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The gradual hush that falls over the camp at nightfall is one of the only things keeping David sane these days. During the day there is never a moment to breathe. Everywhere he looks there are others doing their assigned chores, going out on food runs, switching out watch shifts.
He hasn’t seen a zombie in weeks because of everyone’s dedication to the upkeep of the camp, but it can be suffocating, never having a moment to himself.
But when the sun melts across the horizon, leaving behind inky darkness, he feels his muscles relax one by one. Through the living room windows of the tiny cottage he claimed when the camp was first forming, he can see a group sitting around a small fire. Laughter drifts in through the walls, soft and peaceful.
Alexis is there, arm slung across Twyla’s shoulders and face pink from the heat of the flames. Stevie is sitting beside them, rolling her eyes and taking a swig of the shitty beer she found when she was out with the crew the other night. None of them hold David’s eyes for long, though, as he catches sight of a dark figure behind them, a sway in its movements.
For a moment David’s heart feels like it’s bursting, panic sweeping through him with immense force at the possibility of a breach. Just as he reaches for the bat he keeps by the door, though, the figure’s face comes into view, illuminated by the fire.
Patrick smiles wide as he greets the group, and as he takes one step closer, David notices he has something cradled in his arms. The creature wrapped in the bright pink blanket screeches out of nowhere, eliciting various reactions between amusement and annoyance.
Jocelyn gave birth to her son just a month ago, and a lot of the camp residents have stepped up in looking after him. David, however, has stayed far away from the little gremlin, nowhere near enchanted by its constant drooling and pooping.
Patrick seems enthralled, though, eyes widening with fond delight as the baby presses its hand to his face, grubby palm resting on his cheek. David watches him speak to it quietly, bouncing it in his arms, when an unnecessarily loud voice pulls him out of whatever trance he was in.
“Are you going to come outside or just stand there like a creep?” Stevie calls, looking straight at David through the window. The others quickly follow her gaze, eyes landing on him, and he trudges across the living room with a grimace, pulling the door open with extra force.
He was going to relax tonight–maybe read one of the books he swore he was going to start months ago–but instead he finds himself shoved into the seat next to Patrick, who is slowly lulling the baby to sleep. Stevie takes his hand and forcefully curls his fingers around another one of her beers, and he sighs, leaning back with the acceptance that he will not be getting any sleep tonight.
The group gets back to their antics, playing some sort of Never Have I Ever game that David refuses to participate in. Alexis has too much dirt on him. Even before the world ended and they barely saw each other, she knew pretty much everything about him.
Siblings are dangerous in that way.
Taking a sip of Stevie’s disgusting concoction, he glues his eyes to the flames in front of him and lets his mind wander to tomorrow. He has a lot of work to do if he wants to get everything out to the residents on time.
He’s been in charge of clothing since the beginning. He’s always been interested in fashion, so it only made sense when his father sat him down, handed him sewing supplies, and begged him to learn. He started out with just a few needles and some thread, but as their numbers and resources grew, he got his hands on a sewing machine.
Patrick was the one who brought it to him, actually.
He had just arrived at the camp about two weeks before, and he immediately insisted on going through the hoops so he could help outside of the walls. His father has a series of steps that he requires residents to go through in order to ensure no one goes out before they are ready. They lost a lot of people before that.
There was this soft determination in Patrick, though, that allowed him to soar through the process. David’s father was halfway in love with him by his third day in camp, and David wasn’t too far behind.
He thinks he’s ahead now.
“Why are you so quiet tonight?” Stevie asks, crossing her arms. “It’s nice but also disturbing.”
“Funny. I’m having a lot of fun.”
“Seriously, what’s your deal?” she asks, getting up from her seat and flopping down on his other side. “Did something happen?”
Stevie always sees right through him. It’s simultaneously annoying and amazing.
The thing is, David gets quiet around Patrick, which is weird because David actually never shuts up and irritates most of the camp residents on a daily basis with his unrequested fashion advice and complaints about not being able to snack as much anymore.
Some things about him still haven’t changed, even in light of the apocalypse.
But Patrick’s presence is overwhelming in a comforting way. The sight of him puts David at ease, just like nightfall. The camp most definitely wouldn’t be the same without him. He’s already contributed so much, sacrificed time and nearly gotten himself killed time and time again for the good of the camp.
Sometimes it actually makes David feel guilty. He’s not the type of guy to go running into battle. He’s the guy that gets shoved behind everyone else and told to hide until he gets the all clear. He helps out in every way he can, but he’ll never live up to that kind of bravery.
Patrick makes him feel like he doesn’t have to.
“Nothing happened. I’m just in a weird–”
A whistle interrupts him, followed by three others, and everyone else around the fire jumps to their feet, on alert. A few more whistles sound, and a chill runs down David’s spine.
He knows what that means. Suspicious movement beyond the walls of the camp.
Stevie is already running toward the danger, knife in hand, and the rest aren’t far behind. Except for Patrick, who is still holding the baby.
“David, I know you don’t want to, but can you hold–”
“No,” David interrupts, even more horror taking over his body as he watches Patrick extend his arms toward him.
