Las Vegas, NV
December 16

Six days, and she had barely been able to move, paralyzed by the end of the world. Now, Mariana stood alone on the side of the empty road in the empty world, outside of the empty building that had been a second home to her, shivering in the steadily thickening snow.

It seemed like she always ended up alone. From as far back as she could remember, Mariana had moved around, leaving behind her barely-formed friendships, starting over in each new town. Her father was a sergeant in the Army, which inspired in her a certain obsessive perfectionism, masking just a hint of rebellion. She wanted the little things, like how her bed was made or how her shirts were folded, to be just right. But she would resist if someone else told her she had to do it one way or another. Over the years, she had lived in seven U.S. states and four different countries, usually in base housing, never really able to let her roots sink down into the soil before she was pulled unceremoniously from the garden, the few friendships she made scattered on the wind like fallen leaves.

And then when she was a senior in high school, her father was killed in combat, a roadside IED ripping his convoy, ripping his body to shreds. That was enough to send her mother over the edge, lost in her own grief and addiction. So, yeah, Mariana was well-practiced in loss. But it still fucking hurt. It still burned. She wiped hot tears from her cheeks and hugged her arms tighter around her body as the snow started to fall in heavier blankets that surrounded her in an icy chill. Las Vegas wasn't usually so cold, even in the depths of December.

She turned, tucking her hands into her pockets, and with one final glance back, Mariana walked away from the little night club that had been her refuge for the past six days, the past two years. The place where she had found her voice. The place where she had really found herself.

She was a singer. A singer-songwriter, part of a duo called Dumb Lucky. She smiled to herself as she recalled the day they found that name. Conor was tuning his acoustic guitar while Mariana collected herself. It was their first gig together after weeks of practice and writing songs, some quite dark and dreary, others all light and love. Based on looks alone, the audience would have pegged Conor as the dark one, Mariana as the love-struck--his hollow eyes and stringy hair, her super cool, girly style. But it was Mariana whose lyrics pulled from her painful past, while Conor seemed to find his inspiration in her.

"Where's my mic," she scowled. She flipped her hand in annoyance, staring at the empty mic stand, looking around the stage frantically. "Oh my god," she whined. It was in her other hand. "I'm dumb," she shook her head.

"And I'm lucky," Conor chuckled into his microphone. She glanced at him, her scowl dissolving into a smile. Dumb. Lucky. It just stuck. From that day forward, they were no longer Conor and Mariana, they were Dumb Lucky.

God, the way he looked at her then.

Mariana felt her tears boiling over again now and stepped into the open door of a shitty little casino to get out of the cold. She needed a moment to collect herself. Breathing in a heavy sigh, she fought back tears. But it was so hard. So fucking hard. She was alone, for real now. She always used to say that everyone left her. Everyone left her. Except Conor. Until he did too.

They had been best friends. And then lovers. And then best friends again. And then that last day, his last day, they became lovers one last time.

"I love you, Mariana," he murmured, pulling her close to bury his pale face against her shoulder. She could see how sick he was. She ran her fingers through his long hair, trying to soothe him. "I've always loved you." He coughed weakly.

He had. He really had always loved her. Even when she left him. Even when she broke his heart. He stayed. He loved her anyway. He loved her even though she didn't love him. She tugged at his hair gently, moving her mouth to his. He tasted like death. She broke the kiss, pressing her mouth to his jaw and neck instead, tears pooling in her eyes. His skin was so warm, misted with a sheen of sweat though the air was quite cold.

Everyone who got sick, the news seemed to say, everyone who had this flu died. Conor was sick. Mariana wasn't good at math, but this calculation was simple. The only person who ever really loved her was going to die.

His hands tugged at her sweater urgently, pulling it over her head in a fumbling tangle of hands and arms. She unbuckled his belt and jeans, guiding him back toward her bed. Mariana tried to show him how much he meant to her with every kiss and every touch, every murmur and every moan, their bodies colliding in such familiar ways.

And then his grunts disintegrated into a series of stilted coughs, his thrusts slowing sloppily. "Babe?" Mariana ran her hand over his hair and down his back. He was shuddering, shivering, shaking. "Conor? Baby, look at me."

He lifted up on his hands, his eyes wide with fear, his head shaking back and forth frantically.  He opened his mouth as if to speak, and a splatter of dark green mucus, blood, and possibly puke sprayed over Mariana's face and chest. And then he slumped against her, smearing the discharge over her torso and hair.

"Conor," she nudged him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "Please, sweetheart. Please wake up," she whimpered into his damp hair. It took all her strength to push his limp, lifeless body off of her. Out of her.

In a daze, she crawled off the bed, folding her arms around herself. Mariana was usually quick to action in her life, but in his death, she was stalled, staring blankly at his crumpled form, the sticky substance still dripping from her skin, tears cascading down her cheeks as she unleashed an agonized howl of grief. She didn't know how long she just stood there--too long--before she finally showered away the remnants of his last breath, the remnants of him.

