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The rubble looks far away now, like something Ewing is watching from the end of a tunnel.
Percy and Pearson are beside him, whole again. Percy is rubbing his temples; Pearson is adjusting his crooked glasses, muttering under his breath.
"What the hell…" Percy starts.
"Are we....?" Pearson didn’t finish. His voice cracks.
Ewing turns to answer, but the words stop in his throat.
Because someone else is standing there now, right in the middle of the road.
The figure looks like he’d walked straight out of a dream they’d all forgotten.
Tall, lean, wearing a black hoodie under a long coat that somehow looks too clean for the apocalypse. The hood shadows most of his face, but the parts they could see made their hearts stutter.
He looks exactly like Alaska aka Richard.
Same jawline, same half tired, half worried eyes, the kind that had seen too much.
Alaska. One of the Nomads.
Their heroes. The crew they’d copied everything from, their number system, their code names, the idea of coming up with a name for their group.
The Nomads are legends, survivors who cross America like ghosts, the ones who gave the Melting Pot hope that friendship could outlive the end of the world.
And now here he is, or someone wearing his face.
Ewing took a step forward, confused. "Alaska?"
The man tilts his head, one eyebrow raised, like he’s heard the name before but didn’t own it.
Then he spoke, voice calm, too calm.
"No. I’m not Richard Harkness aka number 49 Alaska. I’m E."
They stare.
E reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a stack of papers, actual paper, yellowed and bent, held together with a broken clip.
"Let’s see…" he mutters, licking a thumb and flipping through the pages. "Ewing, Percy, Pearson, that’s you three. Yeah, okay. Well…"
He looks up, expression unreadable.
"You’re dead."
The words hung there, solid as the concrete under their feet.
Percy blinks, like he's waiting for a punchline.
"Come on, man. I hit a pipe. We ain’t..."
"You’re dead," E repeats. "Building collapsed. Instant. Real quick, at least." He flips another page, scanning with lazy precision. "Pretty clean exit, considering the apocalypse."
Pearson snorts weakly. "And what are you supposed to be, huh? Some kind of reaper?"
E gave a small shrug. "Yeah. Something like that."
He flips to another section, frowning at the messy handwriting. "First assignment, too. Figures it’d be complicated."
Ewing stares at the papers, then at the man. The face. The impossible familiarity.
"You look like Alaska," he says again, quiet now. "You know that?"
E didn’t answer right away. His eyes flick up, and for just a second, something behind them flickered.
A recognition. Or guilt. Or maybe just empathy.
"Yeah," he says finally knowing he's in shock. "I get that a lot."
Then he went back to his paperwork, muttering,
"God, I need a better system…"
And that's how it starts, not with trumpets, not with heaven or hell, but with three dead men standing on an empty Bronx street, and a cosmic being who looks like their hero, flipping through forms under a broken streetlight.
For a long moment, none of them spoke.
The only sound is the soft scrape of E’s thumb against paper as they flip through the papers on their clipboard like this is some office job instead of whatever it really is. Every so often they’d mutter something under their breath, a note, a sigh, a curse at the way the forms stuck together.
"Ewing… Percy… Pearson…" E murmurs again, confirming, like they couldn’t quite believe it either. "Yep. That’s you. Case #1073-A through C."
They frown. "First job, and I get a triple. Of course I do."
Percy broke the silence. "Wait, hold up. What do you mean dead? I can still feel..." He presses a hand to his chest. His hand passes clean through it.
He froze. "What the..."
E looks up from the paperwork. "Yeah. That’s normal. Don’t freak out."
Pearson took a shaky step backward, his glasses slipping down his nose. "No, see, that’s the kind of thing you say when you want somebody to freak out."
E ignores him, flipping another page. "Let’s see… burnt to a crisp, brain bleed, rebar through side, yeah, that tracks." They look up at Pearson. "You didn’t feel that, right?"
