☢Scorched Earth☢

Jake was motioning at him to come out of the van and meet whoever these large, strange people. He could just barely catch the dark curl of their hair from the open door of the van followed by the large bulk of the woman as she peered around Jake, grey eyes twin to the one that had peered through the back window. On the one hand, he did not want the headache of two new faces. This bed was comfortable, he was comfortable, and it would be remarkably easy to ignore Jake and remain where he was. On the other, the possibility of stretching his legs was rather enticing.

“Fine.” He sighs. The book is tucked away, the blankets shoved to the side, and he’s out the door in a few steps. One foot touches ground and the dark eyed one of the pair goes wide eyed before wincing. All around them, it appears like some wind rustles the haphazard mix of plants into soft motion, but he can’t feel it from where he’s standing.


“Ho’ shit.” The words are said in what might have been a mutter were it not a touch too loud. His twin looks over curiously, but he waves her off. “I’m fine, fine, ain’t nothin’.”


Jake had called them Tobi and Agnes. They certainly… aren’t entirely what he had been expecting from the names alone, though he supposes they fit in just fine in this environment. He extends a hand out of a leftover shred of long ingrained politeness. “…Lazarus.” There’s only a moment’s hesitation before offering the name he had settled on maybe an hour ago. Agnes eyes up his hand for a long second before enthusiastically grabbing it with her own.

“Agnes.” Her smile is sharper than the antlers and ears might suggest. “We got no beef with a friend a’ Jake’s, especially if he takin’ you out. Ain’t that right Tobi?”

The other is eyeing his outstretched hand like one might eye a lit branding iron. He makes no move to grab for it. “...That right. Ain’t got no problem with it.” A motion is exchanged between the two of them then, just a quick flash of a hand. Agnes flicks her eyes between all of them. Laz isn’t entirely sure what was exchanged, but Tobi hasn’t stopped eyeing him strangely. It makes him feel as though staying inside might have been the wiser choice, legs be damned.

“Lazarus here was wandering his ways a bit south from here. Got an interest in my books, had non murdery vibes, so I decided to pick him up and take him to Karen’s! She’s always looking for the more, erhm, intellectual types to help with the planning and record-keeping.”

Jake gave a grin, but couldn’t help but notice the quick flurry of sign. Unfortunately, Noelle had only taught him rudimentary things to get the twin’s attention and he was also sure that, as close as their hand signing was to ASL, there were plenty of shorthand and expressions that were just between them and their family. But from Tobi’s body language? Well, he hadn't seen the dude on edge like this since when he first started coming through.

Or when he started passing the letters. He decided to let the feelings of uneasiness and the sudden spooking of the trees not bother him- it wasn’t like they were not touchy already.

“Are we good to go through in one shot? I figured we will try to do a straight shot through the trees, get spit out in Maine, and drive the last couple of hours before stopping at Karen’s. Will that work?”

Of course, he had completed the drive many times before, but it was a kindness to ask. These guys were basically opening their home to him, and they didn't usually do kindly to strangers. Asking was the least he can do. Still, he should probably fuel up before the longest part of their trek. Jake took a moment to nod to the twins before reaching back into the van, reaching in a small slot between the kitchenette and the passenger pilot seat. He pulls out a bright red fuel canister- oddly normal looking for the times they found themselves in, but a buddy in the Dakotas had given it to him once they suped up the van into what it was today. Add to the fact that another friend on the east coast had figured out some alternative fuel? Things weren’t too bad, he thought as he hefted the heavy canister and hobbled back out the car.

“So? How’s Ma and Pa?” Jake called out, heading to the side of the van, popping off the fuel cap, and, with great effort, tilted the fuel canister into the van. His face was stiff as he used all his strength to keep the canister upright.

“Intellectual types? So I’m just to be some sort of cog in this colony machine?” he says as he shifts from one foot to the other. His eyes glance up for lack of anything to do; the forest really is beautiful, if unlike anything he had ever seen before. Unorganized, overgrown, yet so very awash in near every color. He normally wasn’t one for the outdoors and yet… it was nice. He could do without the large forest twins giving him strange looks, but it was nice. A few soft steps on the mossy ground takes him a little further from the van but not out of reach of sharp grey eyes. All this surveillance, he shakes his head. He’s done perfectly well for himself in... however long he’s been awake. He can do fine enough ten feet from that blasted van.

“Well, course.” He hears Agnes say behind him in response to Jake’s asked question. “Y’know the way, we’ll keep with ya for a bit at least.” A little ruckus from Jake then: the sound of the car door opening and him dragging something out with more effort than usual. Heavy something then. Laz turns and yes, there’s Jake dragging out a rather large gas canister. He hadn’t even thought about that, how a van would even function in this post apocalypse world. Fuel had to be rare.

“Ma an’ Pa are fine, you know how they be. Agnes wanders over towards where Jake is struggling to tilt the full canister into the van. She leans languidly against the van next to him while one hand comes out to gently help him balance and tip the canister forward. “Up in the mountains, takin’ care a the plants, pa been playin’ with some raiders on the edges from time t’time. Y’know how it goes.” She shrugs.

“Forest getting’ bigger, we got more t’tend to.” Tobi chimes in from the other side of the van. “Plants get picky if I ain’t see ‘em soon enough.” He spares a glance to the man wandering just at the edge of the clearing. Something still wasn’t right with him, something about him was riling the plants, but Tobi couldn’t put a finger on it. Man seemed harmless enough, even if he were staring at them mushrooms a little too hard. A lot too hard, now that he was thinking about it.

“Uh, Laz’rus, right? Y’allright?” The closer he gets, the hazier the dude looks. Eyes unfocused like hes not all there, staring off towards a point just past the little line of mushrooms on the log. He waves a calloused hand in front of the man’s face. Nothing.


“Jake? I think there somethin’ wrong with y’friend.”

“Yeah, it’s only a matter of time before you guys stretch pass Ohio.” Jake nods, shifting his arms ever so to have Agnes help him. Her muscles rippled slightly, and Jake couldn’t help but notice. These mountain people were broad and thick with them, and Jake was so envious. He was midwest smalltown folk, with his stringy limbs and whistle-thin torso. He remembered when he first met the two and thought they were gonna snap his spindly spine on their knee. They were still scary back then, over four years ago at this point he realized, all big and strange. Thank god he had some homemade barbecue sauce and ramen spice packets or he might have been a bloodstain on some of those magnificent trees.

He hears Tobi speak, and the heavy steps move away. He felt the canister lighten, and Agnes’ grip loosens as he pulled it back, and placed it back into the car. Still, he did this in little hops, doing his best to step on the less vegetated areas- he knew it made him look silly, but in his brain, he didn’t want to step on his friend's plants! He cared so much for them! He didn’t want to step on some important leaf or root or vine and have something topple down!