The water seemed to rinse away some of the fog, too, snapping her from the shock. She had to get out. She couldn't stay here with his dead body, so Mariana dressed with shaky hands, packed a small duffle bag with her essentials, and left their apartment, not even thinking about where she was going. She just had to get out of there; it didn't really matter where. Her feet had carried her to the front of that little club near the strip as if they had a will of their own. As if they were carrying her home. And there she had hidden, tucked away in the dingy dressing room behind the stage, eating the non perishables from the small kitchen and sleeping on the beat-up green velvet couch. But six days of inertia left her fidgety and anxious. Mariana was always at her best when she was in motion, doing something. The itch in her bones and the hunger in her gut told her it was time to leave. She had to get a move on. She didn't know where to, but it was time to go.

When Mariana stepped out into the cold street, the isolation--the overwhelming isolation--halted her progress once again. She rubbed her face with the inside of her sweater, scrubbing away tears and tiredness. Mariana had become completely stagnant like this once before, when her mother overdosed in that horrible broken down little trailer just outside of Reno. It was a little less than a year after her father died, and Mariana had gone to visit for Christmas. But instead of presents and lights and a tree, she found her mother splayed on the couch, dead in a pool of her own puke. The blank look her in dead eyes, the way her cheek was pushed up by the sofa cushion--that was an image that would never leave her. And now, as she stood in the doorway of this empty casino, Mariana realized why Conor's death had put her in this state of suspended animation. That same blank look. That pool of puke. He was like the ghost of her past dying again right on top of her, reminding her of everything she had lost.

"Fuck," she exhaled. That was totally fucked up. But in a way, now that she could recognize the specter of her mother's death, his death didn't bother her as much.

"Hi." A boy of about ten, maybe eleven stepped out of the shadows, startling Mariana out of her memories.

"Jesus!" Mariana steadied herself against the doorframe. "You scared me." She hadn't seen anyone else alive in days.

"I'm sorry," he held up his hands as if in surrender. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"That's all right, hon," Mariana shook her head, scanning her eyes over the boy. His clothes and hands were smeared with blood and that disgusting green discharge of the dead. Poor thing. How many had he lost? How many had fallen to leave such a gruesome mess on this child? "Are you all right?"

"Yes, ma'am," he inched closer to her. He had wide blue eyes, blonde hair that hung in his face messily, and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. "I'm okay. Are you okay?"

Mariana couldn't help but chuckle, "Yes, sweetheart. I'm okay. What's your name?"

"Kyle Isaiah Lancaster, junior. But you can call me sweetheart," he said softly, smiling, and Mariana recalculated his age in her mind. Was he flirting with her? He must be at least 13. She shook her head in amusement. "What's your name?"

"Mariana. And how old are you, Kyle?"

"Old enough." His tone went from demure to defensive in a beat.

But Mariana just laughed again. "I'm sure. And do you have any family, Kyle? Anyone you can go to?"

He shrugged. "I had an aunt in Arizona. I don't know if she's alive though." Fair enough. Fucking hell.

"Well, Kyle, I think we should find someplace for you to get cleaned up, and worry about the rest later. What do you say?"

He nodded, and closed the gap between them. Mariana placed her hand gently on his back and guided him out to the street. In the stark light she could see just how completely covered in muck he was. God this poor kid. She rubbed a gentle pattern of figure eights on his back as they walked down the road toward the Vegas strip, where she had worked as a maid off and on at one of the big hotels to pay her rent. Kyle was quiet and submissive, going where Mariana led him without comment or resistance until they reached the hotel.

"How will we get in?"

"I have my ways," she grinned down at him. "Come on." The power was down. But the main doors were unlocked, and they walked right into the lobby. Fuck, did it smell awful in there, though. She should have figured that. But she just assumed the casinos would have closed down when the plague hit, like the clubs had. Who's out fucking gambling while the world is dying off? Apparently a lot of people, judging by the gut-wrenching stench. "This way," she tugged on Kyle's sleeve, leading him toward the shops where she let him pick out a small selection of clothes from one of the stores. In the back employee area, Mariana grabbed the maintenance keys from the office, and led Kyle up to the second floor. They only had to try three doors before they found an empty room.

While he showered, she packed his new clothes into his new backpack, peering out the large window for any signs of life. It was dead out there. Literally and figuratively. Did the figurative even apply at this point? There didn't even seem to be a single gust of wind. Just fat tufts of snow hanging in the air, coating the road. She turned away from the window with a shiver--that blank white canvas outside was an eerie reminder that everyone was gone.

Kyle emerged from the bathroom dressed in new khaki pants and a sweatshirt with the hotel's logo on it, his head wrapped in a towel. "I'm hungry," he said. Not whiny. Not grumpy. Just a statement of fact.

"You can have whatever you want from the mini bar, and then we need to go."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know really," she rested her hands on her hips. "Maybe to Arizona to find that aunt. But we need to get supplies, and this isn't the right place for that." She looked around the room and continued muttering to herself, her inner monologue becoming a one-woman show with a one-person audience. "Need to get out of downtown...Need a car..."

