They Say I'm Doomed (But I Feel Fine) 2/5
Title They Say I'm Doomed (But I Feel Fine)
Author bonmoustache
Rating R
Genre horror, romance, angst
Pairing Kurtofsky
Warnings horror fic, so there are copious amounts of gore
Wordcount 29,650
Summary Dave Karofsky has set rules for the apocalypse, so when it actually arrives, he's sure he can handle it. His family dead and Lima in ruins, Dave sets out in search of other survivors but finds only CJ, a local college student, and an old skeleton from his closet: Kurt Hummel, back in town for god-knows-what reasons. As they cross the country in search of shelter and other survivors, Dave learns that his rules may not be entirely accurate, and that in order to survive, one must learn to trust; sometimes, even love.
Part Two
Dave's watch told him it was just approaching dawn, but it was still dark as night outside. He let out a sigh and drummed his fingers absently against the steering wheel, the crackle-hiss of the radio the only sound breaking the unearthly silence. In the passenger seat, CJ fiddled with the knobs of the radio. He'd been doing so for the past hour, searching for a signal, and though the sound of static was beginning to annoy Dave, he said nothing. Better to be annoyed and get a signal eventually, than to miss their chance at a rendezvous just because he couldn't handle a little white noise. In the backseat, Kurt slept, curled up on himself. It didn't look like a very comfortable position to sleep, but probably much more comfortable than the position Dave had himself been in not too long before during Kurt's shift at the wheel. He was crammed tight in a little ball, head pressed against the door, and - to Dave's surprise - asleep like a log. How he could sleep like that boggled Dave's mind. During his own siesta, he'd been tossing and turning, and now his neck was sore and his mind foggy with sleep.
"So, what's the deal with you and Kurt?" CJ suddenly asked, pausing in his quest for a radio signal.
The question surprised Dave. "What?"
"You and Kurt," CJ repeated, fixing his gaze on Dave. "You obviously have... well, something going on."
"It's nothing," Dave replied quickly. "It's in the past, doesn't matter now."
"Forgive me if you will, but it kind of does, seeing as now I'm the only stranger here." CJ shrugged. "I'd just like to know if I'm going to have to break up any fights down the road."
Dave sighed. "Let's just say I was kind of a dick a while back, and he got the brunt of it."
"You have a crush on him?"
That caught Dave off-guard. He inhaled sharply, saliva flying into the back of his throat and choking him. He exploded in a fit of coughs. When he finally managed to regain his composure, he turned to CJ bewildered. "The fuck, man?"
CJ shrugged, though his nonchalant expression was also clouded with concern. "I'm not blind, you know," he said. "I've been watching you guys. The way you look at him? Were you guys like, together or something?"
"No! No, nothing like that! Jesus, man, what the fuck!"
"So, you do have a crush on him?"
"No!"
CJ raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His skeptical look said it all.
For a moment they stared at each other: Dave, replaying the memories of the day since they'd met Kurt to see where he'd slipped up and let his real feelings show; CJ, waiting for Dave's confession.
"I don't," Dave said, voice hard and final. "No more questions."
CJ rolled his eyes but returned to his seat. "Alright," he said slowly.
They rode the rest of the way in absolute silence.
**
They tried to drive through Cincinnati. It was only a few hours away, after all, and being a major city center, they were sure there'd be something left.
Cincinnati had been destroyed. Something very large and very heavy had made its way through the city. They drove down the main roads and through residential areas, CJ steering the car as gingerly as he could through the tangle of crashed cars and the debris of broken, fallen buildings. Not a single human soul in sight and hardly any movement. Occasionally, from the corner of their eye, they'd see something flicker. Perhaps a creature, or a distant-burning fire.
It wasn't the destruction that surprised them, though. No, what surprised them most of all was the complete lack of corpses.
"What is happening?" Kurt had asked from the passenger seat. It was a rhetorical question. Dave pressed his face to the side window of the truck's back seat and watched the crumbling buildings pass, the bricks and concrete stained with soot.
**
He was supposed to be sleeping, but he couldn't. The truck rumbling beneath him as they drove down the highways was soothing enough, but he was too big for the backseat of the cab. He could barely even turn his head in the cramped space. Still, it was a quieter, smoother ride than in the bed of the truck, so he couldn't complain too much.
It wasn't just the lack of comfort that woke him up, though. It was the low voices in the front seats that initially stirred him. He wasn't prone to eavesdropping, but he had heard his name mentioned in the conversation and the curiosity was too great to ignore.
"We have a bit of a history," Kurt was saying. Dave couldn't see him, could only see the fabric of the seat he lay on. He breathed as quietly as possible.
"Do tell," CJ said quietly. "Just keep talking. Keep me awake."
Kurt sighed. "In high school, he was a real asshole."
"Yeah, he mentioned that."
"As he should have. He treated me like shit." A sigh. "I mean, everyone treated me like shit at some point or another, but he was really the worst of it. He used to be physically violent and intimidating--"
"--and he's not now?"
"He's definitely different, believe me." A pause. "For the longest time, I had no idea why. I mean, I think I thought something was up, but I've always been kind of generous, giving people the benefit of the doubt. Some of my bullies became my friends, you know. But it wasn't until he kissed me--"
"He kissed you?" Disbelief. "No shit. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about it much."
"I imagine it's not a good memory for him," Kurt said softly, voice sympathetic. "It wasn't exactly a good moment for me, either."
"So, what happened?"
