(If We Can) Find Where We Belong

Mikey only knows how long it’s been because of his notebook. It’s not a diary, it’s nothing like a diary, but every single day before he goes to sleep he bullet-points what happened in the past twenty four hours – something always happens, even if it’s just Gerard drawing him a picture or Frank smiling at him or Ray playing something on the guitar they had to leave behind – and adds a stark black line to his tally count at the start. He couldn’t tell you what day it is, what month it is, even, but he can tell you it’s been twenty seven days since the governments fell and everything descended into chaos.

It’s this notebook that he’s clutching in his hands, squeezing tight like it’s Pedicone’s neck, while Ray drives them through deserted town after deserted town. Him and Frank are in the back of the van, talking and giggling about something, quietly so they don’t wake up Gerard who’s snoring next to them.

It’s not that Mikey doesn’t like Pedicone, that isn’t it at all. Mikey can’t not like him; Pedicone is funny, Pedicone is sweet, Pedicone is wonderful. Frank’s told him so, on more than one occasion, eyes lit up and face flushed and mouth tugged up at the corners like it can’t help itself.

(Mikey doesn’t hate Pedicone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could.)

***

They stop in Oklahoma, because it’s halfway along their route and by the time they get there they’ve all taken a turn driving and Pedicone thinks they ought to rest, get some sleep, before they go on.

Stillwater is a ghost town. It’s worse than Belleville; at least Belleville’s buildings were still mostly standing and the streets weren’t littered with freshly dead bodies.

The worst part, though, is that there is not a single zombie in sight. If they aren’t in sight, that means they’re hiding and if they’re hiding, that means they’ve gotten clever and if they’ve gotten clever, there is no way they’re all getting out of this alive.

“Maybe stopping here isn’t such a good idea,” Ray says from the driver’s seat, his laugh high and nervous. “Guys?”

“Yeah, no, let’s get out of here,” Gerard says quickly, head bobbing like a nodding dog. “We can stop in the next town over or something, just not-”

At that moment, there’s a loud thump from above and they all duck instinctively.

“-here,” Gerard finishes, teeth digging into his lower lip.

“What the fuck was that?” Frank demands, gaze darting around wildly.

“I think,” Mikey says, swallowing hard, “a zombie just landed on the roof.”

They all look up, then back down, then at each other. Then they look at Ray.

“Drive,” they say, almost simultaneously, and Ray does. He floors the accelerator and they hurtle out of there, bringing the zombie along for the ride. Ray twists the wheel and veers to the side and Frank tumbles into Mikey’s lap and clings on. The zombie’s got a death grip on the van, though, and it keeps pounding at the roof like it’s trying to get through.

Like it’s trying to get through. Mikey’s eyes widen in horror.

“Ray, you have to get this thing off us right now!” he hollers, shoving Frank off him. “It’s trying to get through the roof.”

“Shit,” Pedicone curses, but whether it’s because of their impending doom or because Frank just landed on top of him, Mikey isn’t sure.

He never gets a chance to find out, because at that moment Ray crashes the van into the side of a building and everything goes black.

***

When Mikey comes to, it’s to something warm trickling down the side of his face and muffled, unfamiliar voices somewhere above his head. He blinks a few times, trying to shake off the grogginess. He’s in a van, with Gerard and Frank and Ray and- and Pedicone, and they’re heading for... California, and-

Mikey’s eyes go wide and his head immediately snaps to the side, finding Ray. He shuffles forward and, holding his breath, reaches to press his fingers to the pulse point under Ray’s chin. He only lets out the breath when he feels it, faint and irregular but still there.

“Hey Nicky,” one of the unfamiliar voices says suddenly, “I think one of them just moved.”

Mikey stills. “Hello?” he calls out, cautious.

“Hi,” the voice calls back, sounding vaguely confused. “Anyone else alive in there?”

Mikey swallows the bile rising in his throat and leans over to check Gerard’s pulse. He does the same for Frank and Pedicone, then calls out, “Yeah, me and four other guys.”