Pearson stares back, trying to process it. He touches his shirt, where the hole should’ve been. There is nothing. No blood. No pain. Just empty fabric and a strange, weightless cold.
"No," he says quietly. "Didn’t feel a thing."
"Good," E says simply, making a note. "Clean exit."
"Clean?" Pearson snaps. "We died in a building collapse, man. You call that clean?"
E shrugs. "Could’ve been slower. Could’ve been zombies."
They flip the page. "You really don’t want zombies."
Ewing takes a step forward. "You look like someone I used to know."
E’s head tilts slightly. "Yeah, Alaska. You mentioned this twice already. It's the shock."
Percy squints. "So what are you, his cousin? His evil twin? You some kind of Nomad cosplay or..."
E cut him off. "No relation. Just resemblance. We get to make a person in our image every few hundred years. He was mine."
"Yeah," Pearson mutters, pushing up his glasses. "How do we know your not some evil being trying to make us comfortable, were you the thing possessing Curly's Elmo?"
E sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose at that accusation. "Look, I get it. Weird coincidence. Existential crisis. Elmo doll from hell. Blah blah. But you’re dead. I’m here to help you move on. That’s the job. My job.”
They shuffle their papers again. "Or, well, my first job."
Percy blinks. "First job?"
Pearson grins despite the panic. "Oh great. We got the intern cosmic being."
E stops flipping pages and looks at him.
A long, blank stare.
Then they just says, "Yeah. Guess so." And went right back to the paperwork.
Pearson’s grin falters. "Wait, really?"
"Everyone starts somewhere," E mutters, scanning a form upside down. "You three just happen to be my baptism by fire. Or by apocalypse, I guess."
They shook their head, flicking one page forward, one back. "God, this system is prehistoric. Paperwork in the afterlife. Who thought that was a good idea?"
The boys exchange looks, half disbelief, half weird amusement.
Even dead, the absurdity of it hit them.
Then the world flickers.
The ruined building around them glitches like bad film stock, light pulsing, smoke freezing midair, sparks hanging motionless before falling again.
Everything felt off now, like the Bronx had been taped together with static.
Percy glances around nervously. "Is it supposed to do that?"
E waves a hand dismissively. "Temporal decay. It’s fine. You’re not really there anymore. It’s just an echo of where you died."
"So where are we, exactly?" Ewing asks.
E flips to the last page and tapped it with a finger. "Between. Call it the Gray Zone. Holding pattern for souls. No time, no pain, no cell service."
Pearson whistles. "Yeah, definitely the Bronx."
E didn’t even look up. "Funny."
They check another box and sigh. "Okay. So here’s how this works, I’m supposed to brief you, answer your last questions, make sure you’re ready to cross over, and then escort you."
Percy raises a brow. "Cross over to what?"
E shrugs one shoulder. "That part’s above my pay grade."
Pearson folds his arms. "You’re not exactly selling this, intern."
"I’m not here to sell," E says flatly. "I’m here to process."
Ewing glances between them. "You’re serious, huh?"
E looks up again, eyes tired but kind. "Dead serious."
For the first time since the accident, silence came again, heavier now, like the truth is finally sinking in.
They're really gone. The Bronx, the noise, the fight, the living, all of it left behind.
And standing in its place is this quiet, gray being with Richard’s face and a stack of papers that decides what happens next.
E glances at them, saw the shift, and softens slightly. "Look," they says. "I know this is a lot. It’s not supposed to make sense. But you’re together. That’s… rare. Most people don’t go out side by side."
Ewing swallows. "Yeah. That’s us. Always side by side."
E nods once, flipping the page again, scanning the next section. "Good. That’ll make this easier."
They mutter again under their breath, mostly to themself "Soul tie cases always take longer. Should’ve brought more pens…"
And as E scribbles something illegible across the page, the Bronx around them began to dissolve, lights fading, buildings melting into mist.
The end of the world is finally ending.
