Chapter Text
The settlement was a surprisingly well kept one. People were allowed to come and go, but all who stayed had to pull their weight. Hunting squads, builders, farmers… There was no shortage of work to be done since the fall of the U.S government.
Arthur personally considered himself lucky, all things considered. He was lucky the illness struck when he was young because he had an easier time adapting to the new world than those who grew up in the one before, he was lucky to be a fairly useful person by nature, intelligent, stubborn, not afraid to get messy- all of these traits made others less likely to kill him, he was lucky his father was a doctor and trained him to be the same, and he was also lucky to find a fairly healthy community by the time he was 18.
They called the settlement Bear’s Creek, but only because it was the name on the sign heading into the town that they built their walls around. Here they rationed. Groups of hunters and gatherers worked hard to bring in what they could find and it was all kept in one of the buildings, guarded, and rationed out by people trusted by the community. They had electricity, kept up by gas powered generators, AC’s for the heat, heaters for the cold. If there was any place you wanted to be during an apocalypse: it was here.
Arthur, being the doctor of the settlement, hardly ever had any reason to leave its walls, instead the hunters and foragers brought him what medicine, herbs and ingredients he needed for his practice, he got his fair share and he lived in safety, light and comfort. What few times he did leave the walls he could see the sick still roaming, dragging their feet, arms ahead of themselves in search of something to eat. There weren't as many as there once were, but still, they were common enough to always see a couple outside of the gates.
Even the very dirt they walked on outside looked as though it was dying. Arthur could easily recall people during the beginning claiming this was the Earth healing itself… but with the sight of how easily the overgrowth caught fire at times, the way vines overtook entire, once beautiful forests, and how the grass began to turn gray with drought, Arthur wasn’t too sure of that anymore.
Over time in the settlement people gained back their old survival skills, they learned where not to go and how to move quickly and their skin became tougher with scar tissue… soon Arthur’s days became slow, but he never dared to complain, after all, a slow day for a doctor means a good day for everyone else.
A child who lived in the settlement came running in, joyfully cheering “Arthur! Arthur!” and so Arthur gave him the attention he craved with a simple greeting, “Peter.” he said. He sat behind his desk, crocheting with his spare time in a large, red leather seat, and Peter got onto his tippy-toes to lay his arms out onto the man’s desk.
Peter was only seven years old and had never left the walls of the settlement as his mother prohibited such until he was at least twelve. She didn’t want Peter hurt, understandably, but even further she went by not allowing him to learn how to shoot a gun or wield a weapon of any kind. The boy, still a curious child, looked up at Arthur with great wonder, “Tell me the story again!” he demanded, “The one about the boat.”
“That old tale again?” Arthur sighed, “Haven’t you heard it enough?” He sat back in his seat, crochet needle still in hand and thick eyebrows bunching up in a mix of concentration and frustration.
“Nu-uh!” Peter shook his head with determination gleaming in his eyes.
Arthur sat his croche work to the side of the desk with a “Pity.” before taking a breath, readying himself to tell the story once more. “Before the sickness there was a country called the United Kingdoms and my parents and I lived there in London, a city that was in Britain. There people rode their bicycles and trolleys, so the commute was often different from what people used to do here, mostly due to the small size- but that’s a tale from another time.” He fixed Peter with a look as the boy began to bounce a bit at the thought of other stories to be told,
“The sickness first arrived in another land,” The man continued, “and my mother said ‘dear Arthur, those poor people do not know what they are doing, but fret not. The sickness cannot reach us, we know better,’” he mimicked the voice of a woman the best he could, causing Peter to giggle at the sound, “but as you and I both know, the sickness eventually reached all land, including ours.
When it reached us I was a tad younger than you, but thankfully my father, being the wise man he was, had us leaving London right before the fall of France,” Arthur leaned back a bit in his seat but kept one arm on the desk as he made his voice deep, “‘If it got to the frogs it has a chance of getting to us too’ he had said, so we left the city and soon after that the first cases in London appeared. I was expecting to be raised on farm land, silly naivety, because the sickness spread, as they do, and people fled to the country much like my family had, soon enough sick folk were everywhere and inescapable.
