Chapter Text
Today was a bad day, Webby said so, and Webby was always right. Blue blood. Dead not dead. Bad songs.
Hannah didn't know what to make of those warnings, but she loyally passed them on to her big sister who could do anything. Lex was the biggest superhero of all, after all. She would yell at their mom and the teachers and buy Hannah little treats when it was a bad day. Lex even said she was going to take her away from Hatchetfield, that the three of them were going to California together, that Mom was never going to find them and they would never have to worry again.
Today was a bad day. Hannah had refused to go to school because it was a bad day so Lex had skipped as well to take care of her. Ethan had joined them at the mall not long after, somewhere safe from their mother where Hannah felt safe. She didn’t know why Ethan was skipping too, but he was part of their little family, and that meant it was okay. People were singing though and it was making Hannah nervous. Webby had warned her of songs. Why were they even singing?
"Bad songs bad songs bad songs bad songs bad songs," Hannah muttered nervously as she hid behind Ethan.
"They're just goin' a little wild, Hannah, don't worry,”' Lex replied, handing her the tangle toy she'd stolen for Hannah a while back.
Hannah did not like the la de da da day song. It was too much, bad song, no good. There was too much nervous in her, too much energy. The tangle helped but she still had too much, but rocking helped, so she rocked where she sat behind Ethan.
"Hey, Banana," Ethan said, turning to face her. He pulled a ball cap out of his back pocket and held it out to her. "This cap belonged to a great warrior-"
Lex snorted and Ethan sent her a look. "Don't you fucking laugh. I'm serious! It belonged to my dad!"
"Yep, uh huh, sure," Lex said with a smirk.
Ethan rolled his eyes and turned back to Hannah. "This hat is magic. While you have it on, nothing's gonna hurt you, okay? Bad day or not," he said, placing it firmly on her head. "My dad took it with him when he went over with the army, and he made it back in one piece and gave it to me. I've never gotten hurt with it on, and now I'm givin' it to you. You'll keep it safe, right?"
Hannah nodded enthusiastically, feeling much safer with Ethan's magic hat on her head. The people were still singing bad songs though, and their attention was turning towards the trio. Bad songs. Dead not dead. Hannah knew she would be safe with the hat on but that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to be scared.
"Jesus Christ, those guys are annoying. I'm gonna tell 'em to shut up, okay?" Lex said as she stood up. Ethan didn't stop her. Ethan should have stopped her.
The next thing Hannah knew, Ethan was swearing and picking her up, running down the hallway with her, away from Lex. He had his hand against the back of her head, burying it into his shoulder so she wouldn't see whatever scared him. Still though, Hannah had gotten a glimpse: Lex being torn open and fed blue goo.
Hannah screamed but Ethan shushed her as he ducked them into the employee area between the stores. He had to stop to catch his breath, putting her down but grabbing her hand to continue their escape. "Blue blood, dead not dead, bad songs," she repeated as they ran.
"You're so right," Ethan said, out of breath. They burst out the back exist he had parked at, and he scrambled to get his keys out.
Hannah bounced by the back door of the car nervously. She played the role of watchman, looking for threats. What she was not expecting was Lex to burst out from the same door they'd exited from, causing Hannah to scream and stumble back. Ethan swore and dropped his keys, scrambling to pick the ring back up.
"My mom's a bitch!" Lex sang.
"Jesus Christ," Ethan swore. "Hannah! Behind me!" Ethan pulled out his switchblade as he flipped through his keys.
"An alcoholic! A melancholic!" Lex was dancing now, some choreography she shouldn't know. Her shirt was stained blue with her organs splayed out of her stomach. Hannah sobbed and held her hat tightly onto her head as Lex grew nearer.
Ethan looked confused, desperate, scared. Hannah knew he couldn't hurt Lex, he'd promised, and Ethan always kept his promises. "Lexi, please," he begged, holding out the knife in a threatening manner.
"Not Lexi," Hannah cried. "Dead not dead!"
"Cause we're Califor-M.I.A.! M.I.A.! Yeah we're Ca-"
Ethan kicked her in the chest to send her backwards and unlocked the car. He shoved Hannah in the driver's seat and then sat down with her, shutting the door before Lex could get back over to them. Hannah crawled into the back and buckled up as Ethan put in the key and pressed down the gas paddle, speeding away from the scene.
---
Shit.
The infected breached the blockade his men had set up. That shouldn't have been a problem, they should have been able to shoot them down before it caused any distress, but his men had been standing close to the section of the blockade that broke and roughly five privates were infected before anyone proceeded what was happening. The infection was immediate, roughly, and they turned on the others, letting out a spray of bullets where they knew would cause damage. General John McNamara quickly hid behind the nearby cover and readied his weapon.
