Chapter Text
22 of February 2019
Things could be worse.
That was Shane's mantra at this point. Whenever some upheaval, and all his meticulous laid out plans goes to shit. And oh boy there were plans and there were some more upheavals!
He was sure that he could pinpoint when the upheavals started to be unbearable. It was gradual, as were many annoying things in Shane's life. Things that he decided to not focus on! He let them simmer until the lid flies out of the handle with all the pressure built-in.
Things could be worse.
It’s a very neutral stance. He likes neutral stuff. Neutral is easier to control.
He got his bell rung when he finally decided to be braver and bring Ilya to his cottage. It could be worse. He gets to ask anyway and Ilya comes.
He planned to ease his parents into the idea of him being gay. And more into the future, the idea of having some type of relationship with "The Rozanov Menace"! Only to — days after his decision — get caught in the act. Could be worse! His parents understood and accepted everything.
He decides to come out to his team as a show of respect and mutual trust to his teammates. Only to have more than half of his team being weird and uncomfortable with him. That made them lose the playoffs very early in the season. It could be worse...? At least there was no public outing or hate crime involved — bare fucking minimum, sure.
His ten year plan! Putting Ilya in a closer team, creating a charity organization, changing the narrative... Only to the rumors of a pandemic to start brewing! And in a flash there is real possibility of him, his boyfriend and parents, quarantined in Ottawa. And sure as fuck he won’tlet Ilya quarantined alone! Sure, Shane was paranoid with this, fearing this getting it out to the public... But leaving him alone was not an option! Anyway, things could be worse... Somehow... He lies to himself often now.
It was, still, a very cold February. There was no difference between the rink and outside, both frigid. The game last night was brutal! Morale was in shambles and it doesn't matter what Shane says, half of those guys wouldn’t listen to him anyway.
He decided not to go back home with the team. He will spend one more night in New York after the big fiasco and after that he will hop upon a flight to Boston. The plan is to help Ilya with selling some of his precious sports cars! They really weren't made for Ottawa's streets. And then they could go to his parents house before the threat of quarantine were not just a threat anymore. With how things are turning up, it was a miracle that a contact sport like hockey was still going on! But Shane doesn't think it would be going for much longer. April was the hard limit he could foresee the league extending.
He adjusted the strap of his massive duffle bag on his shoulders. Shane just got out of a hockey school rink after speaking with the owners and professors. He also gave a little class for the children — all good and dandy and Yuna Approved to make more sense on why later he would create a hockey school of his own linked with a foundation with his, until then, Arch-rival.
He was also carrying his baggage. For paranoia purposes, really. Right now he was not very comfortable even taking out his luggage in the hotels. He knew he was being a lot to handle, that he was very aware of. It was not everyone that was using the gloves and mask combo, but he really didn't want to fuck around and find out. Shane was pretty sure the Uber driver he just got was looking at him strangely, but he tried not to think about it. At least there was an acrylic panel between the two of them.
He got out of the car and looked at the building. It was very pretty, extremely spacious for a place near Manhattan and the Bronx, so Shane was very aware of the little fortune it must have cost to have a penthouse like this. He never, in a million years, thought of buying properties in New York — the thought may or may not have past swiftly once about buying one in Boston — so there was no itching to look at the building further or think too much about the structure. He went to the lobby where a sickly looking concierge was sitting, looking at nothing. It didn't look like he was going to be questioned about what he was doing here. Shane's goal was the wall of buttons near the elevator, anyway. He found the right number and touched the button with his gloved hand, trying very hard not to internalize any of his behavior since the pandemic started, it will be very hard to let go after. There was a sound and a click, but no one said anything. That was normal. No hockey all-star would respond to someone at his door, that would be giving a reward to a stalker.
"Hi, it's me, uhm..." He remembers his mask and took it out, even though that com probably didn't have a camera. "Shane— Hollander! Shane Hollander... From Montreal... Which you know..." He let out an uncomfortable cough. "—I'm not sick or anything!" He said quickly.
"Who told you where I live, Rook?" There was a little laugh in his voice that Shane didn't pick up.
"I'm sorry! I asked Carter, hm Vaughnny. I didn't have your number saved, which is... probably my fault since I clearly remember you asking mine one time. And he was in my game last night and when I said I wanted to talk to you he just gave me your address. I thought he had warned you about my visit! I'm so sorry! I can—"
"Let's pump some breaks, Rook. I was just pulling your leg. Come on up! I will let the elevator free for you." The coms clicked again and went mute.
