Chapter Text
Thomas was just a child when he had fallen in love with the sunshine. It was his only constant in an ever-moving, chaotic world. Even when everything had gone to shit—when he wasn’t sure he would live to see another day, he could still depend on the rise and set of the sun. The rays warmed his skin and brought him infinite comfort, uncaring of wherever he was and whatever he was doing.
He spent a concerningly long time watching the blues turn a deep red, then orange and finally that gorgeous buttercup yellow. Curious, he reached out, but Thomas could never truly hold that brilliant warmth in his filthy, stained hands.
The sun was long gone by the time Thomas lifted his head. For the past hour, his eyes had been sorely pinned to the dark alley where Augustus’ figure had last slipped away to. His whole person was drenched with rain water, making him shiver and chattering his teeth. Thomas’ hair was plastered to his forehead and his clothes stuck to his soaked skin.
Every little sound and every flash of movement had him at the edge of his seat. Thomas was so sure that Flux and Augustus would emerge from behind the old brick wall any moment now.
Surely, they wouldn’t leave him just because of the bus? It wasn’t that big of a deal—people could have left the city a number of different ways, but they chose to stay and they simply paid the price.
As the rain’s soft pitter-patter slowed and silence enveloped the world, a deep and heavy ache settled in Thomas’ chest with every passing second. He felt wrung out—empty.
I think you just lost your last friend, Thomas. The sentence echoed around his head. How could he have been so naive? This was a long time coming, after all, Thomas told himself. Augustus had proposed leaving the city numerous times—he had even offered to bring Thomas along. So in truth, it really was Thomas’ fault. He was to blame for being so blind, failing to see what was right in front of him.
He really should’ve seen this coming—but he never expected grief would feel so suffocating. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? The horrible fog that shrouded his mind, numbing his thoughts and making it unusually hard to breathe.
No amount of studying could have prepared him for this kind of sorrow.
Thomas shook his head, trying to pull himself together. He blinked back the moisture gathering around his eyes. No use crying over spilt milk, his parents had always said.
He needed to find a place to stay for the night. Shadows stretched along the ground and the walls, providing the perfect playground for the undead.
Thomas braced his hands on either side of him and pushed himself up, ignoring his wobbling knees. The cold had seeped deep into his bones. His fingers ached when he stretched them out on his thighs.
His best shot at surviving the night was to stay in the church, Thomas supposed. He climbed the stairs with his knees creaking from the chill.
Inside, the church was eerily quiet. Thomas could almost hear himself think. His throat closed up, something ugly bubbling in his stomach as he spotted Augustus’ old cot still settled in the far corner of the open space.
He turned away quickly, swallowing the big lump blocking his airway. He couldn’t do this now, he had to…—Stella! How could he forget! Stella was still out there and still blissfully unaware of Thomas’ actions. He scratched his earlier plan of finding a safe place, he had to find Stella first.
As if on queue, a bang echoed through the church, seemingly coming from directly below him. Thomas flinched, eyes flicking to the narrow staircase leading to the facility. Could there be someone down in the facility? Thomas rubbed his wrist, thinking.
Making it back to the Hostel, where Stella was probably waiting, should have been his first priority, but as always, curiosity got the best of him.
Thomas had never taken the dangerous route to the facility alone—but he found himself less frightened than he should have been.
The old metal groaned under his feet like a dead thing, calling out with its last breath. Thomas leaped from platform to platform, his steps carefully calculated.
He had heard the story of how Mike had almost met his end just by missing one jump. In fact, Thomas had seen the nasty wound on his forehead first-hand. While he had been stunned by Mike’s sudden reappearance, he hadn’t felt too bad for the guy. His death had been tragic, sure, but that was just how the cookie crumbled.
It hardly mattered now. Mike was dead—for real this time. There was no use dwelling on the past.
Thomas found the facility jarringly devoid of life. Initially, this place had given him the creeps. After so many deaths and accidents with the machine, he swore he could feel the restless souls lingering around the space.
The air smelled musty and damp. Water dropped from the iron pipes lining the ceiling, breaking the silence with its steady drip-drop.
Pools of dried blood covered the floor in various places. A straight line heading to one of the machines. A dark spot coating the heavy, rusted door. Thomas even recognised some of his own blood from when he had been shot trying to save Mr. Flux. He shivered at the memory, ghosting his fingers along the small scar near his abdomen.
He hated guns. They were unnecessarily loud and sudden. One wound could be fatal instantly. Thomas had learned that the hard way.
Shaking the image of Snow and Mr. Flux from head, Thomas took a deep breath to calm himself.
Maybe he could start using the breathing exercise Magic had taught him, back when everything was full of hope and light. Four seconds in, four seconds out.
A scream sounded from the lower facility. Thomas jumped, looking over to the elevator. This really wasn’t the time to get involved in anything, but he couldn’t contain the excitement that bubbled up in him at the new opportunity.
Besides, thinking about going back to the Hostel and finding it completely deserted and crawling with zombies made Thomas sick to his stomach. The thought was enough to halt him in his tracks.
It all washed over him suddenly, like a wave, dousing him in grief and guilt. He really didn’t want to be alone. The last few hours had been the worst time of his life and he didn’t know what to do. Thomas didn’t have anyone to help him, to support him, to love him.
He hadn’t come to Paradise to search for people, only for the potential treasure. But along the way, he had struck gold—just not in the way Thomas had expected. He was too blind to see what was right in front of him, and too much of a coward to hold onto what he had.
Flux and Augustus were gone, and it was all his fault.
Thomas looked up, willing himself not to cry. Above, the ceiling was dark and unwelcoming, deteriorating his mood further. He really missed the sunlight.
Wiping at his damp eyes, Thomas willed his legs to move. His chest hurt from the pressure, but he had to continue on. The world never waited for anyone.
The elevator rattled painfully loud, almost deafeningly slow as it descended. Thomas held onto the single rail inside, knuckles white from his grip. Anxiety churned in his stomach, settling uncomfortably in his abdomen.
The lower facility was even less inviting. Not only was it darker, it was freezing down here. Puffs of white accompanied Thomas as he moved, shivering and miserable. He didn’t know the layout of the place, the only room he could locate was the doctor’s lab.
Voices sounded from up ahead, achingly familiar. Could it be…? Thomas sped up, rounding a corner. On the far end of the hallway stood four figures, one with flaming, orange hair.
Stella.