So then I had to learn to fight, hunt and survive against the odds. My father taught me what he could and together we learned the rest. We built defences, went hunting, but after a while my mother got ill with- well, she got sick and passed-”
Peter cut in quickly, “Peacefully!” he nearly jumped and Arther stared at the boy’s face for a moment before nodding his head,
“Peacefully.” he confirmed. “She died in her sleep, and a few years later my father followed her. I was fifteen.” he added before carrying on, “I figured after a while that I couldn’t stay there on that farm forever. I decided to travel. I made my way to a large bridge that connected the UK to the rest of Europe and found my way across, and from there I wondered about enough until eventually I was speaking to a man who had a different accent from my own.
The man, still clinging to hope, told me ‘America is where you need to go! It has officially fallen, but LAD I have heard an amazing tale. Off in Florida or Georgia- or something of the like,” Arthur leaned over his desk to get closer to Peter’s face, making his voice low and scratchy, “their military still upholds! They’ve got an underground system and have found a cure! They just don’t have the resources to help us all yet- BUT,” He slammed his hand flat against the desk causing Peter to jump and gasp,
“get on a boat and get to the land,” Arthur said, “and find the bunker! If you can find it, it’ll be enough!” He let himself relax back into his chair and began to speak normally once more, “They will help you and you will help them, and soon they will gain more control of the situation and come to help us ALL.’” Arthur was silent for a moment before he went on, “So I began to head towards the shores of Europe in search of a sturdy enough boat, then there I saw it- a dock to what must have been a carrier ship and some people who-”
Arthur was cut off as a woman slammed his door open, out of breath but speaking immediately. It was Peter’s mother with her wheat blond hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head. She panted to catch her breath, “Arthur-” she said, and Arthur was already on his feet and moving towards his first aid kit, “A boy-” she pointed in the direction of the gates outside but remained doubled over, “has shown up at the gate, he is hurt and Joe is there-” Arthur didn’t have to hear anymore as he rushed past her, heading straight for the gates.
He could hear a commotion at the gates as he approached them, and through the bars of the gates he could see the boy. A scrawny teen with wheat blonde hair and dull blue eyes. The child was skinny and wore thick blue jeans and a red, long sleeved, button up shirt. He did not seem to be on the verge of death, however the way he held himself off of the ground made him seem frail. He laid on the ground with dirt and gravel pushed up beneath his heels, so Arthur could note that the boy had clearly fallen during the chaos.
Around his wrist, Arthur could see the cause of the commotion: blood. It looked as though it had dripped down his arm onto his hand. His eyes were wide, as a tall, muscular man stood over him wielding a rifle. Joe. Joe was a grouchy man who never seemed in control of himself, and though Arthur couldn’t see his face from the other side of the gates, he was sure Joe’s face was one of intense anger and disapproval.
“Why the worry, huh!?” Joe yelled at the boy, “If you don’t have any bite marks then why hide the wound!?”
“Joe, that boy can be seen by the doctor!” Someone on top of the wall called out. Arthur looked up to see that it was Francis, “The rules are-”
“To heck with rules!” Joe shouted back, “We should just shoot him now! The sick will get him soon anyway!”
“Francis, open the gates!” Arthur called out. Francis jumped a bit at the sound of Arthur’s voice but seemed relieved to see him, Arthur couldn’t say the same about Joe as the man, still with his back turned to Arthur groaned at the realization that Arthur had arrived. Francis opened the gates and Arthur rushed through them, giving Joe a light shove on the shoulder while saying, “Move Joe, let me have a look at the lad.” Joe rolled his eyes but moved out of the way regardless.
Arthur got down on one knee in front of the teen and placed the first aid kit at his side, “Right then,” he moved his hands out in front of himself, as if ready to cradle something, “Let me have a look at your injury.” The boy didn’t react immediately, still eyeing Joe who stood a few feet back, gun still ready to shoot and so Arthur, without looking at Joe called out, “For heaven’s sake Joe! Lower the gun so that this can go smoothly.” and Joe did with slight hesitation.