Shane sighs. That could have been worse. He looked at the number pad at the side of the elevator glaring at the name "locked" for a second before it lit itself in green and the elevator's doors opened. Very slick building... Maybe it is worth looking into buying something like this.
When stepping out of the elevator to the little corridor that ended with the stairs and the fire exit at one side and Scott Hunter's door at the other, Shane's phone gives some signs of life. Some of “Lily's” messages with photos of Ilya without shirt posing on top of his car, saying that that was his marketing strategy. Some messages from his father sharing some different fun facts about his monthly obsession. Some from his mother remembering him about masks, rubbing alcohol and the cancellations that she made with some ads he was supposed to make by the end of the month, but she didn't feel safe with a pandemic looming, and also a PDF file with her report of the last game with 14 pages, and shane knows in his bones that there was a link to a very detailed excel. The last one was Hayden checking him in, asking if he did make sense of Vaughnny's blabbering and found Hunter's house and then ranting about flying delays. Shane found it a little strange that all those messages just now got to his phone, but he was a bit preoccupied with something else now.
Before he could knock, Scott was already opening the door. Completely covered in sweat using a compression shirt that leaves absolutely nothing to imagination, he might add. Shane's mind betrays him with the memory of Ilya's message saying how Scott was super-hot and a pang of jealousy hit him very quickly. Until he reminds himself that Scott was very much tied to someone and Ilya is an asshole, but not a homewrecker. An asshole with ethics and a kind heart, what a fucking weirdo I was deeply in love with.
"Rook! C'mon in, man! Excuse my state, I was running for a bit. Normally I jog outside but..." A whole pandemic happening, yeah he figures "—Anyways there is rubbing alcohol if you want. I will take a quick shower." His eyes fall to Shane's luggage. "Need a place to crash for a bit? I don't mind housing you if you cool with me and my boyfriend being absolutely disgusting. Everybody says we have no sense of PDA! They barred me last time from housing the rookies on grounds of trauma!"
"Oh! No, I—" Scott laughed at his own joke without really hearing Shane and simply disappeared back to the house. "Ok... Cool coolcoolcool." Could have been worse.
Hunter's penthouse was fucking gorgeous. The living area was an open-plan between the living room, dining room and kitchen, the latter perfectly isolated with an island with a pleasant color matched KitchenAids. Everything perfectly decorated, there was even a fucking mini chandelier above the dining table and a fireplace — definitely running on gas, there was no fire logs in the middle of the city and definitely no chimney — and above that a very fucking delightful painting above the mantle of the fireplace. But even with the meticulous state of everything, Shane could see signs that that place was very much well lived in. There were dishes in the sink, some college hoodie thrown in the chairs. Books on the coffee table. And photos. So many photos. All over the place. Scott, the Admirals, some people Shane never saw in his life and Scott's boyfriend... Everywhere. A second pang of jealousy hit Shane.
How many photos I didn't have saved. How much of Ilya I didn't put in physical media and put where it deserves: All over my house.
Things could be worse
Things could be worse.
Things could be worse.
Shane put his things close to the door, to not occupy much space and he sat on the very elegant sofa close to the entry and waited. The only division of the penthouse was the living area and the rooms that Shane would assume be the bedrooms and bathrooms. He decided to not snoop around more than he already has. He was already feeling the Itch — every time he and Ilya watched a real state or a house flipping reality tv shows, his asshole of a boyfriend would say that Shane's real estate fetish had given him the Mr Real Estate Itch, and Shane would try to buy more houses and buildings. Shane always attacks back with Ilya's vice with sports cars.
"So, how is it going, Rook?" Scott jumped on the sofa across the coffee table looking directly at Shane, making him go back to Earth. "Tough game last night."
"We did our best, but we aren't clinking right—" Scott scoffed and started to look around. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for the press you are talking to?" He gave Shane a smile. "C'mon man. I know you are way more media trained than me somehow, but we colleagues here... Or, were. I still have to get used to being retired."
There was a beat of silence.
"You know about me, don't you?" Shane didn't look at him, instead the book about Byzantine art looked very nice so he stared at it. "I know that there are probably rumors by now."
"I mean. Some. There are rumors that the Metros are at odds with their captain." Scott gave an apologetic smile that Shane didn't look at. "And I have my own theories." Now Shane looked. "I don't want to assume."
"I think you have already passed the threshold of conjuncture." Shane hated how his voice got so small.
