San Francisco, CA
December 20

Time no longer existed. Hours, minutes, days...these were concepts that no longer applied. There was only the disintegration of the dead to signify that the world still turned on its axis. That and the rumbling of Niall's stomach. He had no idea how long it had been since he was locked in this cage by the cop now laying dead in front of him, but he knew he hadn't eaten in a very long time. And what he had consumed, was splattered all over the cop's shirt and the lobby of this building.

The emptiness in his belly ached. And the only way to combat that rumbling ache was to sleep. So he did. Eventually, he didn't even feel the hunger pangs any more. He didn't feel the thirst. He just felt calm. He felt at peace. He felt, even, almost euphoric.

And that's when the hallucinations started. Well, Niall wasn't really sure what was happening. Were these things he saw and heard real? He didn't know.

He saw the air. He could see the fucking air floating in front of his face, the molecules expanding into tiny rainbow bubbles. Grains of air, like the pixelations of an old digital photo. He understood now, those pixels weren't digital. It was the air. The camera captured the air floating in front of the people. What a peaceful thought, that there was photographic proof of the oxygen moving gently into his lungs and out into his blood.

He saw water pooling on the cool cement floor, sunlight from the high window glinting off the surface in a rainbow sheen. The ground felt wet. Surely that puddle was real. He crawled shakily across the floor, his muscles protesting at the movement. He didn't even get halfway before the water vanished, the light landing at a different angle now. Niall pulled himself the rest of the way anyhow, just to make sure. He laid his face on the cool, dry cement. He wasn't even upset. His body shook with silent laughter. If it was silent sobbing, no one would know the difference.

He heard footsteps. Ha. Right. As if there was anyone else alive in this fucked up world. Gemma's face flickered in his mind. Niall wondered if she made it home. The footsteps shuffled closer. He opened his eyes and saw a guy rifling through the desk at the end of the hallway, blurry at first, but then Niall's eyes focused and he could make out some detail. Tall. Really tall. Maybe he just seemed so tall because Niall still had his face pressed to the floor. The guy, who Niall could tell was of Asian descent, but not exactly what heritage, had greasy black hair sticking out from a beanie and a lip ring. Niall marveled at his brain's ability to create such a realistic hallucination. Because there was no way this guy was looking at him. Talking to him. Touching him. No. There was no way. There was no way he found the keys by the cop's head. There was no way the door to the cell was open. There was no fucking way.

"Come on. Can you get up?" The guy had his arms under Niall's, lifting. His face came away from the dry cement floor, and Niall thought what an interesting thing his brain was that it could make him feel like he was floating. "Dude. Help me out. Put your feet down." Niall tried to laugh as his body responded almost of its own accord, his sock-covered feet sliding across the floor. "There you go. God. Fuck. How long have you been here?"

Niall's eyes rolled in their sockets, trying to see the man holding him up. He lifted one shaky hand and touched the guy's face. His fingers definitely touched flesh. "Hi," he said. "Hnnnmmgggh" he heard. He smacked his dry, cracked lips. "Not a criminal," he rasped out.

The guy widened his eyes and laughed a little. "That's your biggest concern. Dude. I don't care. We need to get you to a fucking hospital." A hospital. A hospital? Were there still hospitals? Maybe. Fuck maybe the floating grains of rainbow air weren't the hallucination, just like this guy wasn't a hallucination. Maybe the hallucination was the dead cop. The dead customers in his bar. Maybe they weren't real. Maybe the plague wasn't real. "Kay, come on. I still need to get my shit, but I think I'd better get you to the car first." Niall did his best to walk, but his legs could barely hold his weight, which couldn't be much. He weighed maybe 140 pounds before being locked in that cell. He could feel his bones. He had to be down about 20. Maybe more. He rested most of his weight on the tall guy's arm and shoulder, dragging his feet along in stuttering steps.

Well, the plague was not a hallucination. The world outside was still and silent. Slumped dead forms huddled against the buildings, across the sidewalks. He tripped over the legs of one. Real. Very real. Very dead.

Tall man opened a car door and helped Niall scoot in. "Name," he coughed out.

