Chapter Text
“Time to leave!”
Skizz looked up from where he was elbow deep in the engine of a long abandoned car to see Grian skid around the corner of a building. They were dipping into a nearby small town, seeing if there was anything useful to salvage. So far, it had been partially successful, but Grian's appearance didn't bode well.
“What’s up?” Impulse asked, sticking his head out from the corner store he was exploring. Gem peaked her head out behind him.
“Hoard!” Grian cried, stumbled forward and laying his hands on his knees to regain his breath. “Still far away, but heading this way.”
“Uh oh,” Skizz said. “Seems like leaving is a good idea.”
“Hold on a moment,” Impulse said. “G, how far exactly?”
“I saw them from where I was keeping watch,” Grian said. “Maybe…” He flapped a hand in the direction he’d run from. “Ten minutes zombie pace?”
“Is that a technical term?” Gem asked.
“Sure,” Grian said. “I really do think we should leave.”
“We will, you guys start heading back,” Impulse said. “Gem just thought she saw something she needs.” The two of them disappeared back inside and Grian sighed in frustration.
“Guys! We might have trouble approaching.” Scar was standing on top of the roof of the corner store--how he’d got up there, Skizz didn’t know but he’d long since learned not to question things like that. “There’s a hoard coming.”
“We know,” Grian said.
“From that way?” Scar asked, pointing a completely different direction to where Grian had burst from. That was almost the direction they had come from.
“There’s more?” Skizz cried. “Alright--Dipple-dop! Gemstone! We gotta leave, now!”
The last thing he wanted was to get cut off from the van.
“Coming!” Gem rushed out of the building. She was carrying an ancient plastic bag, filled with something that Grian tried to take a peak at. Gem slapped his hands away. “Back off--this is for me, Pearl, and Lizzie.”
“Whyy...?” Grian asked, reaching again for the bag as Gem glared at him. Then realization flashed across his face and he stepped smartly a few steps away. “Oh! Fair enough.”
Gem grinned, then reached into the bag and rummaged for a second.
“I did find this though!” She withdrew faded square of cardboard, its colour dulled with age and a rip along one corner. Grian’s face lit up.
“What is that, let me see,” he demanded, grabbing for it. “Ratatta?! We don’t have this one!”
“I know!” Gem said enthusiastically.
“I can see them!” Scar called from the roof. He was stringing his bow, foot bracing it while he glanced to one side.
“Alright time to go,” Impulse said.
Skizz lead the way while Impulse took up the rear--a familiar order they fell into naturally now. Scar somehow managed to run along the roof of the stretch of shops along the main street of this town they were raiding, bow in hand, keeping pace with them.
For a moment, Skizz thought they might make it. They’d almost reached the end of the street when everything went so very wrong.
There was a hiss-ping sound, and Impulse let out a cry of surprise and pain. Skizz spun instinctively at the noise to see Impulse slammed against the wall of a nearby building by an ancient trap, rusted iron netting pinning him to the wall.
At the same time, a zombie rounded the street in front of them. It caught sight of them and let out the rumbling call that now meant every single zombie in the area knew exactly where they were. The call was cut off a second later by an arrow through its throat, but the damage had been done.
“Guys?” Scar called from above. Skizz rushed to Impulse’s side, tugging at the rope, Gem and Grian beside him.
“Stupid jerk trap,” Skizz muttered under his breath. He pulled out his knife, but the net was constructed mostly of metal and there was no way his small blade would be able to do any damage quickly enough.
Another arrow hissed through the air over them, slamming into the head of a zombie as it shambled into the street. Gem spun around and pulled her machete off her back, stepping forward with hardness in her eyes.
“I’m okay,” Impulse said. He didn’t exactly look okay--he looked very trapped, the mesh of the net digging into the skin on his cheek.
“Don’t worry Dop, I got you,” Skizz said. He examined the net, trying to find a weak point so he could bring the whole thing down. Grian was standing on the windowsill on the other side of the net, peering up at where it was pulled into the darkness off the roof.