"I guess I just pushed him too far, you know. When someone is in that much pain, but they don't have the words to let it out... They do something drastic. That was what he did." A lull in the conversation, Kurt collecting his thoughts. "I don't think he's good at showing emotion. I don't think he wants to show emotion. I think he thinks it makes him weaker, that he has to be this tough guy who won't let himself just hurt a little. So he had all this anger, this sadness, this hatred for... for himself, I guess, that he was broadcasting onto me... and he didn't know how else to tell me... so he kissed me."
"Huh."
"And that, I think, was when everything clicked. I mean, things got really sticky after that, and I'm still kind of wary of him, but I understand him. I understand him and I really want to help him. I have ever since that day. I just think about how I would be if I couldn't let my emotions show, and I can't even imagine it. I don't know how he does it."
"He's pretty good at it, huh?"
"Yeah. Thing is, I know he wants to let it out. And he should. But he's not going to, I don't think, not for a while anyway."
"Wow."
"Anyway, that's the story," Kurt said, finality in his voice. "It's... complicated."
"Do you hate him?"
A pause. Dave held his breath.
"No, I don't," came the reply. "It's kind of the opposite, actually. I don't even know how I feel about him, other than I just... really want to help him. I've been where he is, you know. It's not me that he wanted to hurt, it was himself. I was just the closest manifestation of everything he hated inside himself."
"Dave Karofsky," CJ murmured, voice strangely awed. "You really are one of those mysterious types, aren't you?"
"Not mysterious," Kurt clarified. "Just scared."
"You really have him all figured out, don't you?"
"No, not even close. He still does things that surprise me. But I think I understand where he's coming from." He paused again. "I forgive him," he said quietly, almost whispering. "My contempt is nothing compared to the contempt he feels for himself. I couldn't hurt him half as badly as he is hurting himself. I just wish he'd let people help him."
"Good luck with that," CJ snorted. Kurt made an agreeable noise and the conversation ended, leaving Dave to stare at the back of the seats, his brain tangling his thoughts together like cat's cradle, leaving him to unravel it all himself.
**
The sound of crunching bones jolted Dave awake. They were camped in the truck bed, the three of them crammed in there head-to-feet like sardines in a can. The truck's cab offered sufficient shelter, but it was small and cramped. Not the most comfortable place to sleep, but they hadn't found any better alternatives. The houses they'd passed had either been infested or crumbling; avoid the cities, the neighborhoods, take shelter in the country. That had been the plan since they'd left Lima.
It took Dave a few moments to realize the noises he'd heard were in his head. He didn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, which was a blessing. He could do without the nightmares. They'd seen too many things now, watched too many people fall victim to the gnashing teeth and sharp talons of the creatures as they fed. It was better that he could only remember his nightmares as fuzzy images in the back of his head, like a movie he'd seen once and only vaguely remembered.
He placed a hand to his head. The dehydration was giving him a near-constant migraine. As he tried, uselessly, to soothe his aching head, he noticed something in the dim light of one of the camping lanterns. On the other side of CJ - who slept like a log, lucky bastard - Kurt's sleeping bag was flat; too flat. For a brief second, panic flew through Dave's blood stream. His stomach fell to his toes. Then he saw it, outside the cab's window, an orange light, a few yards from the truck.
So, there he was, then.
Dave gingerly climbed over CJ, trying his best not to wake him up. His foot grazed CJ's arm as he moved and his companion let out a sleepy, indignant grumble before rolling over and resuming his slumber. Dave spent a brief second wondering how CJ could sleep so soundly at a time like this, then pushed the cab's back window open and climbed out. At the last second, he grabbed one of the camping lanterns. There was always a risk of attracting something, but it was so god damn dark out there. Even so, at least with the camping lantern, they'd be able to see the creatures coming.
Kurt sat in the field, a lit cigarette poised in his hand, staring into the distance. The sky was starless and pitch-dark, the only source of light coming from the cigarette's ember. He seemed not to notice Dave's approach. If he did, he made no sign of it. He'd changed from the blood-stained henley not too long ago and now a thick, oversized fleece shielded him from the cold. Even disheveled and grungy, he maintained a graceful air. It was the performer in him for sure; always so composed, so maintained. Dave didn't know how he managed to hold himself together, when Dave himself was so close to crumbling, held together only by the thin twine of his horror movie theories.
"I didn't know you smoked," Dave said, finally. Kurt's lack of reaction told him that he knew Dave had been standing there the whole time.
"I don't," Kurt replied, even as he lifted the cigarette to take a deep drag. "It's terrible for you. Every time you smoke you lose 11 minutes of your life. Not that 11 minutes matter much in this place." Dave sat down next to him and set the lantern in front of them. He moved to turn it on.
"Don't."
"Why?"
"Look." Kurt gestured to the sky with the lit cigarette.
Dave looked up. Only then did he notice that he could actually see Kurt now, despite the moonless night. The sky was lit with a sort of glow; the whole world was. It wasn't much light, but it was enough to see.
"Huh."
"Something in the atmosphere," Kurt said simply. "It's like moonlight, only, you know, fucked up."
Dave nodded and moved his hands away from the camping lantern. They sat in a neutral sort of silence, not awkward or companionable, just thoughtful. Dave wasn't sure how much time passed. It could have been one minute or one hour for all he knew. It stretched between them, a gulf he could not cross.
He snuck a glance at Kurt. He'd be lying if he said he didn't still feel a pull to him. The other boy had a weird effect on Dave, made him feel both amazing and terrible at the same time. He was intimidated by the other's presence, and yet constantly yearned for it.
