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“Shit.”
Gravel crunched under Conrad’s greying loafers as he padded a thin path back and forth across the width of the abandoned highway.
“Shit shit shit.”
Conrad halted his pacing suddenly and turned to stare blankly at the lifeless red Cadillac, his eyes distant and almost unseeing, barely even registering Worth at the front of the car, fiddling with something under the hood, blonde head and skinny arms buried an a labyrinth of well oiled and utterly motionless machinery. Conrad’s hands twitched restlessly, wringing and scratching at pale skin.
“SHIT.”
“Connie, will ya do me a favor and shut th’ fuck up so I kin concentrate?”
Conrad ground his teeth and kicked viciously at the dirt, then resumed pacing, tracing a dizzying path from one patch of dry grass to another with quick, disconcertingly inhuman movements. He was usually better at containing his vampiric tendencies, feigning a mask of something like normalcy, but tonight he just could not be bothered.
“And quit that squirmin’, yer gonna give me a goddamned aneurism.”
“I’m going to give you an aneurism?” Conrad snarled, rounding on Worth mid stride. “Would you look at where we are?”
Worth ignored him. Conrad plowed on.
“I’ll tell you where we are,” he hissed, jabbing a finger in the doctor’s general direction. “We are stuck. In the middle of nowhere. With a broken down car. Less than two days away from where we need to be. And absolutely nomeans of getting there. Because if you haven’t noticed, TRIPLE A DOESN’T EXACTLY EXIST ANYMORE. MECHANICS DON’T EXIST ANYMORE. NOTHING EXISTS ANYMORE. BECAUSE THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD HAS GONE STRAIGHT TO HELL IN A GODDAMNED HANDBASKET.”
“How many times am I gonna hafta tell ya ta pipe down?” Worth replied, glancing up from what he was doing for the first time, eyes sharp and bloodshot over the sleek hood of the car. “Bitchin’ ain’t gonna do nothin’ ta get this fixed, ya useless ponce, so calm th’ hell down. What, ya got somewhere partic’larly pressin’ ta be at th’ moment?”
“No!”
Conrad’s head was throbbing and he felt about a second away from breathing fire. Or punching the lights out of one smug asshole doctor. Either or.
“But Hanna’s going to be expecting us in Salem tomorrow night and if we’re not there he’s going to flip out andI’m so terribly sorry, but wasting away somewhere in the edge of the Midwest, waiting to be found by looters or cannibals or who knows what the hell else doesn’t exactly sound like my idea of a good time!”
Conrad huffed and swung his foot down on a pebble that happened to be in his way, sending it skidding down the glorified dirt road, into the darkness. He glanced out over the skyline, strangely devoid of any light from distant towns and cities, the air far stiller and quieter than it should have been. Mere days had passed since the collapse of human civilization, and Conrad had already all but forgotten what the ambient noise of distant cars and human life buzzing in the distance had sounded like. His stomach clenched unpleasantly as he glared back at Worth, who was brushing his oil stained hands on the back of his jeans.
“Christ Connie would ya keep yer pannies on?” Worth said, a note of irritation creeping into his voice as he stepped back to look at Conrad. “We ain’t gonna get attacked’r robbed’r eaten, awright? Would ya look around?”
He waved his arms toward the vast expanse of empty landscape that looked as though it might once have been a farm. If it was, it had been abandoned long before the apocalypse set in, fields populated only by sparse, browning shrubs and tangled weeds pushing up through the cracked asphalt at the edges of the road. The only sign of human life in sight were the ruins of an old barn, wind beaten with the ceiling caved in at the hand of some long forgotten storm.
“Ain’t no one around here but you’n me,” he said, hands dropping back to his sides. “An’ if anyone did try ta sneak up on us we’d see ‘em comin’ fer miles. Worst comes ta worst Hanna’ll have whatever lil party he’s plannin’ without us, an’ we show up a day late. Th’ kid’ll be so damned excited ta see us he won’ even remember we were late. Doncha worry yer pretty lil head about it, awright princess?”
Conrad scowled, but said nothing. He just didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. Chewing his lip and hissing again when he tasted stagnant blood, he wandered back over to the car and leaned heavily on the dust coated back window, mindless, pulsing rage draining away in spite of himself. Maybe Worth was right for a change. Maybe things would work out fine on their own if they just kept their heads, tried not to worry too much. He looked again over the empty road and lightless skyline. Somehow he doubted it.