"My name?" The guy raised his eyebrows. Niall nodded weakly. "Luke. My name's Luke. And I will be right back, okay dude?" Niall nodded again, then lay down on the backseat of the car, closing his eyes. Awhile later, the car door closed with a thud and Luke looked at him from the driver's seat. "Okay, man. We need to get you some fluids." He didn't even remember Luke putting the car in gear. Or driving through the streets of San Francisco. Or getting out of the car.

Niall next woke to a sharp pain in his arm. "Agh," he flinched.

"Sorry, man. I haven't done this in awhile." Luke had his tongue between his teeth and a needle in his hand. "Fucking shit," he poked at Niall's arm again.

"Ow. How...no." Niall whimpered.

"Hah! Nailed it," Luke leaned back triumphantly. "All right. Get you hooked up to this saline, you'll be all good in no time." Niall relaxed against the soft bed and slipped back into unconsciousness.

The next time he woke, Luke was pulling Niall's pants off his legs. "No," Niall whined. "Mine."

Luke laughed. "It's okay, buddy. I brought you some clean clothes. You smell like piss." He laughed again. "And booze."

Niall nodded, "Drunk tank." Luke shrugged and slid clean boxers up Niall's legs.

He sighed and went back to sleep. Niall dreamed he was back in Ireland. But the streets were empty, trash blowing down the cobblestone streets, which were heavy with fog. And then the mist cleared and everywhere he looked there were bones. Sometimes just single bones, sometimes gaping skulls, sometimes whole skeletons. And then he dreamed he was biting down on his own teeth, which were breaking and falling out. He spit a mouthful of teeth out into his cupped hand, and immediately his mouth was filled again with bits of tooth fragments. He started to choke on the pieces and woke with a start, grabbing at the air around him.

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," Luke said, patting his arm.

He rubbed his face with his other hand. "Sorry. I'm sorry." Then his eyes widened, and he clutched onto Luke's wrist. "Fuck, mate. Thank you." It was like a fog had cleared. "I would have died in there." Niall looked around him. They were in a dim hospital room, muted yellow light coming through the shaded windows.

Luke waved him off. "Don't worry about it, bro."

"Niall. M'name's Niall."

"Niall, you're gonna be fine now. Gotcha hooked up to some fluids and nutrition."

Niall looked above his head where two bags of clear liquid hung from hooks. "How do you know how to do this?"

"I don't really. My sister was a nurse," Luke cringed slightly. Probably dead now, his sister. "She used to make me help her practice putting in IVs when she was in school. But I had to look this other stuff up. In a book. No fucking Internet. How are we going to live?" He shook his head sadly, and it was so funny to Niall, he let out a loud cackling laugh. Luke's eyes shined as he joined in. "I'm serious, dude. I live online."

"God, no phones."

"No google."

"No music on the radio."

"No tv."

"No drive thru."

"Fuck dude, for real. I've been eating nasty ass cold soup for days." Luke added, quieter, "No people."

Niall shook his head, frowning, "Nah. There's gotta be more. There's us. And, there was this girl. That night I got thrown in jail. We should find her."

"She could be dead now too for all you know. You're the first living person I've seen in almost two weeks."

"What day is it?"

"I think it's like the 22nd?"

"Shite. I was in there for twelve days," Niall rubbed his face again.

"Well, you've been here for almost two days now, so..."

"Ten days. Ten days with nuthin' t' eat or drink. I thought people died faster than that."

"Must be the luck of the Irish."

"Ha. Yeah right. I'm the unluckiest chap in the world."

Luke jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "The dead guys out there beg to differ."

"Fair enough. How long do I need t' be hooked up to these?"

"I have no fucking idea," Luke shrugged. "Until you feel better I guess."

"I feel better."

Luke laughed. "All righty then, let's get the fuck out of here."

"Can we go to me bar and then maybe m' apartment?" Luke nodded, pulling the iv out of Niall's arm carefully, pressing a cotton ball into the crook of his elbow.

Niall was able to walk on his own after Luke helped him up, and once in the car, Niall directed him to the bar. Fuck. He realized as they pulled up to the curb that he was still locked out. Fucking hell.