"That's not my place, Rook. If you want to say it, say it."
"Was this hard for you as well? Did it kill you every single time? All that stares? The judgment? Every time you couldn't say anything?"
This time Shane looked at Scott's face, seeing a very tired smile. Shane's breath got caught in his throat and his eyes stings, but he refused to cry.
"I'm gay." He gasped. "That's not even the first time I'm saying this, why is it so hard?"
"It gets easier." Scott says. "There will be a time when you will be coming out every time you get out of your door, which becomes an annoying thing you do because people just assume things."
Shane scrunches his nose in disgust. "I don't know if I want that." He tucked his knees under his arms, grateful that he changed his socks after getting out of the rink. Ilya had that annoying habit that Shane was still trying to train him out of. "Was that obvious? About what I am?"
"Only if you know what to look at." Scott said, getting more comfortable on the sofa, elbow as his support. "Also if you have the luck to be Rozanov hotel neighbor in some All-star competition."
"Oh my fucking god!" Shane hid his burning face. "I knew that was a bad idea!"
"Hey, we've all been horny young men at some point." Scott was laughing at Shane's agony in a way that was a little bit too found and a bit too sad, the younger one had to look. "At least you got to experiment. Some had very little opportunities." He was obviously talking about himself. "You know, I always thought that you guys were only a casual thing. An experiment, like a said. Extremely dangerous, but extremely safe at the same time. I thought that after the Sochi Olympics there was nothing between the two of you, maybe I was projecting. But after the news of Rozanov's trade to Ottawa..."
"... We are dating now. Like, seriously dating. It's been an... Interesting change in our lives. He has opened the process of naturalization. Maybe after the whole craziness of the pandemic dies down he will not have to worry about Russia anymore."
"Are you going to Ottawa as well?"
"What? Why?"
"I don't know. To be with him? I think that's the natural course of things, if he is already giving up so much. Relationships are giving and taking. You are taking now, what are you going to give?"
A silence fell in the room. Shane could hear the tick of the very slick analogic clock in the wall of the kitchen.
Scott cleared his throat. Breaking Shane's spiraling thoughts.
"Anyway, that's some food for thoughts for the Gay Yoda here." Shane was grateful for Scott's attempt to change subjects. "I believe you didn't come just to confess your big gay secret to me. So shoot, what do you have for me?"
"I— er. We, me and Ilya, we are trying to start a foundation. Like, to do some good, but also change our narratives. People still believe we hate our respective guts even though that plot is like 10 years old."
"So you come to me for advice since I have one of my own." Scott assumes the rest. "Sure, I can help. And if your foundation is linked to mine, there is more leeway to ease the public by your eventful coming out."
"I don't know—"
"Rook, you will come out. Maybe not in the next 3 years, but you will." Scott wasn't trying to be obtuse, he was trying to say facts. Shane's phone started to vibrate, but he ignored it. "It's suffocating—"
"—I know, but—" he tried to interrupt, getting a little defensive.
"Sure, but guys are in a monogamous relationship for how long? Being honest with each other's feelings for how long? Do you have friends that know? Does he? I had no one, Kip had so many, but I didn't let him say anything. I was suffocating him. It will be suffocating, maybe not for you who clearly get too attached to what is previously known, the status quo of things, but what about your boy? That one is chaotic, will he not be suffocated having no one to talk about you with? Will he have to continue his Russian Sex Machine persona, or will he have to change that as well?"
Shane's thoughts are going in loops. All of that was new territory. It was not like he had someone with his exact situation to base off. Even if Scott's situation was close, it was not enough. His phone continued to vibrate.
"Sorry. I tried to get away from this topic, but I bought it up again. Maybe I am talking too much with Elena." Shane's phone didn't stop. "Maybe you should answer that. It's calling like crazy, maybe it's an emergency?"
"... Yeah. I ... Yeah. Excuse me" he got up from the couch. The sky outside was getting dark very fast. The lights outside looked... Strange.
He went to where his shoes and luggage were. His phone had 7 unanswered calls from his mother, 5 from his dad and 3 from Hayden. What the fuck is happening? His mother was calling again.
"Mom?"
"Oh thank Go—" the call cut off really quickly. "—Rying to call... Are you Saf—"
"Mom? The call is very bad! Mom? I— I am in Scott's place!"
"—Don't go outsi... angerous! It's happening all over the—"
"What do you mean Dangerous? Mom?!" He was screaming now, Scott was now close to him, looking preoccupied.