The silence lingered as Worth made his way around from the open hood to rummage around in the pile of tools laid out on the driver’s seat. Conrad twitched as the seconds ticked by.
“Do you even know anything about cars?” he said finally, struggling to sound both nonchalant and disdainful.
It was sort of funny; in his younger years he’d much preferred the quiet. Even just a few weeks ago Conrad would have taken the peaceful stillness and isolation of his apartment over the noise and chaos of a mall or a bar or even a restaurant any day. But nowadays the silence seemed to rattle in his ears. It made his head buzz, his stomach ache. For the first time in his life he desperately craved the sound of human voices. And just as luck would have it there was no longer anyone around to fill the invisible gaping void in the air around him, and likely never would be again.
“Not a damn thing,” Worth grunted from somewhere inside the car. “Not about cars like this anyway. Still, reckon it’s a damn sight more’n you know.”
Conrad rolled his eyes.
“Yes, you’ve only been rummaging around in the engine for an hour now. Clearly you’re the expert here.”
“Wot ya think ya could do better? Feh! Connie the mechanic, now that I’d like ta see…”
Before Conrad could spit back another retort, Worth reemerged from the depths of the car, knocking a bony elbow against the dashboard as he squirmed out of the front seat, wrench in hand.
“Yeah actually, I do think I could do better. It’s not like-“
But the end of his sentence trailed into nothing as an unfamiliar sound crackled to life in the air around them. Conrad saw Worth’s eyebrows pull together in fleeting confusion as they both turned to stare at the little black box set into the car’s dashboard. A low, staticky tune fizzled from the speakers, a soft, androgynous voice crooning an unintelligible plea to some now dead lover into the night. The hair on Conrad’s arms prickled.
“Did you leave a CD in?” Conrad murmured, transfixed by the little box. It had been two days since they’d last heard the dying strains of Journey’s infamous power ballad crackle from their speakers. Everything had been static since then.
“Nope,” Worth said, sinking slowly back into the leather seat.
“Then that’s…Jesus that’s the radio,” Conrad said quietly. “How is there even still a signal out here? And who could possibly–”
“Shhh…” Worth silenced him, reaching out to twist the volume knob, allowing the softly lilting voice to fill the corners of the empty air on the abandoned, backwoods highway.
They sat there in silence for a moment, listening to the echoes of a life and a world that now seemed so distant, eaten alive by a web of blue veins. It wasn’t the sort of song Conrad might have ordinarily listened to had circumstances been different, but in that moment, that whiny British singer’s voice sounded like a symphony by Mozart himself.
Worth leaned slowly forward, elbows resting on his knees, as if deep in thought. Conrad saw his eyebrows knotting together in profile. It looked almost as though he were waging some kind of internal struggle, his usual mask of malice and scorn fallen away.
Then without warning he hoisted himself from the car, clicking the door shut once he had gotten to his feet, music still pouring out through the open window.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Conrad shook himself from his mesmerised reverie, eyes following Worth as he made his way to the front of the car, tugging the hood shut and planting a booted foot on the sleek, red surface.
“Wassit look like?” Worth grunted, clambering into the roof without hesitation.
Conrad gaped as Worth situated himself comfortably on the thin convertible top, feet dangling down to brush over the dirtied hood.
“I really don’t think that roof is meant to–”
“Git up here Connie,” Worth interrupted him almost absentmindedly, leaning back on his elbows, eyes distant.
“ –hold…wait what? Why?”
Worth’s head dropped forward onto his chest, exasperated sigh puffing from his nostrils. Conrad straightened up indignantly, guardedly, waiting for Worth to speak.
“I said git up here,” he replied after a moment, turning to glare at Conrad. Much to Conrad’s surprise, he stuck a hand out over the hood of the car, staring expectantly down at him, as if waiting for him to take it.
Conrad raised an eyebrow, suspicious. But if he was being honest with himself, this was the first time in a long while he’d seen the doctor so devoid of venom and it was sort of a nice change.
Sighing and pursing his lips doubtfully, he followed Worth’s example and hoisted himself onto the hood, batting Worth’s hand away before sliding back onto the roof.
“Now lie down’n try ta fuckin’ relax fer once in yer life.”
Conrad scowled but followed the man’s advice. Now that he thought about it, it had been a very long day. It might be nice to lie down for a while. Just for a few minutes.
