The end was fast. No drawn out discussions, no threats or demands. No frantic television messages broadcast in many languages. There were no warnings of any kind. The end was brutal, hard and totally unexpected. No one had the chance to hide, to run, to panic. Instead people died where they stood -- at work, at home, walking, shopping, sunbathing in the park.
No one knew what had caused the explosions that destroyed so much -- obliterating buildings big and small, levelling shopping malls, and causing the ocean to swell, waves impossibly high. The few survivors talked of seeing the sun blocked for a few seconds, plunging them into darkness before streaks of light shot across the sky. Some talked of scarlet flames, others, beams of intense light. But whatever the description, they all agreed that that was when the world began to end -- when they stood terrified as civilisation was destroyed before their eyes.
Some would say that they were the fortunate ones, the ones that, due to luck or skill, had managed to survive -- but were they? Some would say that the lucky ones were the ones that had died, never to know the pain of looking for dead friends and family, or the hellish fight for survival in a lawless world. The dead were spared the grief of a woman scrabbling in the rubble of her child's kindergarten, desperate to find her son, despite knowing there was no way he could be alive. The dead couldn't see the old man holding his wife in his arms -- together for so many years -- having to watch as she died in agony, with no way to help.
Could you be considered lucky after going through such emotion? Should you count your blessings for surviving if that survival made your life hell on a daily basis, seeing pain and suffering on a grand scale? It was a question that many would ask themselves in the harsh years ahead. For the survivors of Cascade, there was no easy answer. They'd lived. Now they had to keep living, and for some, that was the hardest thing of all.
***
"I'll have a chicken salad, no mayo on wholemeal. What about you Jim?" Directing a last smile at the counter assistant, Joel turned towards Jim when no answer was forthcoming. "Jim? Jim, you listening to me?" Looking at his friend, Joel could see that the man was listening, but not to him. Head turned slightly to the side, Jim seemed to be concentrating on something only he could hear. It was a familiar pose, one that suggested that Jim was about to go tearing from the premises, leaving Joel to get food to go and attempt to follow.
Sure enough, within seconds Jim raced from the deli, a panicked look on his face. Smiling apologetically at the assistant, Joel hurried after him, expecting another breathless run after the faster man. It seemed to happen every time he was partnered with Jim, running half a block behind. Eventually he'd catch up, usually to find some helpless perp unconscious or cowering under Jim's glare. Joel didn't know how Jim caught them; he just did and, for a man like Joel, that was enough.
But today, instead of the chase he was expecting, Joel nearly collided full speed with Jim as he stood unmoving on the sidewalk.
"Jim? What's up?"
Not replying, Jim continued to stare skyward, eyes narrowed against the sun -- a sun that seemed much brighter than normal. That image would stay burned into Joel's mind for the years ahead -- Jim Ellison highlighted against the harsh sunlight, baseball cap casting shadows across his face. It was an image that would continue to burn bright, and in times to come, Joel would both cherish the memory of that moment and despair of ever forgetting it -- the moment when an expression of horror flooded Jim's face. The moment when Jim pushed him into the doorway, shouting at everyone to get inside, while fumbling for his cell phone. It was then that Joel saw what Jim had seen, heard what he had heard, as the sky seemed to explode and fire rained to the earth. Grunting as Jim's body hit his, pushing them further inside, the last thing that Joel heard was Jim's desperate voice as he shouted for Blair, screaming into his phone as the world exploded around them.
At that moment Joel would have done anything to change places with Blair, knowing that the two men should have been together. But they weren't and, as the concrete collapsed around them and a thousand screams seemed to unite, Joel could only pull Jim tight against him and pray that, wherever he was, Blair Sandburg would survive -- because these men weren't destined to die apart... not now, not ever.
***
"Jim... Jim? What's wrong?" Shouting desperately into his cell phone, Blair stood, unaware of the worried look on the face of the student he'd been tutoring. The call had been unexpected; Blair had plans to meet Jim and Joel for a picnic lunch at Cascade park. But that wasn't for an hour yet; answering the phone to hear Jim call so urgently for him was frightening. Jim had sounded wrong -- scared -- and Jim didn't sound like that, never had. Shouting into the phone again, Blair didn't notice the way his office seemed to fill with an orange glow... but his student did, and her scream as she looked out of the window was the last thing he heard for a long time.
***
Pulling the blanket closer round his shoulders, Joel stared into the fire that flickered to his left. All around him, people sat in ragged groups... numb, silent. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. There should have been moans, cries, whimpers... anything but this silence that seemed to suffocate.
It was two nights after 'The End', since he and Jim had crawled from the wreckage of the deli into a nightmare of the dead and dying. At first, waking up to total darkness, Joel had thought he'd died, been plunged into his own personal hell. But within seconds -- as blinding pain surged through his body -- he'd known that he hadn't been that lucky. Attempting to move sent explosions of agony through his back, causing Joel to groan out loud. But he had to move. There was no way that he could lie still and wait. He needed to find out what had happened, find Jim. Oh god, Jim had been with him, where was he?
Moving again -- slowly, so terribly slowly -- Joel inched forward, crawling on his belly under concrete that threatened to fall any time. He stopped frequently to listen to the creaks and groans, knowing that one false move could bring the whole lot crashing down. But what could he do but move? He needed to find Jim, and the silence -- that terrible silence -- suggested that no one would come to help. He was on his own.