It had been a long time since they'd last reunited. Kurt had switched schools, then gone off to college. Dave had kept tabs on him on Facebook, via sparse status updates (Finn Hudson is so proud of his brother for getting a part in RENT!) and what he could glean through casual perusing. He'd gotten himself a boyfriend - Rick, was it? - and then chased his dreams through the grungy streets of New York. Dave had stayed at home, working for a local diner, taking classes part time at the community college; they lived in two worlds, completely separated. And they were better off that way. Now their worlds had collided, and they were no longer living their own experiences, but a shared one. The three of them - Dave, CJ, Kurt - were now inexplicably intertwined.
"Can I ask you something?" Dave asked. The silence that had divided them shattered; Dave's voice sounded so loud in the darkness that it almost felt like he'd shouted it.
"Sure," Kurt said. Dave was a little taken aback by this, by the ease of Kurt's reply. Sure, they were in this together, but Dave hadn't expected Kurt to let his guard down so easy. Now the other boy's face was still carefully shuttered, but he was willing to answer whatever question Dave had.
"Why were you in town? Aren't you supposed to be in New York?"
Dave knew this was a personal question when Kurt turned to look back out into the field and took a drag from his cigarette. The pungent smoke curled into the air and dissipated slowly into the ethereal glow, came from Kurt's lips like a waterfall when he finally spoke.
"Things didn't work out." Dave opened his mouth to ask more, but Kurt cut him off: "What about you?"
"Huh?"
"Well, weren't you supposed to be some huge football-hockey-whatever prodigy?" Kurt looked at him now. "What happened to that?"
Dave sighed, leaning back on his hands. "Things didn't work out," he parroted, as if this answer would suffice. He knew Kurt had so many questions now, and he had a series of his own, so many he wanted to ask.
"You go first," Kurt said softly. When Dave looked up at him, his eyes were soft and honest, guarded but earnest.
Dave shrugged. "Not much to tell, really." He looked down at his knees, away from Kurt. "Things just kind of fell to shit senior year. Family problems, you know. I lost my scholarships and we couldn't afford college by ourselves, so I had to put those aside, start doing something else. When this all started I was working at Statton's, bussing tables and washing dishes, and going to classes at the community college." He cocked his head, thinking. "I would have liked to go to Ohio State," he said wistfully. "But, you know."
"Yeah," Kurt sympathized. He sounded like he meant it. Dave couldn't find it in him to look up now. He didn't want to see Kurt's face, the pity or the sympathy or whatever. He didn't want to see it and feel like a fucking moron like he had in high school, didn't want to jeopardize the group, or himself, any more than he already had by asking questions.
"What's your story?" he asked, taking his mind off the thoughts. He began to pull blades of grass from the field, just to give his hands something to do, to occupy his gaze and focus on something else to remove the temptation to look up at Kurt. "You were doing pretty well in New York, weren't you?"
"How do you know?" Kurt asked. The sound of his voice was playful, but Dave looked up anyway. "Do some Facebook stalking?"
"No! No, that's not--"
"Relax, Dave. You're not the only one here guilty of keeping track of people they have a history with." Kurt smiled then, genuinely. Dave gulped, unable to look away from Kurt in that moment. Had Kurt been keeping an eye on Dave, too? That meant... Dave didn't know what it meant. Didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but there it was. Suddenly he was a lot more nervous, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly why, or why his heart suddenly skipped a little beat.
"First semester was great," Kurt said, looking away. "Met a nice boy, got the lead in the school musical." He scoffed. "I should have known it was too good to be true. Second semester was just a total shitstorm. That's the only way to put it. The boyfriend cheated on me, I failed my calculus class; I couldn't handle the pressure. All these things just kept piling up. Halfway through the second semester I had this complete mental breakdown, so I came home to 'catch my breath,' so to speak." He shook his head sadly. "Some break, huh? I leave one disaster to come home to an even bigger one."
"Tough shit, man."
"Tell me about it."
The silence returned but didn't feel so distant this time. It was like they'd built this little bridge, spanning the crevasse between them. It was rickety, and delicate, but it was there.
They sat there until Dave's watch alarm went off at what was supposed to be six in the morning and set off on the road again.
**
Neither of them mentioned it, but they kept doing it, sitting out at night - or day, or whenever they camped - and just sitting there in silence. Occasionally, they'd say something, but the quiet was a welcome change. It was a controlled quiet, one they could easily remove, unlike the unnatural silence that now covered the world like a thick blanket. The silence they kept between them was like a stepping stone, letting them bridge the gap.
They continued driving, scavenging what they could. They didn't encounter many survivors, just creatures. There seemed to be more of them than in the beginning and they came in all shapes and sizes now, slithering and sliding and crawling along the streets of the neighborhoods they found.
CJ wound up being one of the things that kept them sane. He kept a cool head most of the time, but also told a mean joke. Around the campfires after rough fights, he would tell a few bad puns and get Kurt and Dave to crack smiles. Sometimes Kurt would double over with laughter at the stories CJ told, anecdotes about his family, shenanigans from their school days. They all steadfastly ignored the knowledge that those times may be gone forever. Now they just appreciated the rare opportunities they could get to smile.
Dave liked them well enough but there was a well inside him, deep and dark. He felt trapped at the bottom of it, fallen down and unable to climb back up. He felt very lonely, lonely and cold.
Such was the feeling during the apocalypse. Loneliness was all part of the packaged deal. You wanna survive, you gotta be lonely. You gotta be brave.
Sometimes he wanted to crack. When they shared stories that made them sad, when CJ lost that sparkle in his eye and stared into the flame with his eyes glazed over and glassy as he reminisced about the people he'd lost; when Kurt bit back tears as he recalled his family over dinner, the release cathartic; Dave wanted to join in. He wanted to tell them everything that he was feeling, but he kept himself on a short leash. When they asked questions, he answered them as succinctly and as clinically as possible.