“Appreciate the escort, Ness! It always makes me feel a little better, knowing Tobert can scold the trees into not eating us.” Jake chirped when finally landing on his van. He pushed the canister back in its slot, before turning and sitting on the edge of the van, pulling up his foot to pick a glob of dried dirt on his sneakers. It was useless, but it gave his hands something to do, which was what he needed most these days. Back when this all started and Jake had littler shit all to do, he would braid his sisters’ hair. Penny eventually refused, but Winnie… well. That brought a lump to his throat. Her hair had been wild, frizzed out ringlet curls that no one was quite sure where they came from. The same as Jake’s curls if he would grow them out. She had been so kind when his braids always came out crooked, still wore them with pride.

He was ashamed.

But the stormy look in his eyes waived as he heard Tobias call out. A quick glance showed him standing in front of Lazarus, with the most puzzled expression.

Uh. Oh.

“Yeah! So… about that!” Jake called, hopping out of the can and hopscotching the way over. He missed most of the plants, stumbled on one, but caught himself in a stutter step. A sheepish smile played his lips, as he finally stood next to the large, flowered man. “Uh, probably should have mentioned this. So. Lazarus. My new buddy who I found wandering might have a case of, uhm, amnesia! Which is super fine, we’re learning to manage it, but, hm, in the time I’ve known him he’s done this before. I think… I dunno, he just. Shuts down.”

He found himself following Lazarus’ foggy glazed glance down to the earth, but all he saw was a decomposing log, some wet looking mushrooms growing on the side. Would this happen whenever he found something that… triggered this? What if they were in trouble? Would he be able to hold his own? The man walked with a cane, for Christ’s sake! Jake was good at protecting others, but it took one slip and….

Well.

He knew what happened to Winnie.

“It should be fine. Get him in the car, get him in the bed, get him with a book and he will be all hunky dory.” Jake nodded, brushing his thought away, trying to give Tobi a reassuring smile “It’ll be just fine, just… give him a minute…. I think… It’s like his brain is grasping for something that just isn’t there, I suppose.”

There’s static in his ears.


A low dull roar that muffles whatever speech is happening around him. He can feel his gaze go fuzzy at the sight of the little fungus attached to dark, crusted skin wood. He had seen it before, watched as it had been torn from his skin in clumps, - his hand comes to his head, those same symbols softly glowing in the dark the treetops above him offer - torn in clumps as Sam had caught the sharp end of an attack meant for him. It had thrown the man - God, it hurts, he thinks, it hurts so much, his skin is burning in the same way his head is - he had until a second ago considered unshakably study. His form caught on the ground as he flew, digging up asphalt pavement before landing in a heap coated in torn remnants of his own body. Lazarus and the others had watched him push that monstrous form up with one arm torn to bone, but only he had managed to scream when Sam had crumpled from the suddenly unliftable force of his own weight. He had run. It was all he could do, run towards the massive dark shape of the man still struggling to move.


There had been dozens of pieces of him scattered along the way. All of them darkly crusted, all of them covered in those same mushrooms.


There’s a soft pressure on his shoulder. Blue light flares from the patterns on his skin as he whirls in one sharp movement, dominant hand flicking open the cane in his hand and brandishing the sword pulled from within in a tense, practiced stance. The tip of his blade sits razor sharp along the soft edge of something in front of him as a loud warning to stay the fuck away. He has no idea where the feeling had come from, only knows what he sees: blurry images of his family around him, the shadow of something looming large and dark in the distance, Sam behind him - he shakes his head, but the static remains. It's gut churning: the dizziness, confusion, overlapping images of a scene he just can't quite grasp and hold steady. Blue eyes bright but vision hazy, he stands in on a cliff’s edge between actions.

“You will not touch him.” he manages. It’s all he can choke out past the layers of bone deep fear - Sam didn’t bleed, doesn’t bleed, and yet there’s a dark stain leading to where he’s still trying to stand upright again - and anger that chills him from the inside out. The hand holding the sword is firm, but the one at his side shakes in the way he does when he’s gone too long between cigarettes. There’s a ragged edge to his words that hangs there in the space between, shattered in a way that it’s only been once before, years before when he had first watched this scene unfold. “You’ll kill me first before you touch him.”

Agnes watches it all with a grim sort of shock. Her brother had been standing with Jake behind the newcomer who seemed to have a sort of intense fascination with the mushroom. She had watched him try and put his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder when he hadn’t responded to whatever they were saying, but she hadn’t seen him move before there was a long blade pressed flush enough against her brother’s throat to draw a thin bead of red. The sight burns, burns her up right from the inside as she moves forward towards the three of them intending to put this white haired fucker and maybe Jake as well into the dirt for even TRYING this shit against her brother in these woods. She should have listened to him earlier.

Around her, the leaves of their woods chatter in hushed tones.

‘Plants uneasy, watch’ her brother had signed earlier. She should have fucking listened.

shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

His instincts roared as he saw Laz flick the fucking SWORD out of his cane like some sort of goddamn pirate. The motion somehow played out in slow motion, as the blade flew from his side, slicing through the air with the softest thwing, to the tip of the blade resting on Tobias, firm enough to draw blood. He watched in horror as he saw the red liquid dribble down his neck and into the mess of clothing the man sported. Tobi was, luckily, stiff as a board, cool as a cucumber for the time being so to speak, but Jake knew it was a matter of fucking SECONDS before these trees decided to munch and crunch for this breech of trust. This was beyond moronic, this was suicidal, why didn’t he fucking tell Lazarus about the murder trees before he started threatening their keeper?

Oh, he remembers, because he was stupid.

He was so fucking stupid, so incredibly fucking stupid, picking up a rando without learning ANYTHING about him. Hell, he should have left him out in that irradiated rain after the first episode, nobody needed any more baggage right now, not a mentally unstable hobo who is going to make the stupidest murder attempt that's just gonna get him turned into fucking plant feed. And even if he wasn’t in his right mind, it wasn’t like the plant's card. A meal was a meal- they’d be sucking on their bones by dawn.

“Agnes, I swear… I didn’t-” His voice was warbled, eyes that had seen so much only a touch watery as the stress tried to get out of his body somehow, his eyes trained on the man in the navy blue coat. He was careful not to move from his stance but turned his head to match the woman’s eyes. Knew she was gunning to stab both of them for messing with her brother- the strong conviction was one of the things that Jake always admired about her and the rest of their kin. The sense of duty to one’s own and fast action. It gave Jake the shot in the arm he needed to react. He had to use one of the words, he had to. Who cares if it put him in the dirt, they were fucked anyway. What to use, what to use. With how supercharged he was, a sleeping charm would knock all of them out. He felt his jaw itch as he considers it, as terrible of an idea as it was. Maybe a clarity thing? Of course, that might clear EVERYTHING out of the old man, which would probably make things worse. Calm? He had to have one for calm, had to be somewhere, maybe on his calf, maybe-

“You will not touch him. You’ll kill me first before you touch him.”

