Chapter Text
His flesh was peeling, skin torn and ripped. He limped, his foot slick from the blood it leaked. He couldn’t see, not really, his vision only a tiny sliver compared to what it used to be. The street still held familiarity, each turn growing more recognisable. Everything was overgrown, covered with twisted leaves, and flourished with plants that were not earth's creation. The house stood tall in front of him, growing closer with each scrape of his heel. He knocked once, breath coming out in hoarse gasps. No one answered, silence was all that could be heard, ignoring the hissing and groaning of the entities that hit deep into the shadows. He moaned, pressing his forehead into the door. His wounds screamed, blood spilling from the frayed skin. He knew he would never fully recover from this. All he wanted was to see his siblings, they had to survive right? They couldn’t be dead. All of his suffering would’ve been for nothing.
He pounded against the door a second time, this one growing weaker, less pronounced. “Please,” was the word that gurgled from his barely functioning throat. It was a miracle he wasn’t dead, considering the hell he went through.
The door was shifted open, barely even an inch, just enough for him to stare down the barrel of the gun pointed at him.
“Who are you,” he wasn’t really recognisable, no one would be considering what the *they* are capable off. He coughed once, trying to clear the build up of mucus and blood.
“It’s been awhile,” he started,pausing as his throat burned, “it’s Darry,”.
“Stop messing around, get off my property or I’ll shoot. He’s been dead a long time now.” The coolness of the voice was like a prickle of coldness to him. The brother he knew never talked like this, the brother he knew was not the one in front of him. It had been 2 years since the things came. With their retching breath, their curled nails, their torn wings, their radiation. It didn’t take long for others for their bodies to contort and twist, becoming one with the entity.
“Please Soda,” he begged, if he was able to cry he would’ve.
“You have 3 seconds.” He could feel each passing of time, each tick of the clock his newly tuned hearing picked up. He could be described to look like them, a half formed wing dropping from his back, looking pathetic as it flickered in the window, then there was of course his injuries. The world was spinning, not in the way he was used to.
“Please,” his voice was weak, a soft whisper into the false shelter of the day. The door opened further, the gun lowered by shaking hands. A strangled sob escaped from the form of his brother.
“Darry?!” Arms reached for him, grabbing his wrists, pulling him closer. The warmth of the house was a striking comparison to the coolness of fall. The world was altered, seasons stretched and ever growing in intensity.
“I missed you, kid brother,” were his last words as the lights were pulled from around him. He went limp, that last sound he heard was a stifled sound and the thud of the floorboards.
———————-
“Is he gonna make it?” Asked the voice positioned to the left of Sodapop as he stared at the limp and heavily bandaged form of the eldest brother.
“I don’t know Pone, if we could find Helen that would be great.” He honestly replied, unable to steady his hands. His eyes flickered to the rusted self, a stem of a plant climbing slowly, its buds filling the hole with a hint of colour.
“Helen’s been gone for a month now, she’s probably dead.” The youngest replied, surprisingly calm for the situation, as if it was a regular day for him. The catastrophe had messed him in many ways, deeper than physical, his mind altered in a way that can’t be reversed. Death didn’t bother him anymore, as if anything it was fascinating, something for him to ponder, after all that curious part of him remained. To him emotions were complicated, a process he had to relearn, not that it was going to stop Soda from loving him.
“Have some hope please, honey? I just want Darry to live, it’s been 2 years.” Soda had changed too, not as drastic but subtly more in physical manifestations than physiologically, his eyes were malformed, one iris fading out, strands of hair constantly cycling through colours, bordering on the same manner of broken tvs . His hands always held a shake to it, varying in degrees. Radiation was never kind to a human soul.
Pony just hummed, turning back to his book that rested in his lap. Through the boards of the window the sun continued its descent, with it the creatures of the night would come out, screaming, pounding and hunting, starving for any flesh it could find. They could be your loved ones, your friends, neighbours you grew up with but that never caused hesitation. You were a snack to them, a delicious one at that.
“I missed him,” he whispered softly, a tone so unusual for him. He rarely spoke about the before, a hidden set of memories buried underneath the wall the radiation had built.
“Me too.” They went back to their independent tasks, Pony with his book and Soda whittling aimlessly. Both unaware of the eye that flickered open beside them.