The sickening slap of metal digging into half rotten flesh sounded behind them and Skizz glanced in that direction to see Gem spin her weapon, lunging forward at a zombie. Another one was approaching, and dropped with a gurgle from an arrow.
Grian also seemed to notice what was happening and dropped down, pulling his nail bat off his belt.
“Get him out,” he said, face pale as he rushed forward to join Gem.
“You heard him,” Skizz said. He tugged at the net, hoping enough force would cause it to break, as old as it was. Impulse pushed against it, but even their combined effort wasn’t enough.
“Skizz,” Impulse said, and Skizz paused a moment to meet his eyes. Impulse was trying to keep his expression steady, but Skizz knew him well enough to see the fear deep in that look.
“No,” he said.
“I don’t think--”
“No,” Skizz insisted, his heart beginning to beat quickly. He tugged harder, not caring if the metal dug into his fingers, not caring about the uneven, rusted edges. He needed to get Impulse free.
“Guys, I’m running out of arrows!” Scar called from above.
“Skizz,” Impulse repeated.
“No!” Skizz snapped back, tugging harder. He lost his grip and stumbled, flailing back a moment before rushing forward again. Before he could start pulling, Impulse’s hand shifted through the netting and grabbed his wrist.
“Skizz, your exit is getting cut off,” he hissed. “There’s more coming, there’s no way you can fight them all off.”
Skizz could not believe he was having this conversation. There was no way he was having this conversation and no way he was listening to what Impulse was saying.
Gem let out a cry of pain and he flinched, turning to see her stumble back, saved from the snapping teeth of a zombie by Grian’s quick swing of his bat. Impulse squeezed his hand.
“We don’t have time,” he said, and his voice wavered, subtle enough that anyone other that Skizz wouldn’t have noticed. “You need to get them to safety. They won’t leave--you know that.”
“None of us will!” Skizz said, pulling his hands free and tugging again. Impulse grabbed his wrist again, forcing them both to still.
“Get them to safety. They need you,” Impulse said. Someone cried in pain again from behind them and Scar shouted that he was out of arrows and Skizz felt his heart breaking.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. This wasn’t the promise they had made decades ago as the world crumbled around them, sheltering in the band room of the local high-school.
Together--that was their long ago pact.
“I’ll be fine,” Impulse lied.
“Skizz!” Grian shrieked.
Deep inside, Skizz felt something break. A part of his heart was locked away, sealed behind a door he would not be able to open.
He gripped Impulse’s hand and squeezed it, trying to convey decades of friendship, of survival, of brotherhood, trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. Impulse squeezed the hand back and smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Then Skizz turned away and left his best friend behind.
“Time to go!” he yelled, rushing forward and grabbing Gem’s arm. He tugged her out of reach of a zombie and towards the only clear space left before they were surrounded.
“What!” Gem shouted. “No! Impulse!”
“Skizz?” Grian asked, lowering his bat.
“Go!” Impulse shouted. Skizz locked that cry into that place in his heart as well and began tugging a resisting Gem towards safety.
“No!” she shouted, pulling against him. “What are you doing! Impulse! We can’t leave him!”
“Grian, come on!” He couldn’t drag them both out of here. To his relief, Grian followed him, eyes wide and face pale.
“You can’t just leave him!” Gem shrieked in his ear, pulling against him.
“Sorry Gem,” Skizz said. “We gotta go.”
She shouted, tugged and pulled and swung her machete. Skizz barely felt it when the weapon nicked his arm, barely felt it when her struggles lessened, barely realized when they burst into a clearer space of the town and had a few moments to breathe.
“What was that?” Grian demanded, breath coming quickly, eyes flashing with furry.
“Back to the van,” Skizz said. “Come on, hup hup.”
“No! You left Impulse behind!” Grian cried. “That’s our dad!”
“Yeah! How could you do that,” Gem was crying, her face tear streaked and Skizz locked that away deep in his heart as well. They had to get back to the van.
He couldn’t keep dragging Gem though, and Grian’s anger was too hot to listen right now. For a moment, he felt at a loss until Scar came to his rescue.
