Chapter Text
“Ralph! Come quick!” Piggy’s panicked voice echoed across the warehouse. “It’s Eric.”
Ralph looked up from the radio he’d been fruitlessly trying to fix. Beside him, Simon stood and ran after Piggy. Ralph followed.
“What happened? Where is he?” He called after Piggy, who was beginning to wheeze. “Did they get him?”
He couldn’t bring himself to specify who they were. The idea that another one of their group had been bitten struck terror into his chest. First Percival, and now…
“No, thank goodness.” Piggy huffed, wiping sweat from his forehead. “It was Merridew and his crew. He was in their territory, apparently.”
Ralph sighed heavily, half relief, half anger. He was glad Eric hadn’t been bitten, but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to hunt down Jack Merridew and his stupid followers and stick something in their necks. As if the state of the world wasn’t enough, he had to deal with their violence.
Piggy stopped outside what once was a petrol station. It was long abandoned now, all broken glass and chemical smells. A faint whimpering sound was coming from inside the shop.
The door was boarded up, so Ralph had to pick his way through the smashed window. He held onto Simon’s arm to help him avoid the glass.
“Over here.” Sam stepped out from behind some shelves. He looked very close to tears.
Ralph followed him to the back of the shop, where the fridges were, and gasped. Eric was lying on the floor, head cushioned by a heart-shaped Valentines pillow that had been grabbed off a nearby shelf. There was a growing red patch on the front of his shirt. It was worse than Ralph had imagined.
He dropped to his knees beside Eric’s shivering form.
“Hey, Eric,” He whispered. Eric craned his neck with difficulty, opening his eyes just enough to see Ralph. Ralph continued, “can I lift up your shirt?”
Eric nodded weakly. Ralph pulled up the filthy shirt with careful fingers to reveal the wound. He winced when he saw it.
There was a deep gash in the middle of Eric’s chest, dripping blood down his stomach. He’d been stabbed. Sam let out a sob beside him. He turned to see him tearing strips of fabric from his shirt and pressing them to his twin’s injury. They quickly turned from blue to scarlet. Eric groaned. It was an awful sound, so strained, like he was already slipping away.
Sam wiped away the tears that were pouring steadily down his cheeks and continued tending to the cut, whispering almost silently into his brother’s ear.
“We should get him back to the warehouse.” Piggy suggested. “All our supplies are there.”
Sam nodded tearfully. He turned to Ralph. “Help me lift him.”
He took hold of Eric on one side, Sam on the other, and together they hoisted him up. He mumbled something pained and incomprehensible.
Getting him back to the warehouse was a slow process. Eric was taller than Ralph, and too heavy for the two of them
to carry. They kept having to stop and adjust their grip on him, and they walked at a snail’s pace to avoid hurting Eric more. Eventually, they reached the rusted doors of the warehouse and carried him inside.
They laid him down on a makeshift bed (a pile of rags) and removed his shirt. Simon appeared with the plastic box they kept their sparse collection of first aid supplies in.
Ralph rifled through it. There were a few bandages, some medicine that definitely wasn’t safe for consumption anymore, and a bottle of hand sanitiser. Ralph tipped the bottle into his hand, and began to gently rub it around Eric’s wound. “This might sting.”
Eric screwed up his face, but didn’t say a word. He was in too much pain for speech.
Sam took over, layering bandages over Eric’s chest until he had the torso of a mummy. Simon sat behind them, held Eric’s hand and stroked his hair whenever he whimpered.
Eventually, Sam finished up and Eric drifted off to sleep, face still frozen in an expression of discomfort. Sam refused to leave his side while he slept.
Ralph brought Simon and Piggy over to a quiet corner of the warehouse, out of Sam’s earshot so as not to upset him anymore.
“Piggy, what happened?” He asked. His hands were shaking; he shoved them in his pockets. “Merridew stabbed him?”
“I’m not sure if it was him. It was one of his boys, anyway.” Piggy explained. “I didn’t see it, but as far as I know, Samneric were just looking for food in the shops when whoever it was jumped out and stabbed Eric, then ran away.”
“Why are they doing this to us? Why do they have to make everything more difficult?” Ralph scrubbed a hand over his face. “We haven’t done anything to them.”
Simon saw how upset Ralph was and reached out to intertwine their fingers. Ralph managed a weary smile in his direction.
“At least he wasn’t bitten.” Piggy said, a bad attempt at looking at the bright side.
“Well, he might end up dead anyway.” Ralph regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Simon’s jaw dropped, and Piggy turned white.
“Don’t say things like that, Ralph.” Piggy scolded, though Ralph could hear the fear in his voice. “He’ll be fine. We’ll take care of him.”
The last words were directed at Simon, whose eyes had gone round and shiny.
“You’re right.” Ralph said, even though he didn’t believe it. He didn’t want to make everyone feel even worse. “He’ll be okay.”
Sam didn’t leave Eric once all evening. He sat with him while the others ate, and Ralph had to bring him some food. He tried to feed some to Eric, but he wouldn’t eat, which only worried Sam even more. When the sun began to set, the twins fell asleep lying side by side.
Ralph lay down in his own lumpy bed of rags and old clothes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep; there was too much on his mind. Mostly Eric, and that bastard Jack Merridew. What he wanted to do was get revenge on him, but that would only make things worse, so he decided he’d talk to him and attempt to
make a truce. He hated Jack’s group, but he couldn’t have them hurting any more of his friends.
His eyelids were starting to droop when he felt warm breath on his ear. He flinched.
“Ralph? Are you awake?”
He immediately knew it was Simon. Simon woke him almost every night.
Ralph opened his arms wordlessly, and Simon climbed into them, tucking his face into the crook of Ralph’s neck like he’d done the night before, and two nights before that.
Ralph had to admit he enjoyed Simon’s visits. On the nights Simon didn’t come, he had to settle for hugging his own knees, which was nowhere near as comforting.
He wrapped his arms tighter around Simon’s waist, deeply soothed by the sensation of holding something warm and alive. Simon’s fingers gripped the back of his jacket like talons, and his long hair tickled Ralph’s chin.
Ralph noticed Simon was tense and breathing quickly. “Worried about Eric?”
“Is he really going to die?” Simon asked, voice small.
“No, of course not. That was just me being stupid.” Ralph rubbed his back. “You should never listen to me when I’m stressed. It makes me lie.”
Simon nodded against his chest and mumbled, “What will Sam do if he dies?”
“He won’t have to do anything, because he’s not going to die.” Ralph insisted. “Do you believe me?”
“Ok.” Simon gave in. He kissed Ralph’s cheek quickly. “Goodnight, Ralph.”
“Goodnight, Simon.”