Jake’s eyes flicked from Agnes, back to the man who had choked out those words. Before the words broke past his lips, he just assumed that this man finally snapped. The ferocity of the weapon pulling and murder in the eyes was enough to convince Jake that, whatever mind this man had left, had packed it up and gone. But. It was another one of those gaps his brain was trying to fill, it had to be, it god damn had to be.

He really needed to get this guy’s head on straight, someplace that would allow him to crash while they tried to figure it out. The ‘fuck you, got mine’ mentality slowly faded as his big gushy heart felt for the dude- Jake carried his tragedies tight to his chest, they were just a part of his tapestry as everything else the end of the world provided. So, against his better judgment, he slowly stepped toward Lazarus, hand outstretched, palm facing the man. This was to show his caution and hopefully block his face from a gash, but he ended up just looking like some d-grade Steve Irwin trying to communicate with a sewer croc.

“Easy… Easy… I… Lazarus? Sir, I… I need you to hear me. I… I don’t know what your brain is telling you, but I know it’s wrong! Tobias here, he ain’t gonna hurt’cha!”

Jake kept moving slowly, hoping the man’s laser focus on Tobi would stay for just a bit longer, just a bit, please for the love of all that was sweet and holy. His feet are unable to avoid the growth, and he sends off a wordless beg for forgiveness as he steadily put one leg after another and placed himself right next to Lazarus. He knew a hand on the shoulder trigged this mess, knew it was that and the goddamn rotting log, but he had to pull the man back. Had to give it a try. A hand scarred with symbols and swirling patterns, not unlike the ones glowing now, curve and grasp the man's arm. It was shaking, Jake had seen that, but the intensity of the movement was no longer lost on him. With a gentle, but firm grasp, he looked at Lazarus, eyes brimming with concern.

“Come on, you know… you know that whatever you’re thinking or your mind is reaching for, it’s… it’s not here. We can… we can try to find it, but it’s not here.”

It hurts, his head hurts. His vision doesn’t quite settle right; it all feels hazy, like whatever image is there is slipping through his fingers and leaving distorted static in its wake. He sees… he sees something, he thinks as he blinks hard. He sees something and it can’t be good or there wouldn’t be this feeling in his chest like someone was trying to rip the air from his lungs with ragged fingers. He wouldn’t be feeling cold from his fingers in, wouldn’t feel that sinking dread seep through his limbs like a sudden icy snap. The sword at his side is out and against something and isn’t that enough of a confirmation? That he felt threatened enough to pull it?

‘But, ah,’ he hisses as another flash of pain lances behind his eyes. something … something is wrong. Something doesn’t sit quite right. The markings across his body flash blue and the scene shifts suddenly as if he’s moved during a particularly nasty hangover. There’s nausea bubbling sour at the back of his throat and god, something isn’t right. The scene feels… off somehow. Whatever the scene was is fading from him now, and yet the feelings aren’t. That paranoia isn’t, the fear isn’t, he’s scared and he’s not sure why.


But then there’s a hand on his arm.


“Come on, you know… you know that whatever you’re thinking or your mind is reaching for, it’s… it’s not here. We can… we can try to find it, but it’s not here.”


His head turns towards the voice and the arm supposedly attached to it. Pale skin marked in patterns, patterns just left of familiar and without the telltale neon blue but ones that soothed an ache in his chest nonetheless. The sight of them chased away some of the dread clinging white-knuckled to his heart. He can feel the hammering in his chest stutter slower with the newfound calm. His eyes blink once, twice and some of the fog lifts briefly.


That’s not his nephew. That’s Jake.


And he has the tip of his sword pressed flush to the poor forest man’s neck.


“Oh. Well. I do, ah, do apologize.” He hazily manages against the still swimming sensation in his head. The sword is withdrawn in one swift movement and it takes an attempt and a half to sheathe it properly at his side. “Sincerely apologize. That was… un, unwarranted.” God, these migraines. One pale hand reaches out for the boy at his side to brace himself. Jake, it's Jake. Not… not… he can’t remember.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------


Tobi can see the moment consciousness decides to up and leave the old man, and it’s about a second or two after he tries bracing himself against Jake. He’s honestly got half a mind to let the sword wielding sonofabitch hit the ground hard for almost setting him on an express path to the pearly gates, but well. That ain’t nice. His ma raised him better’n that. That, and Jake seems strangely attached to this damn codger to take a step between him and Agnes. She’s still stewing in the back behind him, half a step away from gutting the two of the interlopers where they stand for trying his life.

“Whoa, easy.” he murmurs loud as he reaches forward. The man ain’t weight much of anything, he thinks as he gathers him in his arms. “Calm y’tits.” He shouts back to Agnes. He can feel her reluctantly stand down. She’ll let him know later that he’s too nice, yell at him for it but he ain’t in the business of killing sick old men. That’s jus’ easy pickings.


God, writin’ Noelle really might’a tempered him.


“You say you find him jus’ wanderin’?” Tobi asks, the question rumbling low in the space between him and Jake.

“Yeah… wandering a couple of hours south…”

Jake took a deep breath as the weight of the man shifted to Tobi across from him. It takes a quick shake or two to take the shock away from his bones. He was surprised that it was resolved that fast, that the light show across the old guy’s skin had quelled with his pull back into reality. His eyes follow Tobi as he crumples the man in his arms gently, carefully, as a small rivulet of blood dripped down his neck.

“I… I don’t know what’s all going on… up there.” Long fingers tap his temple while eyes stay planted on the crumpled white haired mess. The pads of his fingers connect to his temple, before lowering back to his side. “He was a little harried when I found him… seemed stable enough, interested in my books- don’t worry.”

A small side smile flickered for a moment before fading. While he was never sure of the content of the letters that Tobi and Noelle shared, he did know by the weight of the parcel that the woman wrote a lot. And also judging by how red and, uh, gooey, she got at the mere mention of the big plant guy, he had a hard time believing that it was just declarations of love in those. No, she must be giving Tobias all the dirt of the settlement.

“Don’t worry, I am protecting those books for you girl. She would stamp me out if she thought I sold off her books to some old man, we both know it…. No.” The word fell from his lips firmly, and true. “No, I didn’t know it was quite this bad. He had an episode before a storm hit, but it wasn’t particularly violent in anyway… Honestly, reminded me a lot of Dr. Linark- you remember him right? Blonde guy? Has a kid with the ears?”

Jake’s hands made their way back to his head, but were now shooting up from his curly locks and into space above, fashioning two long somethings above him. The smile returned as his hand sunk down once again “Anyways… Dr. Linark. He has been making good progress at Karen’s, the work giving him purpose and all that. So, I thought…”

Jake’s expression turned sheepish, his left arm holding onto his right elbow for a moment “I ain’t gonna just… drop him, Tobi. He… He needs help. And it might not be wise but… but I gotta help. IT’s what I do.