Groping blindly, Joel knew that Jim had to be somewhere near. They'd fallen to the ground together, Jim attempting to shield him as the roof began to fall. Jim should have been at his side, but which side? Confused and working blind, Joel suspected that he'd gone the wrong way; his groping hands found nothing but rubble. Desperate now, he changed directions, inch by torturous inch, turning his body as his stomach and legs were dragged over sharp metal that scratched his skin. Moving forward again, he rejoiced when his reaching hand found something, something warm -- something alive, he hoped. Inching further, he realised that he was holding onto someone's leg. Please God, let it be Jim's leg.
It was so dark and dusty that it was impossible to see what he was holding, but it felt like jeans fabric. It had to be Jim, had to be. Eventually, Joel worked his way to where the body's head would be and, gently touching the features, found a baseball cap still in place. It was Jim. But was he alive?
Patting down the body with shaking hands Joel reached a hand gripping round the wrist with his own fingers. Lying still, he desperately tried to remember where the pulse points were, fighting against the pounding in his own head that threatened to drown out any rational thought. Moving his fingers slightly, Joel finally detected a pulse, slow but steady.
"Jim... Jim... Ellison, wake up!"
Shouting now, Joel gently shook Jim, going against every bit of medical training that he had. But the situation was too desperate for rules. He needed to get Jim conscious and out of here.
"Jim... Jim, wake up for me. I'm in trouble here. We're in trouble. Come on Jim, wake up." Shaking harder this time, Joel was relieved to feel Jim shift a little, groaning as he tried to move. "That's it. I'm sorry to push you like this but we have to get out of here. Something's gone wrong Jim, something big."
"Blair?"
For a second emotion almost overcame Joel, but he pushed it down; now just wasn't the time. "Blair's at Ranier, Jim. You were phoning him remember? But I don't know if you got through."
Though tempted to offer false reassurances, Joel didn't elaborate. Jim wasn't a stupid man; he'd seen the flames rain from the sky, heard the explosions. As soon as he gathered his wits he'd know that no one could know if Blair had survived. The flames might have missed that part of town, but somehow Joel knew that they hadn't. Whatever had happened had been massive, on a scale he could barely comprehend yet. Right now, he had to take one simple goal at a time, and the first was to get Jim and himself out of this place.
"You hurt?" Jim grunted, accompanied by scuffling sounds as he attempted to move.
"I'll survive. You?"
"Same, nothing major damaged. We need to get out of here Joel, this place is going to collapse any minute."
Recognising the urgency in Jim's voice, Joel reluctantly let go of his hold on Jim's arm. "I can't see Jim, I'm not sure which way the doorway is."
"I can see it, just follow me."
Squinting in the darkness, Joel tried to see what Jim had seen, but saw only varying shades of blackness. But when Jim started to move forward, he followed immediately. He trusted Jim totally; if he said he could see the doorway, he could. Joel didn't know *how* he could see it, but that wasn't a problem; he followed anyway. Slowly the two men crawled forward, Jim stopping every few seconds to allow Joel to catch up. They crawled over smashed metal, and squeezed through gaps, every yard gained seeming to take an hour. Joel's heart raced and sweat ran down his face, but he kept going until, eventually, Jim stopped.
"We're at the door, but there's something blocking it. Come and help me push."
Crawling alongside Jim, Joel put his hands forward, letting Jim guide them to what felt like smooth metal.
"It looks like the roof of a car that's been blown over and wedged here. We have to get it moved a little so we can squeeze out. I'm going to count to three, then push together."
"Okay." Bracing himself, Joel listened as Jim counted down, pushing as hard as he could when the count ended. Muscles protesting as he pushed harder and harder, Joel heard Jim grunt as he also pushed, until -- at last -- something moved, and a thin strip of light beamed towards them.
"We need a bigger space than that. Come on, push."
Pushing again, Joel kept his eye on the light, straining harder as it became bigger. Until, finally, the gap seemed large enough to squeeze through.
"I'm going first, you follow."
Without waiting for an answer, Jim started to squirm through the gap, leaving Joel to lie on the ground watching his body disappear in the murky light. As soon as Jim's feet were gone, Joel started to crawl through too, thankful that he'd lost so much weight. Even so, the fit was tight as he squeezed his way to the outside. Free at last, Joel could only lie still, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath. Finally, needing to know why Jim hadn't stopped to check on him, Joel staggered to his feet, pain flaring bright yet again in his body. Stumbling the short distance to where Jim stood, Joel prepared to ask what was wrong, but closed his mouth as he looked onto the street. There was nothing to say; he could see himself what held Jim's attention and, for the first time, he realised what hell looked like.
***
Pain. It was the first thing that Blair was aware of as he surfaced into consciousness. A blinding pain that started at his feet and ended at the top of his head. Lying still, Blair tried to remember what had happened, why he was being crushed under what seemed like the half of his office ceiling. As he tried to move, an involuntary moan left his lips, and he decided to simply remain still for the moment.
"Blair... oh god Blair, can you hear me?"
Surprised, then guilty, Blair realised that he'd forgotten that Emma had been in the room with him. They'd spent an hour talking over her work and future career plans, while drinking coffee and eating the cookies she'd made. How could he have forgotten that she was in the room too? She sounded so scared, almost on the verge of panic.
