“Is it true? What Suho said?” Sunggyu has to ask his brother this, because he won’t believe it from anyone else.

He and Yunho and Dongwoo are all squeezed into the tiny cabin. The sun has gone down on the second day since the world ended, and it’s the first time Sunggyu has actually seen his brother. Thus far he and Dongwoo have been completely isolated in the cabin, Suho bringing them small, rationed meals twice a day, and escorting them down the hall to the bathroom after each meal. This seems to be the standard on the ship, as Sunggyu has seen other small groups of people being led around by soldiers, and never off by themselves. Everyone seems relegated to their designated cabins.

Yunho says simply, “It’s true.” He and Sunggyu are sharing his bunk, while Dongwoo is sprawled out on Changmin’s. It’s a tight squeeze for the both of them, considering they’re both full sized, but they make it work. Sunggyu plays the part of the little spoon and savors the way his brother’s firm, muscled arm is wrapped around his stomach.

“Why did this happen?”

Yunho’s breath is hot on the back of Sunggyu’s neck, a clear distinction between the frigid temperature of the room. “No one knows, Gyu. Truly. South Korea went black yesterday. The emergency broadcast is looping automatically, but there’s no one manning it. And no one else is fairing much better. The Americans lost their capital yesterday--their president, too. I suspect the same for our government. Only extremely isolated countries and areas seem to be doing okay, but I think that’s just because the infected haven’t reached them yet.”

At least if Yunho knew that much, it meant he was in communication with someone. There’s still a little bit of information out there.

Dongwoo turns over in his sleep, mumbling something quiet, but he doesn’t wake up. What Sunggyu’s learned about him recently is that Dongwoo is apparently the heaviest sleeper in the world. It must be nice to fall away from the world so completely. Especially considering the state of it.

“Infected,” Sunggyu says. “If these people are infected with something, can’t we find a cure? A vaccine?”

Yunho sighs heavily. “A cure isn’t … it isn’t the highest of priorities right now. First we have to consolidate what’s left of our people and work out the command structure. We have to take care of the living before we can focus on the dead.”

Sunggyu wonders, “Is there anything left of a command structure at all? What about the military?”

Yunho admits, “Right now it looks like a few thousand soldiers and a couple hundred officers. I suppose I’ve been served a promotion because of it all. There aren’t a lot of officers left to take on the recently opened positions.” Yunho tightens his grip on Sunggyu. “I’m thankful.”

“Yunho?”

Maybe Yunho can sense the questions running through Sunggyu’s mind. Maybe he understands why Sunggyu would be confused as to why he’s happy millions of people are dead, along with the thousands of men of higher rank than him. Yunho must understand, because he says, “The higher up I go, Sunggyu, the more power I have. I can use that power to protect you. Get it?”

Sunggyu doesn’t answer. He only shakes his head.

“This world,” Yunho tells him, “when all is said and done, is going to look nothing like the world we knew before. Power is going to be everything. Power will be safety. And I am going to keep you safe, Sunggyu. I swear to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In light of the fact that apparently there are man eating creatures roaming the planet now, attacking and murdering people on pure instinct, Sunggyu doesn’t really think Yunho can make such a promise. But he gets it. He really does.

“Yunho,” Sunggyu says quietly, his fingers lacing over his brothers. “I haven’t heard any helicopters in a long time. They were routine for so long and now I haven’t heard one in six hours. Are we at capacity? Are there no more people left to rescue?” This has been on his mind since the thuds sopped coming shortly before sundown.

“Both,” Yunho says. “The captain of the ship, Captain Nam, has decided that we won’t be taking on any more refugees. Honestly there aren’t many left. From what I’ve heard, only a dozen or so people from our area managed to get away when the attack hit. Those that did were the ones who threw themselves into the water and started swimming towards us. They were picked up by some smaller vessels and brought here. Most of the helicopters you’ve been hearing were the ones delivering people who’d been on fishing boats and the like. It seems like the only people who had a fighting chance were the ones far out in the country side, or on the water. And it’s too late to save the people in the country now.”