“I ain’t worried ‘bout them books. Really, you lose them, you got more t’fear from her than me.” He huffs. There’s a light red working its way across his cheeks at the mention of the settlement’s resident bookworm, as well as Jake's reference to her as ‘his girl’. She ain’t his girl, he ain’t even really met the girl yet, save for the letters. The letters though, were admittedly… very nice.

Maybe one day she’d come by and visit. He’d been trying to work up the nerve to ask in the middle of all his updates about his home. How the plants were faring, how his family was, who they had seen trying to make their way through the forest. In return, she would send him all sorts of stories of her own home. It sounded strange, sure; tales of books and strange people and strange things she said they had to do to survive. All sorts of strange. But she was more than proud of a lot of it, so that’s all he needs to know; if she liked it, it couldn’t be half bad.

“Sounds like you’re startin’ a home up north, just tossin’ in e’ery amnesiac and broken wanderer y’find. You sure he gonna be good with the rest of ‘em? I get you feel like you gotta save all of ‘em, but....” His shoulders roll in a little half shrug as he adjusts his hold on the thin man in his arms. God, he was light. “Radiation fucks with ‘em. Fucked with all’a us, fucks with e’eryone. Some of ‘em, they don’t… they don’t get better. You got kids up there, right?” Tobi asks with a raised brow.


“Swords an’ kids ain’t mix. Usually.” Agnes huffs from behind him, still a little on edge from the whole thing.


“Usually.” Tobi parrots. “I get you got Linnark up there, but he’s a harmless kinda broken, from what I’ve heard. This dumb fuck....” He sighs. Steel grey glances down at the pale man in dusty, stolen historical garb. The sentence is left, but the rest is implied. He’s not the same as Linnark; he’s more of a stretched rubber band of tension, a man on the knife’s edge of a violent precipice when agitated. At least from what Tobi’s seen thus far.


Having a sword a sharp movement from sending you skyward towards pearly gates solidifies a man’s perception of another right quick.

“He’s broken, Tobi.” Jake began, looking between the two standing, and the one in his arms. He knew he was going the be firm with this- they had already made the trek this far, and he knew, he knew that Karen could give Lazarus purpose like she did with her entire settlement. She was tough, she could do it. They just… needed to make it there.

“Look, I will be the first to admit that I tend to gravitate toward the sob stories and those on their last legs and… broken from all of this. And, sure, he’s fucked up plenty in the short time I’ve been with him. But you know who else has made a mess of many things in all of this?”

Jake did have the decorum to pause before giving a slight bow, gesturing to himself. He tried to be lighthearted about it, but a shadow of the pain that he had endured over the years flashed across for only a moment. It had been a tough journey, he had been through a lot to get to where he was today. And just like the puffed up scars littering his body, the rips on his heart had criss crossed and scabbed over to what it was today. And while he still had shame for his mistakes, he wore that still-bleeding heart proudly. What else was there to hope for, he rationalized.

“Besides-” Jake finally made his way back to the van, praying the twins would follow and toss the man in the bed “-I know neither of you KNOW Karen, but you know Karen. She’s not one for nonsense. Do you think she’d let this man get close to the kids unless she was absolutely certain he wasn’t a loon? The dude would be decked before the sword even came out. No, she's going to place him where he needs to be. And if he’s not fit to be a part of the settlement, he’ll have to move on.”

Leaning against the driver's side door, he looked at both of them with a smile that didn’t really meet his eyes. No, those Kerry green eyes seemed to hum and beg to just let them on their way, let them give this man a direction.

“I mean, long as you know what you’re doin’.” Tobi steps forward towards the van with the man in tow. His tone remains a little unconvinced even as he inspects the doorway to see how best to shove himself and the old man in to toss the ancient fuck on the bed. “I mean, you got the experience an’ all, i’m jus’ sayin…” he shrugs and steps heavy on the edge of the doorway. The poor van tips towards him just slightly as he shoulders past the small door and towards the back.


“We offerin’.” Agnes says as her brother dips out of sight. “You aint there yet, he dangerous, who gonna know?”


“Not that we ain’t trust Karen, y’know. Just sayin’. I know she all sorts of competent, and if there were anyone able t'untangle whatever mess he got going on inside there, it's her. But...” Tobi’s bass rumbles from the back. A moment more and he’s back at the doorway, Lazarus-less. One calloused hand still holds the sword that had nearly killed him loosely at his side. Sheathed as it is now, it looks as harmless as the original assumption that it was only a walking cane. All polished dark and inlaid with fine glinting patterns of metal, it almost looks too fine for what hides inside. He holds it out in front of him towards Jake.


“Prob’ly better you keep it up with you for now, yeah? If you takin' him. In case he just as confused when he wake up again.” He says as he steps back out fully onto the mossy forest floor. Plants rise to meet him, all clamoring for his attention.

“Appreciate the offer-” Jake’s long limbs reach to take the sword and slamming the side door to a close “-but come on. You guys know me- knowingly having blood on my hands like that is the last thing I need. It’ll be okay, seriously. He’ll probably be out for the bulk of the trip, and I’ll be real careful when he does come to. And if anything happens, you two will be the first to know.”

He let the sword drop to his side, now in cane-form. He had a fleeting thought to hide it away in the van for personal collection- despite the nonsense, it was a freaking CANE-SWORD! He knew that his buds out west would also enjoy the panache and drama from such a piece. However, seeing how Lazarus reacted when one messed with his stuff, Jake rationalized maybe not stealing it and hoping for the best.

With a handful of caution, navigating between the roasts and plants that reached up to meet Tobi, Jake made his way to the driver’s seat door, before opening it, and placing the sword carefully under the passenger seat. It surprisingly fit just so and was out of eyesight for the slumbering man. If their time driving in proved anything, he would probably just wake up, complain, then read a terrible romance novel with some sort of pirate on the cover. And if he did go crazy, well, Jake would figure something out. He would, he knew it.

Maybe.

“Anything else you need me to tell anyone up North? Or anything you guys need? I know I already gave you your, uh, go bag, but I got some other stuff if you’re interested.”

A sneakered foot taps the bag of spices and sauces and supplies that lay forgotten in the quick craze that was the violent outburst of Jake’s new companion. Jack took a step out of the way, giving the twins a view into the van to look at any other wares they might want.

“Also,” He starts, voice a little tight, eyes finding the man with the faded blood on his neck, teeth catching his lips for a moment “I’m sorry. You gotta believe me when I said I had NO idea that was gonna happen- He’s just.. .he’s scrambled. Should have told him to stay in the van.