He leaned cautiously back, trying to keep himself as light as possible on the metal boned wall of canvas. Finally, his head came to rest inches from Worth’s, who had immediately dropped back and made himself comfortable. Conrad’s hands slid up to rest on his stomach as he tipped his head up towards the sky.
The song spilling from the car beneath them peaked and drifted, every other phrase coming out clear enough to understand through the thick accent and static.
“Wrote a letter…”
“You needn’t worry…”
“All these people…”
After a minute or two the song finally faded, only to be replaced by a new one, notes blending one after another until each new song was indistinguishable from the last. The sky was clearer than Conrad could remember ever having seen it. Which was unsurprising, he supposed, as he had spent the majority of his life, one: safely indoors, and two: living under the smoggy haze and piercing fluorescents of one big city after another. But tonight was different. The neon glow of any neighboring civilization was by now extinguished, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Conrad had always sort of assumed that all those photos in nature magazines of far flung forests or inhospitable tundra, where stars littered the sky like a jewelbox, had been merely the result of camera tricks, composites to trick the average suburbanite into thinking with envy of the great forces of nature he was surely missing out on. He’d never thought the sky could ever actually look like that. He blinked up at the twisting constellations that he’d never learned to identify, glowing bright, unaware of the chaos erupting beneath them.
“Sometime’r another, fagula,” Worth’s voice said suddenly, uncharacteristically soft in the darkness. “Yer gonna hafta learn ta deal with the shit life gives ya. Take it in stride, yanno.”
Conrad glanced over at the doctor, too surprised by the random nature of his words to even be irritated about Worth trying to give him life advice. One skinny, bandaged arm was tucked under his head, the other fiddled inattentively with something around the collar of his shirt. His eyes were distant, hazy, looking past Conrad and the stars and everything else around them. Conrad wondered who exactly it was he was talking to.
“Th’ world might be goin’ ta hell, but if ya don’ learn ta appreciate th’ lil things, yer gonna drive yerself crazy.”
“Hm,” was all Conrad could think to say in response, and silence quickly overtook them once more, music still murmuring out from the tinny speakers as they lay together, wading in the peaceful quiet of their unspoken truce, gazing up at the sky.
Minutes ticked by, maybe hours, and Worth breathed and Conrad didn’t and the music and the stars made him almost forget how much had changed. How much had been lost. To his surprise he found himself thinking that the end of the world might not be so bad if it was more like this all of the time. Of course it wasn’t, and it never would be again, he felt sure. But it was nice, just for then, to pretend it could be.
Conrad didn’t know how much time had passed when the music below began to stutter and choke. He blinked and turned his head as the notes sputtered back into a familiar hissing and buzzing, and the radio was once more overtaken by static. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists, silently, secretly willing the radio station to wheeze back to life.
When it refused to comply for several long seconds, he sighed and stretched his fingers out, finally pushing himself into a sitting position and sliding over the edge of the car. Worth still had yet to move from his position reclining on the roof as Conrad popped open the door and crawled into the front seat, fiddling with the dial. His efforts were met with static, static, and more static.
“Well,” said Conrad, arms dropping in defeat after three full rotations of the little wheel. “I think that’s it.”
Somewhere above him, Worth groaned and shifted, boots appearing suddenly in the passenger side window, quickly followed by filthy jeans and a ratty shirt.
“Sun’ll be up in another hour’r so,” Worth said by way of response, bones popping loudly as he stretched. “Ya should be gettin’ inside ‘fore too long.”
And suddenly, Conrad did indeed feel very tired. The warm spring air and static buzzed in his head, weighing down his bones, the lack of fresh blood in his system making his limbs heavy.
“But what about the car?” Conrad asked, fighting back the pleasant warmth filling his chest, coaxing him to close his eyes, curl up under the large, dark blanket folded neatly in the back seat.
“Eh, we kin take care’a that tomorrow night,” Worth said indifferently, sliding into his usual place in the passenger’s seat. “’Sides, wouldn’ wanna risk ya getting yer pretty lil face all burned would we? I mean yer pretty damn useless as is, princess, but sommat tells me ya’d be even more useless as a French fry.”