"— going to your Cottage, you hear m... We are going to... Ilya is not answeri—" the call fell.
Shane looked at his phone like it was an alien thing in his hand, seeing the Call Disconnected blinking almost as it was taunting him.
"What's going on, Rook?" He said, almost whispering.
"I don't know... I don't fucking know." He tried to redial his mom number but it didn't even try to connect the call. He tried again. And again.
He dialed his father's number, the same thing. He tried again. He tried Hayden. He tried Ilya's. He tried Ilya's 4 times. He started hyperventilating. He tried 5 more times. He was already sinking in a squat turning himself into a ball, feeling tears starting to pool in his eyes.
"What the fuck?" He heard Scott say in the living room. Shane had to conjure all his strength to get up and walk to the room. Scott was holding the remote looking at a static image of a woman binding the neck off of a politician. There was nothing else. Scott changed the channels. Most were dark disconnected screens, but some had some type of card saying "emergency". Until Scott found a channel, which could be a news tv show, that was not static.
"—tate of emergency. The outbreak is said to be happening in most of the cost east of the whole American continent, as well news of a full outbreak in Europe, Asia and African continent." Says the news reporter using what it looked like a bullet proof vest and an acrylic visor-helmet. " We do not know the cause of it all. Some specialists are theorizing a mutation from the virus that was causing the pandemic, others a linking the extremely violent behaviors to the Rabies Virus that until now was fatal to humans. It's advised to keep indoors, if you are in a public setting the army are setting up checkpoints where you can —" we have to go, now! Now! Those things are in the building! A muffled voice said "What? Where?! Julie?" Screams were getting caught by the microphones. Someone took the news reporter and the camera just fell making the channel go black.
"What the fuck?" Scott repeated. Then he looked at Shane. "What the fuck?"
Things could be worse? How could things be worse than that? Was this a fucking joke? There is no way things could not be worse than that! Shane started to pull his hair. I just began to live my life! What the fuck? I just began to love him properly! What is happening? What are those things? Why are they eating each other?
"...ane! Shane! SHANE!" His thoughts stopped for a moment, his hands being clasped by Scott and in his fingers there were some strings of hair that he had pulled. Shane looked at Scott, who had a terrified expression in his eyes.
An explosion sound vibrates the window panels and Shane bones. Both of them looked outside in a scare. Still too up high to see what exactly was happening, but still enough to know it was chaos.
"Fuck." Scott said, going somewhere in the penthouse. Shane looked lost. He was lost. That was not part of his ten year plan.
He was supposed to figure it out with Scott's help on how to make a good foundation. He was supposed to go see his boyfriend and probably fuck for six hours straight. They where supposed to meet his parents on their cottage for a fucking quarantine. And his plans go off the rails by the most horrific upheaval of all time! Some hell on earth type of chaos of cannibalistic sick people! Shane ran to what looked like a bathroom and vomited mostly bile and water since he still had yet to eat anything.
He could hear Scott cursing and pleading that Kip would answer his phone. That's when they hear screams very close by. Both of them stopped whatever spiraling they were going to to look at the little corridor of the entrance door of the penthouse. They tried not to make any sound as Scott goes to look at the peep hole while taking one of Shane's hockey sticks. A beat later Shane had the presence of spirit to do the same.
"What the fuck?" Scott said again, looking at the peephole for only one second before opening the front door. "Elena?!"
"Hayden?!" Shane said at the same time.
On the other side of the door was a gorgeous woman in a ponytail holding a hand gun in the direction of Hayden, who somehow was also holding a gun. Both of them in an impasse like western movies. Both dirty, bloodied clothes, with some tears here and there and a collection of bruises.
"Do you know this freak?! He was getting in here by the fire escape!" She said still holding the gun at Hayden.
"I'm the freak? I saw what you did to the concierge’s head!" Hayden screamed. "Shane let's get the fuck out of here!"
"He was trying to bite me you fucking asshole! Kip?! Are you there?!"
There was way too much noise. Shane could hear shots and screams outside, but it was the sound of the stairs doors that made everyone stop breathing. Both Elena and Hayden changed their target from each other to the banging door.
"Get. In." Scott whispered. "Both of you. Now!"
Hayden didn't even hesitate, pushing Shane in the direction of the living room and then unfastening the curtains of the windows. The woman, Elena, was going from room to room whispering Kip's name.