Webby had been right: blue blood, dead not dead, bad songs. She'd warned him not to go, but it was his duty to protect and serve.
What choice did he have? Innocents were relying on him. John had given his husband one last kiss, told him not to worry, and left. Now he wasn't sure if he would live to see Xander again. He was the only one who'd escaped the barrage of bullets, and he knew that made his chance of survival slim. The helicopter would be there soon, and he had to try to get those civilians out safely. Still though, he couldn't be certain that the driver wouldn't be infected as well. Even if they were, John could probably get them safely to Clivesdale, for the most part, as long as he could dispatch them without crashing the helicopter.
Sneaking men. Run, John, danger.
John looked quickly to the side where the horde was amassing, but found himself grabbed from behind. He cursed his kindness in giving the civilian his pistol and instead opted for his knife, stabbing the infected in the neck. They seemed to expect that though, and after his hit landed, his arm was held tightly by one infected while another grasped his other. He struggled against them as another held him from behind.
You can see. You can hear. They know. They want you.
No, he didn't want to go down like that. That couldn't be his death. Very rarely did one have control in how they died, however, and this was no exception. Something was sprayed in his face and he was released. Purely on instinct he ran, unable to see much or hear. His eyes burned and his ears rung which made any attempt at an escape difficult. Before long he found himself hidden inside an industrial sized vent, curled up with his knees to his chest as he struggled to get the substance out of his eyes.
Webby's voice was distant and filled with static, no more aid could she give as some other voice was taking over, more a hum than words. Spores. It must have been the damn spores of the Hive that they'd sprayed in his face. He could feel them seeping through his eyes and lungs into his bloodstream and mind. John closed his eyes and tried desperately to fight off the infection, to keep his head clear long enough to plan for an escape, but every passing moment was making it more difficult and more enthralling to give into the humming Hive Mind.
It wouldn't be his responsibility anymore. He would be free from the stress of leadership and the pain of failure. The Hive would take control of it all. All he would have to do would be to help the Hive connect to the Black and White like they wanted, a deeper connection to Earth. All he had to do was-
"John? You can't call me while you're on a mission, you know that."
John looked down at his hands, startled to see his hands grasping his radio telephone like his life depended on it. It seemed like the part of his mind that hadn't succumbed was fighting desperately to survive, and calling Xander had been its way to do so. He couldn't remember dialing the number, or even pulling it out, but there he was.
"John? John, what's wrong?" Xander asked, an edge of concern now in his voice.
His eyes narrowed and a frown fell on his face. Xander wasn't supposed to be concerned, that was never part of the plan. John squeezed his eyes shut and grunted in pain as the roots of the infection dug deeper. His mouth felt slimy, and he coughed, letting loose some of the blue shit that was filling him up.
"John! Talk to me, what's happening?!"
"Xan," John grunted, hitting his head against the vent in pain. "I'm infected. The entire brigade is gone. Don't trust the helicopter. Should have two citizens, if they survive to get on it."
"You're-..." Xander paused and took a deep breath. The longer he paused, the more the infection grew. "Okay. It's going to be okay, John, just fight it. Okay? I'm here. I'm ordering for a larger group to get to your location. You're going to be fine, we'll figure it out. You-"
"No cure," he mumbled. "Eyes burn. Webby gone. No fight." It was growing incredibly hard to think, his mind kept wandering to the hum of the Hive. John knew he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.
"John, no, you'd better not," Xander cried, sounding as if he was crying. "You can't give up, that's not what you do. You fight, God damn it. You're the most stubborn man I've ever met, you can't stop that now."
"I love you," John whispered melodically. Huh, it felt nice.
"No! John, no!"
"I love you, I love-"
Paul was there. It was time to infect him. General McNamara exited the vent, instinctively putting the phone in it's pocket without thinking to hang up. He wasn't thinking anymore.
There was a buzzing, as he sang, something he wasn't allowed to comprehend anymore.
And then there was silence.
---
Tom stared across the table at his silent son, his head on his hands hold gently on the surface. Tim was sniffling, had been since the previous night and Tom had decided to keep him home. The boy in question was sitting in an identical stance, looking up at his dad with his own head on his hands.
"You gotta eat your soup," Tom stated, breaking the silence.
"I don't want to," Tim said with his congested voice.
"I know that, but you gotta. Otherwise you're not gonna get better and the monsters are gonna eat you instead because they eat boogers," he said calmly.
