(If We Can) Find Where We Belong

“I’m fucking sick of being stuck here,” Frank mutters.

Gerard looks up and Mikey does too, gaze lifted by the familiar tension thrumming in the air between them. They’ve been cooped up in the Way house for nearly a month and tempers are running high and though no one’s actually snapped yet, Mikey doesn’t think it’ll be much longer before someone does. It was losing Bob that tipped the balance, he thinks, and tries not to wince.

Ray’s upstairs, making them all something to eat because it’s his turn to cook, which has left Gerard reading a comic on the bed, Mikey curled up next to him and Frank perched on the desk chair, swinging back and forth while he cleans his gun. Bob is nowhere and it should feel worse than this, it should feel so wrong that they have to stop and never go on but it doesn’t, it just feels like something that is, something they have to get used to.

(Mikey hates that this is what the end of the world has reduced them to, having to get used to the death of one of their best friends. Unfair doesn’t even cover it.)

“No one’s keeping you here,” Gerard says, voice even. He wants an argument about as much as Mikey does. “If you wanna leave-”

“Fuck you, like I would leave you guys even if I could,” Frank retorts, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just- I’m sick of being in here, inside all the fucking time, not allowed to go out. It sucks.”

“It’s safe in here,” Mikey says quietly, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard of the bed. “It’s not safe outside.”

Frank looks over at him then, and something in his face softens. “I know. I know, it’s just- it’s just cabin fever, you know? I need, fuck, a walk or something.”

“Take a walk or something, then,” Gerard says, frowning, like he can’t understand why it isn’t that simple, like he’s forgotten the rule he himself made not even a week ago.

“Can’t go by myself, can I?” Frank mutters with a wry little smile that does nothing to ease the tension around his eyes or mouth.

“I’ll go with you,” Mikey offers, already getting to his feet. He ignores the look Gerard levels at him and answers Frank’s grateful grin with a small smile of his own. “Could do with some fresh air myself.”

“Don’t go too far,” Gerard warns, eyeing them both. “Just around the area, ‘kay? And for God’s sake, don’t wander off, either of you.”

“Yes Mom,” Mikey says, without thinking. He wants to cut out his own tongue the minute the words are out of his mouth. They haven’t so much as mentioned their parents since the day the world ended, and there’s a reason for that. Mikey can’t believe he forgot.

But Gerard only smiles tightly and glances back down at his sketchpad. He doesn’t lift his head when Mikey stands in the doorway and calls out a goodbye, only moving when Frank tugs insistently at his sleeve.

***

“Thanks for coming with me,” Frank says, when they’re halfway down the street.

Mikey looks up, surprised. “It’s no problem,” he says, because it isn’t. “I do need the fresh air. It gets-” He makes a face. “You know how it gets in the basement, if you stay there too long.”

He says basement but that isn’t what he means and Frank knows it. He doesn’t call him on it, though, just nods like he understands. Mikey gives him a grateful smile before ducking his head and looking away.

They don’t talk much after that; they just walk together, bumping each others’ hips every so often to make sure they haven’t disappeared. Mikey listens to Frank’s breathing, and the tune he’s humming under his breath, to remind himself that there was a time when the world wasn’t silent and empty.

They only circle the block a few times before heading back because there’s a tight knot of guilt in the pit of Mikey’s stomach and he doesn’t want Gerard to worry about them any more than he already does. When they get back to the house, however, all the windows on the ground floor are smashed and there are lines of blood and guts leading right up to the front door, hanging mournfully off its hinges.

“Fuck,” Frank says, succinctly, but Mikey can’t breathe. He’s still staring in horror when Frank grabs his arm and wrenches him forward, inside, calling for Ray and Gerard because Mikey still can’t breathe. (Gerard, is all he can think, Gee, Gerard, holy fuck, please be okay. They should have been here, he should have been here, why did they leave?)

They catch sight of the first zombie loping down the hallway towards them and Mikey blinks. When he opens his eyes, it’s on the floor, one of Frank’s bullets between its bloodshot eyes.

“There’ll be more where that came from,” Frank says grimly. “You take the basement, I’ll deal with the rest up here.”

Mikey nods, pulling Frank into a quick, fierce hug before he rushes for the door. It’s the end of the world; you never know when you’ll need to say goodbye.