If either CJ or Kurt had a problem with that, they didn't say anything. Still, Dave didn't miss the way Kurt looked at him when he thought he wasn't looking: eyes concerned, brow furrowed in confusion, studying Dave with a sad expression. And then one night, he leaned over to him, put a hand on top of his, and said, "You are allowed to cry, you know."
He didn't say anything in response. He got up and walked away instead.
**
They first encountered The Horror in Lake Forest, Illinois, just outside Chicago in a cul-de-sac on a tree-lined street. The Horror had been a nickname to come naturally; they had no other way to refer to it, so they called it The Horror.
They'd stopped off to make a quick supply run and check nearby houses. They'd made it a habit, ever since passing through Indianapolis and realizing they needed more gas. They searched high and low in each city and had just happened to stop by the neighborhood in the Chicago area.
It had been CJ who had noticed it first, a large shape hunched over something and very clearly moving. He'd drawn Dave's attention quietly and pointed at the strange figure, speaking in a hushed voice.
"Think it's human?"
"No way," Dave replied. Its skin was hairless and jaundiced and a smell like rotting meat was emanating from it. It made Dave gag a little. "It... looks like it's eating."
"It hasn't spotted us yet," Kurt piped up. He was still carrying his board around, though now it was more doused in blood and splintering. He needed a new weapon, that was part of this mission, and so he was hanging back just in case his weapon broke. Now he stood directly behind Dave and CJ, between their shoulders, watching the shape shift and jerk above the corpse.
"Shh," Dave said, creeping forward. He unlocked the safety on the pistol and raised it.
Suddenly the creature leapt up and moved away. As it stood, two large wings unfolded from its back, though calling them wings was a rather generous term; they were more like the skin flaps of a flying squirrel, veiny and translucent. The corpse of the young girl it had been "feeding" on lay still for only half a second before something began.
It started with a twitch of a finger. The girl's arm jerked suddenly, and then her whole body began to rotate. Her head rolled back, bones snapping into place, and from her shoulders two large, sharp claws emerged, curling like the legs of a spider, touching the ground with a click like nails on wood. Her limbs elongated and she let out a low, gurgling groan, twitching as she rose from the dead. Even as she transformed, she maintained a semblance of humanity: a bracelet dangled from her wrist; she still had ten fingers.
And when it was all over, she turned and looked straight at them with black eyes and smiled. Then she wasn't human anymore.
In the span it took for her to transform, The Horror had moved on to the next corpse in the vicinity and the corpse it had been transforming was beginning to shift.
"What the fuck!" Kurt exclaimed.
"Shit, move," Dave said, pushing Kurt back and snagging CJ with the crook of his elbow. "We gotta move, now."
"What?"
"That thing is making the bodies of people into other creatures. We're fucked if we stay here, look how many corpses are lying around!"
The girl-creature rushed at them, moving inhumanly fast, and Dave fired a blast right between her eyes. That got The Horror's attention. It turned its ghastly head to look straight at them and then began to move towards them as the bodies around it began to rise.
"Jesus, I've never seen so many of them!" CJ shouted. "We gotta get out of here!" With that, the boy turned and began to sprint back towards the truck parked at the end of the block.
The Horror leapt forward, reaching one hand out towards Kurt, and Dave grabbed the other boy's arm and threw him behind him, pushing him to run away. Dave fired the gun multiple times, piercing The Horror's body, but it kept coming.
"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE, DAVE?! RUN!" Kurt shouted from somewhere behind him, and The Horror wrapped one claw around Dave's ankle. Dave popped another shot, right into its wrist, and The Horror's grip released instantly, allowing Dave enough time to scramble away. Kurt grabbed his hand and they bolted towards the truck. By that point, CJ had started the truck and The Horror was chasing them, galloping behind them, and as CJ pulled away from the curb, Kurt leapt into the truck. He held out his hand and Dave took it, held on tight as the other boy hauled him up into the bed as The Horror's ghastly claws once again stretched towards them. They sped off, leaving it in the dust.
Dave watched the cul-de-sac in Lake Forest disappear into the distance, listening to the screams of dying people and the snickering whispers of The Horror and its friends.
**
That night they set up a campfire just next to the truck bed. Above it, potatoes on skewers roasted unevenly; a wire grill held up a can of Spaghetti-Os, to share. Their vegetable supplies were running low, and they had thrown "conservation" to the wind when one of the potatoes had sprouted what looked like a full plant. Now they were cooking the last of them above the crackling fire.
No one said a word, each of them reflecting in the events of the day. The Horror stayed in Dave's mind, the horridness of the creature and what it did to human beings. Turning little girls, mothers, brothers into hideous, blood-thirsty monsters. He knew they were all thinking the same thing: Did this happen to them, to the people we thought died in Lima? He couldn't bear the thought of his parents rising and roaming the streets as inhuman, unearthly creatures. It filled him with a sadness he couldn't articulate, a type of distress that dug through his very body and down his stomach.
The silence was broken by a wail. CJ had begun to sing, the first noise any of them had made since Lake Forest.
O, Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?
Well, what is this, that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me...
Well, I am Death, none can excel;
I'll open the door to Heaven or Hell...
CJ sang and Dave and Kurt listened. The fire popped between them all, warming their limbs, distracting him so that Dave almost missed the way Kurt's hand suddenly grabbed his in the light of the flame. They ate their meals in silence, the only background noise the gentle roar of the fire and CJ, singing his sorrow into the darkness.