And somewhere between life and nothing, three ghosts and a rookie stand under a flickering streetlight, trying to figure out what comes after goodbye.
The Bronx keep fading, streetlights dissolving into mist, the air itself turning soft and colorless. Sound had thinned too. You could almost hear the silence, a low, humming nothing that presses at the back of your skull.
They stand in what use to be the overpass, but now it looks more like a stage, cracked concrete surrounded by fog, floating in empty gray. The wrecked building is gone. The skyline is gone. Even the fires had burned out of existence.
It's just them, Ewing, Percy, Pearson, and E, the being who looks too human to be one.
E crouches down on the fading asphalt and spread out the papers in front of them, weighting the corners with rocks that didn’t quite touch the ground. The pages flicker faintly, glowing with names and scribbled handwriting that shifts when you looked too long.
"Alright," E says, scanning one. "You’re a group case. That’s rare."
Ewing frowns. "Group case?"
"Yeah." E points at the header on the top page. "You three are what we call soul tied. Means you go out together, you cross together. Usually happens when people are bonded too deep to separate cleanly."
Percy raises an eyebrow. "Bonded how? Like… friendship bonded? Or we talking something creepier?"
E shrugs. "Could be anything really, love, loyalty, trauma, shared purpose. Whatever it is, it tied your energy together when you died. So, congratulations. You’re a package deal."
Pearson laughs under his breath. "Figures. We die and still can’t get rid of each other."
Ewing manages a small smile. "We’ve been through worse."
E nods like that made sense mostly because they've seen the other universes, they pull another page forward, muttering as they skim it. "Let’s see… final check-ins… any last emotional attachments… ah, here we go."
They tap the page. "I’m supposed to answer questions before we cross. Helps souls… settle."
All three spoke at once.
"What about my fiancée..."
"Samson, my cat..."
"Patrick..."
E flinches. "Whoa, one at a time." They raise a hand. "I’m new, not a miracle worker."
They look around, trying to remember who said what first. "Okay, uh… Percy, right? Fiancée?"
Percy nods, voice tight. "Yeah. Lex."
E flips through another stack, eyes scanning like a bureaucrat searching for mercy. "Lex… Lexi Torres, twenty nine...." They pause, reading carefully.
Percy let out a shaky laugh that almost turned into a sob at her name. "Lex."
E nods. “Yeah. Lex. And…" E frowns, flipping a page. "Huh."
"Huh?" Percy echoes.
E hesitates, glancing up at him. "You’ll be happy to know she’s pregnant."
The air went still. Even the fog seems to hold its breath.
Percy blinks slowly. "What?"
"She doesn’t know yet," E adds, reading further. "But she will. Soon."
Percy stares down at the ground, eyes filling but not spilling over. "She’s… she’s having my kid?"
"Yeah," E says quietly. "Looks that way." They gave a small, awkward smile.
"Congratulations. I guess.
Percy turns away, pressing his palms to his face. His voice came out muffled. "You serious right now?"
E shrugs gently. "I don’t lie. Not part of the job description."
Ewing reaches over, put a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “She’s real, I can't believe she's real, sorry man. You did good."
Percy laughs, a choked, disbelieving sound. "Yeah. Guess I did."
E shuffles through more pages, moving to the next. "Okay, uh, Ewing?"
Ewing straightens a little. "Yeah. My cat. Samson."
E’s tone softens without meaning to. "Right. Samson." They flip to another folder, one labeled in smudged ink. "Companion souls, companion souls…"
They found it and scan quietly.
Their eyes drop. The corner of their mouth turn down.
"Ewing…" they say gently. "I’m sorry."
Ewing froze. "Don’t say that."
E met his eyes, calm, kind, heavy. "You’ll see him soon."
Ewing closes his eyes. For a moment, he isn't in the Gray Zone. He's in The Melting Pot's apartment, the one with the boarded windows and the smell of canned tuna, Samson curled up on his chest, purring like the world isn't burning outside.