Captain Nam. Sunggyu hasn’t seen him before. He didn’t even see him when Yunho was taking him around and introducing him to the crew he works with.

“No more refugees,” Sunggyu says. It’s hard to imagine that the people who are on the war ship right now, and the ones lucky enough to be plucked from danger and delivered to the other ships, are at the very least the only survivors from the area.

Sunggyu clenches his eyes tightly against the dark of the room, his feet twisting up in Yunho’s. “Isn’t there a chance? Mom and Dad? They could have barricaded themselves in the apartment, couldn’t they? People could just be hiding, Yunho.”

The first instinct would have been to run. They’d have run at the start. But when the reality of the situation began to set in, it seemes more realistic to think that people would have tried to bunker down and wait out the chaos. They’d still think help was coming. They’d be hiding and waiting.

Yunho is quiet for a long time, so quiet and so still it seems like he’s gone to sleep. Then Yunho says, “Before Seoul fell, before Busan fell, and before the bigger areas were overrun, there was some media coverage of these things attacking people. They’re impossibly fast, Gyu. They run forever and don’t get tired. They’re relentless and strong and I don’t think hiding would work very well.”

It’s too hard to imagine a world without his parents. His friends, maybe. Because Sunggyu has always imagined that after they all graduate high school and go off to college, they’ll likely fall out of touch with each other. But his parents? Impossible. So he argues, “You know dad, Yunho. He’s smart. He’d know how to hide them right. He’d--”

“Gyu.” Yunho says, and it’s enough to completely relay the message. “I am hurting just as much as you are at the thought of losing them, but we have to face reality. They’re dead. They were in a city that fell in under twenty minutes. They were at the heart of a metropolitan area that was leveled before some people even knew the bad was coming. They are not still hiding somewhere, hoping for a rescue. They’re gone. We have each other and that’s it, but it’s going to be enough.”

Yunho doesn’t have all the answers for Sunggyu that night. He only tells Sunggyu what he can, about the rescue efforts, how the remaining fleet is abandoning South Korea to merge up with a fleet from Japan, and how the next few days will be essential to their survival as a race.

“You have to be on your best behavior,” Yunho cautions as the sun is starting to come up. Neither he nor Sunggyu have slept a wink, they’ve spent the whole night talking, but Sunggyu thinks the both of them look the better for it. Some of the heavy bags under Yunho’s eyes are gone, and he looks a little less pale than he did the night before. “I mean it. Best behavior.”

“I won’t cause trouble,” Sunggyu says, a little annoyed.

“I know you won’t.” Yunho ruffles the back of his head playfully. “Just watch out for those who might. The captain couldn’t be very selective about who he brought on board when we were simply scrambling to find survivors, but he will be now. This is about keeping around the best, brightest and most helpful. He’s in control of everyone who stays on his ship at the moment, and he doesn’t take to troublemakers. You get to stay because of me, because of my value, but that same curtsey might not be extended to Dongwoo if something happens to cause trouble.”

Something sets hard and strong in Sunggyu. “I’m not letting anyone put Dongwoo off this ship.” Dongwoo is practically a brother now. They’ve witnessed the end of the world by each other’s side, cried together, and survived together. Sunggyu will be damned if something happens to Dongwoo now on his watch.

“Don’t ever lose that,” Yunho says suddenly, a finger hooking under Sunggyu’s chin. “That fierceness and urge to protect. Don’t lose it no matter what, Gyu. We’re going to need a lot more of that in this world from now on.”

Sunggyu doesn’t really have an answer to that, so he simply nods and says once more, “I won’t get into trouble. I won’t put you in a bad position.”

Yunho gives him a fond smile then, smoothes down an already winkle free uniform jacket, and after only a brief moment of hesitation, he leans forward to kiss the smooth plane of Sunggyu’s forehead. It reminds Sunggyu of the way his mother kissed him right before she died.

