This fic is coming to an end.  Are you sad?  I don't know if I really am.  I'll finally be able to sleep at night instead of imagining rotters come out of my closet or eat my face.  On the bright side, this fic was so fun to write and I really feel like I've grown a bit.  I hope you all have enjoyed it as much as I have.  It's not over yet, though, so enjoy the last few chapters while you can.

Jinyoung was cold.

He was freezing and seeing mumblers stumble between the trees after him didn’t really spark courage, or confidence.  He had already tried to get away from them for the past hour, but stiff joints and frozen limbs only moved him so fast, and they didn’t need to be fast, they had the endurance and the limitless energy to keep going for… forever.

Jinyoung didn’t have that.

What he did have was a clear shot through the woods to an establishment he could see from miles away.  He had spotted it a while back and decided that at the very least he could have his back covered while he tried to dispatch the growing tail he was developing.

At the very most, it was an actual settlement, and he was saved.

But hope had been heavy and useless as of late, and he tried not to carry it too far.

It was a run-down wall that would shield his back for the time being and afterwards he would thank that wall before returning to feeling himself freeze.  That was it.

But approaching it, near collapse and barely able to feel his fingers, Jinyoung saw a sentry perched high above him and realized that this was either the moment he got shot, or the moment he was plucked from Hell to sit in Heaven.

“Hey,” he squeaked, and didn’t know just how unused his voice was until he heard its pathetic ring.  “Hey.”  It was louder.  “Hey!”

The guard looked down at him and immediately shouted something to someone else.  He had a brief moment of pure aloofness, before the man above aimed his gun at him.

Jinyoung saw him click off the safety and he started to wave his hands, trying to show he wasn’t dead.  He was alive and he wanted to stay that way.  He tried to shout again, but only choked on his dry throat.  The guard pulled the trigger and Jinyoung didn’t have enough time to see his life flash before his eyes, nor did he have to.

A mumbler dropped behind him, and he did a spin, seeing how close it was to him, how deaf he was to its presence.  How blind.

He ran the rest of the way, tripping twice before reaching the man that was waiting at the entrance.

Jinyoung sobbed for the first time in forever, and as the shots rang behind him, ticking off mumblers one by one, he cried and in turn cried in joy for the tears that froze on his face.  Because they showed him that there were still things about him that were warm.

It showed him that not everything inside him had turned to ice.

Mark didn’t know what to do.  He was dizzy and everything appeared fuzzy in front of him.  Driving was precarious, it was dangerous, and a whole lot more adjectives for crazy that he couldn’t think of.  Because of his current condition, no less.

Jackson didn’t seem much better, he had to admit.  But at least the other wasn’t driving.

One day after Youngjae’s disappearance and they had been okay.

Two and they were two days away.

Three and they were sleeping more than they were driving.

Four?  The world was tipping and the road was making turns it wasn’t supposed to be taking.

They alternated drivers every couple hours so that the other could sleep, but they had reached a point where they just couldn’t fall asleep soundly.  They were worried they wouldn’t wake up, worried that the awake one would fall asleep too.

Worried that just worrying wasn’t going to keep them going much longer.

“Mark,” Jackson mumbled, and reached over to poke his friend.

“What?”

“It’s my turn.”

“Okay.”

They stopped the truck and for perhaps the millionth time, Mark felt lucky that their road was empty, clear, free of anything more than a few fleshies.  Their gas light was red and they were on Riverside, but after hours of woods it was getting hypnotic just staring into the trees, he had several times drifted.

He was glad he had a chance to close his eyes.  Jackson was better at focusing than he was.  It was reassuring.

Kind of.  Even the strongest of boats sank.  Take the Titanic, for example.

Was Jackson like the titanic, or was their life like it?

If so, Mark called being the iceberg.  He didn’t want to die.

He didn’t think Jackson did either, but he could be the part of the iceberg that was hidden beneath the surface and Mark could be the top part.  Jackson was sturdy and a supporter, and Mark was just the visual, the supported.  He didn’t mind it like that.  It meant Jackson would never leave him.

“Move, Mark.”  He remembered he was supposed to be switching seats and climbed past his friend to the passenger seat, slowly.  He just didn’t have the energy.

Crap.  It was his turn to drive again.

Jackson slapped his face and stomped his feet.  Trying to smile and get the happy chemicals flowing only made him tired, and he resorted to imagining a burger around each turn in the road.  That worked until he actually started seeing burgers, and he decided to stop.

“Mark?”