He nods once. "Okay."
E flips another page. "And last one… Pearson. You asked about Patrick?"
Pearson pushes up his glasses, trying to sound casual but failing. "Yeah. Patrick. My best friend. I was suppose to..."
He stops, throat tight. "I guess I'm not making it to the ceremony."
E didn’t answer right away. They flip through the file slower this time. The more they read, the quieter they got.
Finally, they look up. "Patrick’s alive."
Pearson exhales, relief flooding in. "He’s alive? Oh thank god."
But E didn’t smile. "Double amputee."
Pearson froze. "What?"
"Lost both legs," E says softly. "Zombie attack. He’s got prosthetics now. Medical grade, scavenged tech. Functional."
Pearson’s mouth went dry. "He, he lost his legs?"
E nods. Then adds, even quieter: "Zombie you took them."
The words hit like a sledgehammer.
"I… what?" Pearson whispers.
"You were turned," E says, looking down at the file. "You were already gone. It wasn’t you anymore. But you got him. Bit clean through before they pulled him out."
Pearson’s knees buckle. He sank to the ground, glasses sliding off. "Oh my god."
E closes the folder gently. "It wasn’t your fault."
He shook his head, tears streaking his face even though his body didn’t technically have tears anymore. "I hurt him. I hurt my best friend."
"He knows it wasn’t you," E says softly. "But… he’s not the same. He called off the engagement with Larson. He won’t ever be the same."
The other two crouch beside Pearson, quiet. Percy’s hand found his shoulder. Ewing’s voice came low. "Hey. You didn’t choose that. None of us did."
Pearson nods weakly, but his eyes stay distant, locked on something no one else could see.
E looks away, frowning. "I shouldn’t have told you all that."
Ewing straightens. "No. You did the right thing."
E smiles faintly, a tired, crooked thing. "Depends who you ask."
For a while, no one spoke.
Just the hum of the gray world around them, not wind, not time, just that endless in between hum.
Then E claps their hands once, too loud for the mood. "Alright. Enough ghosts of the living. It’s time."
Percy blinks. "Time for what?"
"To move on," E says, standing. "Cross over. That’s the whole point of this."
Pearson wipes his face. "You mean like… heaven?"
E tilts their head. "Something like that. Nobody tells us what’s on the other side. We’re just the ride."
Ewing crosses his arms. "And if we say no?"
E’s eyes flicked up, sharp, sudden. "Then you stay here. In the gray. Forever."
The silence after that is heavy.
Finally, Percy whispers, "So we go together, right?"
E nods. "Yeah. That’s the deal. Soul tied. All in or none in."
Pearson sniffes, still shaky but managing a grin. "Figures. Even death’s got a group policy."
E almost smiles at that. "Something like that."
They gather the papers into a neat stack, tapping the edges against their palm. The pages vanish into smoke, leaving only the faint smell of burnt ink.
Then E looks up at them, three boys who’d survived the end of the world, only to meet it again, and says softly:
"Alright, Melting Pot. Let’s get you home."
The air in the Gray Zone shimmers, not with light, but with something heavier.
Like static that presses on the skin, or fog that breathes back.
E stands a few feet away, the faint glow of their paperwork still flickering around their hands, then fading into nothing.
The streetlight above them, or whatever passed for one here, hums softly, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"That’s it," E says finally. "No more questions. It’s time to go."
Percy frowns. "Go where?"
E points past them.
And there it is, a light hanging in the fog.
Not blinding, not holy, not anything that belongs in a painting.
Just warm. Still. Waiting.
It isn't a tunnel or a door or pearly gates. It's a horizon, wide and steady, like sunrise after too many years without one.
Ewing stares at it. "That’s it?"
E nods. "That’s it. You step through, and you’re free."
Pearson squints. "I'm scared. What’s on the other side?"