But Luke was able to get the door open pretty easily, jimmying the knob with some tool from his glove box. God, it fucking smelled horrible in there. Niall grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone, then he hurried past the corpses, trying not to notice the movement of maggots on their skin. And failing. Fuck. He dry heaved over the wastebasket in the back office, but there was nothing in his stomach to empty. When his stomach calmed, he started digging through the records in the file cabinet. "Whatcha looking for?" Luke asked from the doorway.

"Old receipt."

"Why?" Luke's tone made it clear he thought this was a ridiculous waste of time.

"Trying t'find her name. Her last name." Niall scrunched his eyes to see the paper in his hand then tossed it over his shoulder.

"Hah. Here it is. Styles. Gemma--"

"Gemma Styles," Luke's voice held disbelief. What was so unbelievable about her name?

"Yeah. You know her?"

"Gemma fucking Styles is alive?" Luke's eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open.

"She was two weeks ago. Now just need to figure out where she lives." Niall scrutinized the receipt as if that would have any useful information. Of course it wouldn't. Of course it didn't.

"Dude. I know where she lives."

"What? How? Wait. Do you know her?" Niall felt a stab of jealousy.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Not personally, no. Her dad like invented the personal computer. How do you not know who she is? How do you not know where she lives? It's like the most famous house in Palo Alto."

"Don't live in Palo Alto, do I?" Niall held up his hands, like duh. "And even if her dad was famous, why would that mean I, or anyone else, know where she lives. I mean, what about their privacy?"

"Nah man, they've made it public because they have charity fundraisers there all the time. And they have such tight security anyway. The paparazzi are there all the time." Niall raised his eyebrows at Luke. "I'm not one of 'em. I'm just really into computers."

"So you really know where it is?" When Luke nodded, Niall said, "then what're we waitin on. Let's go find her."

Before they headed out of the city, they stopped at Niall's tiny studio apartment. Niall was winded halfway up the stairs. Living on the top floor of a ten-story walk-up seemed like no big deal when he was well, but Niall still felt like shit, weak and wobbly, and he held onto the handrail tightly for fear of falling back down those many steps. He didn't think he'd survive that. "I just want to shower and change into me own clothes," he wheezed, climbing the last few stairs.

"Yeah. You need it."

Niall laughed amiably. "Thanks, mate," he replied sarcastically. Luke seemed like an all right guy to him.

"You can't show up to Gemma Styles' house smelling like a bar bathroom," Luke laughed along. "Just sayin."

Finally they reached his door. He turned to Luke, "Right. No. Definitely cannot do that." Then muttered to himself as he fumbled to get his key in the lock. "Jesus, she'd never give me a chonce then."

Luke snorted. "What the fuck is a chonce?"

Niall scowled at him, pushing his apartment door open. He put on his best American accent, "Chance, you douche." He and Luke shared another laugh as they entered the small one-room apartment, but Niall really was unsteady after that strenuous hike up the stairs, and he grabbed onto the back of a chair to keep from falling over. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea comin all t' way up here."

"Listen, why don't you sit down, and I'll pack whatever you tell me to. You can shower at my house." Niall nodded, slumping into the chair he was leaning against. "Where can I find a bag?"

Niall directed him to the small closet, where he had a duffle bag and a few hanging shirts. Luke folded them carefully into the bag, then moved to the dresser, loading the bag with socks and underwear, tshirts, sweaters, and jeans.

"Thanks again, mate," Niall said, as Luke indicated he was done. "You really have saved my life."

Luke extended his hand to help Niall up from the chair. "It's really no problem, man. It's not like I'm gonna just leave you locked in the fucking cell to die." Niall grabbed his guitar and flung it over his shoulder, hoping he'd be strong enough to carry it down the stairs.

After they descended to the ground floor, so slowly it was almost more painful, Niall paused and looked at Luke. "Why were you at the police station that night?"

Luke laughed again. Everything was funny to this kid. "The cops confiscated my shit, and I came to get it back."

"Shit, like drugs?" Niall asked as they reached the car.

Luke popped the trunk. "Shit, like my computers." He set Niall's bag in beside several boxes of computer equipment. "I'm a hacker."

