, pulling his coffee out of his hands and downing it, dropping the cup into the sink when he’s done. 

“You know, if you got yourself up earlier you wouldn’t need to steal my coffee,” Wymack grumbles, watching as his son grabs a protein bar from the cupboard and a pre-made shake from the fridge. Kevin only grunts in response as he grabs the books he left on the kitchen table last night, shoving them into his bag and Wymack supposes that’s the best and only kind of answer he’ll get from his son this time in the morning. He smacks Kevin on the back of the head lightly as he passes him and gets a glare for his efforts, but it’s enough to get him moving as they both leave the house.  

The drive to the university isn’t far, and technically Kevin could stay on campus with the rest of the student body, but he had been adamant when Wymack approached him with the option that he wanted to stay with his father. Wymack can’t fault him, dorms are noisy and there’s never any privacy but there is a thrill of something warm that sits in his chest at the thought that his son would rather spend at least part of his free time with his father, than without him. 

They’ve grown close, since Kevin’s adoption and Wymack was worried as Kevin headed into his teenage years that all that progress was likely to fall to pieces but it hasn’t and their relationship grows steadily stronger day after day.  

There’s an indie song playing on the radio, some artist that Wymack doesn’t know but Kevin does by the way he’s drumming his hands against his thighs and mouthing the words, his head leaning against the window. 

The traffic in the city is worse than usual this morning and Wymack huffs as the car is forced forward in nothing but a crawl. There’s a ping and Wymack watches from the corner of his eye as Kevin pulls out his phone, a small smile playing on his lips as he smiles at whatever the message says and taps out a reply. 

“You spoken to Jean lately?” He asks, and Kevin tenses for a moment before relaxing back into his seat. 

“He texted me yesterday, I promised I’d call him before his game on Wednesday. He seems okay.” 

Wymack nods. Jean, the one that got away, that he couldn’t save. He wasn’t sure of the exact details in the contract that bound Jean to the Moriyama household, and he had tried to look after he had pulled Kevin out of that god awful place, but all documents regarding the other boy were locked down tight and no amount of money that Wymack offered to throw at anyone would do anything about it. He is sure, just like there was with Kevin, that everything wasn’t exactly done legally or above board. He’s glad that he and Kevin keep in touch, even if there is a secrecy to their friendship. He knows Kevin hates it, that everytime Wymack mentions Jean he gets antsy about it, like he doesn’t want to relive the fact his friend is stuck in some twisted house of horrors, but without the resources there isn’t much Wymack can do apart from support from a distance as he always has. 

He got Kevin out though, and for the moment, that would have to be enough. 

He mutters to himself as the traffic comes to a complete standstill, cars pulling to a stop in a sea of red lights. He winds down his window and leans out slightly to see if there is anything happening further down the line but he can’t see any flashing lights or sign of an accident so he has no choice but to assume it’s nothing but the usual, Monday morning traffic. 

He reclines back in his seat, fingers tapping at the steering wheel as he looks at the time on the radio. They were definitely going to be late at this rate. He glances in the rearview mirror but cars are also lined up behind him bumper to bumper in a long procession, leaving no way for him to be able to turn around and try and find another route. 

“Fucking traffic.”

“Should have left earlier,” Kevin mutters and Wymack sends him a dark look. 

“Whose fault is that?” He says, and Kevin shrugs in a typical teenage fashion. 

They sit in silence for another moment, when there are sudden shouts of panic and awe from outside. Wymack frowns, looking out to see people standing, pointing up at the sky. He leans forward, looking out of the windscreen and his heart skips a beat at the sight.  

In the dusky early morning, the sky is alight as hundreds of bright balls of flame fall, leaving behind thick, smoken trails. He watches what he can only think of as meteorites, get lower and lower and then there is a crash and the world around them shakes, as they inevitably hit the ground. 

“Dad what-” Kevin starts but the car in front of them explodes and glass shatters across their faces as the windscreen smashes. Wymack pulls Kevin down as far as their belts allow and covers his body with his own. 

Screams echoed around them and through the dust and smoke, Wymack could just about make out figures running in every direction. He coughs harshly, shaking Kevin. 

“Kevin, are you okay?!” 

Kevin looks up at him, terror reflected in his green eyes but otherwise fairly unharmed, only a small spattering of scratches along his face. He nods, starting to cough as the dust settles in his own lungs. 

“Get out the car,” Wymack says and they both pull their belts off only for the world around them to tremble and shake again as more and more of the meteorites crash into the surrounding buildings. He throws open his door and heads around to the passengers side, grabbing Kevin and pulling him close as debris falls from above. 