"We could go with them," Kyle pointed at the window. Sure enough, through the thick haze of snow, Mariana could faintly make out taillights, though the path of tire tracks left behind were swiftly filling with snow.

"That might not be a good idea, Kyle. We have no idea who that even is."

"I didn't know who you were, but here we are."

Mariana found herself shaking her head and laughing again. This kid had some pretty interesting logic. "Let's just head out, and we'll figure out a ride as we go." Mariana was the sort to act first and think it through while in the midst of the action. Leap, and look at the majesty of the world while you're soaring through life. Sometimes she fell. But rarely did she have regrets. She handed him his coat and backpack, and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on."

"Can I take the candy?"

She laughed again. "Yeah. Grab it quick."

Mariana held the door open while Kyle stuffed the rest of the candy and chips into his bag, and then they made their way back down to the lobby and out to the street. In the last few years here in Vegas, Mariana had never seen it snow like this. And it had never been so cold. She tucked her hands into her armpits and trudged along the road with Kyle at her side.

As they rounded the corner, she could just make out the faint flashing of emergency vehicles in the distance. "What is that?" Kyle asked.

"I don't know," Mariana curled one arm around him, pulling him in close to her. "But let's go check it out."

They hunched along the side of the road, squeezing between stopped cars, until the ambulance was in full view.

"Where are you?" A man whimpered, covering his face with his hands, his head tipped up toward the sky. "Where are you?" His question trailed off into a silent shuddering sob. His body seemed to fail him, and he fell to his knees, his light jeans soaking up the cold wet of the ground. He wept into his hands, muttering incoherently. Mariana tightened her grip on Kyle's sweatshirt.

"Hi," Kyle said, his tone devoid of emotion. Mariana looked down at him as the man looked up at them.

"Oh. Um. Hi. Hi. Hey," he answered, wiping his face. "Have you seen any other ambulances? I'm trying to find my wife." His voice broke at the last word, and he covered his face again. Mariana felt her defenses slipping away in a tidal wave of sympathy. Maybe it was because she had already lost everything and everyone long before this flu came along, but Mariana couldn't help but feel abso-fucking-lutely awful for this man who seemed to have been devastated by the plague. And for Kyle, who wasn't showing it, but the state she found him in, she suspected he was in shock, his mind not even allowing what happened to register.

Mariana shook her head. "No, we haven't. But, I heard they were rerouting people... at the end..." She let her words fade as the man fumbled back to his feet.

"Where?" He gripped her shoulders gently. "Where?" His voice was desperate, tears leaking steadily from his eyes.

"St. Luke's."

"God, they would have gone the other way. Completely the other way." He turned away, running halfway down the block, his feet slipping on this sludge of snow, before he spun back. "Thank you." He put his two hands together as if in prayer. "Thank you so much."

"What's your name?" Kyle called to him.

"My name--wha, I," the man frowned at his feet. "My name is Liam."

"I'm Kyle. She's Mariana." Kyle spoke as if nothing was wrong. As if they weren't standing in a graveyard, ghost town of a world.

Liam looked like all he wanted was to get away from here, his eyes darting over his shoulder in the direction he'd been running. Mariana felt so sorry for this man, out of his mind with desperate clawing grief, searching the city for his wife, who, let's be honest, was no doubt dead. "Okay, Kyle. Mariana. Nice to m-m-meet you," he shivered in the cold. He only wore a plaid flannel over a tshirt. He must be fucking freezing. Mariana was fucking freezing, and she had a heavy coat on. "Thanks again."

"Hey, are you okay?" Mariana called. It was a stupid fucking question, she knew. But once you say something, you can't un-say it.

Liam ran one hand through his hair. "Not really. You?"

"I've been better. My best friend died on me a couple days ago." Mariana folded her arms around herself and stepped closer. This guy seemed okay to her; and she was realizing, people were going to need each other to survive in this new world. "I mean literally right on top of me." She shook her head and took another step. "Then I found Kyle," she looked down at the boy who followed her every move. He nodded slightly, as if he could read her thought process. "We don't have anyone left. We don't have anything left. But maybe we could help you find her, your wife. A couple more sets of eyes on the road. Strength in numbers and all that."

Liam looked from Mariana to Kyle and back. "My truck's just down here."

Mariana took Kyle's hand and followed Liam to a large white pickup truck. Payne Construction. Yeah, he looked like a guy who built houses. Tough, strong. But he had a kind face. And he obviously loved his wife. Mariana climbed into the backseat with Kyle, who buckled into the middle seat and rested his head against her shoulder.

As Liam started the engine, he looked back over his shoulder at them, and Mariana could see dark circles under his red eyes. "The roads have been jammed, so I sometimes have to drive on the sidewalks. So just, hang on."

Mariana gripped the strap above her door, and Kyle wrapped his arms around her waist, scooting even closer, his body taut and tense. She rested her other hand on his back, tracing patterns in an attempt at comforting him. It seemed to work, as he relaxed down against her, his head now resting against her chest. When she stopped caressing his back, he squeezed her and grunted. "Okay, sweetheart," she murmured, looping her nails up and down his back and shoulder and arm.