Part Three
Author bonmoustache
Rating R
Genre horror, romance, angst
Pairing Kurtofsky
Warnings horror fic, so there are copious amounts of gore
Wordcount 29,650
Summary Dave Karofsky has set rules for the apocalypse, so when it actually arrives, he's sure he can handle it. His family dead and Lima in ruins, Dave sets out in search of other survivors but finds only CJ, a local college student, and an old skeleton from his closet: Kurt Hummel, back in town for god-knows-what reasons. As they cross the country in search of shelter and other survivors, Dave learns that his rules may not be entirely accurate, and that in order to survive, one must learn to trust; sometimes, even love.
Part Two
Dave's watch told him it was just approaching dawn, but it was still dark as night outside. He let out a sigh and drummed his fingers absently against the steering wheel, the crackle-hiss of the radio the only sound breaking the unearthly silence. In the passenger seat, CJ fiddled with the knobs of the radio. He'd been doing so for the past hour, searching for a signal, and though the sound of static was beginning to annoy Dave, he said nothing. Better to be annoyed and get a signal eventually, than to miss their chance at a rendezvous just because he couldn't handle a little white noise. In the backseat, Kurt slept, curled up on himself. It didn't look like a very comfortable position to sleep, but probably much more comfortable than the position Dave had himself been in not too long before during Kurt's shift at the wheel. He was crammed tight in a little ball, head pressed against the door, and - to Dave's surprise - asleep like a log. How he could sleep like that boggled Dave's mind. During his own siesta, he'd been tossing and turning, and now his neck was sore and his mind foggy with sleep.
"So, what's the deal with you and Kurt?" CJ suddenly asked, pausing in his quest for a radio signal.
The question surprised Dave. "What?"
"You and Kurt," CJ repeated, fixing his gaze on Dave. "You obviously have... well, something going on."
"It's nothing," Dave replied quickly. "It's in the past, doesn't matter now."
"Forgive me if you will, but it kind of does, seeing as now I'm the only stranger here." CJ shrugged. "I'd just like to know if I'm going to have to break up any fights down the road."
Dave sighed. "Let's just say I was kind of a dick a while back, and he got the brunt of it."
"You have a crush on him?"
That caught Dave off-guard. He inhaled sharply, saliva flying into the back of his throat and choking him. He exploded in a fit of coughs. When he finally managed to regain his composure, he turned to CJ bewildered. "The fuck, man?"
CJ shrugged, though his nonchalant expression was also clouded with concern. "I'm not blind, you know," he said. "I've been watching you guys. The way you look at him? Were you guys like, together or something?"
"No! No, nothing like that! Jesus, man, what the fuck!"
"So, you do have a crush on him?"
"No!"
CJ raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His skeptical look said it all.
For a moment they stared at each other: Dave, replaying the memories of the day since they'd met Kurt to see where he'd slipped up and let his real feelings show; CJ, waiting for Dave's confession.
"I don't," Dave said, voice hard and final. "No more questions."
CJ rolled his eyes but returned to his seat. "Alright," he said slowly.
They rode the rest of the way in absolute silence.
**
They tried to drive through Cincinnati. It was only a few hours away, after all, and being a major city center, they were sure there'd be something left.
Cincinnati had been destroyed. Something very large and very heavy had made its way through the city. They drove down the main roads and through residential areas, CJ steering the car as gingerly as he could through the tangle of crashed cars and the debris of broken, fallen buildings. Not a single human soul in sight and hardly any movement. Occasionally, from the corner of their eye, they'd see something flicker. Perhaps a creature, or a distant-burning fire.
It wasn't the destruction that surprised them, though. No, what surprised them most of all was the complete lack of corpses.
"What is happening?" Kurt had asked from the passenger seat. It was a rhetorical question. Dave pressed his face to the side window of the truck's back seat and watched the crumbling buildings pass, the bricks and concrete stained with soot.
**
He was supposed to be sleeping, but he couldn't. The truck rumbling beneath him as they drove down the highways was soothing enough, but he was too big for the backseat of the cab. He could barely even turn his head in the cramped space. Still, it was a quieter, smoother ride than in the bed of the truck, so he couldn't complain too much.
It wasn't just the lack of comfort that woke him up, though. It was the low voices in the front seats that initially stirred him. He wasn't prone to eavesdropping, but he had heard his name mentioned in the conversation and the curiosity was too great to ignore.
"We have a bit of a history," Kurt was saying. Dave couldn't see him, could only see the fabric of the seat he lay on. He breathed as quietly as possible.
"Do tell," CJ said quietly. "Just keep talking. Keep me awake."
Kurt sighed. "In high school, he was a real asshole."
"Yeah, he mentioned that."
"As he should have. He treated me like shit." A sigh. "I mean, everyone treated me like shit at some point or another, but he was really the worst of it. He used to be physically violent and intimidating--"
"--and he's not now?"
"He's definitely different, believe me." A pause. "For the longest time, I had no idea why. I mean, I think I thought something was up, but I've always been kind of generous, giving people the benefit of the doubt. Some of my bullies became my friends, you know. But it wasn't until he kissed me--"
"He kissed you?" Disbelief. "No shit. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about it much."
"I imagine it's not a good memory for him," Kurt said softly, voice sympathetic. "It wasn't exactly a good moment for me, either."
"So, what happened?"