The boy relaxed at this then moved his eyes to look at Arthur, Arthur’s hands, then Arthur’s face again before smiling a lopsided smile at the man, “Ah- I would rather um-” he eyed Joe again for a brief moment, “not show my hurt here. Here, in front of-” his eyes wandered back to Joe once more, “other’s.” he settled,
Arthur let out a hum, noticing how the boy’s eyes, even when focused on him, still seemed to move, as if they had a quiver of some kind and around the inner corner were red veins, like the boy’s eyes were bloodshot. His speech had a mumble to it, as if not used to speaking to others and every word and sound, though quick with some air of confidence held bits of uncertainty, that combined with the word the boy had used for his injury, hurt, not wound, not boo-boo, scrape or cut, the boy simply called it his “hurt”, Arthur could sense something more to the boy’s story. He didn’t appear necessarily confused, more so overwhelmed and he acted as though speech was almost foreign, like he technically knew how to engage with it, but he didn’t fully grasp it.
Arthur nodded his head, “Yes, okay then,” he agreed and Joe called out,
“Oh! You have got to be kidding me! The kid is clearly infected!”
Arthur began to help the boy up, “Not clearly, Joe. May’s rules are clear, the boy gets a private physical before we decide if he gets to stay here or not.”
“Those rules are gonna get us all killed!” Joe threw his hands up in the air, “You see his eyes! Why else would he want to hide the wound!? It’s a bite!”
“Not so.” Arthur continued to not look at Joe, instead focusing on the teen, “Come along now, it’s straight to the clinic with you.” the boy smiled and nodded, allowing Arthur to lead him through the gates.
Once through the gates Joe stopped following them, letting out a yell of frustration and stomping off in the direction of his house with Francis calling out to him, “You’re still on duty Joe!” only to go ignored. As they walked through the settlement some of the people who walked the streets would pause momentarily to look at the newcomer but Arthur was quick to distract the boy with idle chat.
“So what is your name then?” He asked, drawing the boy’s attention back to him,
“Mm- Alfred. Alfred Jones, that was my dad’s last name. The Jones part, not Alfred, I don’t know where the name Alfred comes from.” The boy, Alfred, replied and Arthur nodded his head,
“And where do you come from Alfred?”
Alfred let out a “Uh…” While glancing around the walls of the settlement, “That way.” he pointed west and Arthur thought it slightly odd that Alfred interpreted the question as one about general directions rather than a question about his home or the people he might have been traveling with, it seemed Alfred caught onto some of the confusion though as he soon shook his head, seemingly at his own comment before adding, “I lived in a house with a man. My home was under the house- like inside the house, but a room under it.”
“A basement?” Arthur asked to which Alfred pointed in agreement,
“That’d be it.”
They were now approaching the clinic where Peter and his mother still sat outside, Peter jumped to his feet and ran to meet Arthur, calling out, “Arthur, you didn’t finish the-” only to pause when he took notice of Alfred, “You’re from outside!?” he suddenly asked, excited at the new face and running up to Alfred instead only for his mother to quickly start walking over,
“Peter, you do not know that boy!” She scolded and Arthur sighed, deciding to introduce Alfred to Peter himself,
“Peter, this is Alfred. He just arrived and needs his physical, lad.”
Peter let out a “Wow!” then asked Alfred, “How old are you? I’m seven!” He stood as tall as he could.
Alfred seemed taken back by the other child, but kicked his heels together and stood tall as well, “I was ten three years ago, so I’d be-” he paused for a moment, counting under his breath for a brief second, “Thirteen!” he called out proudly with a wide smile and Arthur smiled a little at the scene too.
“And you-” Peter was cut off as his mother came up from behind him and pulled him back by his shoulders,
“Nice to meet you dear.” She greeted Alfred gently, “I apologize for Peter, he’s just excited to see someone almost as young as he is.”
Alfred smiled at Peter’s mother too, “It’s fine ma’am. I don’t see many children either.”
“Right.” Arthur stepped back into the conversation, “Alfred here just needs to be cleared of any bites, then you two can get to know each other alright Peter?”
Peter nodded his head, “Okay, I can show you the tree house then, and the-” He was quickly cut off by his mother who began to lightly pull him away,
“Alright Arthur! We’ll get out of your way now so that you can do your job.” She waved at the pair as they walked away, “I’m happy you’re here Alfred.”
At the door to the clinic Alfred seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if wary of the space beyond the door, but Arthur, knowing of how some children come to feel anxious of doctor’s, reassured him, “I will only be taking a look for bites and patching the injury up on your arm. Nothing much to fear.”