It’s pitch black when he stumbles down the stairs and he trips over something soft and squishy, landing on his face on the floor. Gerard, he thinks, cold terror washing over him like crashing waves, no, no, it can’t be-

“Mikey?” Ray hisses, voice cutting through Mikey’s growing hysteria. “That you?”

“Yeah,” he gasps out, rolling over into a sitting position, “yeah, it’s me, what the fuck’s going on?”

The light flicks on and Mikey squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see his big brother dead on the ground beside him because seeing it would make it real and he can’t, he just can’t.

“Mikey,” Ray says, voice soft, “it’s okay, he’s not- he tripped and hit his head on the side of the closet, knocked himself out. He’s not dead, Mikey, he’s not-”

Mikey lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding and opens his eyes. Gerard’s unconscious on the floor next to him, mouth lolling open and arm flung out, but he’s alive and he’s breathing and Mikey wants to hold him and squeeze him tight and never let him go. He settles for sliding his hand under Gerard’s head and lifting ‘til it’s resting in his lap, safe and protected.

“We got ambushed,” Ray tells him, and Mikey looks up, at the tiredness in the other man’s eyes, the pinched lines around his mouth. He’s squatting next to the two of them, staring at the floor, at Gerard. “Managed to get down here in time, though. Where’s Frank?”

“Upstairs,” Mikey says as he sits up, slowly. “Kicking zombie ass, I imagine.”

Ray laughs softly. “He’s gonna get himself killed, one day.”

Mikey shrugs. “Won’t we all?” he says, as lightly as Ray had, but there’s an edge to his voice that’s almost ever-present these days.

“Mikey,” Ray says, on an exhale, but he never gets a chance to finish because at that moment the door bangs open and Frank stumbles in, backwards, squeezing the trigger of his gun like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

Ray rockets to his feet and slams the door shut the minute Frank’s crossed the threshold. Breathing heavily, he spins around and catches sight of Gerard’s head cradled in Mikey’s lap.

“He knocked himself out,” Mikey says quickly, before Frank can jump to the same conclusion he did. “He oughta come to soon.”

Frank nods, something like relief in his eyes. “Good,” he murmurs, “yeah, that’s good.”

“How many are there up there?” Ray asks, his voice edged with trepidation like he doesn’t actually want to know the answer. Mikey doesn’t blame him.

“Dozen, two dozen, I don’t even know,” Frank replies, shaking his head. “Every time I killed one, two more would pop up.” He casts his eyes skywards, but Mikey isn’t sure what he’s seeing. “And now we’re trapped down here.”

“Trap door,” Mikey says. His voice comes out hoarse for some reason and he coughs a few times before speaking again. “In the floor. There’s a tunnel; it leads out to the middle of the street.”

There’s a strange look on Frank’s face when he says, “You never mentioned it before.”

Mikey shrugs. “You never asked.”

“We’re taking the trap door,” Ray says, like he can just feel the argument brewing in the air between them. “Mikey, me and you are gonna carry Gerard outta here, so pick a side. Frank, shoot the fucking shit out of anything that moves and isn’t alive, okay?”

As if on cue, there’s the sound of a thump against the door and the three of them jump, jolting Gerard. He doesn’t even stir.

“I am more than okay with this plan,” Frank announces, but his voice is flat. “Let’s get out of here before we get eaten.”

Ray goes down the tunnel first, after dithering for far too long because he’s too much of a gentleman for his own good and insists on Gerard and Mikey and Frank going first.

“You should go first,” Frank reasons, “because then we can lower Gerard down and you can catch him. Safer that way.”

Ray goes pretty quickly after that. It’s a pretty good argument; Mikey wishes he’d thought of it. Ray’ll do anything for Gerard.

They lower Gerard down after him and then Frank all but forces Mikey to go next, something dangerous in his eyes when he says, “Don’t argue, Mikey, just come the fuck on,” so Mikey does. His heart doesn’t stop pounding ‘til Frank’s small, lithe body drops down next to them, though.

“This way,” Mikey says, using his free hand to gesture in the relative darkness. Frank’s torch swivels to illuminate a narrow strip of corridor in the direction he’s pointing. “Me and Gerard used to sneak out when we were younger, ‘til our parents found out the trap door existed.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. Twice in one day. There’s something wrong with him.