Mariana stared intently out the window, searching for signs of life. Or at the very least, for signs of this poor man's wife. "Already checked this area," he muttered, two fingers resting against his lips. The truck bumped and bobbled over the slushy ground, and he gripped the wheel with both hands to steady it. "So many times. Waste of fucking time." He hit the steering wheel with one hand, startling Mariana, who gripped the door with one hand and Kyle with the other. Liam caught her eye in the rear view mirror. "Sorry," his blazing eyes softened, his tone once again desperate. "I'm sorry. I just... I have spent days looking for her. And she's probably been on the other side of town the whole time."

Mariana nodded, still looking at his reflection. "It's okay. I understand. I would be angry too. Don't worry. We'll find her." She had no idea whether she could keep that promise, but it seemed more important to pacify him than to worry about true or likely or even possible.

He nodded and directed his eyes back to the road in front of him. Mariana watched him in the rear view mirror for a couple moments longer before turning to scan the side streets for any signs of life...or not. Hours passed driving in loops further and further away from the city center and out toward St. Luke's, the heavy sheaths of snowfall making it nearly impossible to see anything at all. They rarely spoke, but occasionally Liam would mutter to himself in frustration, wavering between grunted frustration and plaintive vows never to stop looking.

Mariana saw the faintest flicker of red, a muted pink glow. "Wait." Liam slowed the truck. "Back up. I think I saw something down that last street." He rested his arm over the back of the passenger seat as he steered the huge truck backwards down the road.

"Which way?" His eyes met hers, his desperation again evident in his expression. Mariana felt so awful for him. Searching this whole fucking city for a dead woman. She tried to mask the pity she felt, failing miserably, and pointed to the left. Liam drove around a handful of stopped cars, almost entirely camouflaged by the layers of snow, but he couldn't get all the way to the faint, distant flashing. "I see it." He turned off the truck and hopped out. Mariana didn't really want to go walking off into the unknown, visibility severely limited by this shitty weather, but she also didn't want to stay in the truck.

"Come on, hon. Stay close." She tugged at Kyle's sleeve, sliding down to the street below. There were dozens of cars piled up, crashed. They'd obviously been left this way for days. How fucked would it be, she thought, to survive the plague just to die in a goddamn car accident? She shook her head as she climbed carefully around the wreckage to reach the flashing emergency lights ahead.

"Nononononononoooooo," a wail from up ahead. Either he had found her. Or he was lamenting another dead lead. Bad choice of words. "Baby, oh my baby." Fuck. Mariana saw him now through the drifts of snow, holding a dark haired woman to his chest. A dead dark haired woman. "Oh, Sophia, baby. Oh my baby," he kissed her face and hair and held her tighter. Mariana felt tears pooling in her own eyes and released her grip on Kyle's hand to wipe at them. Liam's voice dropped, and he muttered into the ear of the corpse. It was the saddest fucking thing Mariana had ever seen. Like he was telling her all the secrets he had left to tell, but she was already gone. Long gone. And she would never hear those secrets. Kyle shuffled his feet in the snow, and Liam snapped his gaze to them, straightening his back, his arms still folded protectively around the body of his wife. "I have to bury her." Mariana just nodded. "I have to take her home and bury her with our boys."

Jesus fucking Christ. He had lost so much. It made her heart hurt--to love so deeply, to lose so completely. Mariana nodded again, "of course," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Of course, we'll help you. Let's get her back to the truck." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Mariana grabbed Kyle's hand and held it tight as they crawled back over the cars. Liam handed the cold and decaying body over to them while he too climbed across. Mariana wished she was wrapped in something. Wished she didn't have to see her face. Wished she didn't have to see the way her skin was scaling away. Wished she didn't have to touch that fragile flesh. And all at once Mariana's mind flashed back to lifting her mother from the couch, her body limp, the needle still stuck in her arm. Everywhere she turned in this world, there were ghosts haunting her. She was so glad when he took her back, and she felt horrible that all she wanted was to shower away the bits of his wife that had come off in the transfer.

And then she felt even more awful because the man who had loved her like this was laying dead in her bed, and she just fucking left him there. She just showered away the bits of Conor and left him there to rot. Fuck.

Mariana and Kyle squeezed into the front with Liam, who fired up the engine silently, halting briefly with his hand on his wife's body, laid out on the backseat, before backing down the road to get back out of there. He pulled the truck into a dark driveway an hour later, the sun sinking lower in the sky as they wove around the cramped streets. Liam parked and got out, grabbing tools as he went, and disappeared through a door at the front of the open garage.

Kyle hopped out and followed after him. "I can help," Mariana heard him say as she walked slowly to the door. Liam handed him a large shovel. "Here?"

"Yeah. Just there," Liam's words were so soft, Mariana barely heard him. There were already two mounds on the ground, covered with snow.

"What can I do to help?" Mariana asked.