“When will I see you again?” Sunggyu asks, darting forward to grapple onto his brother’s sleeve. “When can you come back?” He doesn’t know why it suddenly makes him so nervous to have his brother out of sight. He’s never felt overly protective of Yunho before. But then he’s never only had Yunho as the last remaining member of his family, either.

From the bunk behind them, an awake Dongwoo calls out, “When can we leave this room?” He sits up, surprising Sunggyu that he’s even awake at all, and rubs some sleep from his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m super thankful to be here and be alive, but these same walls are driving me crazy. They’re driving Sunggyu crazy too, even if he won’t admit it.”

Sunggyu is forced to give an agreeing nod. At first the walls felt like a prison, then they felt like shelter. Now they just feel like borrowed time.

Yunho’s face frowns, then he says, “It’ll only be for a short time more. Once the last ship of the fleet meets up with us later tonight, the captain will address everyone on this ship and let them know what our plans are. You’ll likely be allowed to move around after that, in specific areas, of course, but it’ll be better than being confined to quarters right now. Just hold on a little longer. This time tomorrow you might be taking meals in the mess and hanging out in the rec areas with other people your age. You’ll feel a little normal again.”

How can Sunggyu care about chatting with potential friends now that almost everyone he knows is dead? The world wide death toll must be in the billions at this point. Sunggyu has better things to do than size up what’s left of his age bracket’s dating pool.

“Be patient,” Yunho says again, cupping the side of Sunggyu’s face in such an open show of affection that Sunggyu only stands there and appreciates it. If the world hadn’t ended, or they’d been anywhere else, he would have pulled away. But Yunho is all he has left now. Yunho is the whole of his family, and Sunggyu loves him so much he endures his affectionate brother. It’s a small price to pay to make Yunho happy.

“Be safe,” Sunggyu tells him in return.

Then Yunho is gone, off to his duties, and Sunggyu is left with Dongwoo for the rest of the day.

Exactly like Yunho said, by the next morning Sunggyu can see an extra ship outside the port window, one more than the seven that have been sailing along side their own ship for the past few days. They’re chugging ahead at what feels like top speed, burning through fuel faster than Sunggyu thinks is advisable, but he doesn’t really know what their level of resources is.

And it’s only a short time after that when Sunggyu finds himself and Dongwoo being led, along with what seems like the whole of the ship, to the only area enough to house everyone in a comfortable fashion--towards a large gymnasium type room.

Sunggyu and Dongwoo end up seated on the floor in the front of the massive group, surrounded by other people their age, and all of the younger children. The adults file in behind them, standing in rows of what looks decidedly like a high school assembly formation, while officers and soldiers line the walls. Sunggyu spots Yunho easily, and then Suho. He looks hard for Changmin, who is his brother’s bunkmate and friend, while the stragglers arrive, but no matter what, Sunggyu can’t find him.

The only logical conclusions is that Changmin isn’t on the ship. And if he isn’t on the ship, Sunggyu knows what that means. His brother must be hurting so badly, and Changmin can’t be the only friend he’s lost from the ship.

Captain Nam is exceedingly imposing, face all hard features, with broad shoulders, an impressive build and the kind of presence that reeks of authority. Part of Sunggyu is a little scared of the man, but another part of him is thankful. The captain, for as scary as he seems to be, also looks capable and strong.

“By now,” Captain Nam starts, his voice clear and loud enough that everyone quiets almost immediately, “you are all aware of the tragedy that has occurred. Some of you were witness to that very tragedy. The details are still limited, but as it stands now, we and the few others that have managed to find safety, are the last remaining South Koreans. Our numbers are precariously low, and in fact we are on the cusp of becoming an endangered species.”

For as engaging a speaker as the captain is, Sunggyu finds his eyes wandering. Some of the adults, all of them civilians, are blotting wet eyes. There are children openly sniffling, some even crying. And the few present seniors look exceptionally unsteady. The soldiers hold their guns tightly, everyone is tense, and if this is what remains of the people Sunggyu will likely see for the rest of his life, he doesn’t have high hopes that they’re strong enough. He doesn’t think he himself is strong enough.

