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It doesn’t take long for the children to settle into their new routine. Spirits around the school-turned-shelter are low, though. Everyone is on edge, missing their parents, afraid of what might happen next.
It’s terrifying, this limbo that they’ve found themselves stuck in. No one is certain of anything, and it feels like the floor could fall out from beneath them at any moment.
Things are getting better, though, slowly but surely. People are healing, getting more comfortable. The children are slowly coping with their new reality, and embracing it at its fullest.
Stan parades around the building like the soldier he has become. His trusty sword hangs at his hip, but it’s mostly for show. There’s a pistol tucked into his waistband. He’s heading to the playground, where the main gate is, to check in with his soldiers there.
The yard is full of kids, laughing and playing under strict supervision. It’s only been a few weeks since the apocalypse started, and no one is keen on having the children within the wall put in danger.
“Goodmorning, Clyde,” Stan greets, stepping up beside his friend. Clyde is in charge of guarding the wall from the inside, keeping it intact. He works closely with Stan’s mini army, and Stan directly, to keep threats away. This far into the apocalypse, most of their weapons are close combat, with very few gunmen posted on top of their wall.
“Hello, Stan,” Clyde smiles, saluting eagerly. Clyde had been very excited about their little militia, and took it very seriously. “Wall’s looking good.” Stan nods, looking up at his soldiers.
“Wonderful,” he says. “How are the new beams we put in holding?”
“Very well,” one of his men replies, giving him a thumbs up. Stan nods again. He’s about to respond when one of his soldiers startles and shouts.
“There’s someone coming!” He says, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and aiming it. None of them have much experience beyond first person shooter games, besides Stan, so his hand is a little shaky. “Red coat, blue hat… kinda… it kinda looks like Cartman.” Stan wrinkles his nose. Cartman had been noticeably absent from the school, and many had wondered where he had gone off to.
“Cartman?” Stan shares a bewildered look with Clyde, who shrugs. “Is he turned?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” the boy replies from above, keeping his eyes and gun trained on his target, just like Stan had taught him. “He’s getting closer… I think he’s saying something.”
“Open the gate,” Stan commands, grabbing his pistol and gripping it in both hands. He isn’t afraid to shoot anyone, least of all Cartman, if he has to. The gate opens, slowly but surely. Stan readies his pistol as the gap becomes wider and wider, giving him a clear glimpse of the fat, moving red dot.
“You guys!” It cries, and Stan no longer has any doubt that it is indeed Cartman. “You guys!” It reaches the gate, preparing to rush in, but Stan stops it.
“Stay back!” Stan shouts, putting his finger on the trigger. “I will shoot!” The yard has been vacated, all the children having been moved inside. The figure, which is absolutely, without a doubt Cartman stops. He’s panting, and his clothes are ripped to shreds. Sweat sticks his hair together where it is uncharacteristically visible beneath his hat.
“Seriously, you guys, it’s crazy out there,” he says, bending in half with his hands on his knees. “There’s zombies and stuff everywhere.”
“Yeah,” Stan scoffs, keeping his weapon trained on Cartman. “We know.”
“Dude, where have you been?” Clyde asks, moving closer to Cartman. Stan grabs his arm harshly and yanks him away. “Ow!”
“Have you been bitten?” Stan demands, gesturing with his pistol. Cartman vehemently shakes his head. “We’re gonna have to check.” Craftsman wrinkles his nose.
“You want me to strip? That’s totally fuckin’ gay dude.” He whines.
“Come with me,” Stan steps forward, grabbing Cartman by the shoulder and digging his pistol into Cartman’s back. “Walk.” Cartman, fearful in a strange, un-Cartman like way, obeys. “Someone get Kyle and tell him I’m in the basement.”
“Aw, Kyle survived too?” Cartman whines. Stan digs his pistol between Cartman’s shoulder blades. “Weak, dude.”
He keeps quiet as they go through the halls, which are thankfully empty. The council will have been informed of their new guest, and Tweek and Craig are probably keeping the children out of Stan’s way. For that, Stan is thankful.
“Where are you taking me?” Cartman complains as Stan leads him down the stairs. There isn’t yet a procedure for something like this, so Stan is winging it.