Liam ran his hands over his face. All she could think of was how he held his dead wife, rubbed her deadness all over his face. Then again, he had already kissed the deadness. It was sweet and beautiful and so fucking sad. But gross. Totally gross. "Um, there is a blanket on my bed, a small lavender blanket. Her mother made it for us. Can you--" his voice hitched, and he stopped as tears cascaded down his cheeks. Goddamn it. Mariana felt like such a shallow, heartless ice queen for thinking about dead germs when this man was falling apart from losing his whole fucking family. "Can you get it?"

"Of course. Do you want me to grab anything else?"

He shook his head, and she made her way into the house. It was nice, simple but nice. Very homey. There were drawings stuck with magnets to the fridge, a scatter of bills on the dining room floor, a jar of cash on the counter labeled swear jar--she chuckled to herself as she saw a twenty on top. The house was completely dark, no electricity to see by, so she slid on the light on her phone, which miraculously still had power. She passed two kids rooms, filled with toys and superhero pictures on the walls. Fuck. Fuck fucking fuck. At the back of the house, the master bedroom. Crumpled at the foot of the bed, a delicately knotted, ultra soft lavender blanket. It was soft like a hug. Like a baby. Like love. Mariana wept into the folds of it, pressed to her face. She would never have this. Fuck. Even as she was here to help a man grieve his loss, she grieved her own.

But really, she said to herself, what was so wrong with her grieving too? She had lost too. Okay, not kids or a spouse. But Mariana had certainly lost more than many and that was before the fucking plague ever hit. And now with the world falling apart, the future she always thought she would have, the family she always thought she would have, would never happen. It was okay to grieve for that, she decided, and she cried. She cried for what she never had and what she never would have.

"Mariana?" Kyle's voice carried from the doorway, his figure barely outlined in the darkness. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, but her sniffles gave her away.

"No you're not," he hurried into the room, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face against her chest. "Don't cry. Please don't cry."

"I'm okay, sweetheart, I promise. I just got sad."

"About what?" Oblivious. Like he was blocking his own losses.

"About everything, love. About the people I've loved who died, about the people who died that I never met. About the future, and how it will be nothing like what we've known."

He didn't answer. He just clutched her tighter. She patted his back, then peeled his hands off her, taking his hand in hers, and carrying the blanket in the other.

"There you are," Liam said from the door to the garage. He was caked with mud. So was Kyle. So now, was Mariana. "Oh, God. Oh, you found it. Thank you." He reached his hand out for it, and Mariana jogged the last few feet to hand it to him. "Can you help me...can you help me wrap her--" his voice broke again, tears streaking his muddy cheeks again. 

"Yeah. Of course I can," Mariana rested her hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to put her in a nice dress?" She remembered the funeral director flicking the hangers of her mother's closet looking for something for the funeral and ultimately choosing the only really nice dress she had, a navy blue polyester wrap dress, while Mariana laid on the bed, staring at the fake wooden panels lining the walls, too broken to move.

He shook his head, holding the blanket up a little higher. "This is all she would want." He smiled, the saddest fucking smile Mariana had ever seen, haunting in the light of his flashlight and her phone. "This and her boys. Our boys."

"Okay...okay."

She went around to the back passenger side and opened the door. Liam tossed the blanket towards her from the other side. They covered the body, then lifted her, rolling it around her form. Liam scooped her up and carried her outside, a shroud of lavender. He fell to his knees beside the hole, holding her in his arms, and Mariana found herself weeping again. Maybe this burial could be symbolic for her, as it was real for him. Bury all her regrets. All her loss. All her hopes.

He placed her body so gently, so delicately. He covered her with the pile of dirt so carefully, so mindfully.

Mariana had no doubt this man loved this woman with his whole being, and it made her so sad for him... and for the world that loss like this was happening. Fuck it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he should lose his wife and sons. It wasn't fair that Mariana would never get to have this kind of love. It wasn't fair that Kyle was so damaged he didn't seem to feel anything. It wasn't fucking fair. She covered her face with her hands and wept, her whole body shaking. Kyle's arms folded around her waist again, and she buried her face in his hair, holding him to her so tightly. They had nothing. No one.

But they had each other.

Liam stood and placed one hand on Mariana's arm. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you for finding her." Mariana glanced up into his dark, tear-blurred eyes and nodded.

Without another word, he went into the garage and rummaged up some lanterns and a propane camping stove. He filled the boys bathtub, gesturing for Kyle to clean up. He disappeared into his bathroom. Mariana dug through the cabinets looking for food. She found canned vegetables and chili. Using the little stove, she heated up a nice, well rounded meal for them. Kyle emerged, clean and shivering. It was rather cold. No electricity, no heat.

She went to the living room and poked at the fireplace, trying to figure out if it was gas or wood burning. Liam walked in, muttering, "sorry. I'll do it." He got a fire going, and the three of them ate in silence. When he was done, Liam turned to Mariana, "we've got hot water still. You can take a shower if you'd like."

She nodded, "I would thanks." She stood, and looked at the sofas. "Would it be all right if we slept here tonight?"

"Just tonight?" Kyle asked, looking from Liam to Mariana and back again. He looked like an adorable, wounded little baby duck.

"Hon, we've got to see if your family is still out there. Me, I've got no one left. But you might. We need to find your aunt."