Suddenly, someone appears in the window, grinning and motioning for Mikey to wind it down. Mikey obeys; he has to lean over Gerard to reach. “You’re fucking lucky to be alive, dude,” the man says, his eyes big and grey and too serious for the expression on his face. “If the deadbeats didn’t kill you, the crash should’ve. But it scared most of them away, so we’re okay for now. Nice swerve, by the way.”

Mikey points to Ray; credit where credit’s due, after all. “Is there anyone else with you?”

“Yeah, Nicky, my boyfriend, Nick, but he’s-” the man cranes his long neck, looking at something Mikey can’t see. “Nick!” he hollers. “Get your ass over here, we’ve got five breathers who need medical attention.”

“I’m coming, Tyson, give me a minute to get the damn supplies!” another unfamiliar voice, presumably Nick, hollers back.

Tyson rolls his eyes, then turns back to Mikey. “No one’s badly injured, are they?”

Mikey worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “Ray, the driver, he looks pretty bad. I think he’s bleeding.”

“Okay,” Tyson says, frowning. “We’ll have to get him to the hospital somehow- we can get your van hooked up to our truck and tow you along-”

“Wait,” Mikey interrupts, eyes wide. “Hospital? You still have one of those?”

Tyson shrugs. “Nick’s a doctor,” he says matter-of-factly. “He treats people who need it. It’s not a hospital exactly, though. The real one didn’t last very long.”

“Right,” Mikey says, glancing away. “Well, uh, thank you. For helping us. You don’t have to.”

“Yeah we do,” Tyson says easily, but before Mikey can protest, the other man – Nick – approaches and he forgets what he was going to say.

***

Frank and Gerard wake up while Nick and Tyson’s truck pulls them out and tows them away. Not long after, so does Pedicone. He looks ashen when Mikey tells him what state his van is in, but his face gets even paler when he realises that Ray is still unconscious. Tyson told them not to move him, if they could help it, so Gerard has an arm wrapped around him to keep him still. He hasn’t said a word since he regained consciousness, just keeps staring into space with a tight, miserable expression on his face.

When they grind to a halt, Mikey peers out of the window at the ‘hospital’. It’s just a house, really, two storeys high and identical to millions across America. Mikey’s dubious, but they don’t really have any other choice but to trust Nick and Tyson to make Ray better, so when Nick appears with a stretcher, he takes Ray’s other side and helps Gerard haul him out of the van.

“You should probably stay with the others,” Nick advises Gerard, who’s gotten out along with Ray.

“I’m staying with Ray,” he says, stubbornly. “Someone has to. He’ll want a familiar face when he wakes up.”

Mikey doesn’t want to correct him, but his mouth opens of its own accord and he says, quietly, “If. If he wakes up.”

Gerard stiffens and doesn’t turn around. “When,” he repeats, firmer this time, and Nick only shrugs before turning and wheeling Ray inside, Gerard hot on his heels.

“Hey,” Tyson says, touching Mikey’s shoulder. “We have a place, next door. Actually, we kind of have the whole street; people pretty much come and go and just stay wherever there’s room.” He laughs, but it sounds kind of forced. Mikey doesn’t want to think about how few survivors there must be if they’re all living on this tiny street. “You should stay, get some sleep. You look like you could use it.”

“You sure?” Mikey says dubiously. “I mean, we don’t wanna put you out-”

“Yes we do,” Frank interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Mikey, we’re all exhausted, and we were going to stop here anyway. What do you want us to do, crash in the van?”

Mikey bristles, but he’s too tired to argue so he just nods. “Thank you,” he tells Tyson, hoping the man can hear the gratitude in his voice.

Tyson just shrugs lightly and smiles. “No problem. Us breathers have to stick together, right?”