Conrad rolled his eyes at the jibe, but acquiesced, casting one last glance over the radio before tugging out the keys, cutting off the static, and tossing them to Worth. He clambered mindlessly out of the car and into the back seat without another word. Worth was right, as much he hated to admit it. Though no light had yet appeared on the horizon, some of the faintest stars had already begun to blink out, swallowed by the navy blue ink of the sky.
As he pulled the blanket over himself and shut his eyes, he found himself thinking, once again, about the lone radio station, outlasting even the seemingly immortal tones of Don’t Stop Believing, broadcasting the echoes of a dying world to all who were still alive to hear.
He wondered vaguely who it was that had thought to keep the radio queue running, even as the world collapsed around their ears. Had the station been set up, last second, to loop indefinitely until regular programming returned, or, as was more likely the case now, the last of their generators were drained, or their radio tower collapsed? Or was someone still out there? Some intern or former DJ or even random passerby who had found the doors swung wide, queuing up songs with nowhere else to go? Were they even still alive?
Conrad rolled over, pushing the thoughts from his mind, storing them neatly into his carefully compartmentalized brain into a folder that read “For Later”. Or perhaps even “For Never”. Either way, he was too tired now to wax poetic, even in his own head, about the steadily marching apocalypse. He squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable spot as sleep quickly overtook him.
“Goodnight,” he mumbled blearily as an afterthought, before he had time to think about what he was saying. He almost hoped that Worth would already be asleep. A muffled snort from the front seat was his answer. None such luck.
“Heh. G’night ta you too, Fagula.”
He allowed the remark to pass unchallenged except for an indistinct grumble of annoyance that he doubted Worth even heard. Finally falling still, he allowed himself to drift.
The last thing he remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was the distant click of a lighter and the smell of smoke filling his senses.
~
Conrad woke the next evening to the sound of someone rooting around in the front seat. He blinked blearily from under the thick blanket, allowing a few moments for the haze of sleep to filter away, making sure the sun induced headache that plagued him during daylight hours, even indoors, was really gone, before emerging sleepily to fumble for his glasses.
“Mornin’ princess,” Worth said, without looking back at him. “You’ll be glad ta hear I got th’ car all fix’d up while ya were catchin yer beauty sleep.”
“Wait you…what?” Conrad squinted at him, pushing his glasses back into place on his nose.
“Fixed ‘er,” Worth replied, turning to grin at the thoroughly incredulous vampire. His nose and jacket sleeves were smudged with what looked like motor oil, and a sheen of sweat clung to his hairline. Conrad wrinkled his nose and sat up, kicking the blanket off his legs.
“How the hell did you manage that?”
“Don’ sound so surprised, peaches,” Worth scowled. “‘M a doctor fer Chrissakes, what, ya think I can’t figure out how ta fix a lousy car with a lil tinkerin’?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think, actually,” Conrad said, stretching his legs and rubbing at his eyes. “But if you really fixed it then…great, I guess? What was the problem?”
“Fuel gauge’s stuck.”
Worth tapped the glass panel just behind the steering wheel. Leaning in closer, Conrad noticed for the first time that the needle of the fuel indicator wheel, instead of collapsing along with the others once the car was turned off, remained stuck in an upright position, halfway between E and F. Huh.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the car, jus’ outta gas ‘s all.”
“So…we’re still screwed, is basically what you’re telling me.”
“How’d ya figure that one?”
White-hot fury quickly scorched through sleepy contentedness as Conrad glared down at the doctor, who had already fished out another cigarette and was smoking coolly in the passenger seat, without a worry in the world.
“Either way we’re still stuck with nowhere to go! How the hell are we going to get gas all the way out here? We’ll have to get out and walk until we can find another car, and just cross our fingers and hope that maybe we’ll stumble across another unlocked car with the keys still in it, and we’re going to have to carry all of our stuff and–”
Rage had given way to frustration and panic began to rise like bile in Conrad’s throat, when Worth silenced him with a scoff.
“Oi, I said I’d take care of it didn’ I?” he said, chewing at his shrinking cancer stick. “Took care of it. See fer yerself.”
He fished the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Conrad. Still eyeing him suspiciously, albeit with panic faded somewhat, Conrad clambered into the front seat, pushed the keys into the ignition and gingerly twisted them. The engine rumbled effortlessly to life, dials whirring back into place, the whole car humming with life once again.
“What’d I tell ya?”
Conrad clutched the steering wheel, blinking in confusion.
“How did you…”
“Walked.”