Gerard’s lost quite a bit of weight since they were younger and Mikey had to all but carry him back to the basement, drunk, but he’s still a sizeable mass on his and Ray’s shoulders and by the time they reach the end of the tunnel, they’re both wheezing for breath a little and it’s a relief to unhook Gerard’s arms from around their necks and lower him to the ground while they work on the trap door at this end.

“There’s a hinge somewhere,” Mikey murmurs, feeling around the rotting wood. “Just have to- got it.”

He twists it a little ‘til it’s loose and makes to flip the trap door back so they can get out of here already but Frank grabs his arm, fingers circling his narrow wrist, and pulls his hand back down.

“You don’t know what’s up there,” he hisses. “Can’t let you get yourself killed, can I? Gee would never forgive me.”

Mikey feels a tad affronted – he doesn’t need protecting, he has a gun just like Frank does and he’s just as capable when it comes to using it – but he only stands back, folding his arms across his chest in silent challenge. Frank sighs, muttering something to himself, and flips back the trap door, popping his head up.

No brain-thirsty zombies appear. “See,” Mikey says, vindicated, “nothing to fucking- Frank!” he screams, voice torn from his throat, because something just grabbed Frank and hauled him up through the hole, something with a huge gaping mouth and claws instead of fingers.

Mikey rushes forward, ignoring Ray’s protests, and finds the familiar footholds in the ancient bricks before hoisting himself up and out of the gap that Frank just disappeared out of. Head swivelling manically to scan the street, he finds Frank grappling with the zombie a few feet away, kicking and punching and screaming obscenities. There aren’t any other zombies on the street; they’re all probably in his house.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Frank’s gun forgotten on the pavement next to him. Mikey doesn’t give himself time to think about it before diving for it.

Frank’s eyes widen when he catches sight of him. “No, Mikey, don’t, fucking don’t, just save yourself and get Gerard out of here!”

“This isn’t the time to be a hero, Frank,” Mikey shoots back as he fumbles with the gun, loading the spare ammunition he keeps on him at all times in case of emergencies. “You must be fucking stupid if you think we’re leaving you behind.”

Frank grumbles something under his breath and Mikey, in a great show of maturity, ignores him. He levels the gun at the zombie but before he can squeeze the trigger, a bullet whistles through the air and buries itself in the zombie’s back, killing it instantly.

Shocked, Mikey pivots on the spot, searching for the source. He halts abruptly when he comes face to face with an oddly familiar-looking man, shirtless and covered in tattoos, smoking gun hanging at his side, a broad grin on his face. Mikey opens his mouth to speak but the man walks right past him, stooping to the ground to help Frank to his feet.

“Thanks, man,” Frank gasps out, leaning heavily on the stranger. “Saved my life.”

Mikey resists the urge to point out that he was about to do just that.

“No problem, Frank,” the stranger says with an easy smile, except he turns out to be not much of a stranger at all, because Frank gasps out, “Pedicone? Mike Pedicone?”

(And that’s why he looks familiar. Before the end of the world, a long time before the end of the world, they had a band, Gerard and Mikey and Frank and Ray and Bob. It was awesome, while it lasted, and Pedicone’s band was one of the first they ever toured with. But they never got anywhere and they ended up leading different lives and they haven’t seen Pedicone in years.

Frank had the hugest crush on him for the longest time, back in the day. The way he’s looking at him, Mikey’s pretty sure it never went away.)

“Sure is, Frankie,” Pedicone grins, before pulling him into a hug. “Man, it’s good to see you again.”

“Fucking same, dude. You remember Mikey, right?” Frank says, gesturing to him.

Pedicone shifts, looking at Mikey for the first time. “Oh hey, Mikeyway,” he says, waving a little. Mikey sets his jaw and waves back, but Pedicone’s already turning back to Frank. “So, what are you doing in a zombie-infested shithole like this?”

Suddenly, Mikey remembers Gerard, and Ray, still trapped in the tunnel below them, and guilt floods in to fill the hollowness in his gut. He hurries back to the gap in the pavement and kneels down on the ground, as Frank explains what happened.

“Ray?” he calls out, into the darkness. “It’s Mikey. You two okay?”

“What took you so long, motherfucker?” Ray hisses back and Mikey exhales, slowly. “I’m sending him up now.”

Mikey grabs onto Gerard’s shoulders when his head appears and hauls him all the way out. Ray himself follows not long after Gerard’s safe on the pavement. Mikey grins at Ray; he’s never been so glad to see him and his hair. For a minute there, he wasn’t sure if the four of them were going to get out of the Way house alive.

