Chapter Text
“How much farther is it?”
“It’s gonna be a while before we get there. You know how far apart safe zones are.”
“That’s so fuckin’ dumb.”
Wilbur sighs, adjusting his hold on his backpack. He can’t blame his brother for being impatient; he wishes they were already there, too. Unfortunately, safe zones are few and far between and the country just lost another one to riots. Tensions were high in their zone for months, building up into civil unrest, and if the government couldn’t handle the undead even with all of the bombings they had in the first few months of the outbreak, they definitely wouldn’t be able to handle people who decided they were all fed up with with the way things were now.
But they really just screwed themselves and everyone else over, and Wilbur would never forgive them for that. They put his brother in danger, and now they have to trek across the country just for a chance to be safe again.
Tommy kicks a rock as he’s walking, kicking it once again when he catches up to it.
“I hope that guy we met made it out,” he mumbles.
“Who? That tall kid?” Tommy nods. “Why do you care about him so suddenly?”
“I dunno!” He huffs, kicking his rock with more force than before. “I just don’t think he has anybody like I got you, y’know? He was kinda cool, I guess. Even if he didn’t know how to play any games.”
Wilbur remembers leaning up against their apartment building a few days before the riots, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Tommy teach some lanky kid how to play ‘Better and Bigger Hopscotch’ as his brother had called it. Tommy would laugh when he fell, and Wilbur was pretty sure the kid had never been so embarrassed to do anything before in his life, but they got along just fine. Tommy was in desperate need of a friend, so he let them be.
“I’m sure he made it out,” is all Wilbur says in response. Nobody’s ever sure of anything these days, but he doesn’t want to crush Tommy’s hope. It’s his optimism that keeps the both of them going, after all.
“Yeah,” Tommy breathes, lifting his head up and staring down the main road as the sun moves lower and lower in the sky. “Yeah…”
Night comes sooner than Wilbur would like it to, and he can tell Tommy is tired even if he continues to say otherwise.
“C’mon. Let’s find a place to settle down for the night.” Wilbur puts a hand on his brother’s back and steers them both away from the main road.
Tommy whines, “But then it’s gonna take us even longer to get there.”
“We’ll get there when we get there, Toms.”
“But I wanna be there now!” Wilbur wraps his arm around Tommy’s shoulders and brings him close to ruffle up his hair, causing Tommy to shove him away. “Fuck you! You’re such a prick!”
“Shut up, gremlin child. Listen to big brother Wilby and be patient.”
“I’m gonna kick you in the nuts is what I’m gonna do.”
“Those are fighting words for someone who isn’t even five foot eight.”
Tommy gasps loudly in offense, puffing up his cheeks like a child. “That’s not even fair! I’m gonna grow so much taller than you, just you fuckin’ wait! You’re gonna be tiny compared to me!”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Wilbur hums, hands in his pockets.
Tommy grumbles something about him being a dickhead, but Wilbur doesn’t really pay attention, instead looking for a stable building they could stay in for the night.
It’s obvious that this city was bombed pretty early on in the outbreak, considering the massive craters in the ground and collapsed buildings. There’s greenery everywhere; vines crawling up through windows, weeds sprouting from cracks in the concrete, and blankets of moss growing on the sidewalks.
At least mother nature seems to be getting something out of this place, Wilbur thinks.
“What about that?” Tommy suddenly asks him, drawing his attention over to a hotel that looks at least somewhat intact. It’s better than being out in the open, that’s for sure.
“Hm. We’ll check it out.” Wilbur nods, smiling as Tommy runs ahead to get there first. “Don’t go too far, wait for me.”
“I am!” True to his word, he stops by the front doors and waits for Wilbur to catch up, arms crossed over his chest.
Wilbur jogs over, listening for a moment before slowly opening the doors to the hotel. They creak from lack of use, and Wilbur winces at the noise as he steps inside with his brother in tow.