They spin around as a car flies through the air and lands on top of another, a ball of flame erupting around it. Wymack turns, cowering down with Kevin as people around them scream. 

“We need to get off the street!” He says, barely able to see through the soot around them. He grabs Kevin’s arm and goes to pull him when there is a strange clicking noise behind them, a black figure moving slowly through the ash. There is a scream from somewhere beyond and it swiftly moves, leaping into the air and the scream silences. 

“What was-”

“Just move.” Wymack says, panic clear in his voice. He holds one hand out in front of him as they stumble through the dust until they hit the wall of a building. Wymack pushes Kevin against it and they walk along it, dark figures moving swiftly all around them. A body flies through the air and smacks into the wall next to them with a bone crushing sound and Kevin yells, looking in horror down at lifeless, bloody eyes. Wymack pulls Kevin away, forcing his head into his chest. 

“Don’t look, don’t look at that.” He can’t comprehend what is happening as chaos ricochets all around them. There is a sound so alien, so wrong that echoes around them and it chills him to his bones. 

Wymack urges Kevin on, desperate to get off the street when finally he sees it. The opening they need and he rushes forward, dragging Kevin behind him as they push into the bar. It’s dark inside, and there are others there hiding under tables. Terrified and confused, just like them. Wymack pulls at Kevin until they are behind the bar top and forces him down. 

“Dad-” Kevin begins, but Wymack shushes him. Outside, they can hear the screams of the damned. He peeks over the edge of the wood but the windows are stained glass and so all he can make out are vague shadows of cars, debris, people being flung around like ragdolls. 

Whatever is outside, it seems to be ignoring the people inside the bar, and Wymack frowns. He’s grateful, but there is something strange about it. That is until it all clicks into place. 

A man barrels in through the doorway, yelling and a beast so horrifying crashes in after him. The bar descends into chaos as people scream to get away. Three more of the creatures follow in, seemingly attracted to the sound and Wymack presses Kevin down to the floor, a hand over his mouth to be quiet. 

The screams inside quieten with the lives they once were and all that is left is the eerie sound of clicking. Glass bottles crack as a thin, black limb climbs onto the bar top. A large head leans over, and Wymack can feel Kevin shaking underneath him. He brings up a finger to his lips, signalling for Kevin to remain quiet. Kevin nods his head and squeezes his eyes shut. Wymack stares up at the creature, watching its head as it parts and palpitates and then flutters open and closed. Eventually, the arm slides down with a thump and there is an explosion outside that rocks the building. The thing screeches and Kevin brings his arms up to his ears and then it’s gone. Neither Wymack or Kevin move, both pinned by fear. 

Eventually, Wymack knows they can’t stay here.

“Kevin…Kevin,” he whispers and he pulls Kevins hands away from his ears. “We need to move.” 

“No-” Kevin begins, but Wymack shushes him motioning with his hand to keep his voice down. 

“We’re going to die- Dad- what the fuck was that? We’re going to die, we’re going to-” Kevin whispers back at him frantically and Wymack cups his face, looking directly into Kevin’s eyes. 

“Son, we are not going to die. Do exactly what I say and whatever you do, whatever we see you need to stay quiet . That’s it, just stay quiet for me.” 

Three hundred nineteen days post incursion.
Neil

The sun is only a few hours out from rising when Neil pulls himself from sleep. He lays there, eyes closed with his arms under his head in a makeshift pillow and a bed of leaves beneath him, listening to the calming noise of the bodies around him sleeping soundly. He is going to miss this, he thinks, he is going to miss them, but he can’t take any more risks. He shouldn’t. When it’s just himself on the road, any mistake he makes has a cost of just him and so the mistakes are far and few. Now, he’s let complacency get the better of him and he’s not willing to let the others become collateral for a debt that Neil is not willing to pay. 

He should never have stayed, should never have accepted Wymacks hand that morning, angry stitches along his stomach and the beat of loneliness in his heart. He should have walked away, everything would have been easier to bear than this heavy feeling sinking in his gut.  

Don’t trust anyone. 

The mantra his mother had made him repeat until it was sunk into his bones like marrow courses itself through him because he had trusted and in turn, allowed people to trust in him and now his bad luck had followed them here. Seth was dead. There was no love lost for the man, but Allisons agony was real. Her grief was a sure thing in clawing its way through him for however many days, minutes, years he had left. 

Neil peeks out of one eye, spying Wymack propped up against a tree facing away from them, a silent sentry with a pistol resting readily on his knee. Wymack had let Neil stay in their home, had cut out a place for him in their lives and Neil had repaid them all by bringing the monsters right into their home and burning it to the ground. His own steady compliance had brokered this tragedy to these people, for their own safety he has to go. He couldn’t- wouldn’t risk anyone else. 