But then, almost miraculously, as the captain begins speaking about courage and fortitude, Sunggyu sees him. He sees the boy that he spotted only a few days ago, though it feels like years ago. He’s seated far to the left, on the floor, legs crossed under him. His eyes are glued to the captain, but he doesn’t look awed like so many of the people around them. In fact, there’s an odd sort of contempt on his face, or dissatisfaction. Whatever the emotion is, Sunggyu can read it as unhappiness, and not just with the situation.

“Right now,” Captain Nam says loudly, drawing Sunggyu back, “we’re on our way to rendezvous with several foreign surviving fleets. This will take several days, and as I know a great deal of you are not used to being at sea, or on such a restrictive vessel, you will be allowed to move freely into designated areas until we reach our rendezvous point. This is a privilege I’m granting to you, not a right. Keep that in mind.”

Sunggyu thinks he hears the beautiful boy scoff. His eyes widen and he finds himself leaning towards him.

“Sunggyu.” Dongwoo taps his thigh lightly, voice low.

“What about our families!” someone from the crowd shouts.

Another calls out, “We can’t leave them behind. The children!”

“That isn’t an option right now,” The captain says. “The situation on the mainland is inadvisable.”

“Take us back!” someone demands.

Again, the captain says no, and this time, something in the air shifts.

The crowd surges forward unexpectedly and Sunggyu finds himself sprawled out on the ground. He can hear even more shouting, demands for them to return and help South Korea. Sunggyu tries to get his hands under him, and push himself up, but everything explodes into panic and chaos and Sunggyu gets lost in it.

“Dongwoo!” Sunggyu tries to lunge for him, but someone trips over his bent form, sending him crashing back to the floor.

Gunfire cracks, people scream, and Sunggyu doesn’t understand.

They’re survivors. They are the few and the very lucky that have managed to escape the reaper’s reach. They have food to eat, places to sleep, and a few of them, the precious few, have family left alive. There are plenty of things to be grateful for. And most of them lead back to the captain.

So Sunggyu doesn’t understand why people are rioting around him. Do they think their behavior will make the captain want to turn the ship around? Do they think this behavior will get them anything they want or need?

Sunggyu takes a foot to the ribs, hopefully unintentionally, and can’t help calling out for his brother. He can’t breathe, he can’t move, and it seems like Yunho is the only one who can help him. Yunho is certainly the only one he wants.

More gunfire.

Sunggyu sees people pushing into soldiers, fighting with them, and overtaking some of them.

From his position on the floor, Sunggyu looks desperately for Yunho among the soldiers. If anyone hurts his brother, Sunggyu swears he’ll kill them.

Someone reaches down and pulls him up roughly, hands locking under his arms and dragging him off his feet so quickly that he can’t get his balance.

All he can think is that the rioting crowd isn’t just turning on the soldiers. Now they’re turning on each other. They’re attacking him now. He’s being targeted, for whatever reason, and he has to defend himself now.

Sunggyu lashes out, throwing a punch. He shouts, “Get away from me!” and then he fights.

“Knock it off!” the guy on him shouts, shaking him. It isn’t Yunho and that’s all Sunggyu needs to know. If it isn’t Yunho, it’s a threat.

Something hits him hard in the head. It’s hard enough to almost take him out completely. He’s immediately disoriented in the aftermath, barely aware that he’s being moved, his feet almost dragging across the room. He can still hear people shouting, others screaming, and then his senses dull out.

When he comes back to himself, some time later, Sunggyu is aware of the startling realization that he’s lying on something soft. His head is elevated, the space is quiet around him, and a soft hand is pushing back his bangs, fingers smoothing across his forehead.

“You with us now?” a gruff voice asks.

Sunggyu cracks his eyes open and tilts his head. There’s some residual pain in his head, evidence that something hit him, but all he can concentrate on is the innocent, boyish face above him.