“I already said,” Stan says. “The basement.” There, he will lock Cartman in a supply closet with a window and make him strip. It will be pleasant for no one, but it has to be done. He finds the perfect closet the second they reach the basement, and shoves Cartman in. He lands in a heap, and Stan closes the door. It doesn’t lock, but Stan is armed and Cartman is not. “Strip.”
“No!” Cartman shouts, crossing his arms where he sits on the floor. “That’s so gross!”
“Do it,” Stan hisses, pressing the barrel of his pistol to the glass. He has no compassion when it comes to Cartman.
“Stan?” Comes Kyle’s voice. He comes around the corner from the stairs, eyes squinted as he looks at Stan. He takes in Stan’s guarded yet offensive posture, and the hard look on his face. “Clyde told me to meet you down here? Something about-”
“Aw, man, is that Kyle?” Cartman groans. Kyle halts in his step, face twisting into something confused and annoyed. He rushes forward after a moment, stepping in front of Stan to peer through the window.
“ Cartman?” He looks back to Stan, whose arms are crossed and face is unreadable. He turns back to Cartman. “What are you doing here?”
“I was being chased!” It’s a lie, Stan thinks, because there were no zombies behind him at all. “I needed shelter.”
“I said strip,” Stan pounds on the glass with the butt of his pistol, thankful that it does not crack. “Don’t make me come in there.” He places a hand on his sword, though Cartman can’t see it.
Cartman grumbles something under his breath and sheds his red coat. Underneath, his shirt is stained with sweat and dirt. There’s not a drop of blood on him. He stands up, holds out his arms, and does a little spin.
“Pants too,” Stan orders. Cartman stares him dead in the face, looking bewildered and frustrated. A small part of Stan is enjoying this, humiliating Cartman like he has done to so many others.
“Fuckin’ gay,” he thinks he hears Cartman hiss. Cartman does as he’s told, though, pulling his pants to the floor. Stan allows him to leave his underwear on, for his own sake more than Cartman’s.
“Alright,” he says, sighing. “Get dressed.” Cartman hurries to do so, glaring at Stan. “We’ll get you some food.” He opens the door, allowing Cartman out. “Kyle, call a council meeting.”
Kyle nods, glancing briefly at Cartman again before hurrying off.
“Council?” Cartman wonders allowed, following Stan up the stairs and towards the cafeteria.
“Yeah,” Stan says, watching Cartman out of the corner of his eye. “Me, Kyle, Clyde, Craig, Tweek, Butters, Bebe, and some others. We’re in charge of stuff around here.”
“What are you in charge of?” Cartman asks. Stan doesn’t like all the questions, and wrinkles his nose.
“Defense and offense,” he settles on. “Anytime anyone leaves this wall it’s with my permission.”
“That’s lame,” Cartman scoffs. “Shoulda known you’d be the buzzkill.” Stan ignores him, keeping on course to the cafeteria. “What’s Kyle in charge of?”
“He’s kind of just in charge of everything,” Stan shrugs, relishing in the way Cartman sputters behind him. “But no one’s really in charge of anything, it’s all up to a vote. I get final say in everything defense or outside related, but it's voted on first.” Cartman hums and falls silent just as they reach the cafeteria. It’s after breakfast, and before lunch, so the room is empty. Butters, Kenny, and some others are milling around the room cleaning.
“Oh, hey Stan!” Butters waves. Then Cartman steps into view, and he shrinks back. “Oh… Cartman.” Cartman sneers, and Butters flinches away again.
“Don’t worry, Butters, he’s supervised,” Stan assures, holding up his pistol. “He’s behaving.” Butters nods skeptically. “Would you grab him some cereal or something?” Butters takes the opportunity to run off gratefully, and flees behind the counter.
Stan sits Cartman down and asks Kenny to run and find some guards. He has to be in the meeting soon, and Cartman will not be left alone.
Two of his men show up a minute later, when Cartman is happily chewing on his cereal, and Stan leaves. Both of his replacements have guns, so he trusts they will be able to handle Cartman. As he walks away, he doesn’t hear Cartman whisper to them;
“Doesn’t he look a little tired?”
The meeting room is chaos. Shouting and arguing ring out, bouncing off the walls. It’s giving Kyle a headache.