"What happened? You were supposed to be on a plane!" Shane whisper-screamed to Hayden, who right now was drinking a gallon of water that he found in the kitchen.
"Things got scary at the airport. I lost sight of J. J. Very fast, I couldn't find him at all. Comeau, feeling sick since the morning, started to fucking mauling Theriault! An old lady bites Drapeau's hand off and I fucking bolt out of there. It was like pandemonium! I stole a motorcycle and this gun from an open corpse of a police officer. I've been trying to call you after my call with Jackie fell!"
“A cell tower must have fallen, or the lines are too occupied or—" Shane's rumbling gets interrupted by more whispered shouts.
"—he must have to be here!" Said Elena with Scott holding her arms.
"He is not. Elena, take a deep breath!"
"The University was a blood-bath! Then I go to Kingfisher only to see Kyle's gut everywhere! Fuck! Scott, my friends! I had to shoot Maria! If Kip's not here then—" she was almost crying, but somehow still had a fire in her eyes, almost maniac. Shane realized that Scott wasn't trying to keep her standing or grounding her from a psychotic break, he was stopping her from going outside.
"He was going to his father's home! Ok? He didn't go to the University, he didn't go to Kingfisher. He was helping his father take his things to quarantine in my house!"
She stopped on that. But Shane recognized that look, she was plotting, it was quite obvious. If she had come all the way here after her friend, she clearly didn't have any fear of going out again. Shane looks at Hayden, who was looking at Scott and Elena crossing his arms. He still had his gym bag pack that had all the names of his children stitched on. He came all the way here too, looking for Shane, he probably looked for J.J. as much as he could as well, that's probably why he was in a more sorry state than Elena.
"Elena...?"
"I need to find him." She said with extreme conviction. "If he is still alive I have to go after him."
"You want to go back out there?" Hayden asked. Arms crossed, but still holding the gun. She also never let her gun go too. "We both know the pandemonium that is the outside!"
"I'm not asking you to come, WhiteBread!" Elena almost shouted, barely containing her volume.
"You should not go out alone." Shane whispered in the border of inaudible, but everyone still heard him.
"Shane?" Hayden asked incredulously, putting his hand on Shane's shoulder. But Shane was looking at Scott's eyes, he knew that this man was not letting his boyfriend and father-in-law alone in this... Apocalypse.
"We need a proper plan." He said, still looking at Scott. "A quick route, a temporary base. This shit doesn't look like it will pass quickly." He was trembling, Hayden probably could sense it. But they had a problem, and Shane likes to solve problems, so that's what he will do.
"We get them back here." Scott responded. "I know all the routes that go directly to George's house. We go there and get them here."
Hayden sighed. "Fine! Do you have any guns?" He asked, making Scott flustered.
"This is a Left state!" He said, only to Hayden to point out — with his gun — at Elena, who waves her gun at Scott's face. "Let me rephrase that: I'm a gay, leftist activist, raised in an Irish Catholic institution. I do not own guns!"
Whatever discussion they would have Shane didn't care, he was already moving. His hands were still shaking and that annoying sensation of tears in his eyes was still there too. He goes to his luggage and takes out his skates as well taking his two hockey sticks that they left tossed around, also looking for his tapes and anything to craft some type of protection.
"We improvise." He said putting his things on the dinner table and going in the direction of the kitchen bringing a lot of knives and sharps or pointy objects. "Guns draw too much attention and those ‘Things’ come for louder noises right? We let yours as a last resort and will keep using white weapons. Do you have your hockey padding?" He didn't direct that last question at anyone in particular.
Some, Hayden says, at the same time Scott says Two sets. Scott and Elena went to the rooms looking for either the paddings or something to make a weapon.
Shane was still trembling as he tried to take the blades off his skates. His mind was spiraling going: Mom, Dad, Ilya, cannibal things, Ilya, is Mom and Dad safe? Jackie? Oh fuck, Jackie and her kids! Ilya! Is he in his house? Was he outside? How is Boston right now? Fuck that's sharp! I want to throw up! My skin feels tight. I want to pick at my eyelid. ILYA! Hayden took out the pieces of his hockey padding, the arms and legs braces. In the end Shane tapes his two sticks to each other trying to make more solid, and also taping the blades at the end. He had his complete set of the padding, even though carrying around was being a hassle and a half. Right now he was thanking his Paranoia. Elena didn't want the chest piece, it was too big for her anyway, it was big even for Hayden, but beggars can't be choosers.
