They take shifts sleeping in their building pairs. To do this, they all work quickly to take the mattresses that are empty and drag them into the hallway. It's better than the ground. The lounges have more light but the space isn't big enough for all the mattresses, and with the wide windows on the wall, the lounges are iceboxes. They trade in darkness for warmth.
For their shifts, Darlington joins Tempest since Maverick isn't up to staying awake on his own. Jerry and Galilee stay up first. They found a watch in one of the students' rooms, and though it doesn't seem to be set to the right time, the minutes hand still clicks regularly. Galilee wears it. For the hour Jerry and Galilee are on watch, they make sure to check that everyone is breathing every five minutes. The pair alternate circling the room. The quick turnarounds keep the pair awake. It's the best they can do.
During the next shift, Elodie listens to Benedict whisper. The floor, likely, isn't stable. The building is so cold that they drape blankets over them like capes while walking around the hall. Benedict isn't sure they can stay much longer. He is aware of how much food he grabbed. Moving Maverick outside isn't an option. He can barely hold his own head upright and he's too big to carry through a mile of snow up to their waists. Even if everyone were in the best condition, they might lose someone along the way. Elodie nods along even though she wants him to shut up. Planning isn't reassuring. She wants sympathies not solutions.
Tempest and Darlington take the third turn. They ration out the food. There is only enough to feed all of them one meal, and none of them know how long they will need to wait. Neither of them wants to plan the rations, especially not just the two of them. Darlington is still feeling groggy. Only during this time does he really digest his conversation on the walkies. He grabs Tempest and hugs her tightly, breathing in steadily.
Hadley is alive.
After them, Marcellus and Callie watch over everyone. They camp out at the end of the hallway so they can whisper to one another. She saw Elodie in his clothes. He rolls his eyes at her teasing him. They do a thumb war to keep their hands limber since their fingers are stiff like icicles. If everyone weren't sleeping, Elodie would sprint, despite her persisting cough. Marcellus avoids asking about it. Before their shift ends, they head up to the roof and use the dirty sheets from a few rooms to write a message on the snowy rooftop.
H E L P
Marcellus thinks an F would probably be more suited. All the others ones they've written have drowned beneath them.
The final shift is taken up by Ro and Moonie. Moonie doesn't leave Maverick's side except to check the breath of the people around her. Really, she couldn't properly sleep at all. It felt like every three minutes she would make up and check Maverick. Still breathing. When she whispers in his ear, he will mumble something, never intelligible. Ro doesn't mind being left to her own devices. She counts during that time, intermittently. It's not all that easy to focus on the numbers.
Soon enough, everyone has risen from their slumbers. With the small food supply, none of them eat. There is still water in the taps in Galilee and Jerry's bathrooms, so they run them just in case they burst. It works out well enough anyway. They fill eleven of the twelve solo cups with water. Callie uses a marker of Galilee's to write everyone's names in fancy script, so no one will share.
For once, the idea of drinking cold water feels gross.
Forcibly propping all the student doors open, the hallways get enough light so that they don't need flashlights. It has the brightness of a nightclub, but there is no alcohol or dancing. They are the girl crying in the bathroom, but there isn't anyone else to be drunk and talk them out of their stupor.
Benedict has the bright idea to start a fire, which is quashed by the carbon dioxide having nowhere to go. Suffering both carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide poisoning within twenty-four hours is not their best and brightest plan.
Still, Benedict stands in Galilee's lounge looking out at the white outdoors. The sun makes it look warm. A quick opening of a window makes him sure that it isn't. From up here, he cannot tell how thick the snow is, how packed down it is. Could they trek through it? If they did, where would they try to go?
"You should sit down," Galilee tells him from the doorway.
Benedict shrugs. He's sure she can tell that each time he moves, he struggles. His knees are bloody again, and it's seeping through his pants. The hallways are too dark to notice the stain on his knees is blood and not anything else. Here, Galilee is the only one who can see. He knows her body so well, it is only fair that he lets her know his.
He shakes his head and Galilee walks in closer. She puts her arm on his shoulder and wraps her hands around his arms.
"We should find a way to get a fire going," Benedict whispers.
Her grip around him tightens, trying to pull him away, "even if it was safe, what would we burn?"
Benedict shrugs. Galilee's an English major, so she's bound to have books.
They enter the hallway and Benedict chuckles. A book burn. The only thing keeping them alive would be raw thoughts. Benedict's always had bad ideas in his head. Thoughts he would like to burn. Even now, thoughts, good or bad, aren't enough.
Ro hits one thousand, six hundred, and twenty-three dollars. And seventy-nine cents. Last she checked her phone, it was noon and they had no bars. It was surely less than ten minutes ago and there is no use checking again.
"Once I deduct my flight money, I'll split the rest of my lawsuit earnings with you all," Ro says, not to anyone in particular.
Darlington shrugs, "my share is yours."