Alfred looked Arthur up and down before taking a breath and stepping inside after the man. Once in he did seem to relax at the new scenery, deciding to make a comment on it, “You live here too?”
Arthur looked at Alfred with a bit of surprise at the comment, “Yes.” he confirmed, “How did you figure that?”
“Mm- the curtains- or well, their painting- the painting- or picture- whatever, they’re apple slices, most doctor’s offices have white, or beige- sometimes blue- doesn’t matter,” Alfred shook his head, “They don’t have apple slices, and the TV- it’s a box TV in front of a cloth couch- that’s more like a living room than a waiting room, also those- uh- boxes- you have them- the ones that make moving pictures.”
Arthur nodded his head, “You are talking about the pattern on the curtains, and the boxes are called VHS tapes. Have you seen those before?”
“Yeah!” Alfred answered, somewhat enthusiastically, “VC… V…”
“VHS” Arthur replied again and Alfred pointed at him while quickly nodding his head,
“That’d be it! Those- they used to have them at-” Alfred cut himself off and shook his head, “Doesn’t matter.” He said with a wave of his hand,
Arthur nodded his head before redirecting Alfred’s attention back to the original task, “Well if you follow me I will take you to one of the medical beds in the back and I can examine you, see what’s wrong with your arm and all that.”
Alfred’s smile dropped for a moment at that, and he slightly bared his teeth in a small cringe before forcing a small smile out once more “Aha..” he let out nervously while lifting up one foot like he was about to start moving, only to hesitate, “Okay- but don’t freak out. I’m immune to the sickness.”
Arthur’s brain seemed to buffer at the boy’s words, “What-” he asked, suddenly very concerned, “Have you been bitten!!?”
More hesitation entered Alfred’s body as he stiffened up and began to struggle more with looking at Arthur, “I- well I GET sick, but only a little- I’ve not like- died- obviously, cause I’m here now and- it’s like- I’ve BEEN bitten plenty times before, they’ve all healed, the one from last night is still healing. See? It’s- well, it’s bleeding, but so did the others.”
Arthur moved over to Alfred, taking him by the arm, “Come with me.” He told Alfred, “I am not going to hurt you, but I need to see how far into the sickness you are.” Alfred looked outright fearful at this reaction, eyes wide and breath coming and going slightly faster, though he did comply with Arthur’s demands by allowing the man to pull him into the room in the back with the medical beds where Alfred was directed to sit.
Alfred quickly began to unbutton his shirt but started to hesitate again, “Okay, but you don’t have to cut off-” Arthur moved in quickly, not allowing Alfred to finish his sentence before undoing the other buttons, and pushing the shirt back to find… healed bite marks.
Arthur’s hand hovered over some, unsure of how to process this new information. They were scars of clear, human bite marks, some looked messier than others, some were years old, others were just a few months old, and some had an odd cleanliness to them, as if the bite was right in and out, no clamping, pulling, or shaking was done in the making of these marks. The ones that were not too clean proved however, it was most likely the sick that had done it, how the boy survived infection… made no sense. “This isn’t… possible.” Arthur breathed out, and Alfred kicked his feet awkwardly.
“So, uh…” Alfred let out, “You’re not gonna cut off my arm right?” Arthur stared at the boy, eyes wide, “Cause it’s a bite- and it looks bad, but they all look like that to begin with,” Alfred began to tug the sleeve of his shirt off of the injured arm, motioning towards the still bleeding bite, “but then I get hot- or well- they SAY I get hot, but it actually feels cold to me- and I sweat for a bit- but it goes away after like two days and everything is fine.”
The fresh bite was swollen and red with irritation and bleeding. It looked like one of the more messy bites, with some flesh pulled up from where someone, Arthur suspected it was Alfred himself, had to fight one of the infected off as it was clamping its jaws down. Purple veins could be seen from around the bite and spreading around Alfred’s arm just beneath the skin.
“I’m not-” Arthur started but then shook his head as he took in Alfred’s words, “You get past the fever?”
“Mm- if that’s what that’s called, then sure!” Alfred smiled again leaning forward as he did, “So can I stay?”