Shane opened his phone. There was no internet, but he tried to open the gps anyway and he still could open and interact with the map, but they needed to navigate in the old way. Shane was not familiar with the New York layout, but Scott thankfully was a Boy Scout growing up. Shane also tried to organize enough of his thoughts to make more plans with his group. Thankfully Elena was somehow the most cold headed between the other three, giving him more back and forth than the others.
The four of them looked at the door. Shane's heart was beating in his ears, his mind going a million at a second that almost could be compared as a buzzing. Elena opened the cart of bullets on her gun, checking how many were still in there with familiarity. Hayden cracked his neck trying to relieve some tension on his body. Scott looked at the peephole.
"It looks clear." He said.
"Can you see the door to the stairs?" Shane asked.
"No, this goes until the elevator. It's way to the left for me to see."
"What can you hear?"
"Not much." Scott looked at Shane, who hesitated for a bit, but nodded.
Hunter opened the door with carefulness to not make any sound. The little corridor was very quiet, even though the outside was still looking chaotic. There were sounds of grunts and periodic screams, as well some gun sounds. The door from the stairs was still there. Without realizing, the group settled in a diamond formation. Scott — bigger than any of them — was spearheading, with Shane as his left and Hayden — like his position on their team — was on the right. Elena, as the smaller and least protected by paddings, was behind Scott, with her gun secured in her hands. They got close to the fire escape and the stairs’ doors. Scott looked at Shane again then at the door, as if asking.
"I'll listen." Elena whispered. "I'm faster and quieter." Shane nodded again. And she was really, really quiet and quick, but that didn't mean shit to his nerves. Her gun on standby. Shane gulped when Elena put her ear on the door. She quickly backed away and shook her head, then pointed to the fire escape. Shane nodded again and she went to do her job.
That was something they discussed. The elevator was a no go, it would make noise and they didn't know how the ground floor was right now, way too risky. The stairs were clearly full of "infected" before and they would also go back to the problem of not knowing how the ground floor was. The last choice was the fire escape. Elena tried to tug open the window of the fire escape, but it didn't budge at all. Damnit!
"Let's go. Scott opens for us, it may be loud, we protect." Shane whispers orders.
He was shaking. Maybe it was adrenaline, but his thoughts were buzzing, his heart was so loud and his throat was so dry even though everyone had drunk water and had gone to the bathroom before going out by advice he himself gave to everyone! He took the position that was closest to the stairs doors with Elena having her back to the wall without any Blindspot. His knuckles were probably white with how much force he was holding his modified stick. Scott gave it a tug, Shane tried not to wince. He gave it another one, more forceful, Shane could hear Hayden murmuring c'mon, c'mon! The third tug was a bit loud, Elena gave a shuddering sigh filled with tension. Last tug, really loud, but the windows open. The doors started to bang again, Shane and Hayden curved themselves like they were in a game and Elena pointed her gun, the door didn't open but the bang and grunts continued. "Scott, go, then Elena, after it is Hayden's turn then I leave, go! Go! Go!" He ordered fast, he could hear the sound of metal complaining under weight. He counted every time the metal complains without taking his eyes off the door until it is his time to get out.
We are out! Fuck! This was just step one! How much nerves will I fry until I get back to that penthouse? I'm not cut out for this, Ilya! I don't know what can happen next! He picked on his eyelid and tried to focus.
The fire escape stairs were in better condition then the window, Shane had to give it that. Then they got back to the end and the second loud noise was made by getting to the last bit of stairs to slide down. And that's when Shane finally saw them. The "Things". There were three of them, running, but running wrong, like they didn't know what to do with their arms. They twitched and swayed uncannily, one of them was completely covered in blood, the girl didn't have an arm and had ugly bite marks with chucks missing and the guts of the big one was hanging and dragging on the floor as he ran.
"What the fuck!" Scott said, but he quickly bashed the girl's head on instincts, as she was the fastest and the closest to him. Hayden didn't bash the head of the bloodiest one, but he was strong enough to make him fly in the direction of the slowest one, making them fall.
"Let's go! Let's go!" They ran in the other direction. Shane had already memorized three different routes at this point, but his phone was in his pocket for any reason he needed it.
He could hear Scott cursing and murmuring what the fuck did I just do? He looked like he wanted to throw up, but thankfully he didn't. Shane had decided that the alleyways were more safe, and his judgment looked true. He saw how the main streets were way more chaotic. Thankfully a car had just passed by, crashing into a lot of things making sound and running over some of those things, creating a necessary distraction to make it easier for them.