"Whoa, really?" Luke nodded as Niall widened his eyes. "That's badass."

"Drugs," Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "I look like a drug dealer?"

"It's all this goth shit you've got on." Niall smirked, waving his hand up and down at Luke. "And the lip ring."

"You know what, I might just have to lock you back up." Niall cackled again as they got back on the road. Luke was pretty good at weaving his small car through the stopped cars cluttering the road, but it still took an awfully long time to go from the apartment to Luke's house. "We don't have one of those fancy battery-powered water heaters," Luke showed Niall the bathroom. "So there's only cold water, but at least you can get clean."

"Yeah. All right. Thanks, Luke." The cold water hurt, god it hurt so bad, stinging Niall's overly sensitive skin and aching muscles. When he got out, he dressed in his own clothes, bundling into a thick sweater. The house was cold too. He slowed to look at the photos lining the hallway. Luke with his older sister. She was pretty with a wide tan face and dark almond eyes like Luke. His mom had a warm smile in the photographs, her eyes crinkling. Niall's mum and dad and brother were thousands of miles away in Ireland. He wondered if they had this horrible flu there. Or were they blissfully isolated from it all. He went to the living room, where Luke was sorting through more boxes of computer parts. "This your mum's house?"

"Oh. Yeah. It was." Niall could tell by the tone in his voice that he had lost her.

"I'm sorry, mate."

"Thanks," Luke said, quieter than he'd ever been. "So, um, you ready?"

"Yeah. Whenever you are."

Luke loaded a bag of his clothes and the extra parts into the trunk, and they began the tortuous task of trying to leave the city. San Francisco was a mess. A rotten, bloody, malodorous mess. Now that Niall himself wasn't a malodorous mess, he could really tell just how bad it was out there. The sky was dark with smoke, the air chokingly foul with the stench of decaying flesh.

As they were hitting the southern border of the city, they saw two girls shuffling down the sidewalk up ahead. The smaller one was being helped along by the taller. Luke and Niall exchanged a glance. "What should we do?" Niall asked.

"Help them." Luke shrugged and pulled up beside them.

The young women froze and stared into the car. Niall leaned out the window a bit. "Hi. Are you folks a'right?"

"Fuck off," the small one said, waving her tiny hand dismissively. She looked like a child but was clearly just a very short adult.

"Okay, we just--"

"No thanks, asshole. Keep moving." She coughed into her sleeve.

Niall looked at Luke. What the fuck. Niall raised his hands as if in surrender. "Look, miss. I dunno what you've been through, obviously. We'll go, really we will. We just wanted to offer our help."

The taller one squeezed the small one's shoulder and muttered quietly to her.

The diminutive girl rounded back to them. "Fine. Fuck. Who are you. Where are you going. Why are you going there. What do you expect from us." None of her questions came out as questions. They were all more like challenges.

"I'm Niall. He's Luke. I'm a musician, and uh, and a bartender," he shrugged. "Luke here saved my life. But he's like a genius computer hacker normally."

The small one raised her eyebrows. She had a round pale face, with light reddish brown hair and prominent pink lips that looked like a cherub. She coughed, then prompted, "and..." She was a tough one, this one. But he could see that she was shaky, leaning on her companion for stability.

"And um," Niall looked at Luke again. He didn't remember what the rest of her questions were.

"We're going to Palo Alto," Luke said from the driver's seat, leaning across Niall, "because we're pretty sure there's at least one more person alive there."

"And we don't expect nuthin from ya," Niall said, holding up his hands. "Honestly just wanted t' help."

"I had a sister. She was," Luke bite his lip, shook his head, and paused for a moment, "she was everything to me. You don't have to be afraid."

"We've had some trouble," the big one said quietly, pulling a wig off his head. His? Oh. He was a little taller than average, tan, and his round face was covered with cuts and bruises. "Coupla guys took all my--our--supplies."

"Beat him up, too," she looked up at him fondly, "when he tried to stop them dragging me with them."

"Shit, how'd ya get away?"