"Emma? Emma, I'm awake. Sort of anyway; are you okay? Okay, stupid question, it looks like we're buried under my office ceiling, obviously you're not okay. I guess I mean are you hurt?"
"My leg's stuck Blair, I can't move. God, I'm scared; did you see outside? Something terrible happened, I know it."
Blair tried to move as he heard Emma start to hyperventilate, cursing as pain stopped him once more.
"Listen, Emma, listen to me. I don't know what happened, but Jim called me on my cell phone. He knows something's wrong, he'll get us out. I know it looks bad now, but Jim won't let us down. I know he won't. Now tell me more about that job you've landed for summer break."
Fighting against his own sense of panic, Blair listened to Emma haltingly tell of her plans, her words sprinkled with gasps of pain and muffled sobs. Lying in the pitch black, hearing the sounds from the settling of fallen beams and concrete, Blair could only hope that Jim was on his way. This time Blair wouldn't be able to save himself. Add Emma into the mix, and Blair was truly frightened. Not just for himself, but for the young woman who was fighting to stay calm in this hellish situation. Jim had to come; he'd never let him down before, he wouldn't start now.
***
"Uncle Joel."
Distracted from the memories of that first horrific look at the new world, Joel looked up to see Abigail gazing at him. Clutching a blue blanket round her thin shoulders, the young girl looked cold, scuffling her feet in the dirt as she waited for Joel to notice her. "I'm scared Uncle Joel. Uncle Jim's gone again and.... and..."
"Hey, it's okay. Come here, and sit with me. I need someone to talk to." Lifting his own blanket, Joel arranged it over Abigail's shoulders as she cuddled in close to him. "There's no need to be scared. Uncle Jim's gone to look for more survivors before we leave in the morning; he'll be back soon. But you need your sleep young lady; we're going on a long walk tomorrow. That's it, just close your eyes, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."
Joel rocked Abigail gently, softly easing her into sleep, gaining as much comfort from the action as she did. It seemed so long since he'd touched anyone, except to patch injuries or pull them from collapsed buildings. So long since he'd touched for anything but necessity. Now, cuddled up with this young girl, he was reminded of how much he ached for that touch. And for the first time he allowed himself to think of his wife. How she would kiss him goodbye when he went to work, and greet him with a hug when he returned. How she was happy being a police wife, baking cookies for his co-workers, indulging him when he came home buzzed after a night with his friends. She was everything to him, and now, with this child asleep on his lap, Joel finally gave in to the tears that he'd held off for the last two days. In all probability Elsie was dead, killed along with all the others in the first brutal onslaught of flames and explosions. He and Jim had searched for hours that first day, scrabbling at destroyed buildings with their bare hands, desperately trying to find somebody -- anybody -- alive. It was beyond belief that they would be the only ones left.
As Joel gently closed the eyes of corpse after corpse, he began to think that maybe he and Jim *were* the only ones left. But surely others must have been lucky? The deli's roof had wedged above them, not on them, the concrete keeping the flames away. It had to have happened to others too.
It was that belief that kept them searching, digging through buildings that hadn't caught fire. Soon both men were filthy, their eyes red and streaming because of smoke and dust. Sweat caused tracks in the muck, but more soon filled them. Joel's body screamed with pain, and he knew that Jim was suffering also, but neither stopped, despite the blood that dripped from their abused hands. This was their town, their home. If there were any chance that even one person could be found alive they'd keep going.
Only once had Joel attempted to talk that first day, not getting past the first word before Jim stopped him with a 'Not now' and ran towards the first building. At each spot Jim would stand and listen, head tipped towards the ruined structure. Then he would either move on or start frantically pushing rubble aside. Sometimes he'd do that for hours before suddenly giving up with a look of absolute grief. Without a word he'd move on, never hesitating or looking back. Joel just followed, trusting totally.
That night they found one person alive, a young man who clutched at his bag with a death grip. When he was uncovered from a tiny space in what was once a record store, Joel had seen emotion flee across Jim's face -- joy, pain, then the blank look that he'd worn since crawling into this horror. Gently pulling the man out, Jim checked him for injuries, talking for the first time as they carried him to a sheltered spot. Telling Joel to stay with the deeply shocked man, Jim ran into the night, shouting that a supermarket had been two blocks away, and that he was going to try and get supplies.
He returned at sunrise, sparing Joel from the dilemma of whether to leave his still mute charge to search for his friend, or continuing to wait. Jim had bags stuffed full of provisions, blankets, canned food -- and Abigail, who was wrapped in a blanket tied around his back. Jim looked exhausted, and Joel jumped up, urging him to sleep. Removing Abigail and the makeshift carrier Jim had put together Joel held her in his arms as Jim collapsed to his knees, curling up on the ground, dropping into unconsciousness within seconds. Placing the young girl gently on the ground, Joel draped Jim with the blanket before examining the contents of the bags. It looked like Jim had reached the nearby WalMart and, as Joel pulled out essential supplies, he once again admired Jim's determination to find what they needed.
That was the start of their camp -- a few sleeping bags, food, bottled water, a travel first aid kit and the fire that Joel had made overnight. Now, two days later, they were getting ready to move on, and had three more survivors that Jim had found on one of his punishing search missions. He searched almost compulsively, but out of a radius of ten blocks had found only five people alive. All they could hope was that the centre of Cascade had been hit worse than the outlying areas. That when they moved away from the this area they'd find more survivors -- someplace where the air wasn't filled with the stench of thousands of dead bodies, and the streets weren't blackened with flames. Someplace where they didn't have to see the charred cars and buildings, where the only sound wouldn't be the crackle of their campfire and crashes as the buildings collapsed further into themselves.
