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Children are a liability in the apocalypse. They're needy and loud and messy, they can't fight or run very fast, and if there was an dictionary (apocalypse edition!) definition for "children" it'd be "deadweight".
So its not too surprising when Tommy is cast out from Dream's group. Nobody had even protested, not even Sapnap who Tommy got partnered up with during scavenger hunts. Which is fine. He doesn't like Dream, or Sapnap or George and honestly he was glad to be rid of Dream and his lackeys. And no he's not lying to make himself feel better. In fact, you're the one lying to make yourself feel better! Take that!
He wasn't glad to be rid of the food and supplies Dream's group had provided though.
By now he could count his ribs and feel the individual vertebrae of his spine. If malnourished was what Tommy was with Dream's group, then it was safe to say he was well and truly on his way to starving to death.
Starving wasn't pleasant, and it whittled him down to cracked, dry skin and sharp bones. He was practically one of the Plagued already. How someone hadn't put a bullet through his head by mistaking him for a Plagued already was beyond Tommy.
Still, he walked on, scavenging food and water wherever he could. There wasn't much to be found nowadays, since the beginning of the apocalypse was nearly two generations ago now. And besides most of anything useful could be found with people who'd lived in the Glory Days. The Glory Generation where now thirty to fifty years old and most often could be found in one of the Megacamps.
The Megacamps where the largest survivor groups out there, made up of those who lived during the Glory Days and their descendants. They were tough and ruthless, cutting down smaller camps and raiding territories with little mercy for the people who where just trying to survive.
In his head, Tommy cursed their existence. Couldn't they have left at least a single sleeping bag? Checking the last shelf in the sporting goods store, Tommy decides that, no, they really couldn't have.
Still, he'd found a refillable water bottle with a built in filter and a camouflage tarp, so at least he could make his camp a little harder to spot. There wasn't much to be found in the town apparently named A A S V L L, which in Tommy's opinion was a terrible name.
Aasvll might have been pretty once upon a time, but time is a cruel mistress and doesn't feel pity. The pavement is cracked and dandelions grow freely, ivy and other plants swallow buildings like vengeful fingers wrapping around an enemy's throat. Mother nature seemed dead set on tearing down any signs of the Glory Days.
The town square was actually a town circle, with a giant circle shaped park in middle. The park had a old willow tree where in the branches Tommy had weaved a platform of scrap metal, wood, sticks, and his tarp. It wasn't the comfiest, but it was his.
Inside the Willowhome, as Tommy called it, he kept his meagre supplies. A pair of spare hiking boots, two more reusable water bottles, one with and filter and one without, and one whole box of Twinkies.
He was proud of it.
Aasvll, slowly but surely, became Tommy's home. He might've been a skinny, malnourished seventeen year old, but he managed to drag rusted dumpsters to form a makeshift barricade along with cars that hadn't moved since many years before Tommy's birth. Anything that could be used to block the Plagued from weaving their way through Tommy's scrap maze, was used. Nothing was spared.
There were also things for Tommy to hide behind and secret tunnels that led to hidey holes filled with bug out bags and things he needed but couldn't store in Willowhome. Speaking of Willowhome, Tommy had managed to explore the entire town and created several outposts. It was like he had his own little kingdom.
Today, he was at Root Outpost. Root Outpost was nestled in a small natural cave with the roots of a fallen tree covering the entrance. There was a creek not too far away from it, and while the flow was lazy as spring started to heat up into summer, it was still flowing.
The creek wasn't loud enough that he was worried something could sneak up on him, but as he washed his clothes with old dish soap, Tommy made sure to check behind him several times.
It was an old habit, one ingrained in his mind by trauma and paranoia. There was a hunting knife tucked into the belt loop of his scuffed jeans and a machete on his back. It was a comfort to have weapons with him at at all times.
(there is also a gun strapped to his thigh, but he dares not touch it in case of emergency. Someone can recover easier from a knife wound than they can a gunshot. Tommy knows this firsthand.)
Once his clothes are washed, smelling faintly of chemicals but no longer of blood, Tommy makes his way from Root Outpost to Laundry Outpost. Laundry outpost was made up of the ruins of a burned down house and some fence posts he'd strung wire across to make a place where he could hang up his wet clothes.
Tommy hums quietly, not willing to draw anything (or one) to his position. It's been awhile since he's had to defend himself from stray Plagued or survivors, but one can never be too careful.
Tommy's shirts and pants and spare jackets are pinned up easily with clips, because apparently nobody thought laundry clips where important enough to take in the apocalypse. When he's reaching for the final shirt, he hears shuffling.
Not the shuffling of a Plague or a group of Plagued, by the shuffling of an injured person walking as quietly as they can. Tommy stills and waits, then realizes there's two people. The second set of steps are impossibly light, but Tommy willing to bet they're helping the first walk.
Still, it's two against one.
Tommy carefully hangs up the last shirt, and picks his way across yellowed grass to the path that lead to Willowhome. Aasvll was too fortified to pass as vacated, but with luck the two are just passing through and then Tommy can go on as normal.
Tommy watches as the two strangers, one tall with pink hair and a scar across his face and one shorter and blonde with a funky hat, shuffles their way through Aasvll.