“Alright!” Stan shouts, silencing the whole room. “That’s enough!” Everyone turns to look at him. “Sit back down, and we’ll have a civil discussion.” They listen, grumbling as they do. “Wonderful.” Stan sits back down as well, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back.
Kyle clears his throat and stands, almost nervous.
“Ok,” he clears his throat again. “The question we’re trying to answer is ‘should we let Cartman stay?’ So, if you all would please state your case politely, we can vote. Thank you. Stan, you can go first.”
“Cartman should not be allowed to stay,” Stan says, glaring around the room. “He’s dangerous, we all know that, and he could cause genuine and serious harm to everyone here. We all remember what he’s done in the past, and I don’t think anyone wants him repeating his actions here, where everything is life or death.” Stan sits down, having said his piece. Bebe raises her hand, and Kyle nods in her direction.
“I agree with you, Stan, but didn’t we all promise to make this a safe place for everyone?” She asks. Stan wrinkles his nose at her. “Cartman, though awful, does fall into the everyone category. We are under a moral obligation to give him sanctuary when he needs it.” There was murmur of agreement through the room.
“Does anyone else have anything to add?” Kyle asks, looking around. No one else wants to speak up, contrary to their arguing before. “Alright, then let’s vote.” Slips of paper are passed through the room. “Write ‘stay’ for him to stay, and ‘go’ for him to go.” A pen is then passed around the table before returning to Kyle. Kyle walks around the table with a box, and the papers are dropped into it.
He returns to his seat, dumps out the papers, and starts reading them. The way their council is set up, there are fifteen members. That way, there can never be a tied vote.
And, unfortunately, the vote comes out eight to seven, in favor of Cartman. Stan huffs and stands from the table angrily. He leaves. Kyle stares after him worriedly.
The meeting is adjourned after that.
Kyle goes immediately in search of Stan. Through the whole school, Stan is nowhere to be found. He’s not in the basement, or in their shared room, or in the cafeteria, despite it being lunch time.
It’s nearly half an hour later when he does find Stan. He’s perched on the roof, all alone, looking out over the playground. Kyle frowns.
“Aren’t three or four people supposed to keep lookout over the roof at once?” He asks, sitting beside Stan.
“It doesn’t matter,” Stan dismisses. There’s a rifle sitting beside him, just in case. “We can’t let Cartman stay.” Kyle sighs. “I know that we voted on it and stuff but he can’t stay.”
“We’ll keep our eye on him,” Kyle promises. “He won’t be able to hurt anyone here.”
“I don’t believe you,” Stan hisses, standing up. He keeps quiet as he leaves the roof. Three guards appear a moment later, and Kyle retreats.
Several days pass without incident. Cratman remains a pillar of society, if a rude one, and does not cause any of the problems most people foresaw.
It’s calm around the base, and the only people unsettled seem to be Stan and Kyle. Stan is still disgruntled from the vote allowing Cartman to stay, and when Stan is upset, Kyle is upset.
Stan refuses to attend council meetings, and has been even more strict and controlling towards his army. They are getting worried, and Kyle can’t help but agree with them.
A week after Cartman is allowed to stay, problems do begin to arise. It had just been a matter of time, and everyone had been waiting anxiously to see what the conflict would be.
It starts small, with some of Stan’s men defying him. They walk off in the middle of their shifts, and refuse to assume post when he tells them to. They are dealt with, though not effectively. Stan finds them in position a few hours later, and they refuse to explain what the problem had been.
Over the next few days, citizens around the base grow colder to Stan, shrugging him off, and his men start blatantly ignoring his commands. Kyle watches as Stan gets more and more frustrated, and his appearance becomes more and more disheveled.
Things come to a head when a small group of Stan’s soldiers corner Kyle in a hallway.
“Look, Kyle,” one begins, holding his hands together in front of himself. “I think we should talk about Stan.” Kyle immediately becomes defensive on behalf of his friend, straightening his posture and scrunching his face.
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“Well, you’ve seen him recently,” another kid says. “He’s kinda… losing it.”
“Because none of you listen to him,” Kyle shoots back, bristling.