There were a lot of people running, and things chasing after them. There was looting as well, with stores and houses subjected to as much chaos as the streets. It's not like Shane’s group was the only one who were kiting the chaos using the alleyways. There was a family whose paths crossed their group, that upon seeing the way that they were equipped, changed direction quickly.
In one of the alleyways they encounter two things gnawing away in a dog, Scott and Hayden bashes their heads swiftly. Two times Shane had them rerouted when an alleyway was blocked off or had too many infected there. Crossing a street was a more complicated matter. They had to wait five minutes for an opportunity to arise in the form of a police horse running around without its rider and a horde of things following its sounds. They also had to pass people running from those infected, probably using this diversion as cover. And saw a little kid tearing apart a guy that was clearly burned in the memories of everyone there.
Everyone was in a fight of flight state, even the gorgeous tan skin of Elena looked bloodless and her fire looked a little more dumped.
In one moment everything went dark.
"Motherfucker! Now?!" Hayden cursed. They were crouching behind a thrash dumpster looking at the little horde of Things in the middle of the street.
"It was a miracle that it took this long." Shane said, feeling that his voice was getting a bit soulless. "Power lines in the city are mostly automatic, but there are points where you need to manually tinker it, and without it, any kind of mistake can cause a blackout."
"And how do you know this?" Elena asked, probably glad for a little distraction before they go back to surviving. Eyes still scanning the street ahead for any chance to cross it.
"My family is way too intense with trivia night. My dad normally wins it but me and my mom do not like to lose."
An explosion happened down the street, probably a car, which made all those things go there, making it easier to pass. Scott bashes more heads of the ones still lagging behind. Shane trips one that was going in the direction of Elena with the bladed hook of his stick, and the woman mercilessly stomps in the head of the Thing with her boots. She grimaces at how easy it was and Hayden started gagging, but they did not stop.
They soon find Kip's house deep in the Bronx. And it was on the other side of the main street with more of those Things in front, walking without any sense of direction. Their strategy was good so far, so they were waiting for their chance like the other time. The street was eerily dead, besides those Things walking around, Shane didn't want to think about the reason too much. Scott looked more and more frazzled and impatient, — a stark contrast with the beginning of all this — Elena, on her own right, was with a cold fiery determination in her face. They need to wait, Shane would not let them be reckless...
Until
Bang! Bang... Bang! Loud, way too loud. The last one was completely different from the rest.
"KIP!" Scott couldn't avoid screaming, but it didn't matter, the Things started to go in the direction of the sounds of gunshots anyway. To Kip's house.
"Shit, shit shit!" Elena said while both her and Scott started to run in the direction of the house as well, not really caring about Shane's protest.
Fuck! No! Not now! Fuck! Move! Skin is too tight. Need to pick on my eyelid. Too much energy now. Too much space. Not enough skin. Thousand little needles under my skin. I need to focus! Focus! Focus! Focus!
"Fucking hell! Let's go!" Shane said to Hayden.
Elena was shooting with a chilling accuracy after realizing that shooting in the chest does jack shit to them. Every shot she gave was blowing up heads, every bullet not wasted. Scott, after clearly realizing his talent to bash heads was getting every other one that was close enough to get in the way of Elena’s shooting, screaming like a lunatic every time brain matter started to fly and getting more attention to himself.
Shane ran ahead, tripping and cutting legs off, giving easy targets to Hayden stump or use the blunt part of this stick to blow up some heads too.
Brain fogging. Arms burning. Lungs not enough air. Need to pick on my eyelid. Too much space. Not enough skin. Thousand needles. It doesn't look real. It doesn't look real. It doesn't look real. It doesn't look real.
It doesn't look real.
It doesn't look real.
It doesn't—
"Fuck!" He heard Hayden cursed. Shane turned around to see two infected Things trying to bite Hayden. He was using his stick and padding to stop the advancing of its nails and teeth.
"Hayden!" He tried to run to his friend, but in his distraction a Thing tried to bite his shoulder, only to his shoulder pad to stop the teeth from reaching his skin.
Shane managed to kick the Things out of him, but a new one was just around the corner. He used his stick to block off, but the Thing tried to claw his face, making it difficult to do anything else. Them he saw... His number, #24, plus the C in the chest. His jersey. The woman was wearing his jersey. Her blood-shot eyes were full of tears and there was blood on her mouth. A woman wearing his jersey and a tacky black choker. A fan, maybe. Using his merch even though they failed miserably in the last game against the Brooklyn Scouts.