At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be any danger. Wilbur takes that as a win and shuts the doors behind them, letting out a quiet breath.
“Alright, let’s look around for anything useful first.” He turns to Tommy. “And what’s the rule?”
Tommy groans before answering, “Stay within earshot, at least. If I can’t hear you with a normal talking voice, I’m too far away.”
“Good. It’s an important rule.”
“I know.”
Tommy’s been good about the rule so far since they started traveling, so Wilbur doesn’t let himself worry too much. He listens, even if he doesn’t seem like he is.
Wilbur goes off in one direction as Tommy goes off in the other, both scouring the main lobby and looking for anything valuable left behind. Most abandoned places have been raided, but it’s no harm done if they search and don’t find anything. If they don’t search and miss something important, that’s when it becomes a problem.
Wilbur is looking behind a counter when he hears shuffling from a nearby room. He almost assumes it’s Tommy (the thirteen-year-old is sneakier than one would think) and that he just didn’t see him walk past, but he knows better than that.
Cautiously, Wilbur reaches over his shoulder and grabs his metal bat from his backpack, lifting his head up to look for Tommy as he moves towards the middle of the main lobby.
He’s about to call out for him when he hears a gunshot ring out from the stairwell, followed by panicked yelling.
Shit.
Some idiot got there before them and now they’ve just alerted every zombie in the area to their presence. They need to leave.
Tommy’s head pokes out from behind one of the lobby couches, looking to Wilbur for instruction.
Wilbur hears more shuffling and the wild screams of the undead as they pound against the door he was next to only moments before.
“Tommy, now!” Wilbur holds out a hand and Tommy gets up to run towards his brother, but the door to the stairwell slams open and a man comes stumbling out, followed by a small horde of zombies.
“NO! Get away! Someone help me!” They’re too fast and too many, and the guy only manages to fire three more shots before he’s taken down, howling and screaming in pain.
A side door is broken off of its hinges, another small horde of zombies pouring out and running into the lobby where the commotion was heard. There’s too much space in between himself and Tommy, Wilbur realizes, and he panics. Everything is happening too quickly.
“Run!” He orders, but Tommy is frozen in place. “Tommy, I said run! Windows, doors, anything! Get out of here and don’t stop fucking running!”
There’s no time for him to protest, and Wilbur swings his bat at a zombie, connecting with its jaw and sending it flying off the rest of the thing’s skull. There’s more coming now that they’ve realized he’s there, and he’s definitely not equipped to kill all of them.
Wilbur turns just in time to see his brother ducking into another room, running for an exit that he hopes beyond all hope is there.
He breaks into a sprint, gunning it for the front doors and slamming them open with his shoulder. A few more zombies are already shambling out from nearby buildings, and Wilbur realizes he can’t barricade himself anywhere and there’s no way to tell where his brother went; he just has to keep going.
He hopes Tommy is still running.
Wilbur takes another swing at a zombie that comes running at him, hearing the sickening crack of metal against bone. He’s still not used to fighting; not after spending so long in a safe zone where all he and Tommy did was trade medicine for ration cards, but it won’t stop him.
Wilbur looks around for anything that can help him, quickly spotting a fire escape on the side of a building and running towards it. The undead are snarling and screaming as they run after him, their only intent being to kill.
Thankfully, he’s quick enough to get to the fire escape and tall enough to jump up and grab onto it, using all of his strength to pull himself up and out of harm’s way.
They continue to scream as Wilbur clambers onto the rusted metal and collapses soon after, his heart beating so erratically in his chest he feels like it might explode. He uses the railing to pull himself up after a moment, looking around for his brother, but he’s nowhere to be seen. He’s lost Tommy.
Oh fuck.
He’s lost Tommy.
“What’re you making now?”
Tubbo turns around at the familiar voice, seeing a masked figure walking out the community house with a new notebook in hand.
“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Tubbo starts. “... I don’t really know.”