“We can’t listen to someone we think might be incompetent,” the first kid shrugs. “We think he should be replaced with Cartman.” Kyle squints, completely bewildered. What had Cartman been doing to make them think he was a better leader than Stan. Before Kyle can shoot them down and tell them how ridiculous they’re being, they speak up again. “We’ve already taken this to some of the other council members, and they’re voting on it tomorrow. We were hoping you’d agree with us.”
They leave after that, not even giving Kyle a chance to reply. Kyle’s heart is slowly sinking with worry. Does Stan already know? He assumes probably not. He won’t tell him, he decides. Not until the meeting is over and it’s been voted on.
Keeping quiet is harder than he thought, but it becomes clear that Stan has no idea about the coup unfurling behind him. He manages, though, and makes it to the secret meeting the next morning.
There are no opening words, and all of the paper voting slips have been put in the box. All except Kyle’s, or course, which is put in last.
He reads out the votes, and sees that it’s twelve to two, in favor of Cartman, again. Kyle balls his fists at his sides and swallows. They’ve just voted to put Cartman in charge of their entire military force.
“What have you done?” He hisses, but everyone has already gone.
Stan finds out later that day, when he is doing his rounds and overseeing the defenses, like he would any other day. Kyle watches him from across the playground, shoulders drawn tight as he waits for Stan to see Cartman instructing his troops.
He knows the moment Stan notices, because his face twists up with fury. He storms toward Cartman, who is giving orders, and grabs him by the shoulder.
Kyle can’t make out what Stan says, but he knows Cartman told him the news. He looks bewildered for a moment, and when none of his former troops tell him otherwise, he starts towards Kyle.
“You replaced me?” Stan demands, furiously. “With Cartman?”
“No!” Kyle hurries to reply. “No, I voted for you to stay!” Stan just stares at him for another moment. He looks furious, yes, but there’s something else behind his eyes.
“He can’t be trusted,” Stan warns. “When everything goes to shit, don’t come running to me.” He stomps away, slamming the doors behind him. Kyle’s shoulders slump defeatedly, and he does not go after Stan. From across the yard he can see Cartman grinning.
Shockingly, there are no issues with Cartman being the leader. He’s not particularly good at it, but he isn’t noticeably disastrous.
Kyle doesn’t see much of Stan over the following week. He doesn’t come to any meals, and hardly ever leaves the room he’d claimed for himself. The glimpses Kyle does see are not encouraging. Stan looks worn down, bags under his eyes, messed hair. Kyle’s too busy to chase after him, though, and he’s forced to believe that Stan will come to him if he needs help.
Everything within the base runs as smoothly as it did before Cartman, but a few of the citizens are afraid of Cartman. They cower when he comes near, and concerns are raised during council meetings.
They can’t very well kick Cartman out now, when all of the soldiers are fiercely loyal to him, so they have no choice, really.
It’s alright, though. Cartman is not as perceptive to council ideas as Stan was, and convincing him to leave the wall for supplies is a monumental task.
The first proper incident caused by Cartman being in charge, was when he left the wall for supplies and returned without any of the men he’d brought with him. He nonchalantly stated that they’d been turned by zombies, but said nothing else. They didn’t even get to hold a funeral.
They bring the issue up at the next council meeting, suggesting a co-captain to work with Cartman, but the idea is met with hostility and threats. They back off.
When winter properly rolls around, they’re hardly ready. They don’t have enough coats or winter gear for everyone, and Cartman adamantly refuses to go out and get more. He pitches a fit, yelling about how it’s ‘his army’ and he’ll ‘command it how he wants’.The argument is dropped for the time being, and they continue on as they were.
It’s subtle, the way Cartman starts taking control. It comes first by turning some of the council members to his side, convincing them in no uncertain terms that if they don’t vote as he tells them to, they will be dealt with. Kyle remains blissfully unaware of the subtle takeover.
He doesn’t even attempt to sway the citizens. He threatens them with physical harm and reduced food. They comply simply after that.
The only one that Cartman leaves alone is Kyle. That is part of his plan.
Everything reaches a peak one cold November night.
The entire school is gathered outside. They all stand towards the building, Cartman in front, soldiers behind them on the wall and the roof. Kyle stands opposite them, backed against the gate of the wall.