"I guess I just pushed him too far, you know. When someone is in that much pain, but they don't have the words to let it out... They do something drastic. That was what he did." A lull in the conversation, Kurt collecting his thoughts. "I don't think he's good at showing emotion. I don't think he wants to show emotion. I think he thinks it makes him weaker, that he has to be this tough guy who won't let himself just hurt a little. So he had all this anger, this sadness, this hatred for... for himself, I guess, that he was broadcasting onto me... and he didn't know how else to tell me... so he kissed me."
"Huh."
"And that, I think, was when everything clicked. I mean, things got really sticky after that, and I'm still kind of wary of him, but I understand him. I understand him and I really want to help him. I have ever since that day. I just think about how I would be if I couldn't let my emotions show, and I can't even imagine it. I don't know how he does it."
"He's pretty good at it, huh?"
"Yeah. Thing is, I know he wants to let it out. And he should. But he's not going to, I don't think, not for a while anyway."
"Wow."
"Anyway, that's the story," Kurt said, finality in his voice. "It's... complicated."
"Do you hate him?"
A pause. Dave held his breath.
"No, I don't," came the reply. "It's kind of the opposite, actually. I don't even know how I feel about him, other than I just... really want to help him. I've been where he is, you know. It's not me that he wanted to hurt, it was himself. I was just the closest manifestation of everything he hated inside himself."
"Dave Karofsky," CJ murmured, voice strangely awed. "You really are one of those mysterious types, aren't you?"
"Not mysterious," Kurt clarified. "Just scared."
"You really have him all figured out, don't you?"
"No, not even close. He still does things that surprise me. But I think I understand where he's coming from." He paused again. "I forgive him," he said quietly, almost whispering. "My contempt is nothing compared to the contempt he feels for himself. I couldn't hurt him half as badly as he is hurting himself. I just wish he'd let people help him."
"Good luck with that," CJ snorted. Kurt made an agreeable noise and the conversation ended, leaving Dave to stare at the back of the seats, his brain tangling his thoughts together like cat's cradle, leaving him to unravel it all himself.
**
The sound of crunching bones jolted Dave awake. They were camped in the truck bed, the three of them crammed in there head-to-feet like sardines in a can. The truck's cab offered sufficient shelter, but it was small and cramped. Not the most comfortable place to sleep, but they hadn't found any better alternatives. The houses they'd passed had either been infested or crumbling; avoid the cities, the neighborhoods, take shelter in the country. That had been the plan since they'd left Lima.
It took Dave a few moments to realize the noises he'd heard were in his head. He didn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, which was a blessing. He could do without the nightmares. They'd seen too many things now, watched too many people fall victim to the gnashing teeth and sharp talons of the creatures as they fed. It was better that he could only remember his nightmares as fuzzy images in the back of his head, like a movie he'd seen once and only vaguely remembered.
He placed a hand to his head. The dehydration was giving him a near-constant migraine. As he tried, uselessly, to soothe his aching head, he noticed something in the dim light of one of the camping lanterns. On the other side of CJ - who slept like a log, lucky bastard - Kurt's sleeping bag was flat; too flat. For a brief second, panic flew through Dave's blood stream. His stomach fell to his toes. Then he saw it, outside the cab's window, an orange light, a few yards from the truck.
So, there he was, then.
Dave gingerly climbed over CJ, trying his best not to wake him up. His foot grazed CJ's arm as he moved and his companion let out a sleepy, indignant grumble before rolling over and resuming his slumber. Dave spent a brief second wondering how CJ could sleep so soundly at a time like this, then pushed the cab's back window open and climbed out. At the last second, he grabbed one of the camping lanterns. There was always a risk of attracting something, but it was so god damn dark out there. Even so, at least with the camping lantern, they'd be able to see the creatures coming.
Kurt sat in the field, a lit cigarette poised in his hand, staring into the distance. The sky was starless and pitch-dark, the only source of light coming from the cigarette's ember. He seemed not to notice Dave's approach. If he did, he made no sign of it. He'd changed from the blood-stained henley not too long ago and now a thick, oversized fleece shielded him from the cold. Even disheveled and grungy, he maintained a graceful air. It was the performer in him for sure; always so composed, so maintained. Dave didn't know how he managed to hold himself together, when Dave himself was so close to crumbling, held together only by the thin twine of his horror movie theories.
"I didn't know you smoked," Dave said, finally. Kurt's lack of reaction told him that he knew Dave had been standing there the whole time.
"I don't," Kurt replied, even as he lifted the cigarette to take a deep drag. "It's terrible for you. Every time you smoke you lose 11 minutes of your life. Not that 11 minutes matter much in this place." Dave sat down next to him and set the lantern in front of them. He moved to turn it on.
"Don't."
"Why?"
"Look." Kurt gestured to the sky with the lit cigarette.
Dave looked up. Only then did he notice that he could actually see Kurt now, despite the moonless night. The sky was lit with a sort of glow; the whole world was. It wasn't much light, but it was enough to see.
"Huh."
"Something in the atmosphere," Kurt said simply. "It's like moonlight, only, you know, fucked up."
Dave nodded and moved his hands away from the camping lantern. They sat in a neutral sort of silence, not awkward or companionable, just thoughtful. Dave wasn't sure how much time passed. It could have been one minute or one hour for all he knew. It stretched between them, a gulf he could not cross.
He snuck a glance at Kurt. He'd be lying if he said he didn't still feel a pull to him. The other boy had a weird effect on Dave, made him feel both amazing and terrible at the same time. He was intimidated by the other's presence, and yet constantly yearned for it.