“What’s going on?” Sunggy asks, swallowing dryly. He’s confused and unsure, but he doesn’t feel threatened anymore.

“You took a knock to the head,” the rough voice says, and a second later Sunggyu can see that it belongs to a tall, stocky looking teen. He’s got a hard look to his face and power in his body, but he doesn’t seem overly unkind. And it’s starting to look like he may have saved Sunggyu.

“Who hit me?”

The hand belonging to the soft looking boy sitting next to Sunggyu, the one running his fingers delicately across his forehead, stops abruptly. Something guilty flushes across his face and the boy says, “I hit you. On accident. I’m really sorry.”

It takes both the new males to get Sunggyu up into a better position before he can ask, “Tell me what happened.” Then he pauses, and says, “My name is Sunggyu. Who are you two?”

The bigger, older of the two boys is named Hoya, and the younger, petite one is Sungjong.

The room around them is a single occupant cabin, with a softer bed than the one in Yunho’s, and a bigger window streaming beams of sun across Sunggyu’s legs.

“It was chaotic,” Hoya says, a grimace on his face. “First everyone was turning on the military, then they started attacking each other. I saw you across the room. Someone ran into you, at least that looked like an accident, and you went down pretty hard. You got separated from the guy who seemed to be your friend, and I went to help you.” Hoya’s jaw sets. “You didn’t seem to appreciate my help, all that much. I tried to pull you off the floor and you mistook me for attacking you.”

Sunggyu winces and says, “I’m sorry. I was confused.”

Sungjong pulls a knee up to his chest and adds, “I thought you were hurting Hoya. I was scared. So I hit you. I was trying to help him.”

Sunggyu brings a hand up to the side of his head. His skull is a lifesaver in its firmness, but there’s a distinctly tender area. “With what?”

Sungjong’s blush deepens. “My shoe.”

Suddenly Dongwoo’s face floods Sunggyu’s memory and he’s begging, “Did you see the guy who was with me? His name is Dongwoo.”

“I lost him in the crowd,” Hoya says, not at all sounding sorry. “I had to get us out of there. The military looked five seconds away from turning their guns on the crowd, instead of just firing off the warning shots they had been. I grabbed you, and Sungjong and I pulled us in here. I’m still not sure it’s safe to go out there just yet. I think it’ll be safe to assume we’re now under martial law.”

Sunggyu takes a steadying breath and says, “I don’t really care what it’s like out there. My friend is now missing and so is my brother. My brother is an officer on this ship. He’s probably one of the people that was getting attacked. I have to make sure he’s okay. I have to go try and find him.”

Hoya shakes his head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Excuse me?” Sunggyu’s eyes narrow.

Hoya says once more, “It isn’t safe out there. The soldiers are all worked up and they might shoot on sight. And the other people are so panicked they might attack the first person they come across without discrimination of any sort. I have Sungjong under my care and no one knows we’re in here. If anyone sees you going out there, or traces you back to here, you could endanger him. I won’t let you do that. We’re waiting here until the Captain makes an announcement over the PA system.”

There is nothing but absolute seriousness on Hoya’s face, and the way he’s blocking the door tells Sunggyu that he’s not playing around. Everything indicates that Sunggyu isn’t getting past Hoya.

Sunggyu turns to Sungjong and asks, “How old are you, kid?” It’s impossible to pin his age down just by looking at him. He could be ten or eleven, or maybe younger, but Sunggyu can’t be sure.

“I’m twelve,” Sungjong says, like he’s used to his age being a topic. “Twelve.”

It takes only five or so more minutes for Sunggyu to determine and Hoya and Sungjong are somewhat of a package deal. Hoya’s more than a little protective, and his eyes hardly ever leave Sungjong’s form.

It prompts Sunggyu to ask them, “How’d you two end up together?”

The awkward silence that follows almost makes Sunggyu regret asking.