"Of course it is, Damien Arlington the fifty-sixth or whatever," Ro can't help but grin. "Your father, the fifty-fifth is going to bail you out."
Darlington puts his hand over his lips to hide his smile, "my dad's Daniel Arlington. His brother was Damien, but he died when they were kids, so I'm Damien again."
Ro doesn't know what to do but laugh. She isn't used to telling herself stories, but she's been reading one all along. Damien Arlington, son of a father and then a grandfather and generations of men who wanted him to be just the same as them. She always thought he was. Turns out, it's a little different.
It doesn't truly matter. There's not going to be a lawsuit. At least, if there is one, it's going to be her parents trying to do one from Buenos Aires when they find out Ro froze to death up here. Her entire body is numb at this point. Anger has been powering Ro's circuit for so long, but the lack of power in the building has shut off the flow of rage as well. She just wants to go home. At the very least, she wants her body to be laid to rest there.
"This was a fun sleepover," Jerry muses.
Ro looks at him and tries not to smile. It was fun, wasn't it?
Marcellus raises an eyebrow, "have you ever been to a sleepover?"
"No," Jerry answers.
Galilee grins. Something's aren't bad. As far as bad days go, it's a two kind of day, but Jerry makes it a three. They both seem to have gotten what they wanted. Jerry has made friends and Galilee has spent a Christmas behind a camera and not in front of it. Bucket lists filled.
When Benedict and Galilee take the spots on the mattresses they've claimed, Darlington gets up. All of his joints ache. He should go to sleep, but he can't. Somehow, it feels as cold as it did in the dead of night. He sighs, his breath fogging the air. Indoors. He needs to push. There is something that can be done. He should fill more water for people. He should solve their problem related to bathrooms because a couple of the guys peed out the lounge window but some of the girls are holding it. Tempest has peed on the roof twice and not inside since Marcellus isn't quite sure how much water they have in the pipes to replenish the toilets. It doesn't matter where Darlington turns. There are problems everywhere.
He gets up anyway. Darlington is going to keep them alive. He can push through the toughness, because there is something good in him now, even when his charm and money aren't of use.
He doesn't come up with anything. Moonie's face is panicked as he paces. Maverick's breaths feel shallow. She isn't sure she would have the strength to give him CPR. Besides, CPR won't fix him. It would only buy time for an ambulance to come, but they don't have cell reception, and Ro has made it clear that they can't call for help without it. He isn't even mumbling nonsense anymore. When she talks to him he shrugs her away, so Moonie
After so many busy days, they don't know how to sit still. Darlington certainly doesn't, pacing and pacing. Benedict tries to join him, but Galilee grabs him and holds him down. He sits with her since that feels like doing something too. People don't speak. Their buddy system has been screwed because of their odd number. Soon enough, their breaths are thicker than their blankets. There are only ceiling tiles and no stars to wish upon. A white Christmas they never wanted.
It starts to get dark. Ro checks her phone's clock. No cell reception yet. It's five in the evening. The sun is going to disappear soon. Such is December in Michigan.
They only have one meal, and an unknown amount of water. Christmas dinner doesn't seem like the best plan. Santa isn't coming, and Tempest knows it.
"I'm pregnant," she says to them all, hoping it will somehow change everything.
People look at her. Darlington stops pacing to look at her. Moonie swears even Maverick's crusted eyes crack open. She doesn't say anything, in case he turns away again.
Galilee leans forward, her blanket shrugging off her shoulders. She flinches at the cold air, but moves until she is lying mostly off the mattress so she can reach Tempest. Their hands interlock, and Galilee, mostly on the floor, holds her.
"We've got to get out," Tempest swallows, blinking. "I'm having a baby."
It doesn't have to be perfect, but it has to be. Tempest will make it so.
"Do you need more of our water or food?" Elodie asks, looking at Tempest. Tears brim in her eyes. All this time, she hasn't noticed all the people around her. "You should eat."
"She's good to have my food," Darlington manages.
Tempest grabs a pillow and chucks it in his direction. It falls flat, but he turns to stare at her. She is scowling and her eyes are wet.
"You don't get to be that way," Tempest says. "I'm letting you be the dad, so you've got to pull yourself together."
"It's your whole thing," Callie agrees, although her brow is furrowed.
"Not the bio dad," Darlington offers to satiate their confused glances.
Still, the group sit down together, all of them including Darlington, in a tight circle. Hunger pains rake through some of their bodies, others are too shocked or cold or ill to feel hunger at all. Tempest doesn't want to eat and yet she makes herself eat because none of this can be good for her baby. She drinks more and more water. She'll piss on the roof in the cold if she must.
They merge closer after that, their mattresses all pressed together in the centre of the hallway. As time ticks from the early hours of the evening to the late, the hallway grows dark. They prop a flashlight against the wall so they can see at least a bit. It burns out quickly and another replaces it. People are starting to lie down. Nothing has happened, but sleep will need to happen again soon. Another rotation, another night of checking each other every ten minutes, another panic when someone's chest rises slower than they anticipated.