Kyle nodded, and Liam stood up beside Mariana. "You can stay, of course you can, and maybe I can help you find her. I don't think I can bear to stay here. I don't know if I can bear to leave either but..." his voice trailed off.

"I think we'd both be grateful of the help, Liam, if you're up for it," Mariana said gently.

She made a hasty retreat to the kids bathroom, running the water in the tub until it turned hot. Then she rinsed away all the death and loss and anger and pain of this day, and the many before it. Too fucking many.

When she came back out to the living room, Kyle and Liam had pushed the sectional sofa closer to the fire, and set up a pair of little beds. "Kyle said that you would share," Liam pointed at the larger couch. Kyle stared up at her with lost little puppy eyes. She nodded, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. "And it's okay for me to be here?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, "it's your house."

"I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I mean, we don't even know each other."

"After everything today, I think I know what sort of man you are, Liam."

He nodded, that sad smile on his face again. Mariana scooted against the back of the couch, stretching out on her side, and patted for Kyle to lay down. They snuggled down to sleep, warmed by the fire and one other. But Mariana slept fitfully, disturbed by terrifying dreams.

The next day, they loaded supplies into the truck: food, sleeping bags, blankets, coats, the little camping stove. Liam spent some time in the backyard, saying goodbye Mariana assumed. And then they hit the road, but Mariana slept for most of the ride. She only woke when Liam pulled to a stop, cursing.

She sat up groggily. "What's wrong?"

"Road's blocked. And there's too much snow. I don't think I can get around."

"Fuck."

"Swear jar," Liam said. Then he ran his hand over his face. "Sorry. It was...we were trying to get out of the habit of cussing."

She smiled tiredly, "if I owe, you owe, mister." He laughed lightly, but the sadness was still there in his eyes. "So what are we going to do?"

He opened his door, leaning back slightly to meet her gaze. "We're gonna have to push these cars out of the way."

"Fuuuuck." He laughed again as he jumped down to the road. The three of them managed to clear a path pretty quickly, and it suddenly felt odd to Mariana, almost too easy. "Hey, Liam, doesn't this seem weird?"

"What?"

"The way these cars are just parked here, blocking the road. No bodies inside."

"Nah, the people probably just abandoned them. I saw that plenty when I was looking for Sophia."

"Okay, I jus--" a large hand clamped over her mouth, another wrapped tight around her arms, holding them in place.

"Don't fucking move," a greasy looking man stepped forward, his hands clutching a gun, pointed at Liam. "You're just gonna stay nice and calm. Nice and quiet." He gestured to another man. "Tie him up."

Mariana looked to her right, where Kyle had been. He was restrained by a fourth man, who caressed the boy's cheek with his free hand. Fuck. No. No fucking way. This was not happening. How on earth did these four assholes find one another? When the world is falling apart, this is what they do?

"We're just going to take your supplies, your woman, and your boy. But don't worry, we'll let you live," the gunman mocked. He turned away from Liam and brushed his hand down Mariana's neck to her chest, then lower. This is what they do. She whimpered and kicked at him. Mistake. He smacked her across the cheek with the gun, and she could feel blood oozing from her aching skin. "Bitch," he seethed. He raised his hand to strike again, but instead, an old car antenna impaled his neck, blood splattering on Mariana's face. And as the gunman fell away, she could see that Liam had somehow slashed the throat of the man who was supposed to tie him up.

Liam went for the guy holding Kyle next, as Mariana stomped on the foot of the one behind her, who had loosened his grip in surprise. She spun out of his grasp and kneed him in the balls. It was the most satisfying thing she'd ever done. So she did it again. When he was down on the ground, she kicked him over and over again. He grabbed at her feet and pulled, taking her down onto the snow-coated road. He crawled up her body, his face twisted with rage and pain.

"Fucking cunt," spit flew from his mouth onto her face. Mariana's heart thudded with fear and adrenaline, and she tried to push him away, but he was so much bigger than her. He pulled at her clothes with his large hands, groping her grossly, and just as he got her pants unbuttoned, Liam punched him square in the jaw. The man fell away, and Liam was on him in seconds, pounding his face over and over again, slamming his head against the pavement. Even after it was clear he was dead, Liam kept hitting him, kept lifting his head and crushing it to the pavement.

"Liam," Mariana struggled to her knees and put her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay. We're okay now." Kyle had cuddled up next to her at some point, she wasn't even sure exactly when. But he was alive. She was alive. And the others...well, the four assholes weren't. Mariana had never actually wished anyone dead before. But she was glad they were. The dark pools of blood, so stark against the snow, were satisfying to see. She spit on the crushed face of her attacker, then kicked him in the nuts one last time for good measure.

Liam sat hunched for several minutes, his hands and clothes covered in blood. He was shaking, breathing too fast. "What have I done?" He asked in a quavering voice.

Mariana leaned over and rested her hands on his face. "You saved me. You saved Kyle." He raised his eyes to hers, so sorrowful. But even as he cried, on his knees in the snow, clearly traumatized by what had happened, he nodded. "Thank you, Liam. You saved us."