Jim had decided that the only thing they could do was leave this place, and Joel agreed. They had to move on, for all of their sakes. No one could live in the mass grave that central Cascade had become. The others -- two women, that first young man, an elderly man and Abigail -- agreed too. They would abandon this camp first thing in the morning, and prepare to journey into the unknown.
Now, with Abigail tucked against him, Joel allowed himself to mourn what he'd lost for the first time. The friends who surely must have died, and his wife -- his beautiful Elsie. Sweethearts from schooldays, she was the woman that held his heart, and he cried. Cried for Elsie, and his friends, for his home and extended family, for his hopes and dreams. And he cried for Jim Ellison who roamed the ruins in a futile attempt to find more survivors, and who had not once uttered the name of his soul mate, Blair Sandburg.
***
"Come on Emma, who's your fantasy man?"
Blair felt like he'd been talking for hours, days even, trying desperately to keep Emma awake and responsive. It was only the red-tinged light from the window that proved that it had really only been two days since they'd been trapped. In that time they'd discussed school, work, and now started on dream dates. It had been a difficult conversation, both of them afraid and trying not to show it, both in incredible pain. But somehow Blair knew that Emma was worse off, could tell by the way she'd stop talking, slurring her words as Blair continually prompted her to speak.
Blair kept trying to move, to push aside the section of plaster that kept him pinned half under his heavy oak desk, the desk that had surely saved his life. Emma hadn't been as lucky, had been standing near the window with no cover available. Now Blair could only shift helplessly as she slipped away from him. And he knew she was slipping, could tell that, with every passing minute, she moved closer to death. He knew, and the knowledge that there was nothing he could do was breaking his heart.
"That's easy Blair... Fox Mulder... handsome... paranoid... my kind of guy... I'm not... asking you. You've already... got your fantasy man."
"Fox Mulder, good choice... what did you say?" Stunned, Blair did a mental double take as Emma's words sank in. "What fantasy man?"
"Your cop Jim... everyone knows... that you're an... item."
Hearing the raspy laughter after Emma's words, Blair had to laugh a little himself. "Guess I can't fool anyone. Jim is my fantasy man."
"You're lucky... wish I could... have met my fantasy... man... before I... die."
"Don't say that Emma." Distraught, Blair searched for words that would keep Emma hanging on. "You're not going to die, someone will come, Jim's probably on his way now."
"Blair... don't lie... to yourself... I'm lying... in a... pool of my... own blood... I'm dying... and I don't... want to... but know I am... I just... wish... it wasn't... like this... I just... want someone... to hold... me now."
"No Emma, Jim will get here, he's never failed me."
"No Blair... he'll get you... not me... I'm barely hanging... on... I hurt... I can't... do it... much... longer."
Listening to Emma was one of the hardest things that Blair had ever done. He knew that she was dying, could tell with the wet sound of her breathing. But he didn't want to admit that yet. Didn't want to be alone in this nightmare. Yet wasn't that selfish? Emma was in agony; he could hear her moan after nearly every word. She was suffering; wouldn't it be better to let her go?
"Emma, listen. I'm sorry. I wish I could be next to you, hold your hand, but I can't, but I'm here and I'm going to keep on talking whether you answer or not. You're one hell of a person and it's been my pleasure to know you. If you can't hold on you can't; I accept that, and respect you for making the decision." Forcing the words from his tight throat, Blair felt tears well in his eyes as he imagined Emma dying alone in the darkness.
"Thanks... Blair... I'm... sorry... that... I... couldn't... hold... on... I... know... Jim... will... get... you... soon... Have... a... good... life... If... you... ever... see... my... mom... tell... her... I... love... her."
They were the last words that Emma ever said, each one forced out between cries and moans of pain. When she fell silent at last, Blair knew it was over and, despite his overwhelming grief, was thankful that her pain was finally relieved. But that wasn't enough to stop the scalding tears that tracked down his face, as Blair cried for a woman who'd died in agony without the comfort of touch, and for himself, trapped in a nightmare with no end in sight. There was only one thing that kept him sane; Jim was surely coming. Please let it be soon.
***
"Joel, wake up; it's sunrise."
Prising open gummy eyes, Joel looked up at Jim, who stood over him and Abigail. Accepting the bottle of water that Jim handed him, Joel struggled into a sitting position, grimacing as his body protested the movement. It was semi-dark, as it was all the time, the sun cloaked by great clouds of dust and ash. The only way he knew that the sun was rising was the red tinge to the ruins around them.
Taking careful sips of the precious water, Joel watched as Jim banked the fire and roused the others. It looked like he hadn't slept again, had spent the night in another unsuccessful search. Jim's face was haggard, showing the ravages of using his incredible strength of will to carry on with little rest. If Joel was the unofficial leader of this sorry camp of people, Jim was their protector, speaking little but seeing everything. It was a role that he'd taken himself, letting Joel console and comfort while he searched and prowled the area. Jim didn't speak much now, was focused on keeping them alive, finding food in destroyed shops, blankets, valuable medical supplies. He found it all, crawling into buildings that looked ready to collapse, and gathering what he could. It was his mission to keep this group alive, and it was a mission that he wouldn't fail.