"I'm small, but I'm smart. I acted like I was going along, directed them the wrong way out of the building, and then padlocked them into a storage room. They just walked the fuck in like a couple of dumb dogs into a kennel. I went back and got Ryanna, here. And now here we are."

"Well, I don't know if this'll ease your mind at all, but I've never hit another person in me life," Niall offered, shrugging. It's not that he was a pacifist, or anything, though Niall did hate violence. It was just that Niall had always gotten along with everybody. He'd never had a need to hit anyone. He'd never even been hit until that cop decked him.

She rolled her eyes. "Not really."

"But we'll come with you, if you'll still have us," Ryanna said softly.

"Sure, yeah," Luke waved them along.

"Don't pull any bullshit," the little one scowled at them. It was adorable and hilarious, so Niall chuckled.

"No worries, lass. You're safe with us."

"My name is Mickie." All attitude.

"Nice to meet ya, Mickie," Niall extended his hand over the back seat. Mickie reluctantly shook it. He glanced at the guy next. "And Ryanna, you said?"

"Yeah, well," he said quietly. "My real name is Dean. Ryanna is just a stage name."

"What should we call ya?" Niall asked.

"Ryanna," Mickie answered for him.

"Nice to meet you both," Luke chuckled at them in the rear view mirror. "Onward to Palo Alto..."

During the drive, they each recounted their where-were-you-when-everyone-died stories. Niall recounted his story of the bar and the jail, leaving out the juicy details of his encounter with Gemma. Luke had been at home, surfing the web, doing his hacking bit. His mom had died early on when the flu hit, he said. His sister, who lived in Nevada, had gone a couple days after, her son had told him by text. But pretty much he had holed up at home just watching it all unfold on the Internet.

Ryanna...Dean had been performing his drag routine in the Castro district when the other performers and the crowd--sparse anyway thanks to the flu--all keeled over dead. He hadn't been able to get back into his apartment because a car had crashed into the gas station next door, and the whole fucking place had burned down. He didn't have any family in the states; they were all in the Philippines, he told them. So he had been wandering the streets with a grocery cart full of water and dry food--the same supplies that were later stolen--looking for shelter and other survivors when he ran into Mickie.

Mickie, as it happened, was a fan of Ryanna's drag routine. Had watched his show many times. And she beamed up at him as she spoke, like she had a smile reserved just for him. Her story was pretty straightforward. Her family was all in Hawaii and the Philippines as well. She'd heard from her mom the day before it all went to shit that her father and siblings were gone. Her mother was sick as well and had called to say goodbye. Mickie coughed several times during her tale.

"You sound a bit like you've got it as well, Mickie," Niall said gently.

"Yeah. But it comes and goes. Some days I feel like I can't even move, like my insides are having a fucking fistfight. But others, like today, it's just a minor annoyance. So I don't know if it's the same thing that killed everyone. I mean, why wouldn't it have killed me?"

"I dunno. Why didn't it get any of us, for that matter?" Niall added. "Ya know?"

"True," Ryanna said. "There must be some kind of immunity. And Mick, maybe you've just got, like, a partial immunity." He rested his hand on hers.

"Probably," she squinted her eyes in a cutesy grin at him, wagging her chin in his face. Ryanna ran his hand over her face. "Hopefully," she whispered, leaning her cheek against his palm. They were beyond cute.

"Hey, Niall, we're here," Luke gestured to the huge gate at the end of the road.

"Crikey," Niall breathed. On the other side of the gate was the biggest house he'd ever seen. A fucking palace. It had to be three floors. The modern exterior was bright white with tons of windows and a huge carpark and garage. The garden was pristinely landscaped, and right there in the drive, he could see Gemma's red Maserati. "This is definitely it."

Luke shut off the car, and they all got out. He pushed the buzzer on the call box, but it didn't seem likely that it had any effect. There was no power.

But then, "Harry?" came a worried voice, crackling and distorted.

"No, m'names Niall, ma'am," he leaned down toward the speaker. "I'm a friend of Gemma's."

The front door flew open. Gemma stood there with her hands on her hips, which were covered in a pair of denim overalls. "What the fuck are you doing here? How did you find my house?"