Then Hoya says, “My parents own a tourist boat. We take people out for one-day fishing trips. We were parked in the harbor, getting ready for the day. My dad went to town quickly to pick up a few things for us and I was just taking the boat out for a quick run when the infected reached where I was. I couldn’t help anyone on shore, but I was pulling everyone out of the water that I could, at least until my boat hit its capacity.”

Dryly, Sunggyu dares to ask, “What about your family?” He already suspects he knows that answer.

Hoya crosses his arms and leans back against the cabin’s door. “I never saw my father again, and there was no way I could reach my mother in the city. Or my two brothers. Trying to go look for them and find them would have meant dying, and risking all the people I’d saved so far.”

At first it seems like Hoya is oddly lacking emotion. He’s admitting that his whole family is gone, wiped out by what some of the other people on the ship are calling zombies, and yet there is no remorse on his face or proof of loss. And then upon a second glance Sunggyu can really see the way Hoya is holding himself tightly, the worry lines at his mouth, and the way he refuses to look Sunggyu in his eyes.

Hoya isn’t unfeeling or uncaring. No, he’s clearly just barely holding himself together.

“What about you?” Sunggyu asks Sungjong. “Did Hoya pull you out of the water?” It is a horrifying thought that some people are more at peace with the idea of drowning than being infected. There is nothing easy about drowning.

Instead of Sungjong, it’s Hoya who says, “Some people knew about the infection. In South Korea, I mean.” Sunggyu watches Sungjong who’s eyes grow distant as Hoya speaks. “Some of the government workers, the high up ones, knew the infection had spread to South Korea and that it was too late to save the country. They got out early. Sungjong’s father was one of the scientists who stayed back to try and work on a vaccine until the last possible second. He cut it close, but there was a way out waiting for him and Sungjong when Seoul fell.”

Shakily, voice cracking, Sungjong says, “They made my dad choose. They said he had to come, or no one got to, and they made him chose the one person he could bring with him. I had three sisters and a brother.”

Had.

Sunggyu doesn’t want to know how a parent can make such a decision. It seems one of the impossible questions of life.

Hoya nods to Sungjong and says, “We actually ended up here at the same time. His father went off to work with the other scientists on board, the ones working with the Americans, the French and the Australians. Some of the other kids thought they could push Sungjong around.”

“My brother said not to cause trouble,” Sunggyu says, his headache slowly receding. “We’re here by Captain Nam’s good graces. Any trouble and I don’t think he’ll hesitate to throw people off his ship.”

Hoya scoffs loudly. “If that’s the case then I think he’s going to be tossing a lot of people overboard today.” A second more and Hoya adds, “If this is it, if this is the last of the South Korean population, I’m not going to stand for the world being left to bunch of bullies. They thought Sungjong would be fun to push around because he’s young, and because he got to safety based on his father’s occupation. I’m not going to stand for something as stupid as that, not one bit.”

It’s the kind of statement that makes Sunggyu’s chest tighten a little, and remind him of his brother.

“I …” he starts, locking eyes with Hoya for the first time, “I’m only alive because of my brother. I should have been on shore with everyone else who died. But my brother wanted to show me his ship, and the bridge, and I’m alive because of him. I didn’t even want to come visit him at first.”

“As far as I’m concerned, “Hoya states, “it doesn’t matter how someone ended up here. It doesn’t matter how they survived. What matters is that they did. They’re alive and they’re what’s left of us as a species. So everyone needs to grow up and start acting like they care about each other. We’re only going to make it if we care about each other.”

“You’re right,” Sunggyu says, because out of all the things that he’s heard said in the past few days, this is the thing that he feels in his bones. They have to care about each other. They have to take care of each other. They have to work together.

Something loud clatters in the hallway and the three of them freeze. It seems as if Hoya is seconds away from using himself as a barricade on the door, and with Sungjong looking terrified on the cot, Sunggyu wraps an arm around him in comfort.

“We’ll be okay,” Sunggyu hears himself saying. Sungjong shakes in fear as another sharp sound echoes through the door, this time closer.