Shane's mind was buzzing this whole time. His heart, loud on his ears. He was trembling, his legs were threatening to give out. Everything now was like a nightmare (It doesn't look real. It doesn't look real. It doesn't look real.). Shane was moving like a robot from one objective to another, being efficient to make sense of this new reality. And nothing looked real. But then he saw his jersey...
Is this real? Is this happening? Need to pick on my eyelid. Too much space. Not enough skin. Thousand needles. It doesn't look real. It doesn't look real. It's real... Right? He looked at the woman. His eyes fell on her neck. Tacky black choker. It kinda looked like a puck.
Then his thoughts went blank. Everything looked wrong. Out of perspective. Everything was a performance and he was watching it happening. His body just moved and kicked her knee, making her fall. A puck... he thought to himself. A puck.
Watching from outside he saw his own body make the same movement he would do in the rink, just a little bit higher and then... Thunk... Splash!
The head goes flying in the direction of one of the infected on Hayden, making it fall back, giving enough for the friend to free himself and take out his gun, exploding more heads. And Shane just continued.
Kick. Knee. Puck. Heads flying.
He lost the passing of time, just doing it. Some times kicking, some times slashing with his modified stick, some times just bashing.
...ne
...ane
...Shane!
"Shane!" Hayden was in front of him, hands high close to his own head. Hollander notices that he was still holding his stick, now pointing at his best friend. "There is no more, man!"
The man looked around. There were piles of decapitated bodies on the streets. Elena and Scott were looking worried at him and then at the house, the woman was even subtly pointing her gun at Shane.
"...Yeah. We are done here. Let go." Everyone let out a sigh of relief and Scott went to open the door as he had a key with him. He didn't wait for anyone and simply went inside.
The house was a complete mess. There were sofas and tables flipped all around. Most of the decorations were on the ground. Elena and Scott looked heartbroken with the state of everything. It was clear that everyone was expecting the worst right now.
The living room didn't have anyone, not even a "Thing" to attack them, so carefully they went in the direction of the kitchen, in the same diamond formation, but this time Shane was behind.
In the kitchen they saw two bodies with clear signs of being shot, one of them with more them just a bullet wound, but what had all the attention was that close to the island of the kitchen, in the ground, was a body carefully laid out and someone sitting close, probably hugging their knees and clearly crying very quietly. Scott, without meaning, stepped on a glass, making a noise.
With a clean swipe, the crying person turned, now with a shot gun pointed at them.
"Kip..." Scott let out an almost crying sound and the person hesitated. Then, like seeing something crumbling slowly, the tense shoulders and rigid posture of Kip, holding the gun... goes down. Defeated. Sad. Desperate.
"... They kill him... So kill them back ..." Kip let go of the shotgun and started bailing like a kid and Scott jumped on him to hold him tight which made him cry harder.
Hayden didn't know what to do, so with wet eyes he went to the living room. Elena walked slowly toward the couple, and then sat on her knees and put a hand on Kip's back trying to comfort him. And they stay there.
Shane didn't know them. Didn't know that father that was laid out there immovable, without breath or pulse. Didn't know the man crying for his dad. Shane's head was going back to the buzz. To be filled with stuff and his skin being itchy and claustrophobic. He started feeling like himself again... It was horrible. Too real. Too human. He wanted to go back when everything looked like a dream or a movie and he was just a spectator. Shane went to the living room. Where Hayden was squatting, hands on her face. Duffle-bag with her children's names stitched everywhere. He looks up to Shane, his captain.
"What now, man?"
"We go back to Scott place and plan again." That was the logic part.
Things couldn't be worse? What else can be worse than this? Was he being punished? He spent almost 10 years being afraid of something that for everyone else was supposed to be simple — liking someone, loving someone — and now where did it get him?
He looked at the kitchen where Scott was kissing Kip desperately, like that was the most precious gift he ever received. Like it was water. Elena probably went somewhere else, processing all the shit storm that happened. He looked at his best friend and Alt-capitain again. Then his head started to plan a new list of objectives:
1) he needs to know if Ilya is alive.
2) he needs to get out of this city alive.
3) he needs to get Ilya out of Boston alive!
4) he needs to get out of the country alive!
5) and finally, get to his fucking Cottage!