There isn’t really a place for common decency at the end of the world. Most of the other survivors they’ve encountered have tried to kill them or steal their stuff or both. A part of him is wary to take what Tyson and Nick are offering them but another is weary, so very, very weary of this cruel, thoughtless world and wants nothing more than to believe that there’s still a shred of goodness in it.

So Mikey smiles back, and when Tyson moves to go inside, he follows him, Frank and Pedicone trailing behind them.

***

Mikey’s half-expecting – hoping? – that the house will be cramped, jammed full of survivors all grimy and weary but desperately alive.

There are two others.

(Mikey can’t help the relief that floods into his stomach when he sees them; less survivors means more supplies to go ‘round. He wants to feel sick for being relieved about something like that, but he can’t help it.)

Tyson introduces the two people as Chris and Mike, then looks at the three of them expectantly. It’s then that Mikey realises they haven’t even told them their names.

“Frank,” Frank says, nodding at them. “Nice to meet you.”

“Mike,” Pedicone drawls, smirking, “but you can call me Pedicone. Less confusing that way.”

“Kennerty,” Tyson’s Mike says easily.

They all look at Mikey, who shifts slightly and says, “Mikey.”

“For real? Too many Mikes, dude,” Tyson laughs, shaking his head. “You got a surname?”

“It’s Mikey,” Mikey repeats, trying not to sound irritated. “Not Mike. Mikey.”

Frank rolls his eyes but Tyson just shrugs and says, “Cool. So, okay, there are three bedrooms. Chris and Mike – Kennerty, I mean – share, and normally I’d share with Nick but he’ll probably stay next door all night, so one of you can share with me and the other two can take the last room.” He turns to look at Mikey. “Do you and Frank wanna share?”

“Um,” Mikey says, looking at Frank, who only shrugs. “Don’t mind, really.”

Tyson’s brow furrows. “Huh. Aren’t you two-” He makes a vaguely demonstrative gesture and Mikey blanches.

“No, fuck no,” he says, too quickly. “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” Frank echoes. “Just friends.”

When Mikey looks at him, Frank won’t meet his eyes and Mikey doesn’t know why. “I’ll share with Tyson,” Mikey says, before he can change his mind. “Frank and Pedicone can share.”

Frank mutters something unintelligible. Tyson arches an eyebrow. Pedicone just looks uncomfortable. Mikey doesn’t look at anyone until when Chris clears his throat and says, “So, Ty, why don’t we show them where the rooms are?”

***

The rooms aren’t massive, but considering they’d been pretty much holed up in a basement for four weeks, Mikey’s not about to complain. There is only one bed, though. Suddenly Mikey understands why Tyson was offering him and Frank a room to themselves, and he feels a little sick.

“I can sleep on the floor, if you want,” Tyson offers, at the look on Mikey’s face.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Mikey assures him, trying to smile. “It’s your room, after all, and you’ve already done-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Tyson says, wagging a finger at him. “We’re happy to help. People come by, people who don’t have anywhere else, and if we can offer them a place to stay, why shouldn’t we?”

Put like that, Mikey can’t think of a single reason. “Still,” he says, “you don’t have to.” Tyson shrugs. “I just- I think it’s great, that you do anyway.”

Tyson just smiles at him, cheeks dimpling by the corners of his mouth, and Mikey smiles back.

***

It’s the middle of the night and Mikey can’t sleep. He’s been staring at the same patch of ceiling for about half an hour ago, counting sheep and running through baselines and reciting every comic book superhero he can remember in his head. It isn’t helping. He just- he can’t stop thinking, can’t stop his mind whirring through a million different thoughts all at once.

Tyson rolls over and Mikey listens to him breathing for a few minutes, counting the shallow intakes of breath until he has enough courage to speak.

“Tyson,” he whispers, “why’d you think me and Frank were together, before?”

Mikey hears Tyson roll over next to him. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding thoughtful. “You just sort of seemed like you were, and- well, you don’t look at him like I look at Chris or Mike, put it that way.”

Mikey swallows, hard. “Right,” he says, because he isn’t sure what else to say. “Thanks.”