“Here,” Hoya says, pulling a slim device out of his back pocket. He tosses it at Sungjong who catches it awkwardly, and says, “Get your mind off whatever it going on out there. No one is getting in here. Play some Angry Birds.”

It’s actually the first cell phone Sunggyu has seen in days. Phones were confiscated at the beginning of visitor’s week, as a safety precaution, and something tells Sunggyu he’s never seeing his again.

“You have a phone?” Sunggyu demands. “Why haven’t you tried to call anyone yet? You should be on it right now!”

Sungjong’s fingers fly over the screen as Hoya says, “Firstly, I’ve been trying to conserve my battery. I don’t exactly have a charger with me. And secondly, there’s no signal. There hasn’t been a signal since hours before fell apart. That’s just a glowing hunk of brick right now, or it’ll be a dull brick as soon as the battery runs out. There’s no one manning the towers right now, Sunggyu. There’s no one making sure the signal stays alive. All those people are dead already.”

Two firm, loud knocks sound on the door and Hoya all but throws him against it. Sunggyu clamps his mouth shut and the phone goes black. None of them do anything but breathe.

Another knock echoes, followed by a rank designation, and Sunggyu says, “Open the door, Hoya.”

Hoya snaps, “No way.”

“Hoya!” Sunggyu throws himself to his feet, and he has the element of surprise. He’s able to get just enough leverage on Hoya and push him out of the way and throw open the door.

“Sunggyu,” Suho says with obvious relief the second he sees him. He puts a heavy hand on the door and continues, “I was hoping I’d find you holed up in one of these rooms. A lot of people have been hiding, waiting for the chaos to die down. You’re the fifth group of people I’ve found like this.”

“It’s okay,” Sunggyu says to Hoya, ignoring the scathing look sent his way. “This is Suho. He’s my brother’s friend.”

“What happened?” Sungjong asks from inside the cabin, and Suho takes a full step inside to answer.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Suho assures. “But I’m going to the three of you to your designated bunks. You’re to stay there until Captain Nam says otherwise.”

Sunggyu presses, “What happened, Suho?”

“Frankly,” Suho laughs out, but it’s a forced laugh, “there are far more civilians than soldiers on this ship, and when the lot of you get riled up, it’s hard to get control of the situation. Things got out of control. We got it back. Everything is fine.”

“You shoot anyone to get that control back?” Hoya asks flatly.

Suho replies back, “The only injures were minimal. Cuts and bruises. The civilians who were most resistant to calming down are taking a breather in the brig. But Captain Nam understands that the behavior of a few does not reflect the mindset of all. So after everyone has had some time to cool off, he’ll reevaluate the situation. But for now, you all need to follow me back to your assigned bunks. And Sunggyu, your brother has been out of his mind with worry.”

At the mention of Yunho, Sunggyu almost falls over himself, asking, “Is Yunho okay?”

“He’s fine,” Suho assures. “Now stick close. Anyone out there without an is going to have a hard time explaining themselves.”

Hoya and Sungjong end up being taken to their bunks before Sunggyu, and it’s somewhat of an eye opening experience. Sunggyu has spent the past few days feeling a heavy sense of claustrophobia, being forced into Yunho’s quarters with Dongwoo. The space is small at best. But it’s a great deal better than where Hoya and Sungjong are staying. Because Sungjong and Hoya are relegated to a room with four bunks squished into a space half the size of the two that are in Yunho’s.

Two of the bunks, by the time they reach the compact area, are already filled, one with a middle aged man, and the other with one only slightly younger than them.

“Hey,” Sunggyu says before they part, kind of desperate to hold onto his two new acquaintances, not that he knows why. “If this imposed isolation ends soon, and the captain makes good on his word to let us into the rec areas on the ship, we should find each other again.”

“Come on,” Suho says, pulling at Sunggyu’s elbow.

“Okay!” Sungjong replies right away, plopping down on a lower bunk. Hoya sits down gingerly next to him and seems to be in agreement, even if it’s the silent kind. Sungjon waves. “Bye. Sunggyu!”