Joel could tell that the others were afraid of Jim at times, as he looked at them without expression. Only Joel knew how much he was hurting, and even then only indirectly; he'd watched as Jim stood unmoving, looking in the direction of Rainier. Joel knew that Jim longed to run towards that goal, to find Blair, either dead or alive. Yet he also knew that Jim would never abandon them, not yet anyway.
The plan was to head towards the outskirts of Cascade, where hopefully the damage hadn't been so bad. There had to be more survivors somewhere.
"Abigail, wake up, we have to go soon." Gently shaking the small girl until she woke, Joel handed her the water bottle, then waited until she took a drink. "You'll have to get up now, we're leaving here."
"To find some more people right?"
"Yeah, that's right."
Hoping he sounded more confident than he felt, Joel lifted Abigail to her feet, then stood himself, leaving one hand reassuringly on her shoulder as he turned to watch Jim address the camp.
"Listen up. We're moving out now. I've packed all our supplies into sacks; there's one for each of you. I want you all to follow me; don't wander away at any time. If you get tired, tell Joel or me and we'll stop. Don't stop on your own for any reason; we don't know what's out there. I'll be taking point, Joel will take the rear, the rest of you in between. Everyone ready?"
Seeing the nods and affirmative answers from the small group, Jim led them away from their camp. Joel knew that he wasn't the only one afraid of what was ahead. It was an unknown situation away from this area, and the responsibility of overseeing a group of shell-shocked people was a heavy one. But moving on was their only option. If they were to survive -- and as battered and bruised in body and spirit as he was, Joel did want to survive -- they had to go. It was scary, sure, but they would meet the fear head on; there was no other option.
***
"Can you remember the first time that we met? I was so young then, barging into that meeting. So excited that I might be able to study a real sentinel. That seems like another time. I guess it's true what they say about time. It flows at different speeds at different times. Not possible according to science, I know. But how can you explain that the years I spent with you seemed to pass in an instant, while I seem to have been in this room for years, despite it being at most three days. Oh god Jim, please come soon. I can't stand this silence much longer. Even talking out loud doesn't help for long. Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead."
Squeezing his eyes shut, Blair continued his mantra internally as his voice cracked; his throat was dry and swollen. The silence was beginning to drive him insane; not even the creak of falling concrete and metal disturbed the tomb-like air. And it was a tomb. Without distraction, all Blair could think about was Emma, dead only a few feet from him. His mind kept trying to show him pictures of the decaying process he'd researched, pictures that he forced away with happier memories. The first time that Jim had admitted he loved him. No big gestures for Jim Ellison, just hugging him briefly before saying the words, leaving Blair a confused mess. Or the first kiss, standing in a dirty alley, exhilarated after chasing a wanted perp across town for almost an hour. The man laid unconscious at their feet after Blair hit him with a trashcan lid, and Jim had pulled Blair to him, kissing him deep but quick while listening for backup. They were all memories that Blair held protectively, situations that he would recall when he needed to be cheered up or distracted -- and right now Blair needed both in the worst way.
There was no way that he could escape from underneath the plasterboard that pinned him. Blair had tried over and over, until his hands bled from pushing against the unmoving weight. Now all he could do was lie and wait, as one of his students rotted next to him and he slowly lost his mind. Blair was close to the edge, and only one thing kept him on the side of sanity -- the faith that Jim would surely turn up soon.
***
"Don't look hon."
Pushing Abigail against his coat, Joel moved quickly, offering a silent prayer as Jim urged them past the pile of blackened bodies in the street. Since heading into the more residential area they often discovered bodies; people had died where they stood. Joel didn't understand how the area had less damage than the inner ones, but he wasn't going to ask Jim, who was acting more on instinct than anything else now. The damage was still horrific; homes were still smouldering, blackened shells, some collapsed, some not. Jim had managed to find more supplies, actual food in cans -- beans, peaches, beef stew -- the cans misshapen but still sealed. They also had more medical supplies; all were wearing an assortment of bandages over injuries ranging from serious to minor. Joel knew that within hours the bandages would be filthy again, but for now they were clean.
The journey had been hard on all of them. They walked until the weakest was on the verge of dropping, then they would rest for a while. Joel was worried about Samuel, the old man they had found huddled in restaurant's wine cellar. He talked to no one, just held a photograph of a woman in his hand, rubbing grimy fingers across its surface as he muttered words that only he could hear. Jim especially seemed sad when he watched him, and often seemed on the verge of leaving his own silent state to say something, but the words never came; Jim just watched and said nothing.
Jamie, the young man in the record store, had surprised them all. He had cast off his shock to drive them onward, helping those that faltered, holding Abigail on his lap when they rested. Seeing Joel looking at them once, he explained he had a young sister, that she'd just turned five. The pain in his eyes as he talked of his family put another crack in Joel's heart, as he grieved for yet another unknown life.
Joel knew little about the two women, just their names, Jill and Irene, and that they'd been together in a bank when 'The End' happened. Jim had found them holding one another in the bank's safe, had worked for almost a day to get the door pulled open and them out. They did what was asked, and would answer questions, but no more.