The mug was heavy in her hand. It was ceramic, and sloppily made, but there was a certain charm to it. It was a relic from the past, some clumsy piece of green glazed clay that had been thrown at the local high school. The school her daughters went to, and she before that, and even her mother before that. The scouting trip had gone to shit- securing a building as a big as a school had been a fool's errand at that point. They were so small as a group, but their supplies had begun to dwindle. And the school was close by, it couldn’t have been too far gone, there had to have been something within those walls.

What they found was merely scraps. Karen did not consider how absolutely feral teenagers would become at the end of the world. Papers scattered, desks hanging from windows, chalkboards cracked and littered across the yard. And, after that, a handful of looters took the space, picked it nearly clean. By the time Karen had rounded up a group to check it out for themselves, nearly everything was gone- nearly everything, except for the contents of a tucked-away closet in the art room. It housed a large, ancient kiln, and the shelves were lined with WIPs that would never see completion. Still, she found herself charmed, and collected as many as possible to bring back. They lined the shelves of one of her cabinets in the kitchen. She used them as much as possible, even though they were clunky and leaked just a tad when poured in the wrong direction.

It was much more than the mugs. It was a pocket of peace, in a day that was usually so filled with requests and reports and resolutions of conflicts. She could just stand at the steps of her childhood home and watch the sun slowly rise in the east. Her hands tightened on her mug, as the steam rose to her nose slowly, looking at her little corner of the world unfold like a worn love letter. And worn was the operative word. From the backdoor of her kitchen, the yard was looking very different from before the blast. Six years prior, it had been a small yard with a handful of wise, old trees she had tied tires to in her youth, counting the clouds as they passed by. Her own daughters tied their own swings and climbed those branches as fast as any ladder. Now, the trees still stood tall, but were skeletal and bare, only an imprint of the past. The rotten wooden fence had been torn apart, as well. All the barriers between the yards have been gutted, a handful of houses too. It took time, but now? She could see the remaining two-story cape cod homes that had been re-fitted to shelters, storage, medical stations, and other essentials. The foundations that were empty held stalls and little pavilions with found chairs and couches to relax and chat after a hard day’s work. In what used to be small backyards dotted lush gardens of fruit and vegetables or small pastures and chicken coops. Space was finite, so these little accouterments dotted the lawn like stars in June.

The Scott Family house was where the community started, but it had quickly grown past their four walls. They had secured a half-mile stretch of road from a cemetery to a building that once housed a small, family-owned insurance company, and everything within that block. The houses that used to stand on their concrete bases had been reborn into a large and jagged fence that ran the perimeter of their little community. With a lot of effort, they completely tore out the foundations and made larger fields to grow wheat and the like. Most of the people lived smack in the middle of the acreage, around Karen’s house, putting themselves in houses that had stayed vacant after the world supposedly ended. It was a small cluster of people, some local some not, but they had really grown together as the earth was destroyed around them.

Like the mugs, it wasn’t fancy. The house was small, and one that had passed a couple of generations. Karen and her sisters had crammed themselves in the bedroom that her daughters had co-inhabited for years, now re-fitted to a library of any and every book their runner could get his hands on. The kitchen still had scorch marks from her grandmother's failed attempts at Sunday Dinner, notches in the wall to the growth of every Scott that lived within its walls. Even the living room that was now used for late-night council meetings was littered with faded art projects and trophies from long-forgotten academic competitions. It was not the same as it was before, but hell, none of them were. But, just as they were, the small square house stayed standing.

“Mama, did Jake say someone was coming with him?”

Years prior, she would have jumped from the sudden noise. The blast had not only rendered their surroundings near barren (save for their gardens, thank goodness), but also somehow supercharged particular inhabitants. Even though they were hundreds of miles away from the source, the ripples still reached their edge of the world. Her oldest was never the most graceful, but she was a beauty in her own right. Tall, slender, and pale, she was only a tad gawky when everything fell apart. It started with minor leaks at first- sticky black ink dripping from her fingers and toes, a development we had never anticipated despite her strange prior abilities. But soon, the goo dripped more and more until entire limbs were replaced with a globular stump for an arm. The final stage was when she disappeared altogether- that had scared them all shitless. Her return was met with many messy hugs and firm reminders that they were going to figure this all out. It took a handful of those first years, but with much practice, Noelle Scott had found a way to control the new development. Hardly surprising, Karen thought with pride warm in her chest. Her daughter has hardly met a challenge she couldn’t rise to.

“Yes, sweet pea.” Karen passed her near-empty mug to her daughter, before turning to see her long face and wide eyes stare back at her. The smallest sliver of a smile reached her lips, as Noelle allowed a hopeful glimmer to reach her eyes. She tried to hide it, but nearly everyone in their little community knew at this point how stuck this woman was. It was cute to see her oldest get so wrapped up in her little correspondence with that boy in the woods. It was a comfort, that something as normal as a harmless crush could still happen in the times they found themselves. “Jake radioed this morning. Drove through the whole night, poor thing. But, the newbie is an older gentleman. Found him west of the woods. Knocked out, from the sounds of it. Jake vouches for him, but we still gotta run protocol.”

Disappointment flew across her face and Karen’s heart twinged just a little bit. To soften the blow, she quickly added “Jake also said that he had a letter for you. And some more books? Why don’t you make sure you have space available.”

And with a short nod, Noelle gripped the mug, and in a blink, sunk through the porch in a puddle of dark goo. Karen had to release yet another sigh- her daughter was quite obvious with her crush on that mysterious boy in the carnivorous woods, their letters continuing for years now. But the access to those emotions did not mean that she shared them with anyone outside her own writings. The journals this girl kept, made from recycled paper in the limited spare time that they had, were an immense collection. It was why Karen had put the young woman up to the job of keeping their community records- how their crop was, how much livestock they had, how many people, what jobs needed to be filled. These records, along with personal accounts, were kept in the closet of her bedroom, tucked safely behind the rest of the collection. Noelle probably went to go sulk in there for a little while, she thought with a smile. Possibly to write more letters to the man in the woods.

She took a step off the porch. It was still early, hardly sunup, but there were still people milling around, starting chores. They all at least nodded at her, most waved, but none was left without a cheerful smile and callout by name. Karen made her way across their little community with a fast, but approachable stride. During her walk, she was stopped no less than three times.

First was Marisol, her calloused hands handing Karen some newly wrapped cheese, asking Karen when they would like to eat it. Marisol was short, and a bit stout, but her eyes were edged with a hardness that was familiar to them all now. Before, she had been a chef, said she ran the kitchen for some fancy restaurant, but she had never had to make her own cheese before. Karen took the block of pale cheese, and weighed it in her hand, before giving Marisol a smile. They needed to use it tonight, with Jacob’s return. Pale hands passed the cheese back to dark ones, with the vocalized excitement for whatever Marisol decided to cook up.