He finally got to his feet, using handfuls of snow to clean the blood from his hands and arms. The path was clear. The bad guys were dead. They needed to get the fuck out of here. But Mariana was curious, leaping before she looked. These assholes had parked their car right behind Liam's truck, blocking him in. Well, if they were stealing supplies, maybe they had something useful. She wandered back to the beat up old sedan. There was nothing visible, nothing useful. With four big guys, there wouldn't really be room in the passenger cabin for much.

"Mariana?" Kyle called from the bed of the truck, where he was digging out a fresh shirt for Liam. "What are you doing?" Mariana reached through the open window and popped the trunk.

"It's okay, hon. Stay there." She circled the car, but she was not expecting what she found in the trunk. "Fuck. Oh fuck."

The naked girl, bound at her hands and feet and mouth, whimpered, her eyes fluttering open then squinting shut again. She shivered in the cold air. Mariana took her jacket off and draped it over her.

"What is it?" Kyle asked.

Mariana raised both hands to show the girl, gesturing like wait. "Kyle, honey. I really need you to stay over there. This is the most important thing I've ever said. Stay. There. Can you do that for me?" He nodded with his eyes wide. Mariana leaned down toward the girl, lowering her voice, "they're gone. They tried to get us, too, but they're dead, okay. You're okay." The girl nodded frantically, tears slipping from her eyes. "I'm going to get you some clothes, and a knife to cut you loose. I'll be right back, I promise." The girl shivered and nodded. "Fuck," Mariana exhaled walking back to the truck.

"Where's your coat?" Kyle watched her every move.

Mariana grabbed a heavy blanket, her duffle bag, and Liam's utility knife. "Kyle, I need you to help Liam. He needs a new sweater. His is too bloody to wear. Get him cleaned up, yeah?" When he nodded, she reiterated, "don't come back to the car, Kyle. Promise me."

"I won't."

Mariana hurried back to the girl. She covered her with the blanket, then reached in under it to cut away the bindings on her hands and feet. "My name is Mariana," she murmured as she peeled away the tape from the girl's mouth. "I'm traveling with a boy named Kyle, and a good man--" the girl flinched. "A good man named Liam. He saved me right now. He killed them. He saved me." The girl sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around herself and rubbing her wrists. "What's your name?"

"Alysha," she whispered.

Mariana slid panties up her legs. "Alysha, you're going to be okay now. We've got you. You're safe now." Alysha nodded, but sobs began to pour from her small frame, shaking the whole car.

"Mariana, are you okay?" Kyle called again.

"Yeah, I'm good. Stay back," she shouted.

"I am," he said, and she could almost see his pout even though she was still busy dressing Alysha, pulling a thick sweater on over her head now. Socks. Converse. Done.

Mariana pulled Alysha up to stand, wrapping the blanket around her tighter. "You don't have to stay with us if you don't want to, obviously, but I think you should. At least for tonight."

"Can I see them?"

"Yeah, Liam and Kyle are just over here," she started to walk back to the truck.

"No. Them. I want to see them."

Mariana put her hands on her shoulders. "Are you sure?"

"I need to see them. I need to know they're really gone. Dead and fucking gone," Alysha's voice grew stronger. Angry, not broken. Mariana nodded, then led her around the side of the car. Liam and Kyle froze, watching her guide this gaunt figure wearing the blanket like some kind of robe. Mariana raised one hand to them as they passed, hoping they would understand not to come any closer. Alysha didn't even seem to register their presence at all. When they got to the clearing of cars, Alysha sucked in a breath. She went to each one, up close, right up to their faces. Finally, she turned back to Mariana and nodded, as if satisfied. "Okay. I'll stay with you."

Mariana reached out one hand to her, and Alysha slid hers into it. Mariana squeezed gently. "You're going to be okay, Alysha."

She turned toward Liam and Kyle, and made the introductions. Alysha was timid at first, but when Liam spoke, just a quiet hello, she hugged him, holding tight to his torso.

"Mariana?" Kyle spoke quietly too as he circled his arms around her waist again. "They hurt her." He declared. Not a question. A statement.

"Yes, they did."

"They wanted to hurt you."

"Yes."

"I'm glad they're dead."

"Me the fuck too," Alysha said. She had released Liam and was huddled alone in her blanket.

"No," Liam shook his head. "No."

"They would have done this to someone else, Liam," Mariana insisted.

He looked at her, pain radiating from his very being. "I would do it again, to save you, to save any of you. But, I--" he shook his head and looked down, his shaking hands clenched into fists. They were silent for several moments. Finally, he said, "let's get going, yeah?"

They loaded everything back into the car, and Mariana got into the back seat with Alysha, who sat against the far door, curled up in a fetal ball, watching the world go by. Mariana wanted to cuddle her, to make her feel safe and warm, but she didn't want to push it, so she let her be. By nightfall, they had reached the outskirts of Kingman, where Kyle's aunt lived. Kyle directed Liam this way and that way, leading them to a small ranch-style house in the suburbs.