Shifting slightly, Neil creeps up, standing slowly on unsteady feet. His body is bone tired and sore, his wrist aches from a sprain that Abby has wrapped tightly. He takes a quiet step in the opposite direction from Wymack when a warm hand grasps at his ankle. He looks down and through the dim light, is met with Andrew’s honeyed eyes glaring up at him.

Where? He signs with his other hand and Neil wiggles his leg for him to let go.  

Don’t follow me. Neil replies, shaking his head. 

It’s a stupid thing to say to someone like Andrew of all people in hindsight, as that is the exact thing that has Andrew letting go of his leg and following his lead in standing up.

No. Neil signs and Andrew makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat which is enough to immediately grab Wymack’s attention. The older man turns his head, raising an eyebrow at them both.

Walk. Andrew says, and Wymack nods back.

Stay close.

Andrew offers Wymack a two fingered salute in return and grabs Neil’s wrist, pulling him along behind him. Neil wriggles, a barely there resistance, but Andrew’s hand is overall too enticing to ignore and Neil allows himself to be led away. They amble silently through the forest, the rustle of leaves barely there under their feet. They don’t speak, nor does Andrew release Neil until he is sure that the man won’t hightail it out of there the minute he lets go. 

The sky slowly starts to lighten when Neil hears it, through a wall of trees and brush of shrubs around them. Andrew pushes them through to a wide clearing, a clear pool of water coming to its surface as it shatters by the crashing water of a small waterfall. 

Andrew turns his head and motions Neil to follow him as he begins to clamber up the side of the rockface, hands and nails grappling the slippery stone until he is able to pull himself up onto a small ledge. Andrew’s hair and clothes are already a little damp, sticking to his body but he doesn’t seem to mind and watches as Neil wrangles himself up a lot less gracefully. He holds out a hand when Neil approaches the ledge and helps him up the rest of the way. 

Once they are both up, Andrew points out across the ravine and Neil follows his finger. His breath catches in his throat at the sight. They can’t see completely over the taller of the trees, but the view from the ones they can see over is stunning and among the treeline, Neil can make out the wisps of morning sun that have begun to peak over the horizon. It is beauty amongst tragedy, unworldly and unforgettable as each day is before. 

Neil turns to Andrew, hands already raised to sign but Andrew shakes his head and motions for Neil to follow him further. The ledge they are on creeps beneath the waterfall and underneath it, almost impossible to hear anything of the outside world beyond it. Andrew levels Neil with an impassive look which Neil returns with confusion right before Andrew opens his mouth and yells. Neil surges forward, hand already positioned to brace over Andrew’s mouth but he holds his own hand up to bat him away. 

“Andrew what the-” 

“The water.” He says, as though it is the most obvious thing. Neil shakes his head and moves to the entrance, peering out at the landscape beyond and is met with nothing but the eerie calmness of the impending sun. The water has become a shield, an impenetrable barrier against the sound beneath it leaving them cut off from the world outside. 

“How did you…?” Neil returns to him and asks. 

“Renee and I came out to hunt, before you arrived. Stumbled across this area.” 

“You must have been gone from the house for days.” 

Andrew hums in agreement. 

“A pack passed by and a lot of the wildlife fled. It was too risky to go out on a scavenge so we volunteered to go hunting before everyone starved.” Andrew turns away from him, heading to the back of the falls and sliding down against the wall. His eyes close as he leans his head back with a thump. Neil watches him for a moment before joining him, pulling his legs up and resting his chin on his knees. They sit in a comfortable silence and let time pass between themselves wordlessly. 

“It’s been a long time since I felt comfortable to speak out in a place like this.” Neil finally says, tilting his head to face Andrew. 

“After your mother you mean?” Andrew says, giving Neil a knowing glance. 

“Yeah. She...even here she would have never allowed us to speak. For a while I thought I had no voice at all. It was rare I got to use it and if I did…” Neil trails off and Andrew puts the rest of the pieces together.

“She made sure you didn’t make that mistake again?”

“Something like that.”

There is a pause before Andrew pulls out a tattered tin from one of his pockets, along with an old zippo. When he opens it, it reveals a small stash of cigarettes. Neil looks at Andrew smugly, but Andrew doesn’t pay him any mind. Instead, he slips a cigarette between his lips and lites it, taking a long drag. 

The smell hits Neil like a freight train, old memories of his mother circling in his brain like water down a drain. He knows that forgetting her over time is inevitable, the sound of her voice, the colour of her eyes. One thing he will never forget is the deep ingrained smell of the cigarettes she always managed to keep in her bag. She would never let Neil keep anything on the run, nothing that she would ever have deemed necessary, Neil still has the scar on his hand from when she had caught him with a comic that he’d found and thought had looked interesting. Her stash of cigarettes however, weren't up for discussion. 