Next, was Ibrahim. He was tall, even taller than Karen, with a body that was fit from the hard labor he endured the past handful of years that he had stayed with them. He had stuck it out with his young son in Jersey, until the forest stretched its way across the state. Then, they found themselves North, nearly on their own. He spoke in low tones and gentle words, telling Karen that he was working on a leak in one of the rooms, and then back to the fence. Again, he was met with a smile and a gentle grip of his arm, giving him thanks.

She hardly made it two steps before she was stopped by another. A man who was thin as a rake, and blonde hair that stuck out like a patch of straw across his forehead. He was sickly, and his stormy green eyes seemed to focus just a touch away from the woman he was clinging so desperately to. His fingers were a vise on her forearm, something that had taken far too long to get used to. They had tried to remind him, gently, that people probably wouldn’t take too kindly to just being grabbed by surprise. Of course, Declan always forgot. Despite the constant, albeit tender, reminders from his own son, the youngest of their ranks.

“Karen, I-I, well, I wanted to, I wanted to tell you? That the, the new strain of tomatoes- well, I had thought, I had thought that splicing those, well, mutated specimen? The mutated specimen, the Lythrum Salicaria, the, well, the loosestrife- purple, tall, purple flowers, purple flowers taller than I, they, they-”

“You spliced them with the tomatoes?” Karen murmured, placing her slender hand on his, prompting him as they all so often did. The frenetic pattern was making his Irish lilt even more pronounced, as words began to slide together like beads on a string.

“Yes! They were spliced! Not with, not with all the tomatoes! But with one certain batch, and, well, and well, they rendered a very interesting result! The acidity of the, well, of the tomato, it has, has increased. Ten-fold. Well, a bit more than that, really, a bit more than- there is an, ehm, acid pit? In the garden? I am, well, I was, ehm, am, working to fix it, but it is proving to be a bit more, well, a bit more difficult than initially thought. But! Perhaps, this could be, uhm, useful! For the, uhm, project! In regards to the Marina!”

Karen felt her jaw tense fractionally as Declan spoke, but smiled all the same “Well, I know you did not mean to create some acidic super plant, but I know it was only a matter of time. It’s alright, keep the kids away, get it cleaned up. And, why don’t you go work with the sheep for the rest of the day? You like those sheep, I think they have missed your company!”

“Oh! Yes, they are, well, they are rather sweet.” Declan’s grip finally loosened, his body slumping with him into his usual crumpled posture. “Right. I will get to that, Miss Scott.”

“And if you see your son, please send him to the south entrance, we might have a live one coming in.”

There was a dip of the blonde head as the mad Dr. Declan Linark made his way back towards what was surely a mess of a garden. Karen pressed onward, pressed South, continuing to pass other people waking up and starting their day. Many familiar faces smiled back at her, but none matched the one that she was looking for. She was about to start asking around, until she saw the distinct figure of someone tucked underneath an old, threadbare blanket next to the previous night's bonfire. For anyone else, it was a mystery to who might have sought rest next to the warm glow of the embers the night before, but Karen had become quite familiar to the outline there. After more than a decade of that man passing out on her living room floor, and tucking the quilts and knitted throws around him. With a playful and gentle kick, she saw the body squirm from the blanket, quickly followed by a pitiful moan. With a flick of her arms, Karen pulled the blanket from his head.

Nearly just as quickly, tanned hands shot up to the shoulder-length mess of hair. Sprightly fingers worked precisely to get the mane back to it’s “effortless” tossle. Once the rest of the blanket was removed, it was obvious his once brightly colored clothes were both old and dirty, with nary a wash in at least the past three months, filled with holes and covered in spots of dirt and flecks of dried blood. The smell washed over her too- of sea spray and whiskey, the latter evidenced by the bottle that left his hand when he moved to groom himself.

“Look alive, Murph, we got company. And we’ve gone to shit in a handbasket, gotta round up everyone ”

She stood over him as he blinked blearily, muttering some curses as he tried to focus on the woman. After a moment, the hands trailed from his hair down to his face, as he rubbed from the tired eyes to the scruff on his jaw.

“McKinley’s back? Already?” He spoke between his hands, as Karen was distinctly aware this man was probably shaking off a wicked hangover. Like most mornings.

“He will be in about an hour, just picked up his radio signal. He’s got someone in tow, a from away.”

She reached down, her hand outstretched. Once met, she pulled up the man. He swayed on his feet a bit, pinching the spot between his eyes, before asking in a thick voice“And? What’s this new man that Jacob found like? You think he will be a fit among us, then?”

“Hard tellin’ not knowin’.” Karen plucked the bottle from the ground, and gave it a sniff. Molly tried to grasp the neck a touch too late, in a gesture reminiscent of a child losing their toy to a room to clean up. “But we always give an interview. You and Lyov will be the first to know, council always votes to-”

“Make it official, blah, blah, blah. We all know who really calls the shots.” He looked up from what was probably a nasty headache to give her a wink. Even in the hangover stupor, they still glinted with mischief. “Although, from what I’ve heard, it’s not just within the walls.”

“And what have you heard?” Karen started heading south once more, towards the house that sat just behind and left of the entrance gate. She kept her face in the breezy, neutral smile that occupied it often, but her eyes tested. But, like a giddy younger brother, Molly seemed to brush off the hangover in lieu of some annoying little brother schtick, even though they were well matched in age.

“Oh, just some giggles and whispers about you and the good doctor. You’ve been spending plenty of late nights with each other, in his room of all places. We are all curious to what is so important to discuss at such a late hour.” Teeth poked through lips cracked from sun and sea, with a voice now tinged with delight.

“Don’t you have some hair to brush? Or some shit?” Karen grumbled, giving him a shove in the other direction. He catches himself in the stumble quickly, as if expecting the blow.

“Oh? Did I strike a nerve?” His voice was dripping with sickly sweet care, which was met with an eye roll and another quick shove. He straightened himself up, smug with the buttons that he pressed. He was one of the few that did so without worry.

“When haven’t you. Now go and wash up and get dressed, you smell like horse shit.”

Molly gave her a quick salute, before heading off east, hopefully to the showers. She shook her head, watching that tell-tale sailor swagger, where the rhythm of his hips with each step forward indicated that the man had a life on the sea. Karen had seen it before- with Molly, with her own grandfather, and her uncles. It was not uncommon in the North East to see someone who had lived half their life on a boat, as they were all born to it. And while Molly wasn’t a born and bred Mainer, he definitely fits the profile beautifully.