"It's eerie here, mate." Whispers Hat, "Seems like this place should have people. But it just doesn't."
Pink glances around, but not spotting Tommy hidden by the husk of a old sedan. "I get what you mean. There's a chance that it was recently abandoned."
"Nope. Look." Hat points to Tommy's fire pit.
The smokeless fire is still smoldering, just the perfect heat to cook Tommy's spam, tuber, and potato stew. Stew was a luxury that Tommy could only make every passing of the moon. It took time and effort to find all the ingredients, and like hell he was going to let some random fuckers steal his food.
Tommy stands and draws his gun, feeling satisfaction when Hat and Pink freeze as they hear the all too familiar click of the safety being turned off.
"We don't mean any harm." Hat says, "Just passing through."
"Then you won't mind me escorting you out." Tommy replies, short and curt. His voice is scratchy from disuse, and he sounds older than the last time he'd spoken.
"Not at all, this is your territory after all." If Tommy had been around more people, maybe he'd recognize the attempt to kiss his boots, but he hasn't so he doesn't.
Tommy keeps his gun aimed at the general area of Hat's heart, just so Pink won't get any ideas as he takes them through Aasvll. He has to take detours though, because both Hat and Pink are bigger than him and can't fit through the smaller paths.
When the reach the West Wall, Tommy hearings shuffling once more.
Shuffling accompanied by groaning and the snapping of jaws.
"Shit!" Tommy hisses, shoving his gun back into his thigh holster and grabbing Hat and Pink and pulling them down behind the wall. "There's a fucking herd of Plagued."
"Shit indeed." Hat whispers, then looks to Tommy, "…are you going to kick us out?"
"What? No!" Tommy shakes his head vigorously, "I'm not some monster!"
"Thanks." Hat swallows, shuddering when a Plagued bumps into the wall and causes it to clang. The clang doesn't seem to attract any attention from the herd though.
"Don't thank me for basic decency." Tommy mutters, peeking over the wall to try and figure out how big the herd was. "Bad news: there's a fuck ton of them. I've counted like, a hundred right in front of me and there are more pouring out from the woods."
"This day just has to keep getting worse, doesn't it?" Pink sighs.
"Yup!" Tommy replies cheekily. "Hat, you can crawl right?"
Hat looks at Tommy dumbly for a moment before nodding.
"Good, cause we gotta get away from the wall before they notice us."
Once more Tommy is leading Hat and Pink through the maze, but this time there's no gun and they're crawling. Though Tommy takes some unnecessary turns, just to confuse his 'guests', they make it to Willowhome.
"Home sweet home," Tommy deadpans.
"Nice place you got here mate." Hat whistles appreciably.
Hat was right, because Willowhome was fucking awesome! In the time he's lived here, he'd cleaned the flower beds and turned them into garden beds where tomatoes, carrots and potatoes grow. There are pots for medical herbs too, like aloe vera, mint, and comfrey. There also may or may not be a decorative baby rose bush.
Away from the garden area, Tommy has also collected a few lawn chairs that sit under a few pop ups (like the kind you'd see at sports games in bad weather) and tarps he'd strung across the trees. There's also his fire pit with The Stew and a couple a totes filled with random items like blankets, jackets, a sewing kit, a couple of books, an adult coloring book and a set of colored pencils, and a little cow stuffy Tommy dubbed Henry.
"Of course it is, it's mine, innit?" Tommy says with bravado he really doesn't feel. There are Strangers on his house that will be staying with him for who knows how long. Of course he's uncomfortable.
Pink huffed out a laugh.
"I'm Phil by the way, and my friend here is Techno." Hat, Phil, motions to Pink.
Tommy wrinkles his nose. "That's a shit name."
"Which one?"
"Both."
Phil and Techno laugh.
Laughter is a weird sound, Tommy decides. Maybe because he hasn't heard it since he was little. Like really little, when Dream held him when his legs got tired or when George insisted on finding stale M&MS for him when they raided convenient stores, or when Sapnap would swing him up onto the man's shoulders and so he could be King of the Hill. But, Tommy likes it.
It's nice.
"What can we call you then?" Phil asks.
"Call me Tom." Tommy replies, going over to check on The Stew. It's bubbling nicely, and it'll most likely be done soon. Good, he's starting to feel peckish.
"Nice to meet you, Tom."
"Of course it is." Tommy says cockily. "I'm a damn delight."
Techno and Phil laugh again.
"What'dya call this place?" Techno asks, looking around the small park.
"Willowhome. The entire town is Aasvll."
"Huh. Neat."
"It's better than neat." Tommy bristled, "but I'll let that comment slide because you're ignorant."
As the sun sets, Tommy reluctantly feeds the two some of The Stew, and lets them borrow some blankets and a couple pillows, but he doesn't let them inside his treehouse.
(in the middle of the night, Tommy gets up to add wood to the fire. And no, its not because he gives a damn about two strangers even if they are pleasant company.)
(in the middle of the night, Phil and Techno share a secret glance as their stranger keeps the fire going. One way or another, they'd befriend this kind hearted stranger, if only to repay him)