"There's no car. Probably no one home," Alysha said.

"We should check," Mariana said. "You two stay here, and Liam and I will go." Liam left the engine running, the heat on high, and they were back in moments. "It's the right house; her name's on all the mail in the box. No one's home, but it's got a fireplace, so we should stay here tonight."

They carried in the sleeping bags and their bags. Liam got a fire going pretty quickly, while Mariana checked the faucets for water. There was running water, but it was ice cold. She carried the camping stove into the bathroom, and after rinsing the tub out with cold water, she filled it with hot water from the pots on the stove. When there was enough water for a bath, she found Alysha.

"There's a warm bath ready for you. First door on the left."

Alysha breathed out a heavy sigh. "Thanks, M."

"Let me know if you need anything else."

"I will. Thank you."

Mariana carried the stove back to the master bathroom and repeated the process there. When she went to get Liam from the living room, he was curled asleep in front of the fire. She shook him gently awake. "Liam, I've got a bath for you." He still had blood on his hands and arms.

"You have it," he grunted, barely opening his eyes. He was asleep again in moments.

Mariana shrugged. Fine by her. She felt disgusting with that asshole's blood sprayed over her face and neck. She scrubbed those clean with cold water, gently pressing her fingers to the lump on her cheek where he had hit her, before getting into the warmth of the tub. It was soothing, and she soaked there until the water become too cool to be comfortable. Then she joined the others in sleep in the living room, tucking herself carefully around Kyle.

But no one slept very well. It was cold, even with the fire, and it was clear they were all troubled by bad dreams. The sun's slanting rays woke them early, a relief from the misery of tainted sleep.

"Where should we go now? I mean, we came here for his aunt, but she's not here, so now what?" Mariana asked the room.

"I don't have anyone," Liam said softly.

"Me neither," Alysha shook her head.

"Me neither," Mariana echoed.

Kyle shrugged, "I have another aunt near Los Angeles."

"LA?" Mariana asked. Not confirming what he said, but confirming with everyone that this was the plan. Their next step.

But Liam shook his head. "We should stay one more day," he murmured. "I need...more time. More...sleep." He shook his head again.

They all wanted more sleep, better sleep. So instead of packing up and heading out right away, they tried to make their little encampment more suitable. Mariana dragged mattresses from the three bedrooms out and laid them on the floor in front of the fireplace. Alysha sorted out a decent meal for them. Liam broke into the neighbors' houses, searching for something to help them sleep. He returned with whiskey, Tylenol PM, Xanax, and muscle relaxers.

Kyle was only allowed the Tylenol, but the adults each took some combination of the others, and finally got some rest. But for Mariana, the drugs weren't a solution. Instead of soothing her in sleep, she was trapped. Stuck in strange looping dreams that made her heart race with fear and anxiety. Dark groping hands, faceless men, driving too fast around sharp curves on steep ledges. She would rather be awake.

When they headed out the next day, the mood was still somber, but at least Liam and Alysha had stopped shaking. Just past the California border, though, Liam pulled the truck to a sputtering stop.

"We're out of gas."

"No," Mariana shook her head.

"Yep."

"So what do we do? I mean, don't we need power to run the pumps at the stations?"

"Yeah," he frowned. "We're gonna have to siphon it."

"Fuck."

They walked along the stopped cars on the road, searching for a truck that used diesel. Mariana wondered why he drove a truck that only took diesel. Like, could you make this any more complicated. Alysha was skittish, looking all around her like a frightened kitten. This was how the men had attacked them, out on the open road. It was probably how they had gotten her too. Mariana slid her hand into Alysha's. 

"Thank you," Alysha squeezed her hand.

They had walked almost a mile away from the car, just looking for gas cans or diesel trucks. Mariana was getting frustrated. From behind them, Liam called, "check that jeep up ahead. The older models are sometimes diesel."

As she and Alysha got closer, they noticed the truck was moving, just slightly. What the...shit. There was a dog inside. Alive. Mariana ran up to the door and pulled it open. "Hey puppy, are you--oh god. Oh my god I'm so sorry." She turned away blushing.

Yeah. There were people in the car. Fucking. She covered her face and started to laugh. I mean, what the fuck. Just stopped on the fucking road in the middle of a world ending plague. Fucking. Then she looked at Alysha nervously. What if this freaked her out? After everything those men tried to do to Mariana, she couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine what they'd done to her. But Alysha's eyes were glittering with laughter too.

By then, Liam and Kyle had caught up. "Hey, is it diesel?"

Alysha and Mariana looked at each other and laughed again. "I have no idea." Liam started to move toward the car. "No. No, there are people in it."

He frowned, confused. "There are people in all the cars."

And then the people pushed the door open and got out, fully dressed now. The guy was purple, but the woman seemed completely unfazed. "Hi," she said, holding her hand out. "I'm Artie."

~~~~~

God it was so hard to write those bits with Liam and Sophia. I ship them so hard...😭

Anyway, if you like this story, please vote and comment and share.

And if you haven't already, check out my Harry fic, The Other One, which is complete.

💕