Neil is brought out of his reverie when Andrew suddenly breaks the silence. 

"I killed Aaron's mother," he says, and Neil looks at him with a curious tilt of his head and a hand held out in askance. 

"You mean your mom," he replies as Andrew hands him the cigarette. The admittance is not a shock to him, having overheard Andrew and Aaron’s argument previously, but Neil doesn’t particularly want to admit that to Andrew. Not now. 

"She was never mine." 

"How?"

"She was starving us.” Andrew’s jaw clenches at the memory as he turns away from Neil completely. “To feed herself. She locked us out and used fear to control Aaron. She would beat him and then beat him some more if he made a noise. It was only a matter of time until she decided that she would need to leave the apartment. I put an egg timer in her backpack, set it for an hour, counted the minutes and made sure Aaron and I were already gone when it went off."

"And Aaron doesn't care?"

Andrew snorts bitterly. "Forgiveness is a funny thing in the face of the end of the world. I never asked for it but he gave it anyway."

"Nice of him." Neil comments, and Andrew rolls his eyes. 

"Not really, he didn't want to, but being alone in this world wasn't an option for him, he had no choice."

"Does that bother you?"

"Nothing bothers me."

“That so? Pretty sure that’s not entirely true.”

"Almost nothing bothers me. You are apparently an exception to every rule I have ever given myself."

It’s Neil’s turn to snort this time, holding his hand out and in rare form Andrew obliges him, handing him the cigarette back. 

“These will kill you, you know.” Neil says, waving the cigarette around. 

“There are worse ways to die.”

“Yeah. I suppose there are.” And hell, if that isn’t the truth. 

“What were you doing out there? When you came to us and decided petty thievery was a life worth living.” 

“Surviving.” 

Andrew looks at him with eyebrows raised. “You were about two minutes from being eaten alive or stabbed to death. Abby was still trying to get your blood stains out of the carpet.” 

Neil swipes a hand through the air dismissively. “Details. I would have gotten out of it.” 

“So you think.” Andrew says blandly. “Stop being stupid. Stay.”

“What? I’m not-” Neil begins to defend himself, as though he hadn’t spent most of his night planning his leave. 

“Now who's being stupid? Andrew, there’s a chance you’ll all die if I do…Seth already-” Neil cuts himself off, staring stubbornly out across the river.

“Seth wasn’t on you and no one likes a martyr.” 

“Now I know that’s a lie. You do.” 

Andrew doesn’t reply, following Neil’s line of sight ahead. The silence, something usually comfortable between them, eats away at Neil until he can no longer take it. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re a liability on the road. Because another body means somebody else to do the shit jobs I don’t have to. Because if I don’t ask you one of those other idiots will. Your life has little meaning out there compared to here. Take your pick.” 

“People die everyday.”

“Don’t be one of them.” 

“I made it this far didn’t I?” 

“Luck.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Stay. I will not ask you again.” 

“Then don’t.”

“You want me to. Or you have a death wish.” 

“Dying isn’t what I’m scared of.” 

“Then what is?” 

“Hope. Life. People. Them . You take a pick.” 

“All meaningless. Unless you decide otherwise.” 

“I decide.”

“Yes.”

“And if I decide to leave?” 

“Then you are a fool and I wash my hands of you.”

“And if I stay?”

“If you stay.” Andrew words it as a statement, a simple answer to a question that Neil doesn’t realise holds more meaning to both of them than he ever dares to believe. They stare at each other, and Andrew’s face has never exactly been the most expressive or easiest thing to read but in that moment, after months of shared secrets and near death experiences and silent conversations Neil finds he can read it as well as any book.

“If you stay,” Andrew says again, cupping Neil’s chin. Neil swallows hard, his eyes darting down to Andrew’s lips unconsciously, wanting something he has never thought he would ever want before. 

“If you stay ,” Andrew repeats and this time, there isn’t any uncertainty when he says it. Neil can’t find anything to ever be afraid of again, not with Andrew here in this moment cradling Neil’s face like it’s the most precious thing he has ever held. Neil’s eyes are already closed as Andrew’s lips meet his, a gentle press which has Neil sighing happily. It’s all Andrew needs, the right answer, because then he is kissing Neil like the world starts and stops with his mouth. Like the air he breathes and the life that comes with it would be found simply between Neil’s lips. 

It’s the single best moment of Neil’s life so far. Of course it’s only a matter of time before everything is torn apart again, fate the capricious bitch it is. 

TO BE CONTINUED.