Worth rolled down a window and tapped ashes onto the gravel.
“Couldn’ sleep,” he continued casually. “So I went’n found a gas station. Filled up a few cartons, brought em back, done’n done.”
“Holy shit you walked? From here? To a gas station? Worth! That was such a fucking bad idea I can’t even…Jesus, do you remember what happened last time we went to a gas station? Why didn’t you just wait for me to wake up? We could have–”
“Hah, yeah I remember wot happened last time I let youwander inta a gas station alone.”
Conrad gaped at him, sputtering with fury. As if that was his fault!
Then Worth whipped around suddenly, glaring at him with an unexpected venom that actually surprised him into silence.
“Christ, what’s yer problem Connie? Ya were chompin’ at the goddamn bit ta get goin’ last night, so let’s go already. Was faster this way, awright? An’ don’ try ta tell me you wouldn’ have gone and had yerself a sissy lil panic attack an’ bitched’n complained the whole time, cos I KNOW ya would’ve. There was a problem, I solved it, and I ain’t dead, so quit yer moanin’ already.”
A cigarette smoldered, leaking smoke into the confined car, pinched, forgotten, between tanned fingers. Conrad grit his teeth, once again fighting back the rebuttal that boiled in his throat.
How many times had he saved Worth’s ass already just in the past week? How many times over might Worth have gotten himself killed if Conrad hadn’t been there? But no, rather than even once thanking him for anything he did, Worth seemed perfectly content to revel in Conrad’s moments of uncertainty, to pick out the seconds which he was stricken yet again with the still jarring realization: the world as we know it is over. The way Worth talked, the way he acted, as though the apocalypse was just no big deal, just another one of Hanna’s harebrained adventures - none of it made any sense. Had he already forgotten a world before this? Did he even care?
Worth turned away, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard, and took another long drag from his cigarette, ignoring Conrad’s glare.
There was something about Worth that he just couldn’t figure out. For all his jibes and assholery, all of his socially backwards, morally questionable behavior, there had to be something red and beating under the shriveled callous of his heart, right? He seemed to care earnestly enough about Hanna, and he and Lamont seemed to have weathered the test of time. But perhaps that said more about Hanna and Lamont than it did about Worth.
It was stupid of him for believing, even for a second, that Worth could possibly be bothered to spare a thought for anyone but himself. Conrad realized with a sickening suddenness that he’d actually expected something to change after their unspoken ceasefire the night before. Expected Worth to be…not kinder perhaps, but maybe just a little bit less needlessly malicious. He should know by now that too much optimism was never a good idea. Fight it back, file it away in that drawer labeled “For Never”.
“Just…let me help next time, okay?” Conrad said finally, sighing in defeat.
Worth snorted and tossed his spent cigarette out the window.
“Yeah, sure, whatever ya say peaches. Jus’ drive.”
~
Much to Conrad’s relief, Worth had passed out almost immediately, allowing Conrad a much-needed reprieve from both snide commentary and ear splitting, distinctly Australian accented impressions of supposedly famous German rock bands. He glanced over at Worth, curled up in the passenger seat under his mangy coat, hard lines of his face softened by sleep, blessedly silent except for occasional shallow breaths. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Worth sleep while they were driving. Hell, as far as he could tell he hardly slept during the daylight hours they’d actually allotted for sleep. But hey, appreciate the little things, right?
So distracted was he by the comfortable silence that accompanied Worth’s unconsciousness, that he almost missed the darkened gas station whiz by. He did a double take, eyebrows raised as he watched it go, eyes following it in the rearview mirror until it vanished over the horizon.
Looking down at the time, he realized suddenly it had been almost an hour since they set out earlier that evening, and that this was the first gas station he’d seen. But that couldn’t be…
He chanced another glance over at Worth, quiet and peaceful for the second time in less than a day. That had to be some kind of record for him.
Conrad’s eyes skimmed over his boots and the bottoms of his jeans, much more dirty and torn than he remembered them being. His shirt was stained and a dark pink flush of sunburn was creeping its way over his cheeks and nose. How many miles out was this? He couldn’t possibly have walked this far, especially not in the nearly-summer sun.
Conrad blinked and turned back to the road, a strange, unidentifiable feeling stirring in his gut, one that couldn’t quite be assigned a filing cabinet in his mental storeroom.
There were some things about Worth he doubted he would ever really understand.