“Who’s the guy Frank’s flirting with?” Ray asks, shielding his eyes from the sun. Mikey’s smile disappears. Fuck Ray and fuck his ‘fro.

“Mike Pedicone,” he says flatly, drawing his knees into his chest and resting his chin on top. “He saved Frank’s life.”

“Huh,” Ray says. “Isn’t he that guy-”

“Yeah,” Mikey nods. “He’s that guy.”

“Hey Frank!” Ray hollers, and both Frank and Pedicone’s heads turn. “Are we getting out of here or not?”

“Yeah, sorry, ‘course,” Frank says, but he’s still grinning like a madman. Mikey hasn’t seen him smile like that since before Bob. Fuck, Mikey hasn’t seen him smile like that since before the end of the world. “You remember Ray, right? And Gerard’s just there. Fucker knocked himself out.”

Pedicone gives Gerard’s prone body a mock-salute, but then he glances around, like he’s looking for someone. “Hey, where’s Bob?”

And just like that the grin disappears off Frank’s face. “He’s not with us any more,” he says shortly. “What about you, Mike? Where’s the rest of your guys?”

Pedicone shrugs. “Just me. Been state-hopping by myself for a while now. I was just passing by on impulse, thought I might bump into someone I used to know.” He smiles again, but there’s something guarded about it this time. “Lucky for you I did, eh?”

“You could come with us,” Frank offers, but hesitant, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to.

“Oh yeah? Where you headed?” Pedicone asks curiously.

“Um,” Frank says, gaze shifting instinctively to Gerard, who’s still unconscious. “Dunno, really. The fuck away from here?”

Pedicone doesn’t look impressed. “What about transport?” Frank just shakes his head, looking sort of crushed. “You can’t just take off without a car or anything, the zombies’ll pick you apart in a matter of hours. Have you guys thought this through at all?”

“Not really,” Mikey says evenly. “We were kind of too busy running for our lives to think about little details like how and where.”

Pedicone narrows his eyes, but then he only shrugs. “Fair enough,” he says, amiably enough. “I’ve got a van with plenty of space, enough food to feed an army and a fuckload of ammunition. How about you guys come with me?”

Before Mikey can politely but firmly tell him to fuck off and take his supplies with him, Ray says, “Yes, fuck yes, as long as we can get as far away from here as possible. The zombies are still in the house and it’s only a matter of time before the rest of their buddies show up too. We’re sitting ducks here.”

Mikey nods reluctantly and helps Ray hoist Gerard to his feet. Frank’s already walking ahead with Pedicone, laughing about something Mikey can’t hear.

***

Gerard regains consciousness when they’re in Pedicone’s van, halfway out of the city and heading for God knows where. Frank called shotgun the minute they were in range so he’s up front with Pedicone and Mikey’s in the back opposite Ray, Gerard’s head in his lap again.

“What’s going on?” he mumbles, shifting around as he wakes. “Where are we?”

“You knocked yourself out, asshole,” Mikey informs him, but his mouth’s tugging up of its own accord. “And then the house got attacked by zombies so me and Ray had to carry you out of there.”

Gerard’s eyes widen and he sits up quickly. “Shit,” he says. “The house.”

(He says the house but that isn’t what he means; they had food and clothes and guns and ammo and they could’ve survived there for another ten years at least. Their parents were nothing if not prepared and dammit, three times, Mikey must be feeling particularly masochistic today.)

“We had to leave it, Gee,” Mikey says softly. “There were too many of them- we couldn’t stay.”

Gerard nods, but he isn’t looking at his brother. “What are we gonna do now, though?” he asks in a small voice. Mikey’s heard him sound lost before and it’s just as terrifying this time around. “Where are we gonna go?”

“This little place in California,” Pedicone calls from the front, and Gerard nearly jumps out of his skin. “I’ve heard there aren’t so many deadbeats there and the sun still shines like it’s gonna go on forever.”

“Mike Pedicone?” Gerard says, incredulous. He’s grinning like Frank had, threatening to split his face in two. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Saved little Frankie’s ass, I’ll have you know,” Pedicone retorts good-naturedly.

“Hey, less of the little!” Frank protests, but it’s drowned out by everyone else’s laughter – grudging, in Mikey’s case, but genuine nonetheless.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.