Dream laughs softly, walking over and placing a hand on his brother’s head and looking down at the pile of scrap metal and wires in Tubbo’s hands.
“You don’t? Let me look at it.”
“It’s just some wiring, I doubt it’s gonna work.” He doesn’t need to see Dream’s face to know he’s rolling his eyes right now.
“Oh, come on. You’ve made things work before.” Dream pulls his hand away. “If you need anything to make it work—”
“You’ll get it for me, I know.” Tubbo sighs and stands up, walking down the steps as Dream walks beside him. “What was the meeting about?”
“Just some updates. I’m supposed to go out looking for more supplies with Punz soon, but only for a day or two.” Dream lets out a breath, adjusting the porcelain mask over his face. Nobody ever really sees him without it these days. “There’s also been reports of bandits extending their searches for people, so we’re keeping an eye out for that.”
Tubbo frowns, looking down at the little project in his hands.
“You think they’ll actually come here?”
“Well, they know it’s safer than trying to like, steal from people in a safe zone. They’re out here ‘cause they don’t even wanna be in there. So… they might.”
That doesn’t make Tubbo feel better, but he knows Dream is just being honest with him.
Dream must notice though, because he sighs and pulls his hood off of his head. “If they come, we’ll be fine. We know where the nearest safe zone is and we have our plan, remember? Besides, you got me.”
Tubbo relaxes a little. His brother is the most capable person in the community, and everyone else knows it, too.
Let’s just say that Dream has built up quite a reputation for himself, for simplicity’s sake.
“I dunno about you, but I’m starving.” Dream pats his stomach, tilting his head to the side.
“I’ve been starving waiting for you.”
“Not my fault they make meetings longer than they need to!” Dream chuckles, putting a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder as they walk to their house. “I’ll try and see if I can get some bread for tonight. And then we can use the rest for breakfast tomorrow or something.”
“You better get that bread,” Tubbo warns, “Or I’m gonna bite you.”
Dream guffaws, walking into their small house and setting his notebook down on the table before turning to walk out again.
“I’ll be back. Don’t blow anything up.”
“That was an accident!” Tubbo calls after him, but Dream is already walking away, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket.
He might as well kill some time while he waits for Dream to bring back dinner. God knows how long it’ll take him this time.
So Tubbo goes into their shared bedroom and sits down on his bed, grabbing some spare parts from the nightstand and hoping that maybe it’ll work for his project this time.
Before he can finish, Dream is back with a small stash of food in his arms, setting it all down on the table and calling him over. There’s four slices of bread, a pitiful amount of both peanut butter and strawberry jam, and two cans of peaches. It’s a bit concerning.
“This isn’t as much as they usually give out,” Tubbo comments, “Especially to you.”
“I know. That’s why I’m going out soon, remember?” Dream walks over to one of the many cupboards and grabs their plates, putting them on the table. They don’t really need plates or silverware considering they can eat the peaches right out of the can and sandwiches don’t need plates if you just don’t put them down, but Dream always insists on having some level of normalcy.
Well, normalcy for him. Tubbo barely remembers what life was like before the outbreak, but if Dream thinks it’s important, he’ll go along with it.
Dream takes off his mask as they both sit down at the table, and even though Tubbo’s seen his face before since he started wearing the thing, it’s still unsettling sometimes; the thought that his brother of all people could still very much get hurt in a world like this.
There’s a large chunk missing from the left corner of Dream’s mouth, exposing his molars and surrounded by heavy scar tissue that distorts his features. Parts of the wound almost look like they’re still inflamed, but Tubbo knows he’s fully healed. It’s just how it looks now.
He remembers the blood and saliva that poured out of Dream’s mouth for days following the injury.
But his brother is already spreading the peanut butter and jam onto the bread, so Tubbo grabs a knife and opens one of the cans of peaches for them.
It’s quiet as they eat, Tubbo kicking his legs under the table as Dream tilts his head to the right to eat without having anything fall out of his mouth.
It’s happened before.