Abigail veered from sadness to happiness. Despite the horror and pain of her surroundings she was still a child, one that would laugh and skip and sing as she walked. But at times her expression showed nothing but pain, and she would hold Joel's hand tightly as she talked about her mom, a lady with yellow hair and a blue dress who wouldn't wake up when Abigail shook her at the shop. It was times like that when Joel thought grief would drive him mad, as he held Abigail to his chest as she talked through her tears, wiping her face with his shirt-sleeve as she sobbed for her family. Her mom, her dad, her brother who went to the 'big school' and was mean to her -- Abigail talked of them all.
It was a diverse group of people, all hurting, all in pain physically and emotionally. Joel could picture every haunted face in his mind, knew that they'd invade his dreams for years to come. But they all had one thing in common. They would keep walking, however long it took.
"Joel!"
The shout caused Joel to jump in shock, and he laboured to his feet to see what Jim had found. "What is it Jim?"
"Look, down there, do you see?" Pointing at the sidewalk, Jim indicated some scuffed marks. "Footprints. There's other people alive."
Peering down, Joel tried to see a footprint under the layer of ash and dust. "I can't see anything. Are you sure?"
Fixing Joel with a direct stare, Jim replied, "I'm positive. There's someone walking about and they're heading north. Probably towards the suburbs. I'd say this is no more than a day old. We can catch up soon."
Faced with Jim's total faith in what he saw, Joel rejoiced, allowing one of the first smiles to bloom since he'd entered that deli so long ago. There were others alive, they could meet up, maybe find someone who was in charge, who knew what had happened. It was excellent news. "That's great Jim, we'll change direction and try and catch up." He prepared to tell the others, who were watching them from their positions on the ground, but was stopped by Jim's expression of sorrow. If anyone could see Jim's face now they could never call him cold; he made tight fists with his hands and his eyes seemed to become even bleaker. Surprised, Joel could only wonder what had caused the pain, finally understanding when he saw Jim's quick look to the south.
"Oh god, Rainier's in the other direction isn't it?" Seeing Jim's nod, Joel felt his good mood evaporate. He knew how much Jim needed to find Blair, but also knew that the other man would never leave the group while they needed him -- and they did need him, a harsh truth that Joel had to admit. But there had to be something that he could do. Joel knew that walking away from Blair would be almost impossible for Jim, but he would do it anyway. It was the man he was. It was up to Joel to figure something out. Desperately he thought about and rejected suggestions, as Jim stood, eyes downcast. Until finally, he thought of something that maybe -- just maybe -- could save them all.
"Jim, Samuel and Abigail are exhausted, and I'm sure that Jamie is walking on an injured ankle. They could do with a rest. To be honest, I need a rest, too, I'm not that young anymore. You're faster on your own. Go to Rainier, find Blair, do what you need to do."
The hope in Jim's expression awed Joel as he watched him wrestle with his sense of obligation. "I can't just leave."
"Says who? We've got supplies for a few nights, material for a fire, shelter. I can cope... we can cope. I love Blair too Jim; go and get him for me, will you?"
"I'll be back before two night's time. I promise you that."
With those last words, Jim ran between two ruined houses and disappeared, hope giving his battered body speed. Left alone, Joel moved back to the group, to explain and resettle the camp. He could look after them for a few days. Blair deserved this chance, and Joel would make sure he had it. Rummaging in the sacks that held their provisions, he prayed that if Blair was still alive, that he could hold on; Jim was coming.
***
"I'm thirsty Jim, so thirsty. I don't want to give up, not yet, but it's hard."
Voice rasping over every word, Blair decided to shut up; the silence was better than the sound of his own grating voice. His head swam from lack of food and water, and he'd long since stopped feeling any pain in his body. Blair was close to giving up, and he knew it. But that knowledge also made him fight himself, talking, humming, remembering treasured moments. He recalled the way Jim stroked his body, sensitive hands gliding over his skin until he came from touch alone. Anything but this dark, dust-filled tomb.
Jim would come, he always did. So many times he'd come to the rescue, from killing Lash to providing some of his own savings so Blair could hire a lawyer to sue Syd and Edwards. He'd been there when Blair agonised over returning to Rainier, and there when Blair took his first hesitant steps back into academic life, grinning in the background when Blair was shown to his new office, something large and fitting for the man who had taken on the establishment and won. Jim had even taken photos as Vice Chancellor Edwards personally handed over the office keys, photos that both men treasured. Yeah, Jim would come.
"So hurry up already!"
Exhausted with the effort of shouting, Blair shut his eyes. Pointless, really, to have them open; it was just as dark. But wait, what was that? Opening his eyes, Blair saw a shaft of light move across the room, highlighting broken beams and dust in the air, all the time coming closer to him.
"Oh no, go away. I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready, do you hear? I might be interested in the afterlife, but I don't want to see first hand. Go away, I'm not ready. Jim's coming, do you hear me, Jim's coming."
The last words were little more than a croak as Blair used his last reserves of energy. He'd never felt more scared, had assumed that his passing would be peaceful, not leave him in a state of terror and outrage.
"I'm here Blair, I'm here. Keep talking, I'm coming Blair, don't shut up now that I've found you."
That was better; if he was going it would be with Jim's voice in his ear. The least he could do say was goodbye, even if his throat felt like crushed glass was stuck down it.
"Love you Jim. I'll be waiting for you."
"You go and I'll go too. Don't move; I can see you now."
Move? Blair knew he couldn't move an inch if he wanted too. He was finished, no energy to protest any more.