It had been a long time since they'd last reunited. Kurt had switched schools, then gone off to college. Dave had kept tabs on him on Facebook, via sparse status updates (Finn Hudson is so proud of his brother for getting a part in RENT!) and what he could glean through casual perusing. He'd gotten himself a boyfriend - Rick, was it? - and then chased his dreams through the grungy streets of New York. Dave had stayed at home, working for a local diner, taking classes part time at the community college; they lived in two worlds, completely separated. And they were better off that way. Now their worlds had collided, and they were no longer living their own experiences, but a shared one. The three of them - Dave, CJ, Kurt - were now inexplicably intertwined.
"Can I ask you something?" Dave asked. The silence that had divided them shattered; Dave's voice sounded so loud in the darkness that it almost felt like he'd shouted it.
"Sure," Kurt said. Dave was a little taken aback by this, by the ease of Kurt's reply. Sure, they were in this together, but Dave hadn't expected Kurt to let his guard down so easy. Now the other boy's face was still carefully shuttered, but he was willing to answer whatever question Dave had.
"Why were you in town? Aren't you supposed to be in New York?"
Dave knew this was a personal question when Kurt turned to look back out into the field and took a drag from his cigarette. The pungent smoke curled into the air and dissipated slowly into the ethereal glow, came from Kurt's lips like a waterfall when he finally spoke.
"Things didn't work out." Dave opened his mouth to ask more, but Kurt cut him off: "What about you?"
"Huh?"
"Well, weren't you supposed to be some huge football-hockey-whatever prodigy?" Kurt looked at him now. "What happened to that?"
Dave sighed, leaning back on his hands. "Things didn't work out," he parroted, as if this answer would suffice. He knew Kurt had so many questions now, and he had a series of his own, so many he wanted to ask.
"You go first," Kurt said softly. When Dave looked up at him, his eyes were soft and honest, guarded but earnest.
Dave shrugged. "Not much to tell, really." He looked down at his knees, away from Kurt. "Things just kind of fell to shit senior year. Family problems, you know. I lost my scholarships and we couldn't afford college by ourselves, so I had to put those aside, start doing something else. When this all started I was working at Statton's, bussing tables and washing dishes, and going to classes at the community college." He cocked his head, thinking. "I would have liked to go to Ohio State," he said wistfully. "But, you know."
"Yeah," Kurt sympathized. He sounded like he meant it. Dave couldn't find it in him to look up now. He didn't want to see Kurt's face, the pity or the sympathy or whatever. He didn't want to see it and feel like a fucking moron like he had in high school, didn't want to jeopardize the group, or himself, any more than he already had by asking questions.
"What's your story?" he asked, taking his mind off the thoughts. He began to pull blades of grass from the field, just to give his hands something to do, to occupy his gaze and focus on something else to remove the temptation to look up at Kurt. "You were doing pretty well in New York, weren't you?"
"How do you know?" Kurt asked. The sound of his voice was playful, but Dave looked up anyway. "Do some Facebook stalking?"
"No! No, that's not--"
"Relax, Dave. You're not the only one here guilty of keeping track of people they have a history with." Kurt smiled then, genuinely. Dave gulped, unable to look away from Kurt in that moment. Had Kurt been keeping an eye on Dave, too? That meant... Dave didn't know what it meant. Didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but there it was. Suddenly he was a lot more nervous, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly why, or why his heart suddenly skipped a little beat.
"First semester was great," Kurt said, looking away. "Met a nice boy, got the lead in the school musical." He scoffed. "I should have known it was too good to be true. Second semester was just a total shitstorm. That's the only way to put it. The boyfriend cheated on me, I failed my calculus class; I couldn't handle the pressure. All these things just kept piling up. Halfway through the second semester I had this complete mental breakdown, so I came home to 'catch my breath,' so to speak." He shook his head sadly. "Some break, huh? I leave one disaster to come home to an even bigger one."
"Tough shit, man."
"Tell me about it."
The silence returned but didn't feel so distant this time. It was like they'd built this little bridge, spanning the crevasse between them. It was rickety, and delicate, but it was there.
They sat there until Dave's watch alarm went off at what was supposed to be six in the morning and set off on the road again.
**
Neither of them mentioned it, but they kept doing it, sitting out at night - or day, or whenever they camped - and just sitting there in silence. Occasionally, they'd say something, but the quiet was a welcome change. It was a controlled quiet, one they could easily remove, unlike the unnatural silence that now covered the world like a thick blanket. The silence they kept between them was like a stepping stone, letting them bridge the gap.
They continued driving, scavenging what they could. They didn't encounter many survivors, just creatures. There seemed to be more of them than in the beginning and they came in all shapes and sizes now, slithering and sliding and crawling along the streets of the neighborhoods they found.
CJ wound up being one of the things that kept them sane. He kept a cool head most of the time, but also told a mean joke. Around the campfires after rough fights, he would tell a few bad puns and get Kurt and Dave to crack smiles. Sometimes Kurt would double over with laughter at the stories CJ told, anecdotes about his family, shenanigans from their school days. They all steadfastly ignored the knowledge that those times may be gone forever. Now they just appreciated the rare opportunities they could get to smile.
Dave liked them well enough but there was a well inside him, deep and dark. He felt trapped at the bottom of it, fallen down and unable to climb back up. He felt very lonely, lonely and cold.
Such was the feeling during the apocalypse. Loneliness was all part of the packaged deal. You wanna survive, you gotta be lonely. You gotta be brave.
Sometimes he wanted to crack. When they shared stories that made them sad, when CJ lost that sparkle in his eye and stared into the flame with his eyes glazed over and glassy as he reminisced about the people he'd lost; when Kurt bit back tears as he recalled his family over dinner, the release cathartic; Dave wanted to join in. He wanted to tell them everything that he was feeling, but he kept himself on a short leash. When they asked questions, he answered them as succinctly and as clinically as possible.