But soon enough they’re both done and Dream gathers up their plates to put them in the sink. They don’t exactly have running water, but it reminds him to go out and wash them later.
“Alright, open up my notebook. I got new words for you to read.”
Tubbo groans, tilting his head back as he drawls, “But I don’t wanna read new words.”
“Listen. I never got to teach you when this all started, so we’re doing it now.”
“But I have dyslexia, this is bullying. You are targeting me.”
“That’s not—” Dream laughs. “Don’t pull that shit with me! I just wanna teach you while we have the luxury to do it. You already know this. I know I’m no English teacher, but I— I’m really trying, okay?”
Tubbo knows all too well how much his brother tries for him.
“Fine,” he huffs dramatically, sliding the notebook over and flipping through the pages until he gets to the most recent entry. “What the fuck even is this? I can’t even…”
“Let me see it.” Dream walks back over to the table, bringing his chair over and sitting down next to Tubbo. “Just tell me what you think the first letter is.”
“Well obviously I fucking know it’s a W—”
Both Tubbo and Dream freeze as a bell rings out from the community house.
“Dream?” Tubbo asks, seeing his brother staring out the window with a mix of confusion and fear on his face. “Dream, they’re not…” He trails off as Dream slams the notebook shut and grabs his mask, pulling it over his face with haste.
“Raiders. Grab your stuff, we gotta go,” is all he says and Tubbo knows better than to wait another second as he quickly heads to the bedroom to grab their bags from under his bed.
He hears gunshots in the distance and runs back out, tossing Dream’s bag into his hands and pulling his own over his shoulders. Dream hands the notebook to Tubbo, pushing it against his chest.
“Hold onto this. Just in case we get separated during this.” Tubbo’s heart drops.
“But we won’t, right?” He dares to ask, but Dream just bumps the front of his mask against the top of his head before grabbing his arm and turning to look out the window.
There’s more gunshots, now paired with screaming. Tubbo tries not to think about how he recognizes some of those voices the screaming belongs to as Dream pulls a hatchet from the side of his backpack, holding it tightly in his free hand.
“Now,” Dream whispers, and suddenly he’s pulling them out of their house and taking a sharp left turn. Tubbo tries to look over his shoulder and only manages to catch the sight of someone in a large truck ramming into one of the other houses before Dream yanks him along.
“ Hey! ” A gruff voice shouts, “Those two are gettin’ away!”
“Dream?!” Tubbo looks up at his brother, his panic pushing him to run faster. “What do we do?!”
He doesn’t get an answer, interrupted by the sound of an engine revving up and getting closer and closer and it’s going to hit them—
Tubbo is suddenly being tackled by his brother, sending them both rolling to the side as the truck speeds past them and crashes into the community house. Two men quickly jump out of the back of the truck and rush towards them, one holding a machete and the other wielding a metal pipe.
Dream drags his brother into a standing position and pushes on his back, causing Tubbo to stumble forward.
“Go, go! I’ll meet up with you!” Dream brings his hatchet up and blocks a hit from the man with the machete, and that’s all Tubbo can see before he’s running away into the part of town he was always told to never even go near.
Tubbo hears more shouting and more screams and more gunshots, but he does not look behind him.
He runs until he can no longer hear his brother yelling. He runs and he runs and he runs until his legs feel like jelly and he can’t run any further.
The sky is dark when Tubbo finally stops inside an abandoned house, sliding down against the front door as soon as he closes it behind himself. He looks down at his hands, shaking and empty.
Empty.
Oh fuck.
He must’ve dropped the notebook in the midst of trying to get away.
And without Dream here, he had no idea what to do. Their plan didn’t account for him losing the notebook and Dream, both of them important. He didn’t even know if his brother made it out, but he must have, right? His brother was capable, but…
But Tubbo was not. He was just a kid in the apocalypse who always had his older brother to look after him and take care of him.
And now he was alone.
What the fuck was he going to do?