"I can see what's pinning you. Give me a minute and I'll pull it off."
Floating, Blair mentally laughed. The spirit Jim would get the board off him in minutes, the same thing that he'd been trying to move for days. Typical. Closing his eyes against the light that seemed to burn them, Blair became alert when he felt movement in the board that had pressed him into the floor for so long.
"You're real."
"Yeah, I'm real. Just let me move this and I'll show you how real."
The board shifted again. Jim was real; he'd come, just as Blair had known he would. Relief that Jim had come at last made him dizzy, and when the board was moved all Blair could do was lie still, shocked as Jim ran his hands down his body before clinging onto Blair.
"Oh god Chief. I couldn't leave. I knew you were alive somewhere. We have to go, hold onto my neck."
"Emma."
"I saw, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do for her now. This place could come down any minute. We have to get out."
Get out; Blair wanted nothing more than to leave this stinking, memory-filled room. Having to leave Emma's body hurt, but he was realistic; there was nothing that either of them could do for her now. It felt weird being lifted by Jim, but Blair's body was still numb; no way could he walk out on foot.
Holding as tight as he could, Blair just drank in the nearness of Jim as they struggled out of Rainier. Jim carried or pulled him through gaps until, at last, they stumbled down what had been the steps of Hargrove Hall. With Jim shielding his eyes from the weak sunlight, Blair looked around and, for the first time, saw disaster on a huge scale. The thought of all the people who lay dead in the ruins was shocking, but he couldn't react, not while his body was still numb and he was held in Jim's arms. Blair couldn't take on any more pain -- not yet. But he had to know something.
"How many?"
"I don't know Chief. Joel's with me and we've found another five survivors. I saw prints that lead to the north. That's where we're going next. I just had to find you first. Now come on, we'd better get away from here. The last thing I want is this place falling on top of us now."
Agreeing with a sigh, Blair started to move forward.
"Can you walk or do you need carrying?"
"I don't think so." Scowling, Blair knew he was being unreasonable; his legs were numb, his head was thumping and his whole body seemed to ache, but there was no way that he'd let Jim carry him. He needed to walk away from Rainier on foot. It was important that he leave on his own two feet. Blair didn't understand *why* it was important, he simply knew that it was. "Just hold onto me, I'll make it."
Determined, the two men walked away from the building, Blair biting back moans of pain with every hop while Jim basically held him upright.
"Okay, that's far enough. You can't manage any further."
The urge to disagree was strong, but the start of shooting pains in his leg persuaded Blair that Jim was right, and he allowed himself to be lowered onto a low wall. Head down, Blair gasped for breath, keeping his eyes closed until he could focus without black spots filling his vision. Pushing back the hair that fell across his face, he couldn't stop an ironic laugh as he saw where they were.
"It always ends here doesn't it? At least there's no water this time."
"No, you're wrong Blair." Sitting down on the wall, Jim reached for Blair's hand, indicating the cracked and empty fountain with the other. "This is a place, nothing else. You didn't die then, and you're not going to die now."
Concentrating on the warmth of Jim's hand in his own, Blair looked around at the place where he'd faced one of his worst nightmares, but also the place that held happy memories, of tutoring sessions in the sun, or sitting in the shade of a tree, watching students splashing in the water as the temperature rose.
Now the area was nothing more than a wreck, with buildings destroyed all round and fine ash covering every surface. There were no voices, no splash of water, nothing but an eerie silence. Resting his head against Jim's shoulder, Blair knew that the loss of so many would hit hard, but not yet. Later. After they'd rejoined Joel and the group, and gone north. At the moment he was with Jim, and that's all he could cope with just now. It would have to enough, for a little while anyway.
***
Allowing himself twenty minutes just to sit and luxuriate in Blair's nearness, Jim finally shifted slightly, looking up to the sky, he peered through the thick clouds that shielded the sun, mentally calculating what time it was. He'd allowed Blair to rest as long as possible, knowing that the other man needed time to adjust to the devastated world that he'd emerged into. But now, as the sun began to rise higher, Jim knew they'd have to make preparations to move.
Pulling his gaze from the grey-tinged sky, Jim looked down at Blair, who sat huddled on the wall, injured leg thrust out straight in front of him. He looked dazed, confused, shocked beyond belief, and there wasn't a thing that Jim could say that would comfort him. The harsh facts were, they were in some kind of hell. Rainier *was* nothing but a collection of ruined buildings. The voices of happy students had been replaced by the unearthly echo of thousands of screams.
While he was making his way to Blair, Jim had listened for any sound that would indicate life -- the sound of footsteps, a cry for help, even a sob of pain. Anything that would replace the stifling silence. But there'd been nothing; nothing but the shifting of brick and the drip of a broken water pipe. Jim knew that there would be survivors somewhere; Blair had survived, so would others. But he had to prioritise and, despite it breaking his heart, he knew that he couldn't take the time to search. He had a group waiting for him, and a lover whose whole world had just been destroyed.
Jim was worried, his shoulders bowed by the responsibilities thrust on them. He had to get back to the group, but he also had to get Blair up and moving. It was heartbreaking to look at the chaos round him -- so he didn't. It was the only way that he could cope. If Jim didn't see that hand trapped under a tree, or the sheets of paper that blew in the wind -- paper with essays and questions that until four days ago had been the most important thing in the world to their owners -- he didn't have to feel, to grieve for his city.