An older woman pushed past her and walked toward them. Yeah, she was older, but she was still gorgeous--lovely smile with a little dimple, bright eyes, and a fit body with huge knockers, the only trait she and Gemma didn't share. "Gemma, do you have to be so rude?" She clicked a button on the other side of the gate, and it slid open. How did they still have power when the rest of the world was back in the dark ages? "Hi, I'm Gemma's mom, Anne."

"Niall," he said, stepping forward to shake her hand.

"And how do you know my daughter?"

"We work together," Gemma said, glaring at Niall.

"Yep," he agreed, not missing a beat.

Gemma wasn't backing down, though. "I can't fucking believe you showed up to my house with a group of random strangers. What the fuck."

"Not strangers, Gem, survivors." Anne shook her head at her daughter. "And that's how you talk to your coworker?"

"Mom, I was kidding." She put her arm around Niall. "You know how sarcastic I am."

Niall was pretty sure she wasn't kidding, but God he hoped she was. She was so pretty, the dimming afternoon light making her hair glow like a halo.

"Mm-hm," Anne wasn't buying it. "Well, come in, all of you."

"Could I drive the car in?" Luke asked. "Got a bunch of stuff in it."

"Sure, sure. Come on," Anne reached a hand out toward Mickie and Ryanna. "Oh dear, honey your face. Let's get you cleaned up."

As Niall and Luke were unloading the trunk of the car, Niall suddenly felt dizzy, his head throbbing and the world dipping and diving like a plane battered by the turbulent pressure of the clouds. He grabbed the edge of the trunk to stay on his feet.

"Dude, you okay?"

"Uh-unhh," Niall's vision went black, and he went down.

Click, click. Click. Crack crack. His eyes fluttered open. Gemma was clapping her hands in his face, Luke pulling at her arms. "Wake up," she commanded.

"What happened?"

"Are you fucking drunk?"

"He's not drunk. Jesus, what's wrong with you?" Luke stared at Gemma, an appalled expression on his usually giddy face. "He's been really ill."

Gemma swallowed, looking a bit...guilty? She lowered her voice, "Sorry. I just. I only know him from the bar."

"S'all right. M'all right," Niall wobbled to his feet but nearly fell again immediately. His feet, ankles and calves were so swollen he could barely feel them. He leaned against the car. "Not feelin so hot." He pointed down at his feet.

"Shit," Luke muttered. "Something is wrong. Gemma, tell your mom I'm taking him round to a hospital."

"Okay. Yeah, okay," she turned to go inside. "Hey wait, do you know where it is?"

"Yeah, I saw one on our way in. Providence, I think it said."

Gemma gave him a thumbs up. "That's the closest."

Niall rested his head against the seat and watched the world slide by, away from the pretty girl who somehow survived. Whose mother survived. Extraordinary. His lovely little mum could be tucked safely away in her lovely little cottage drinking tea right now. Tears slid down his cheeks, and his heart felt like it was expanding, crushing his chest from the inside out. No really, it fucking hurt. "Agghhhh," he groaned. Luke looked at him with concern and accelerated.

The hospital was oddly deserted. No traces of bodies outside. All locked up and pristine. Must be one of those that shut down early when the flu hit, all resources diverted to the public hospitals. Luke practically carried the hobbling Niall around the front and side of the building trying to find a way in. Finally, they came across a door that had been shattered.

Luke laid Niall on a bed and scrambled around, lifting things, throwing things. Niall didn't understand. And then Luke returned with a book. No fucking Internet. Luke mouthed as he read, his finger tracing lines on the pages. "Edema," he muttered.

"What's that?" Niall croaked, his chest constricting painfully. He laid his hand across his chest, pressing down as if that could relieve the pain.

"All right, man. I think--I think I've got you. I'll be right back. I need to get some stuff. Try to breathe slowly and evenly."

Niall concentrated all his attention on pulling air into his lungs. Pushing it back out. Pulling it in. And out. The sound of his breaths reminded him of the gentle lapping waves on the shores in Ireland, so green. So peaceful. Home. He wished he were home now. His focus faded to darkness.