“They’re not far behind us, go go go,” he cried, running around a nearby building from where he’d scrambled down from the roof.
“Impulse-” Grian began.
“No time, lets go.” Scar grabbed his arm and tugged him, and Grian wordlessly followed. Gem pulled weakly against Skizz’s grip, but the fight seemed mostly drained from her.
They ran in silence, Scar leading the way with his bow drawn and a few salvaged arrows at the ready. Grian’s face was pale, set in a hard expression. That expression changed once, rapidly, in the whole trip when Scar missed a zombie. A snarl overtook his face as he lunged forward, slamming his bat into the monster’s head and dropping it instantly.
Gem jogged silently beside Skizz, halfheartedly tugging against his grip on her arm from time to time. Skizz didn’t trust her not to run back to Impulse if he let go.
“They need you.”
He focused on that. He had to focus on that.
He didn’t feel relief when the van came into view, just hustled the others into the back and slammed the door shut. Scar lit the emergency lights, powered by solar panels on the roof.
“Alright, injury check?” Skizz demanded. Silence greeted him and he gritted his teeth.
“You look like you need--” Scar began. Skizz glared at him, before realizing there was blood dripping down his arm from where Gem’s struggles had caught him. He studied it for a moment, feeling oddly disjointed from his own body.
“Here.” Grian moved forward, the first aid kit in his hands. There was still anger smoldering in his eyes, but he quickly cleaned the wound, wrapping a bandage around it. It stung, but it couldn’t hurt more than the hole in his heart.
Gem was curled in the corner of the van, her shoulders shaking silently. Skizz couldn’t let himself look at her for any longer than a glance.
Arm taken care of and satisfied Grian and Scar could look after themselves and Gem, he scrambled through the divider into the cab.
Time to go home.
At some point, Scar joined him. They sat side by side, the only sounds Jellie’s soft purring on Scar’s lap and the rumbling jolting of the van.
“Skizz-” Scar began.
“Don’t,” Skizz said.
He couldn’t afford to unlock that door yet. Maybe ever.
Scar fell silent, and no one said anything.
He drove through the night and was almost surprised when the sun began to rise on the horizon. Not long after, Joel’s wall came into view.
Once again, he didn’t feel any relief at the sight.
He brought the van to a stop just beside the gate and turned the engine off.
Scar looked over at him, silent tear tracks staining his cheeks. Then he nudged Jellie to scramble onto his shoulder and opened the door, dropping out of the cab. He had his backpack with him--he was going to disappear.
He did that, from time to time. Vanished for a few days, wandering on his own. It worked Grian up every time, but Skizz had been around long enough to recognise the signs of a man who had been along for so long he couldn’t be around people.
He entered the compound like a ghost. Dimly he was aware of Jimmy greeting them, his cheerful greeting rapidly changing tone. Dimly, he was aware of Grian attaching himself to Pearl, wrapping her in his arms and refusing to let go. Dimly, he was aware of Gem disappearing inside. Dimly, he was aware of the three horses that belong to Etho, Bdubs and Tango pastured inside the gates.
So he shouldn’t have been surprised when Tango stepped in front of him, laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Skizz?” he asked.
“Hey Top,” Skizz said, feeling suddenly very exhausted. He wanted to sleep forever.
“What happened? Where’s Impulse?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but found he couldn’t. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t feel anything. Maybe he had become a zombie the moment he had let go of his best friend. Maybe none of this was real. It didn’t feel real.
“Oh buddy,” Tango said, his own voice cracking slightly. He pulled Skizz forward, wrapping warm arms around him.
Skizz returned the embrace stiffly, his heart still under lock and key.
“They needed me,” he said, as though that explained it all. Maybe it did, what did he know?
“You got them home,” Tango said.
Somehow, Skizz didn’t know if that was worth it.
They had promised to go together, and he had broken that promise. With it broke a part of him he didn’t think could be fixed.
He let Tango lead him inside and hoped dimly that they would never need him again.