E hesitates, a ghost of uncertainty flickering over their face. "Nobody tells us. I’m just here to escort you. But I promise it's not scary in the slightest."
Percy exhales, staring into the glow. "Looks peaceful."
"Usually is," E says. "Except for the screamers."
All three of them spun around, alarmed.
E blinks, realizing what they said. "Kidding. I was kidding." They rubbed their face. "Sorry. Still learning tone and bedside manner."
Pearson gave a weak laugh. "You need practice, intern."
"Yeah," E says dryly. "I'm working on it."
The boys chuckle, real laughter this time, though it's cracks around the edges.
Even in death, they couldn’t resist teasing.
Then it got quiet again.
Ewing looks at the light and then back at his crew. "Feels wrong to leave it all behind."
Percy shook his head. "Ain’t nothing left to leave."
Ewing turns to him. "Lex is still there. Patrick too."
Percy nods, smiling faintly. "Yeah. But she’s got someone new now. Got me… just not me. A piece of me, and Patrick, he's a fighter."
E glances up, soft voiced. "You’ll be proud of her, when you see her again."
Percy’s eyes glimmers. "Yeah. I already am."
Pearson kicks a rock that didn’t quite hit the ground, it just passes through it. "Patrick’s gonna forget us."
"No," E says. "He’ll heal. That’s not the same thing."
Pearson looks up, searching their face. "You talk like you know what that means."
E smiles, sad and knowing. "First day on the job doesn’t mean first day being human."
That lands heavier than any of them expected.
The fog shifts, the light getting closer now, like it's leaning in.
Ewing feels the pull of it in his chest, soft and steady, like a magnet made of memory.
"You’ll feel that," E says quietly. "It’s not trying to take you. It’s just… calling you home."
Ewing glances over at the others. "You guys ready?"
Percy nods. "Yeah."
Pearson hesitates. "Do we… walk or something?"
"Walk’s fine," E says, tucking their hands into their coat pockets. "Or float. Or stumble dramatically. No wrong answers."
Pearson snorts. "Alright then, let’s make it dramatic."
He adjusts his crooked glasses, the last thing tethering him to who he’d been, and steps forward. Percy follows. Then Ewing.
The three of them side by side, just like always.
The Melting Pot. Boys who’d survived everything except the end.
E walks behind them, a silent shadow, the sound of their steps barely there.
Halfway to the light, Percy turns. "Hey, E."
"Yeah?"
"You gonna be alright after this?"
E blinks. "Me?"
"Yeah. You look like you’re about to flunk a test or something."
E smiles faintly. "Maybe. But if I can get you three across, I’ll count it as a pass."
Pearson grins. "Not bad for an intern."
E shook their head. "You don’t even know how much paperwork this is gonna be."
"Then you’ll remember us," Ewing says.
E looks at him, really looks at him, and nods. "Yeah. I think I will."
They reach the edge. The light ripples like water, reflecting the faint outlines of who they’d been, soldiers of the streets, brothers bound by chaos.
E held out a hand. "This is it. One step. Together."
Ewing takes Percy’s hand. Percy grabs Pearson’s. Three linked souls, steady even now.
"You sure it’s safe?" Pearson asks.
"Nope," E says with a grin. "But it’s right."
And somehow, that's enough.
They stepped forward, one by one, but together.
The light swallow them slowly, not violently, just like dawn swallowing the night. Their outlines blur, their laughter echoes once, faint and free.
And just before they vanish, Pearson’s voice drifts back, soft but clear: "Hey, intern… thanks."
E smiles, a real, human smile, and whispers,
"See you on the other side."
Then the light is gone.
The Gray Zone empties. The streetlight flickers once more and went out.
E stands alone on the silent road, clipboard in hand, muttering to no one:
"Not bad for a first job."
They look up at the place where the light had been.
Then down at the next file in the stack. And somewhere far above, in a city that no longer existed, three souls found their peace.