That was a luxury Jim couldn't have just now. Grief would come later, when they had shelter and food, and his friends were as safe as possible. Until then, Jim would just keep focussing on what needed to be done now -- and right now that was to get back to the others as soon as possible.
"Blair... Blair listen to me." Looking down Jim waited until he had Blair's attention. "We have to go, it'll be dark soon and I don't want to leave the others too long."
Peering up, Blair laughed bitterly, a sound that grated on Jim's ears. "Go? Are you kidding Jim? I can hardly walk. My leg feels like it's about to explode; there's no way that I'm walking out of here. Just go and come back for me later. Leave me some water and I'll be fine."
"That's not even an option, Chief."
"Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but what can you do? Carry me all the way? I don't think so. Just leave me, I'll be fine."
"I'm not leaving you, so just forget that idea. I'm not carrying you either, there has to be a working vehicle around here somewhere." Standing, Jim slowly looked round the area, focussing on where the car park used to be. Now, instead of waiting in ordered rows, the cars were crushed together, some upside down or on their sides. Others were buried in holes in the ground, or had other cars smashed against them. It looked like the worst pileup that Jim had seen, but he knew that finding a working car was his only hope of getting Blair to safety. It had taken Jim nearly five hours to get to Rainier on foot, and that was at a flat-out speed, desperation making him press onward. There was no way that Blair could do that journey when he was injured. A vehicle was the only option.
Zeroing in on car after car, Jim dismissed the ones that had the worst damage, the ones with crushed engines and damaged wheels. Finally he saw one that seemed in working order and, more importantly, had a relatively clear path to the road.
"Wait here."
Focussed on the car, Jim ran forward, skirting holes in the ground and climbing over twisted metal until he reached his goal. He paused while assessing all the options of breaking into a car, relieved that it still seemed sound up close. He reached for the badge that remained in his back pocket. Pulling a slim lockpick from behind the ID, he concentrated on his sense of touch to pick the lock, allowing himself a quick smile when the door opened. Climbing in, he adjusted the seat, then leaned forward, reaching for the wires that would let him hotwire the car.
With a spluttering cough the engine started, the noise almost obscene in the still air. Grimacing a little at the ringing in his ears, Jim shifted gear and prayed that the car would actually move, a prayer that was granted as he rolled forward. It was a slow journey to the road, driving round other cars and past trenches that went deep into the ground. But finally, Jim stopped as close to Blair as he could get. As he exited, Jim could see Blair still in the same position that he'd left him, but seemingly more alert, staring at what was left of Hargrove Hall.
"Sandburg."
Turning, Blair looked at Jim, gesturing towards the car. "That was Leon's car; he only bought it from his uncle last week."
Not sure what to say to Blair, Jim busied himself opening the back door of the car and making sure the back seat was clear. When Blair said nothing else, Jim turned to see Blair looking at the car with an expression of deep sadness on his face. Still unsure, but needing to say something, Jim moved to Blair, touching his shoulder. "I'm sorry about your friend."
"Thanks." Putting his own hand on Jim's, Blair clutched his fingers tightly, hand warm over Jim's. "But we'd better get moving."
With a last squeeze, Jim moved behind Blair, holding him under the arms. "I'm going to lift you up. You just stand still until I can help you to the car
Nodding in the affirmative, Blair stifled a curse as Jim lifted him upright, then balanced on one foot until Jim moved to hold him securely round the waist.
"Okay?"
"Yeah."
Slowly the two men moved to the car, where Jim helped Blair into the back seat, making him lie back with his injured leg straight. As he laid back, Blair's face was ashen, and Jim knew the pain was catching up with him at last.
"I'm sorry Chief."
"Not your fault man. Not unless it was you that caused this mess."
"Not me this time."
"You've nothing to be sorry for then." Blair continued talking. and Jim listened as he carefully closed the door and got into the driver's seat. "It does make me wonder who did cause this. It must have been something spectacular. You've been outside, what do you think?"
Putting the car into gear, Jim started to drive away, scanning the road ahead as far as possible. Listening to Blair's hiss of pain at the movement he decided that a distraction was needed. "I have no idea. All I know is, Joel and I were in the deli one moment, and the next I heard this noise."
"What kind of noise?"
"Sorta like a high-pitched whistling. When I looked out all I could see were these streaks of light, hundreds of them on a direct route to where we were. I tried to phone you and pulled Joel down; that's all I remember until I felt Joel holding my leg and trying to wake me up."
"Oh man, Jim, do you think we've been invaded, or the third World War's started or..."
"Don't know. I doubt that we *will* know for a while yet. But believe me, I intend to find out." Clenching the steering wheel so hard his hands started to hurt, Jim made a private vow that one day he'd know *exactly* what had happened to his city, and who had caused it -- but not yet. Now the important thing was to rejoin the other group and find a place to survive in safety. They needed a permanent base, somewhere they would be safe, with food, drink and medical care. They needed to find more survivors, regroup, see if anyone else was alive in the ruins of Cascade. All that would take time, but as Jim drove through the deserted streets he knew time was the one thing he had. Before, when Blair had told him that Cascade was 'his' territory, he'd treated the words with scepticism. But now, as his soul ached for the dead all around, and the need for knowledge and vengeance fought within him, Jim realised that Blair had been correct all along.
He was the Sentinel of this city, and he'd take care of its people. Whatever it took.