Karen continued making her way to the house, wondering what this man that Jacob found would bring. Jacob had brought many great ones- Ibriham, Ambrose, Dahlia, just to name a few. All great workers, all people who found great joy being part of their community. On the other side of things, Jake had brought some wayward souls, people who stayed for a bit, but proved too sick or too violent to stay for long. The sick ones passed under Lyov’s care, the violent ones were pushed out by Molly and Karen. They never had any other troubles with new people, not after 6 years. Most in the Portland area had moved further North to Canada, or south to try their luck with the woods. And the trees were slowly engulfing the entire Northeast, so they were rather shielded, not to mention that a journey through said woods is an excellent way to test someone's temperament. If Jake had made it this far with the from-away, then it must be someone not completely terrible.

The South House was not much different from her own- small, maybe two bedrooms and an attic. An old kitchen, and a tight living room. But it was the perfect meeting place for newcomers, as well as to sort out any supplies going in and out. It was a house that was, at one time, dusty white, but due to boredom and the need for distraction, it was now covered on the north-facing side with flowers and mess letters, put there by childish hands and homemade paint. Even that was fading now, Karen thought with a sad smile.

Sitting against the house was a young man, probably in his late teenage years, with a mop of curls that threatened to grow into his eyes. He was grizzled for his age and surprisingly portly to anyone else traversing the apocalypse. Karen remembered when he first arrived with his dad, how sickly the child looked. He had his color back now, after years of meals and work, but the sharp edge to his glances and wit to his tongue never left. Although, Lyov assured Karen that it had always been there.

Standing in front of him was a small boy. His back was to Karen, but there was no mistaking that silhouette. The smallest among them, with bright red curls and animated gestures, could have gave it away, but truthfully, it was the ears that revealed his identity. They sprouted from the top of his head, long and grey with thick fur, not unlike a donkey. They moved in almost a swivel as he spoke, almost as if trying to catch something in sonar. Even from her place feet away, Karen could hear the boy tell his friend some exciting story about something he had heard the night prior at the campfire. She felt bad to interrupt him.

“Excuse me, boys. Devon, did your Pa send you over here?”

The redheaded boy turned on his heel, an innocent face with wide grey eyes turning to saucers, ears twitching. It was a wonder someone this small (no, she reminded herself firmly, smaller. He was three and a half when they arrived) was the reason that he and his mad scientist father found their ways here. It was the ears, Devon told them all, the ears allowed him to feel…. Something. Something beyond human perception, and far more intangible. Honestly, those ears made him an invaluable member of their community, sensing the dangers miles out before they were hit with anything- raiders, mutated beasts, and, most importantly, from-aways.

“No, Miss Karen! I ain’t seen my Da for nearly all morning. He left early, so, I went and found Auggie, just like you and Da said. And THEN, I got a good feeling about bein’ at the South House, so we came over! But we were a bit early, so we got to talkin, and Auggie asked about how I slept, and I had this dream! It was all green, and bunny rabbits, and gosh, Miss Karen! It was slipendous!”

“Stupendous.” Auggie corrected, his voice gruff but not unkind. Devon met the teen with a smile, and then turned back to the lady.

“Well, that sounds real nice, Devon. I asked your Da to send you this way anyways if he saw you, but it looks like your ears caught it before he even did. We got a newbie coming in.” Her brown eyes shifted to the other, as she continued “Auggie, take Dev and go get your Pa. We got thirty minutes to get this place into ship-shape, including full request lists for medical supplies. I don’t know how long Jake plans to stay but-”

“-we are running low on syringes and bandages and a shit ton of other things.”

“Language.” It was a chastisement born of familiarity and no sort of actual disappointment. Now it was Auggie’s turn to roll his eyes, but there was no malice. It was an exercise in playacting from years of quasi-co-parenting. She continued without skipping a beat “Once you get him, you can bring Devon back to the South House, we have someone new coming in.”

The older one looked at the younger, whose long ears twitched a little before giving a look of uncertainty to his friend. That did not bode well for what was coming. Karen tilted her head just a smidge before kneeling down to look at the kid straight on.

“Devon, dear, come on now, we need your expertise.”

“But, but I need to stay by Da, if he’s gonna be workin on something dangerous.” He chewed his lips, as he did when he was nervous. Poor kid was only 6 years old and was anxious as all get out. Being around the other kids, especially Auggie and Joy, had done wonders with this, but he still got caught up on the energies he felt. And how quickly they would change.

“Your daddy’s gonna be just fine for a little bit alone. We’ll get Marisol to keep an eye, I promise. In fact, Aug, she’s by the goats, why don’t you tell her on the way over to your Pa.’

The change in expression was immediate- the crinkled and stormy face smoothed into a smile, that spoke well of what a great idea that was. It was no wonder- Marisol would keep the man in line. Devon went back to his friend, grabbing the hand “Well, alrigh’, Miss Karen, if you say so!”

“Wonderful. I will have drinks all made and ready for you, my dears. Auggie-”

“Coffee. Black.”

“Hot Chocolate, Dev?”

“Oh yes! With a little bit of mint, please, Miss Karen!”

And with that, the odd pair were off. One was bounding, hopping in-between steps and dragging the other. She watched, once more, a smile on her lips. If all of this were a fluke, this community, this patch of civilization, she was glad that it was at least a place for the children to be safe. To see other children. For those who remembered what it was like before, it was like a summer vacation, where you had to create your own fun and danger. For those too young to remember, it was all that they had known. Karen’s heart twinged for a moment, as she wished there was some sort of schooling she could offer them. Noelle had tried, but she did not have the patience, nor the time to work with the little ones on phonetics and spelling. Karen’s eldest was truly a master with the word, while her youngest could hardly read. It broke her heart, really. She made a note to mention it once again at the council meeting.

Finally, her steps made it to the porch. Jake would be here soon, and an interview would begin. Dusting her hands off of her dirty jeans, she made her mental list for such an affair. Food, which they had in the pantry of the house. Water, which was kept in a reserve in the bathroom. Tea, coffee, and hot chocolate, all in the cupboards. Seats were set at the table, with Devon sitting next to her, and the man across from them. Knives were strapped underneath the chair, and a shotgun was tucked behind the nearby dish cabinet, loaded, in case of anything gone wrong.

Whatever was coming, whoever was coming, she was ready. She was always ready.

The slow rise to consciousness was always something he dreaded. Usually, such a thing was preceded by some unfortunate lapse in awareness, a harsh tip over into memories he could never quite grasp afterward. He rose now with fingers pinching the bridge between closed eyes. He felt…

Well, he felt like shit. There was really no way around the obvious. He groans as he rises, the scratchy fabric of the old coat he wore doing nothing to soothe any of the hurt that swum uninvited through his head. The subtle motions of wherever he was was doing just as little to help. Think, he has to think. Lights above scatter little bright points across the interior of this… van? It’s a van. He’s in a van and there are books all around him, the little pile just as inviting as it had been the first time he had stepped foot into Jake’s van.


Oh god. Jake. The van. The woods.