No response.  He looked over and saw the other sleeping, perhaps for the first time in two days.  Jackson hadn’t slept in about three.

“Okay, Mark; you sleep.  Sleep well.”  He yawned.  “Good night.”

Something about saying those words made him even more exhausted, and he punched the dashboard a couple times to get something besides ‘tired’ coursing through his veins.  A little pain only sharpened his vision, which didn’t mean much.

He was still seeing dancing cheeseburgers.

It was worrying, to say the least.

“Goshdarnit, Mark.”  He started to talk to stay awake., regardless of his sleeping companion.  “You know, I’m trying not to swear as much.  Or, I’m trying not to use the lord’s name in vain.  For you, you know?  I’m trying.  I always try.  I really do, trust me.  I promise.  Really.”  The street wasn’t even a street anymore; it was a dirt path.

“I miss Youngjae.  I know we knew him for a day or something like that, but doesn’t it seem like more?  He was so, so… pure in a way, you know?  He was positive but logical, and saw what was going on and what was going to happen and embraced it.  I wish I could do that, instead of fighting so much.  But is that really so bad?”  Midday was hot, but with their window permanently ‘down,’ it wasn’t so bad.

“Remember what he said when we first met him?  When we asked why he didn’t try breaking the window?  He said he wanted to die himself, not a rotter.  Err, he said bumbler, but same thing.”  Jackson brushed a tear from his cheek, unsure if it was there because of Youngjae or his dry eyes.

“He wanted to die himself, and he wanted to die with someone, not alone.  And look at what happened.  Everything he didn’t want to happen, happened.  He lost BamBam.  He died alone.  And he probably died a rotter, or whatever the hell he called them-bumblers…  Oh, sorry, pretend I said ‘heck,’ not hell.”  He cracked his fingers.

“Isn’t it ironic how miserable this world is?  Why do we try so hard and live; I mean, if we acknowledge that it’s terrible and that it’s not worth the pain, why do we keep going?  Why do we do anything?”  A bird outside the truck chirped.

“Unless that’s why we fight.  We do things because amidst the pain and the hurt, our achievements feel like so much more to us.  Like you, Mark.”  Jackson glanced over and had to catch himself before he began to stare.

“In the normal, err, pre-apocalypse world, making friends with you would mean hanging out at the bar twice a week and inviting the other over to a barbecue twice a year.  After all this, I don’t think it could ever be like that again, Mark, not for anyone.  People will never be able to be like that, ever, and I’m sure it all for the same reason, the reason I have for myself.  It’s because after living this life and this way, I can’t imagine one day without you.”  Mark muttered something in his sleep and shifted, his mouth open wide.

Jackson thought of their kiss, and laughed when remembering the argument.  Arguing, because of something so stupid, sounded insane now.  It was nothing in the grand scheme of things, nothing important, and they had argued like children.

It amused him to think of it.

It pained him to think of it, because he wasn’t sure they were going to be able to share such carefree, fun times with each other again (being sober, of course, and not kissing).  Still, it was nice to know he wasn’t dying without experiencing the finer points of the apocalypse.  Without experiencing Mark; Mark and his friendship and his company and his love and his overall Mark-ness.

Wait.

Dying?

Since when?

Since Jackson had let the truck swerve off the road.

Since he let the wheel go out of pure, blind exhaustion.

Since they were heading for a tree, Jackson decided to pray, and prayed with every bit of his soul to Mark’s God, because he didn’t have to strength to steer them away in time; because he didn't have anyone of his own to pray to.

And because Mark’s God was supposed to work miracles in mere moments.

Hey, I hope you're not bothered by all the God stuff.  I happen to be christian, but I know that many people aren't, and I'm trying to have there be a realistic feel to this fic for the most part.  Chances are one of the members of Got7 members would be christian or at least religious in my alternate universe-thingie, and I figured that Mark kind of fit the bill, especially with plot and affect and everything for this story.  Also, Jackson hasn't converted or anything, it's just that because of his affections for Mark, he tends to do things Mark does and does things for Mark, more than because of him.

Not only that, but I'm pretty sure there would be two defined groups of people in the apocalypse (and obviously more, but I feel people would fall into either this or that opinion): the people that believe God is dead (or never was real), because 'how could he let all this happen?'  And then there would be the people who are strengthened by the thought of an omniscient being watching over them.  I don't know, I feel like humanity would kinda of split in that regard.  I'm not saying sorry for mentioning God, I'm just hoping you're not bothered by it.  :D

I hope you're ready for the second last chapter, because it's the last long-ish chapter in this fic.

Love you!