Galilee can do a lot of things, but she can't do that again. On her back, she stares at the tiles above her. Slowly, she realizes no one is going to suggest taking turns. It's too late. People are going to sleep now. They'd been here for less than a week, and Christmas somehow was the shortest day of nothing. People are too tired. Galilee is too tired. The ceiling tile is nothing special, but Galilee knows it's destroyed on several floors, two floors are her own doing. She just wants to sleep.
Rolling onto her side, she looks at Callie.
"Do you think my parents are going to film my funeral too?" Galilee asks.
Callie takes Galilee's hands, tracing her fingers along each line in Galilee's palms. She's an art major, and she can never describe what she wants to paint as well as she can paint it. There aren't any good words to say. No one else has answered Galilee's question even though they've surely all heard it. Even Darlington, back to pacing and losing his mind has certainly heard her.
It wouldn't be helpful to say that it's wonderful so many people love her. Everyone loves Galilee. So instead, Callie whispers, "if you die, I'll throw you out the window."
Galilee's laugh is raspy. Benedict gasps, unaware until it's slipped his lips.
"That's fucking dark," Marcellus furrows his brow.
Callie shrugs. She is used to making beautiful things. It's all she's ever wanted to do. Her love of art is what set her apart from her entire family. She threw their love and support away just to create. All she knows is pretty. Even Enzo would be disappointed by her. She didn't stay safe and make art. If she's going to do the opposite, she's going the whole way. Live in danger and destroy art.
"I won't let it be an open casket," Callie whispers. "They won't take your beauty anymore."
"I can burn your body if that helps," Ro adds.
Callie laughs so hard she coughs. It takes over her body.
"Pipe bomb might be more effective," Jerry shrugs.
Callie can't stop laughing. Darlington moves to her and helps move her away from the group, trying to help her to the lounge. Her cough won't stop, and it's so bad she doesn't care. It goes and goes until the cough makes her stomach lurch, and they don't make it to the lounge. Callie pukes on the floor, and Darlington holds her hair back.
Then, she returns. She grabs her cup of water and gargles out the vomit before spitting it out in the bathroom sink.
Everyone stares at her when she returns.
"How much shrapnel is there in a pipe bomb?" her throat stings as she asks.
"Holy fuck you guys," Elodie shakes her head, trying to hold herself together. "Can you cool it with the gallows humour?"
Elodie knows the gallows. She knows crime and she knows death. Elodie isn't there. Her brothers need her, and one day she is going to hug her dad when he walks out of prison, a free man. There are so many people for Elodie to meet and know and love.
"We aren't done yet," she tells them.
"No," Marcellus agrees. "But, if we make it out of this they're going to fire me."
It feels silly now, to think less than a week ago he was in his room worried about losing this place. There is no building. With no building, there is no job to lose. After this all, Marcellus is going to have to go to a house that is not quite his away from all these people. He can't imagine living far away from Elodie, or playing games online with Jerry instead of in person, or trying to play guitar with Benedict over the phone, or even complaining about Darlington at a distance.
"Not if we sue them," Ro shakes her head.
"If you're fired, I'll quit," Darlington says.
Marcellus flinches. Darlington is nothing if not the perfect resident assistant. Marcellus has made his dislike for him clear. They make eye contact and Marcellus shrugs.
"We'll all quit out of solidarity," Elodie decides because she isn't going to be shown up by Darlington and she is sure no one else will either.
Maverick leans into Moonie. She hears his edgy breath, pressing her ear up to his lips to listen over Callie who is coughing again.
"It's not a Hallmark movie."
She turns to look at him. He's grey, even in the low light. The shine is out of his fur coat. Moonie puts her face up against his chest, as if hearing his heartbeat louder will actually make it stronger.
"Maybe not," she whispers back. "I don't care if it's an apocalypse movie or a tragedy. I just want to be there with you."
Maverick tries to squeeze her. He tries. Even though she is so in tune with him, she doesn't feel it.
The silence vibrates to the beat of his heart. It grows louder and louder, and Moonie can feel herself start to breathe, but it's not right. It's irregular. This is it. A final race of his heart. One final attempt to burst together, and it's not working. The speed is too fast and too loud.
She peels back. Moonie looks at him, the pounding continuing. It isn't hisr heart. The sound isn't even her own. It's loud, mechanical, and certainly not a heartbeat. Blades slicing the air, thundering through the sky above them even though the rain was artificial.
Benedict stands up. His jaw slacks, "Deus Ex Machina."
~~~~~
Woop there it is. The penultimate moment. As always let me know what you think in the comments! I'm hoping to release a new apply fic soon, which will have a longer range for accepting applications since I want to actually finish Perverse as well, but we will see.
As always, let me know your thoughts! I am so happy we've been on this together.