"Ow, what the--"

Luke was back, sticking Niall with another needle. "Sorry, bro. Have to do it. You could be in serious trouble here. Gotta get you well." He attached the plastic cord in Niall's arm to a bag of liquid and hung it above his head again. Then he injected the iv port with two more shots.

"What's that you're givin me? I'm 'lergic to penicillin. All the cillins." His voice felt very far away from his body. Had Luke heard?

"It's not a cillin," Luke soothed, rubbing Niall's arm gently. "I've given you liquid aspirin in case you're having a heart attack, morphine for your pain, and a diuretic to help your kidneys flush your system. Plus of course, more fluids."

"Hey!" A woman shouted from down the hall, her footsteps echoed as she ran down the hall. "Hey, do you work here?" A tall thin woman holding a child in her arms panted in the doorway.

Luke shrugged apologetically. "Nah, miss. I don't. Just helping my friend. Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "I was looking for my brother. He worked here. But..."

"It was all locked up. Closed up," he said.

"Yeah, I see that." The little boy in her arms coughed and wheezed and whimpered against her shoulder. "Oh, my little bird. Oh my love," she rubbed his back in slow circles. "You're okay. Breathe slowly."

"Okay, mommy," the boy mumbled into her neck.

Another fucking family together. Niall marveled at them, praying this meant his loved ones were okay too.

"Can you help him?" The woman asked Luke. "And my husband. He's just out there."

"Me?" He looked shocked. "I'm not a doctor. Fuck, I mean, sorry. I haven't even gone to college."

"I heard you talking to him. You helped him."

"I just read some shit, I mean shit sorry, I just read some stuff in a book right now. I could be killing him for all I know."

"What?" Niall sat halfway up, trying not panic. Not quite succeeding. But the woman held all of Luke's attention.

"Please," she begged, tears sliding down her pretty face. "My husband hasn't eaten anything in days. He won't. He can't. My little guy here can't drink. He just spits it right back up. Please. Please help us." She was fully sobbing now.

"Okay. Okay, hey, it's okay." Luke lifted the little boy gently from his mother's arms and set him on the bed next to Niall's. "Hey, dude. I'm Luke. What's your name?"

"Woody," the kid rasped.

"That's a cool name."

"Thanks."

"Did you ever go to the doctor, and they had to give you a shot?" Woody nodded. Niall watched in awe. Luke totally could have been a doctor. He was great at this. Except that he didn't know what he was doing and might've killed Niall. But besides that. "Well, I have to do something like that, okay?" Woody scrunched his face in a frown but nodded. Luke slid an IV into his arm easily, then attached the saline bag. "Lay back, now, buddy."

"It's Woody."

Niall chuckled and Luke made eye contact with him. He looked like he was in over his head, scared and unsure. "You're the hero of this story, mate," Niall murmured. "Just go with it."

The woman was now guiding a man with fiery red hair into the room. "This is my husband, Ed. And I'm Izzy." Luke nodded, led Ed over to a bed across from Niall, and got him hooked up to the fluid drip as well. "Thank you," Izzy murmured, crying again. "Thank you so much."

"Yeah, of course." Luke looked exhausted. His face was flushed red, and his hair was tousled, and his forehead seemed to be permanently creased with worry lines. "I just, like, I'm nineteen. I really don't know if I'm, ya know, if I'm cut out for this."

But the thing is, heroes aren't just the ones who train and prepare for disasters. Sometimes, heroes are regular people doing whatever they can to help their fellow man. Heroes will call you buddy or bro so you don't notice the searing pain in your chest, will make you laugh until you forget you're sad. Heroes are the ones who unlock doors, and pick up strangers, and help them walk, and stick a fucking needle in your arm three times until they finally hit the vein. Heroes will peel your pissed-stained pants down your legs and give you a pair of their own clean ones. Because they don't care about themselves in that moment. Their only concern in that moment is that this person, who can't care for themselves, will survive for one more day. One more minute, even. It is utterly selfless. And utterly beautiful.

Niall wanted to tell Luke. To say, "you're my hero, mate." But darkness overtook him, his mind fading into unconsciousness even as he opened his mouth to speak.

~~~~~

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