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The island went off with a bang the moment some of the islanders got to the boat. Not everyone made it. Some got lost, others were most likely sleeping. But many volunteered to stay behind, with a sliver of hope that they could rescue their kids.
But as the remaining survivors watched in terror as the mushroom cloud rose, there was no way they could rescue everyone in time. Fallout was upon them.
The first hour of the trip went by like a blur. Bad and Dapper were silent the entire ride home. Except for the moment Bagi wanted to clean Dapper’s wounds. Dapper had hatched but his part feathery- part scaly skin was littered with scratches.
Bagi gently worked at the young dragon’s wounds. Dapper cried the entire time, even in his father’s arms. That was a little unusual even when Dapper had his occasional tantrums.
However, Bad had a feeling that the pain wasn’t the only reason why Dapper was crying. So he did his best for his son, holding his clawed hands. Just saying sweet things as the wounds were cleaned and healed.
Once bandaged up, the others were attended to. Bad never strayed too far from Dapper lest he vanish again. He can’t let that happen again.
But he got him back, which was good. He was back. That’s all Bad ever wanted.
The two were inseparable the first day on the boat, until the nighttime. Bad tucked his son into bed, stroked his feathery head and gave him a simple goodnight. He felt pain leaving.
Despite the happiness he felt, one thought lingered with Bad.
‘Now what?’
Roier was silent for most of the journey. He barely ate, drank or slept. He was glued to the back balcony of the boat. Staring off into the distance where he could see the island in from of him. Now all there was was a billowing mass of dark clouds and the endless water.
Roier was in mourning. He had lost pretty much everything.
He lost most members of Bolas, his found family. His closest friends.
He lost his father. That goofy, weird man that took care of him.
He lost his husband, Cellbit, his only love. He was the greatest, smartest man. He was a bright light, gentle and warm. But that light flickered away. Left behind to rot in the nuclear winter.
He lost his son. ….That hurt most of all.
Roier was RIGHT there. Richas was just inches away from him. But the island didn’t give him nor anyone else a fair chance. He’s baffled by how much this island fucked him over more than Quesadilla island ever did.
Sometime, Roier was found by Etoiles, Mouse and Slime. Roier didn’t have to look at them to know that they both felt immense pain. They lost friends and family to the blast. Some other feelings about the bloodshed and their kids.
All of them had failed. So they could only sit together and watch the sun set where Egg island once was. All silent but thinking to each other:
‘Now what?’
Bagi felt as if her heart was torn out of her chest for the 500th time since being with the Islanders. She tried so hard to get to know her nephew, rekindle some sort of bond with her brother. To find love with Tina.
Every single effort she made to find at least some sort of family, ripped away from her. Shredded into many, minuscule fucking pieces. Like the universe wanted her to suffer.
What was she going to do? How was she going to cope with any of this? Her family was lost for the third time that day.
No matter how many times they killed each other, Bagi begged every night that someday, by some miracle, her brother would appear into her life. She begged for hours for her love Tina to come back.
With her begging done, she laid in bed with eyes open. She looked over the maps to her back home. But the only thing on her mind…
‘Now what?’
The boat trip was tense for the remaining members of the Morning Crew. Tubbo went back and forth between talking to Phil and Fit. Both were broken versions of themselves, all for different reasons.
Fit never really mentioned Pac, which was really concerning to the young hybrid. Then again, Fit was surprisingly optimistic for someone who just lost his son. Maybe he was holding out for a hope that Pac was out there, sitting on that beach.
No. Pac couldn’t. Max built an ATOM BOMB for God’s sake. How could someone survive THAT?
Tubbo mentally slapped himself. He’s gotta stop going to doom and gloom.
Phil was a lot more worse for wear. He was the leader of Bolas. Stood tall and true, like a valiant warrior. Like a spiritual leader to a gaggle of chaotic adults.
He didn’t feel much like a leader anymore. His two kids vanished right before his eyes. He lost members of his team in the blast. Some of them wouldn’t find out that they’ve been condemned to death in their SLEEP.
Baghera, Foolish, Cellbit, Jaiden, Carre, Maximus. Tallulah. Chayanne.
Gone. What a failure he was to them.
Another leader sat down next to him. Tubbo felt the same failures. He lost some good people on his team. Only a few ever made it to the boat in time.
Tubbo made the mistake of looking over. Phil’s once gorgeous wings were left mangled. Burn marks from the meteors heating up the atmosphere. Blood stained the ends. He and Phil only made it to their safe haven because of the crow father’s wings.
The waterworks came just from the stare alone. Phil had no hesitation when he lunged towards Tubbo and wrapped him up in his arms. Both were cold but held onto each other as they finally, after weeks of intense fighting, could weep.
They sobbed and sobbed for what seemed like hours. Fit found them and ushered them inside. The night was coming. The three refused to go to their separate rooms.
They settled down but tension about one thing remained:
‘Now what?’
Come morning, Fit honked the horn to wake everyone up on the boat. Over the horizon they could see a familiar silhouette of a large man-made dragon. Probably the most comforting yet simultaneously distressing landmark one could see.
Quesadilla Island was finally in their sights. They were finally home.
Yet there was no excitement. Only exhaustion. Only anger. Only sadness.
And Slimecicle spoke up:
“Now what?”