It takes less than five minutes for Suho to walk Sunggyu to Yunho’s cabin, and in the time they’re on the move, not a word passes between them. No matter how much Sunggyu wants to ask the questions that have been swirling around in his head.

In fact he doesn’t say anything to Suho about anything until the door to his cabin is pulled open and Dongwoo is not there to greet him. The empty cabin is like a heavy stone settling in Sunggyu’s stomach, making him feel a little light headed.

“In you go,” Suho says, more than a little preoccupied.

But Sunggyu holds his ground at the threshold, refusing to be pushed into the small space. Not as long as it’s empty. He asks, “Where’s Dongwoo?”

Suho leans forward to peer into the cabin, then says, “It’s possible he’s still tucked away somewhere else on the ship. In a matter of seconds everyone who wasn’t getting belligerent and violent made a run for it. Don’t worry about it. He’ll turn up.”

But fear is grasping at Sunggyu’s throat with an icy hand and Sunggyu leans into Suho’s space, asking, “Were there casualties?”

“People were hurt today,” Suho responds carefully.

“No,” Sunggyu says, eyes narrowing. “I asked if there were casualties.”

When Suho gives him a pleading look, it’s all the answer Sunggyu needs.

Sunggyu sits heavily on the bed in the bunk, breathing out evenly, trying to calm his thudding heart. People have died today. There’ve been casualties because of thoughtless actions, and Dongwoo may be one of them.

“I have to know if he’s okay,” Sunggyu says, not caring what he sounds like. “Dongwoo is my responsibility now.”

“Your responsibility is to yourself,” Suho corrects. His voice drops as he bends to tell Sunggyu, “I know you think this kid is your friend, and friends are good to have on this ship. But don’t ever forget you need to look out for yourself before anyone else. Things are … dangerous right now. Very dangerous. And the captain may have looked like he was keeping his cool earlier, but some of those casualties happened post riot. So I’m telling you, Sunggyu, for your brother’s sake, that the captain has ordered all civilians to their quarters, and if you value your safety, and your brother’s, you will abide by those orders. Your brother doesn’t need to lose anyone else he loves.”

Sunggyu’s eyes can’t help flicking back to Changmin’s empty bunk. “Is he dead? Changmin?”

Suho’s shoulders slump. “Can’t imagine he isn’t. He got cleared to leave the base during the maneuvers to head out and visit his girlfriend. He was probably right in the heart of it when it happened. We’re trained soldiers, trained to be the best and survive the worst. But these infected …”

Sunggyu grinds out, believing every word, “Dongwoo wouldn’t cause trouble. He didn’t start that riot and he didn’t participate. But if something happened to him …”

Suho assures, “I still have a lot of places to look before I can report to my superior. There are still a ton of other people who could find him. The best thing you can do for him right now, and yourself, is to wait here and do as you’re told. Your brother will come see you as soon as he can, and when he does if Dongwoo isn’t found by then, he’ll be able to help you.”

There really is nothing else that Sunggyu can do. He knows logically that Jonghyun is right, and that he has to keep in place. But the worry eats away at him like rot, and it’s almost overwhelming.

The rest of the day Dongwoo doesn’t turn up. Sunggyu lays on Yunho’s bed, hands folded across his stomach, and stares up at the pictures Yunho has taped to the ceiling above him. Sunggyu’s eyes trace the photos of himself and Yunho as children, their parents, the last real vacation they took, and all the other snapshots that can be fitted into such a small space. And after this becomes tedious Sunggyu digs through Yunho’s personal possessions, dragging out a few paperback books that help to pass the time.

It’s not nearly enough to keep his mind at bay, but as an unfamiliar soldier delivers a meal to Sunggyu later on, and he eats the meal alone, it becomes still all he can do.

Sunggyu drifts off to sleep frustrated and in low spirits. He’s alone now, truly for the first time, and it’s terrifying. In fact, he decides, there’s absolutely nothing worse than being alone now. Alone and in the dark.