Laz flops back with a softer groan, arm over his eyes. Right. He had put his cane to the neck of that poor man and somehow ended with him back on the mattress and under several moth-eaten blankets. Had ended with him nursing a migraine while Jake’s too-peppy playlist drones on quietly from the front seat radio. Has left him keening for a smoke and a familiar hand carding through his hair in a way that always seemed to chase the worst of the pressure away. He doesn’t have any of that though, so he settles a little harder on the shifting tides of this seldom driven road and into the warmth of the blankets, and lets the rocking carry him to sleep instead of into nausea.


—--------------------------------------


When he wakes again, they’ve stopped. Again he rises, cursing the setting sun now for the way it streams in through the small van windows above. Again he catches sight of Jake in the front seat bobbing his head to some tune, but this time, there’s no hurry to his movements, no indication that he intends to start the car again. Laz rises halfway and stretches his arms behind his back to pop his spine back into what counts as correct in lieu of a proper doctor to yell at him. There’s a slow drag of fabric that pulls with him, a brief bright pop of light behind his eyes as his mind and body catches up to the movement. All of him always feels slow to start, and now is no different.

“Hey!” Jake’s chipper voice interrupts his thoughts, breaking what quiet peace he was settling into with a too wide smile and too much optimism. “We’re here! Maine, my dude, the main settlement.” He looks almost too proud of his pun. Laz glares at him. “We’re gonna meet with Karen and them, get you all settled in and then you can read all you want and not be in my van.”

“Lovely.” His tone is dry but he follows, pulling the door open and hopping out with what grace he can dredge up from reserves long since depleted. Looking around, it's surprisingly… nice. Small houses in traditional northern coastal style dot the landscape around them, some obviously more well kept than the others. He can see people in the distance. A good amount of them actually, more than he had ever seen in one place. Hell, there are even animals he can see if he squints. Jake is already in front of him, smoothing out his threadbare sweatshirt and ratty parka into a slightly more smoothed sweatshirt and parka. Laz doesn’t think as he mimics the motion, pulling the edges of the dark navy overcoat straighter over the fraying charcoal sweater he wears . His boots are scuffed and worn in a way that won’t polish out, the laces done halfway up with scavenged cord. He wishes he had his cane as he walks alongside the ginger clown that drove him here. He feels unsteady without it.


Feels even less steady when the door in front of them is opened to a gathered group of people.


There’s too many. He hadn’t realized (though he probably should have) that there would have been multiple people here to greet him. And children! There are two children here, one barely half as tall as himself. Jake has already left his side to step in front and make introductions, leaving him standing dusty and overwhelmed in the middle of a hardwood floor that’s seen better days. Cabinets in some old kitschy design. Old, chipped mugs sit open on scuffed countertops. Eyes, so many eyes on him, too many eyes and he can’t, his hand reaches for the cane but its not there and he’s unsteady on his feet - pavement cracked under him, footing he can't catch, dark hands shoving him out of the way, sending him stumbling -


“Want a chair?”


The woman he had seen when he’d walked in is there at his side, one of the many mismatched chairs pulled out in offering. She’s taller and worn in a way that speaks to years surviving the apocalypse, but not years suffering through it. She’s known some happiness here and it shows in the light creases at the corners of her eyes as she smiles at him. Something in him settles at the sight of long hair and a kind face.


“... yes, thank you.” Lazarus sits and offers a pale hand marked in softly sparking blue. “Lazarus.”

“Karen.”

Hands meet, hers far more warm than his. Karen gave a smile, one that was polite and small, one to hopefully give comfort to the absolute wreck of a man that was in front of her. He was overwhelmed, most were when they came by. Hell, Declan fainted when he crossed over their gates and saw the gardens and people living in peace. To all she knew, this might be the first taste of civility this man has had since before it all went down the crapper.

“It’s nice t’meet you, Lazarus.” She speaks slowly, the name chewing around in her mouth like salt-water taffy. Her accent is of one who lived in Maine their whole life, whose parents lived and died in Maine, grandparents, and so on and so forth. “I hope the drivin’ wasn’t too bad. Please. Sit.”

She shifted the chair before walking around him, heading towards the table. “How do you feel about tea?”

“The drive over was… decent. I’m still alive, so obviously successful.” He sits where she offers, sees no reason to refuse the soft request when moments ago he was shaky on his feet. Perhaps it was better Jake had taken his cane even if he is a touch unbalanced. He doesn’t want to court fate again, especially so near to children.

“And I much prefer coffee, but tea is agreeable. Not that I’ve had enough of either post-whatever happened to care enough about a preference.” He laughs softly to himself as his fingers drum on the table for something to do. God, he wished he had his cane. There are still too many people here and though they all seem preoccupied with Jake spinning some exaggerated tale of life on the road, he can’t help but still feel their eyes on him and the press of their bodies too close to be comfortable. Suppose it was a side effect of being alone too long.

“I haven’t ever seen a settlement of this size.” He says instead of flinching away from the gathering of people behind him. “It’s unusual. No offense meant, just… The most I’ve ever seen have been maybe a few families in the same farmhouse, not a whole community. With apparent tea reserves.” He watches her boil water, tracks her hands as she pulls out honest-to-god tea bags and a chipped ceramic mug from some vacation spot long gone. It feels almost too homey, too close to a long-forgotten domesticity. An uncanny valley of a time long gone.

He doesn’t trust it. At least not entirely.

But the tea is warm when she sets it in front of him, some herbal blend he couldn’t put a name to if he tried. Pale hands busy themselves with making tea too sweet for his own liking, but it feels right enough that he doesn’t question it.

“So.” he says, blue eyes on this woman in front of him. “I would imagine there’s some sort of process to ensure I’ll mentally sound enough for entry if you’ve kept it intact this long.”

“Oh, nothing too vigorous. It’s a rather informal process, more of a conversation than anything else.” Karen’s fingers wrapped around her own mug as she took a long sip, before setting it down with a soft clunk. Her warm eyes did not leave Lazarus, but trained in passive observation, rather than daggers of accusation.

“We used t’have a lengthy interview process. Sometimes a quarantine, when we weren’t sure how the apocalypse affected us physically.” She shrugs, sitting herself down next to a plump man with a well worn sweater and cracked glasses. On her right, was Molly, who was sitting back and feigning disinterest. Leaning back in his seat, picking at his nails, as if the dirt would ever leave.

“But, now we just have a conversation. Figure out where you would fit best, if you would like to stay long term. What supplies we can give if it’s more short term. And if the little one tells us you ain’t wishing bad on us.”

Karen’s gaze finally shifted, softened as she stared at Devon, who was sitting next to his best buddy, holding his hand. Devon straightened up under her eye, but looked no more nervous than before. And while the others had looked at their new arrival with mild suspicion, the small donkey-eared boy only gave a small grin and said in his lilt “Hi! My name is Devon! I like your coat.”