“Jaebum, are you listening to me?”

The windows were covered with blankets.

“Jaebum.”

The door was locked.

“Jaebum.”

It didn’t stop the screams from filtering into their house, louder than the TV, which was spouting information on the new virus, the new world-wide epidemic.

“What do you want?” he whispered, and Jaebum’s father sighed.

“I want you to listen to me, son.  The world outside it about to get very dangerous, and you need to be prepared, you hear me?”  Jaebum didn’t answer.  “Society will fall apart and governments will crumble and many will survive, but not for long.  It will be your job to save them, Jaebum.  Your job to prepare them for this world.”

“What if I don’t want to.”

“You have no choice.  I’m taking you to Raven’s Nest today, and you’ll see what I’ve set up for you and Suho.  He’s to act as your advisor, and for the moment, the face of Raven’s Nest.  People will think you too young, and while the people I’ve put in place should be loyal and stay with you, for you, Suho will be able to calm the rising tides of rebellion.  Until things have calmed down and the compound is in a state of productive progress, you will need to stay behind the scenes, working on helping Suho and thinking through what you’ll do when you become president.”  His father encountered a sudden fit of shivers, and rubbed his arms vigorously.  Jaebum stood, face and jaw set.

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why me, father?  Why not someone older, or more experienced.  Someone who wants to do this.”

“Because you’re the only one that can.”  Jaebum tried not to show weakness, tried not to let his internal affairs effect his countenance.

“What if I can’t?”  His father gazed back at him calmly, and Jaebum tried not to think of the bite mark hidden under his father’s long sleeve, the one that now forced all this responsibility onto him.

“You will, and you will do it well, because the world is going to need something to cling to.  Besides, being the leader of a new, developing world is going to make you into some sort of celebrity; doesn’t that sound nice?”  Jaebum tried to smile, show his love for his ailing father, and retain a strong composure all at the same time, before replying.

“You know I’m not the kind of person that would get famous.”

The sky was spinning.

The dirt was cool.

They were inert.

Jackson was in pain.

He didn’t know what Mark was, but knew it wasn’t good.

He grunted and pulled himself free of his seat and seatbelt, falling out the window.  He took a moment to stand properly, look around, and notice that his eyes seemed to be working in his favor.  He bent down, felt dizzy, but grabbed his crowbar anyways, feeling safer with it in his hands.

He stumbled around to the passenger side, which was the mostly uncrushed part.

The truck had hit the tree, rolled, and landed upside down.  Funny.  With it, Jackson’s life also seemed to do a barrel roll.  And the upside down part.  That too.

Mark was hanging by his seatbelt, unmoving.  Jackson felt a quick jolt of fear and impulsively searched for a pulse, gingerly pressing on the part of Mark’s neck directly beneath the jawbone.

Bum-ba-bum, bum-ba-bum…

“Thank you,” Jackson said to no one in particular, breathing out a chunky breath and stifling a whoop of joy.  “Thank you!”

He unbuckled Mark carefully and dragged him out, looking around him for any sign of rotters.  Luckily, there was none.

They had been awfully lucky.

Not that he was complaining.

Mark was heavy on his shoulders, and he had to leave his crowbar behind, along with everything else.  Everything besides his gun and his friend’s machete, because he was sure Mark would want that when he awoke.  He had earned it.

With that, and Mark on his back, Jackson set off, following the road they were supposed to take.  He allowed himself one more chance to curse before they got there, and did so as he more securely hoisted his friend’s legs around him.

“Riverside is too ing long a road.”

And then they were plunged into silence, because he had no idea how much longer he’d have to walk, and he wasn’t prepared to waste energy talking to an unconscious boy.

After what felt like hours, he’d decided several things.

It was too hot.

He was thirstier than he’d ever been in his life.

And Mark needed to lose weight.

Or shrink, or something like that.

To think he didn’t look heavy; it was deceiving.

Riverside was deceiving, honestly; from the truck, it didn’t all that rough, but on the ground it was bumpy and pitted with potholes.  But at the end of it was supposed to be Raven’s Nest, and that was supposed to be worth it.

Jackson at some point tipped to the side and stumbled off the road into the brush.  He huffed out a delirious breath and caught himself on a tree, stopping to catch his breath.  What he saw when he looked down, though, stopped him altogether.

A ravine, deep and narrow, cut the landscape mere feet in front of Jackson.  He almost just sent them both over and into it, never to climb out.

They’d almost fallen to their deaths.

Jackson shoved himself away and puffed as he worked his way back to the road.  And he kept walking.  Walking.  Walking.  Walking with his head down proved easier because the gravel sped by beneath him, and looking up only proved to make his miserable.  The trees were going by so slowly.

A .

Jackson stopped and breathed out something half- laugh, half-sob.  He glanced up and saw a rotter next to an abandoned car; it’d noticed them and was on its way, and he reached for his gun.

The first bullet hit its chest and the second ricocheted off the car door behind it, sending the bullet back at Jackson.  He hissed as it clipped his arm, and he looked down to see blood.  At this point, he didn’t really like blood.

The third brought the rotter to its knees.

Along with Jackson.

He was so tired.

It was unreal.

He couldn’t remember ever being so tired.

It was so nice just to kneel motionless, to breath for a moment.

.

Jackson opened his eyes to find himself face-down on the road, Mark slipping off his back slowly.  He turned and saw a rotter stumble to them, and used his last bullet to take it out.  No more gun.  No more closing his eyes.

He almost just shot himself; he almost just fell asleep.

Not allowed.

Jackson stood without Mark, noting how much easier it was to move without him.  He stretched, yawned, and slumped over, just thinking about how easy it would be to leave him, to just let him sleep himself to death on the street.

But then he remembered; there’s no future without Mark.  There’s no beautiful post-apocalypse.  Not without him.  Jackson had promised, promised both of them, that he’d never let Mark die without sleeping in a real bed and eating breakfast when he awoke.  Mark deserved that at the very least.  And Jackson felt that he deserved to live it with him.

So he stretched once more and looked around, looked up to see it.

Raven’s Nest.  Standing strong in the distance; tall and ironwork and beautiful.

He looked down at Mark, relief and joy and a mixture of elation rising in his throat and he wanted to shout but was too tired to do so; this is what I get for never leaving you.  That was just yet another reward.  That, and being happy.

How he had ever contemplated leaving him, Jackson couldn’t comprehend.

Hefting the heavy weight back onto his back, he dropped the empty gun and stumbled.

He stumbled, half-blind and half-dead to the gates, and took note of only one thing as he did:

Mark wasn’t so heavy anymore.