“Please, just take him inside and sit with him until we get the all clear. Shut off the lights and stay away from the windows.”
He doesn’t wait for another protest, carefully and efficiently sliding the baby into David’s arms and hopping over the fire before running toward the wall in a full-on sprint. David is frozen for a moment, limbs overcome with fear as he watches Patrick fade back into darkness. It’s not until he hears the familiar bang of a gunshot that he rushes back into his house, gripping the baby in one arm like a football as he locks the door behind him. He slams his hand down on the light switch, plunging himself into the pitch black, and sinks down onto the floor, away from the windows.
The baby wiggles in his arms, fussy as it wakes up from the sudden jostling. It lets out little whimpers of displeasure, and David can just barely see its face scrunching up and skin turning red as his eyes adjust.
“Ew,” David whispers to himself halfheartedly, even as his arms begin to mindlessly rock the tiny bundle back and forth.
This seems to please it, face smoothing out and eyes opening. It stares up at him, wide gaze full of wonder, and he watches curiously. He vaguely remembers the first time his parents convinced him to hold Alexis when she was born. She was so tiny and fragile, a fidgeting little alien that David really didn’t want anything to do with, but there was something about the way she scrunched her nose that made him smile, and he knew then that he must really love her.
He’s tried to protect her ever since, steering her away from the bad influences in her life before everything went to hell, but he can’t protect her from this. He certainly isn’t the person who should be left in charge of anyone, let alone someone else’s baby. He barely made it this far. If it wasn’t for the camp and his father’s strong leadership skills, he would likely be one of those things, violent and mindless and hungry.
His breath gets more shallow as he thinks about all of the close calls he’s had, all of the moments where he’s been seconds away from certain death. The baby seems to sense it, face once again turning red as it lets out an eardrum-splitting cry.
“Not now,” David hisses, hand hovering over its mouth.
Is it unethical to put his hand over a baby’s mouth to keep it quiet? Do those kinds of rules even still exist in this world?
The baby lets out another cry, and David grits his teeth, completely unsure what to do, when the doorknob begins to turn. David goes numb as he watches it twist, then hears the failed push on the door. The lock holds, but that doesn’t reassure him. He’s seen hundreds of forced open doors since the end.
He scoots back on the floor toward his bedroom uselessly, cringing as the baby continues crying. There’s no way the person on the other side of the door can’t hear it.
They’re very clearly doomed.
“David?” Patrick’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “Are you both okay?”
David nearly dies as relief rushes over him, saturating his racing heart. He scrambles to his feet, baby still in his arms, and unlocks the door, swinging it open wildly. Patrick appears unscathed, his lopsided curly hair the only sign that anything happened at all.
David shoves the baby back into his arms as soon as he’s sure it’s safe, earning a knowing laugh.
“So I take it you two didn’t bond?” Patrick teases, smiling down at the baby.
“What the hell happened?” David asks, rolling his eyes and ignoring the question.
Patrick mirrors his eye roll, shaking his head.
“Jackson was so sure there was someone hiding in the bushes outside of the walls, swore it was a zombie. Turns out it was a raccoon.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” David presses his hands to his face, distress rolling through him. He had spent the better part of the last twenty minutes thinking he was going to die, all over a raccoon. “Is it too much to ask for one peaceful night?”
Patrick’s lips curl with mirth. “I think we lost the right to that expectation when half the population was wiped out.”
“Okay,” David replies, failing to force a faux frown onto his face.
“Maybe I can make it up to you, though,” Patrick says, as though it’s his fault Jackson mistook a raccoon for a person.
“Oh?”
Patrick nods toward David’s completely spotless and unused kitchen, grinning at the sight of it. “I can sneak something out of ration and finally put that stove to use.”
“ You will steal something from ration?”
“Is that really such a surprise?”
David raises an eyebrow. “I have never once seen you break any of the rules since you got here.”
A mysterious expression forms on Patrick’s face, and he shrugs, looking down at the baby, who has quickly fallen back to sleep. He pokes at its chubby cheeks for a moment, then meets David’s eyes.
“Emphasis on seen. Just because you didn’t witness it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
“Mhm,” David replies, unconvinced. “I’m still having a hard time believing all of this is real, so trying to wrap my head around anything else is pointless.”
“Whatever you say.”
Patrick moves back through the door, lingering on the steps as David follows him to the doorway. The fire has been extinguished, and everyone else seems to have gone to bed now that the supposed threat has been taken care of.
The quiet is back, and David is happy to share it with Patrick, even just for a moment.
Sure enough, the radio clipped to Patrick’s belt sounds, Jocelyn’s worried voice coming through. After reassuring her that her son is fine, Patrick shoots David an apologetic look, going down the rest of the steps.
“This time tomorrow?” he suggests, eyes wide and hopeful.
David nods, barely able to keep himself from offering him a full-on smile, teeth and all. He watches Patrick walk down the street for a moment, skin vibrating with excitement and nerves, and calls out, “Bring alcohol too!”
And when he finally lays down and begins replaying the sound of Patrick’s laugh echoing between buildings, he knows he was right. There will be no sleep tonight.