He stands tall, though, and does not cower. He’s terrified, yes, because Cartman is pointing a gun at him, but he will not fold. Not to Cartman.
Cartman is grinning excitedly, like a kid on Christmas, and Kyle knows this will not end well for him. He just hopes it ends with him alive. Not one of the kids behind or protecting Cartman looks happy, they also look frightened.
“Well, well, well, Kyle,” Cartman smirks, glancing at the kids behind him. “Looks like you’re outnumbered.” Kyle rolls his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says. “What do you want, fatass?” Cartman’s face crumples momentarily, then he’s smiling again.
“ We,” he gestures to the children. “Want you gone. Or, you can stay. But I’m leader now.” He speaks like a kid playing a game, as if he isn’t holding a loaded gun at Kyle.
“You can’t do that,” Kyle crosses his arms and glares. “You can’t just ‘be leader’. ”
“Can so,” Cartman shrugs. “And I already am. Look, they all want it, don’t they?” The mod nods in unison. “Sorry, Kyal.”
“My name isn’t Kyal,” Kyle growls, fists shaking with rage. “And you can’t just kick me out. We let you in! We gave you safety!”
“I’m the one with the guns, Kyle,” Cartman says. “All the weapons are mine. Everyone will do what I say, since I’m in charge.” He sighs. “Anyway, you’ve got ‘til the count of three to leave, or I'll shoot you.” The gate behind him is now wide open, the frighteningly dark woods beyond look like a death sentence. “One,” Kyle glances back, afraid to disobey, but too stubborn to do what he’s told. “Two,” He steps back once. “Three!”
A gunshot fires, and someone cries out. Kyle flinches away, but no pain greets him. His eyes are shut tight as the sound of feet on snow grows near him at a quick pace.
There’s a hand on his chest, pushing him back, and someone is wailing. His ears are ringing. Is he dead? He doesn’t think so.
“Fucker!” Cartman shouts. Even through the ringing in his ears, Kyle can make out the voice anywhere. “Fucking fucker!” Kyle’s eyes fly open and flutter for a moment. Scared tears are working their way down his face, clouding his vision.
“Get the fuck out, Cartman,” Stan shouts, standing in front of Kyle like a shield. He’s got a small pistol in his hands, pointed at Cartman, who is now weaponless. His hand is bleeding, dripping red onto the snow, and the gun he was holding is at his feet.
“Stan…” Kyle gasps, feeling faint. He nearly just died. He was nearly killed. “Stan.” He’s crying, ugly, frightened wails.
“You’re ok, Kyle,” Stan soothes, though his voice is blunt and harsh. His eyes do not leave Cartman. There are guns trained on the pair of them, from the roof, and from one side of the wall. The other side is covered in unconscious children that Stan had knocked out.
“You mother fucker!” Cartman yells. He’s crying too, but his face is angry. “You shot me!”
“Yeah, I did!” Stan shouts back. “And I’ll fucking do it again!” His gun cocks as Kyle tries to keep himself on his feet. “Get the fuck out!” There’s an angry yell, and rapidly approaching footsteps.
Cartman gets one punch to Stan’s face, only because if Stan ducked it would have hit Kyle, before Stan strikes back. He grips Cartman’s hair in his fist and smacks his nose with the butt of his pistol. Cratman cries out in pain, and Stan hits him again, in the temple this time.
Unceremoniously, Cartman crumples to the ground, unconscious. Stan kicks him in the groin once for good measure, then begins hauling him through the gate. He’s silent as he does this, ignoring Kyle and the children staring at him.
“Thank you, Stan,” one of the kids pipes up, a kindergartener. The rest of the kids repeat after them, a quiet chorus of ‘thank you, Stan’ ringing around the yard.
Stan glances up at them, eyes hard and a little angry, and nods. Kyle sniffles where he stands, watching his friend drag Cartman away. It’s here that he is finally able to take in Stan’s appearance. He doesn’t look good, strung out and tired. Kyle feels guilty.
Once Cartman is safely outside the gate, and the gate is closed, Stan walks through the crowd and back inside.
“Are you ok, Stan?” Kyle asks, meekly, following closely after his friend.
“Yeah,” Stan replies. “I’m fine.” Kyle doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t push. No one bothers to find out what happened to Cartman, but he never came back.