"Monsters aren't real, I'm not a baby," Tim scoffed, then sniffled.
"Oh they're real! I've seen 'em with my own two eyes."
A knock came from the front door before Tim could reply. Tom reluctantly stood to answer it, but before he could get any closer the knock sounded again. "I'm coming!" he called, but apparently not fast enough. A hand smashed through the window in the door and singing could be heard on the other side. "What the fuck?" he said, grabbing his son's baseball bat.
The hand forced open the front door and Tom swung the bat, hitting the stranger on the other side. More people were coming though, all singing. Without thinking, he ran back to his son, who had been slurping down his soup, and carried him to the car, shoving him in his seat before taking off down the road. "Close your eyes, Tim!" he said as he plowed through the blue bleeding strangers and neighbors who seemed dead set on something.
Tom had no idea where to go, everyone seemed to be going insane. Emma! He spared a thought to his sister in law and quickly called her number to see if she was safe. "Emma, what the fuck is going on?"
"The apocalypse? Where have you been?" She sounded annoyed, scared, and out of it. Not a good sign.
"Taking care of Tim, he has a cold. Where are you, I'll come pick you up," Tom replied.
"I'm by the riverside near the mall in the helicopter crash, you can't miss it. I'm also bleeding like, a lot, so…?" Great, amazing, what the fuck?
"I'll be there in ten, stay awake until then," he said, hanging up before she could reply.
The trip there was silent other than Tim's sniffles, and it didn't take long to find Emma in the wreckage. "Shit, Emma," he whispered as he took off his flannel and wrapped it around the wound. "Can you hold this on for me?"
"Yeaaahhh," she replied, looking as though she was about to pass out.
Tom took the risk and picked her up, running to the car. He placed her in the back and got into the driver's seat once more. "To the hospital," he said as he headed out.
"Hospital's fucked. We need to go to Clivesdale," she disagreed.
"Clivesdale? What do we do there?! Pretty sure they don't have a hospital," Tom said.
"Do you want Tim to become a singing zombie like the rest of them? If you do, go to the hospital!" Emma muttered, sounding more and more faint.
"Shit," Tom said, speeding through the streets to the only safe place he could think of. Tim was crying but by God, he wasn't going to stop until his family was somewhere safe. After a minute he pulled out his phone once more and pulled up a number he hadn't called since high school.
"Hey, Becky, I know you work at that super small government thing as a nurse. I'm gonna need you to let us in, if you're willing."
"Tom? You're alive?"
"Don't sound so shocked. My sister-in-law is bleeding out and I know you're probably not allowed to let in people that crazy government army place, but-"
"Come. I'll let them know you're coming. We're getting an influx of people right now because they're bringing in everyone who's infected. They'll want to check you guys over but if she's bleeding out you need to get here now," Becky said quickly.
"We're on our way, just make sure they won't shoot us on sight, I've got my son in the car," Tom replied.
"Just get here, everything will be fine, I need to hang up to let them know, just trust me," she said before doing exactly as she said she would.
Tom tossed his phone into the passenger seat and pushed the gas peddle to the floor. No way was he gonna let his son turn into one of those singing fucks. If that meant going to a military base that would probably cause him a lot of panic, it was worth it. Tim needed to get somewhere safe, so did Emma. He just hoped he'd have enough time to get there.
Before he could process what was happening, time seemed to slow. Another car was also racing down the street set to T-Bone them. Tom swerved to avoid them, but the two cars smashed into each other anyway. Tom swore loudly, relieved that the wreck hadn't been worse, and got out of the car to check the other drivers, bringing the bat with him.
The driver of the other car had a cut on his head and was dazed, it seemed, but Tom would recognize a student of his anywhere. "Ethan, are you infected?" Tom asked as he noticed the little girl in the back seat.
"We're clean, officer," Ethan mumbled, rubbing his forehead.
She'd been buckled, but Ethan hadn't been, it seemed. Now though, she unbuckled and attempted to push her door open, though it was smashed and wasn't opening. The girl didn't LOOK infected, so he pulled the door open with a great deal of difficulty. She adjusted the hat on her head and pointed to Tom's car. Tom nodded towards it and she ran to get inside.
He pulled open Ethan's door as well before picking him up and putting him in the passenger seat of his own car, which was in better shape than the one the young ones were in. Tom got back in the car and made sure everyone was buckled before heading off once more. Emma was unconscious now, and Tim was crying loudly. The little girl was clutching her wrist and was crying as well, while Ethan was blinking hard at the light. What a motley crew. At least he was closing in to the PEIP Base.