If either CJ or Kurt had a problem with that, they didn't say anything. Still, Dave didn't miss the way Kurt looked at him when he thought he wasn't looking: eyes concerned, brow furrowed in confusion, studying Dave with a sad expression. And then one night, he leaned over to him, put a hand on top of his, and said, "You are allowed to cry, you know."
He didn't say anything in response. He got up and walked away instead.
**
They first encountered The Horror in Lake Forest, Illinois, just outside Chicago in a cul-de-sac on a tree-lined street. The Horror had been a nickname to come naturally; they had no other way to refer to it, so they called it The Horror.
They'd stopped off to make a quick supply run and check nearby houses. They'd made it a habit, ever since passing through Indianapolis and realizing they needed more gas. They searched high and low in each city and had just happened to stop by the neighborhood in the Chicago area.
It had been CJ who had noticed it first, a large shape hunched over something and very clearly moving. He'd drawn Dave's attention quietly and pointed at the strange figure, speaking in a hushed voice.
"Think it's human?"
"No way," Dave replied. Its skin was hairless and jaundiced and a smell like rotting meat was emanating from it. It made Dave gag a little. "It... looks like it's eating."
"It hasn't spotted us yet," Kurt piped up. He was still carrying his board around, though now it was more doused in blood and splintering. He needed a new weapon, that was part of this mission, and so he was hanging back just in case his weapon broke. Now he stood directly behind Dave and CJ, between their shoulders, watching the shape shift and jerk above the corpse.
"Shh," Dave said, creeping forward. He unlocked the safety on the pistol and raised it.
Suddenly the creature leapt up and moved away. As it stood, two large wings unfolded from its back, though calling them wings was a rather generous term; they were more like the skin flaps of a flying squirrel, veiny and translucent. The corpse of the young girl it had been "feeding" on lay still for only half a second before something began.
It started with a twitch of a finger. The girl's arm jerked suddenly, and then her whole body began to rotate. Her head rolled back, bones snapping into place, and from her shoulders two large, sharp claws emerged, curling like the legs of a spider, touching the ground with a click like nails on wood. Her limbs elongated and she let out a low, gurgling groan, twitching as she rose from the dead. Even as she transformed, she maintained a semblance of humanity: a bracelet dangled from her wrist; she still had ten fingers.
And when it was all over, she turned and looked straight at them with black eyes and smiled. Then she wasn't human anymore.
In the span it took for her to transform, The Horror had moved on to the next corpse in the vicinity and the corpse it had been transforming was beginning to shift.
"What the fuck!" Kurt exclaimed.
"Shit, move," Dave said, pushing Kurt back and snagging CJ with the crook of his elbow. "We gotta move, now."
"What?"
"That thing is making the bodies of people into other creatures. We're fucked if we stay here, look how many corpses are lying around!"
The girl-creature rushed at them, moving inhumanly fast, and Dave fired a blast right between her eyes. That got The Horror's attention. It turned its ghastly head to look straight at them and then began to move towards them as the bodies around it began to rise.
"Jesus, I've never seen so many of them!" CJ shouted. "We gotta get out of here!" With that, the boy turned and began to sprint back towards the truck parked at the end of the block.
The Horror leapt forward, reaching one hand out towards Kurt, and Dave grabbed the other boy's arm and threw him behind him, pushing him to run away. Dave fired the gun multiple times, piercing The Horror's body, but it kept coming.
"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE, DAVE?! RUN!" Kurt shouted from somewhere behind him, and The Horror wrapped one claw around Dave's ankle. Dave popped another shot, right into its wrist, and The Horror's grip released instantly, allowing Dave enough time to scramble away. Kurt grabbed his hand and they bolted towards the truck. By that point, CJ had started the truck and The Horror was chasing them, galloping behind them, and as CJ pulled away from the curb, Kurt leapt into the truck. He held out his hand and Dave took it, held on tight as the other boy hauled him up into the bed as The Horror's ghastly claws once again stretched towards them. They sped off, leaving it in the dust.
Dave watched the cul-de-sac in Lake Forest disappear into the distance, listening to the screams of dying people and the snickering whispers of The Horror and its friends.
**
That night they set up a campfire just next to the truck bed. Above it, potatoes on skewers roasted unevenly; a wire grill held up a can of Spaghetti-Os, to share. Their vegetable supplies were running low, and they had thrown "conservation" to the wind when one of the potatoes had sprouted what looked like a full plant. Now they were cooking the last of them above the crackling fire.
No one said a word, each of them reflecting in the events of the day. The Horror stayed in Dave's mind, the horridness of the creature and what it did to human beings. Turning little girls, mothers, brothers into hideous, blood-thirsty monsters. He knew they were all thinking the same thing: Did this happen to them, to the people we thought died in Lima? He couldn't bear the thought of his parents rising and roaming the streets as inhuman, unearthly creatures. It filled him with a sadness he couldn't articulate, a type of distress that dug through his very body and down his stomach.
The silence was broken by a wail. CJ had begun to sing, the first noise any of them had made since Lake Forest.
O, Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?
Well, what is this, that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me...
Well, I am Death, none can excel;
I'll open the door to Heaven or Hell...
CJ sang and Dave and Kurt listened. The fire popped between them all, warming their limbs, distracting him so that Dave almost missed the way Kurt's hand suddenly grabbed his in the light of the flame. They ate their meals in silence, the only background noise the gentle roar of the fire and CJ, singing his sorrow into the darkness.
Part Three