Patton hummed as he stirred the pot of soup on the burner, stood over a little gas stove with one slot that somehow still ran on its old batteries and salvaged butane canisters. The blond haired man was situated on the group's back porch, adding whatever he could to make their food last longer, while also accounting for the taste to hopefully remain palatable. The extra water used to stretch out their meals made them even more bland than they would be originally, which was really saying something when it came to expired, pre-canned soup. Thus, Patton always used fresh ingredients from the garden to his advantage-- crushing cloves of garlic and simmering vegetables before adding them to the pot. Onions, carrots, whatever would add to the flavour instead of making it worse.
The sky above him was clear, sun beating down as a cool breeze rolled over the converted lot. The day was calm and peaceful, as if the world around them didn't happen to be falling apart. But their home had been adapted for long-term survival, and days spent within its expanses created a wonderful illusion of normality.
"Patton?" Logan's voice sounded as he stepped onto the porch, pulling Patton from his trance.
"Hey, Lo. What's up?" he asked, turning to face the other man.
"Virgil and I have checked all the traps, and Roman finished tending the garden for the day. They've asked me to inform you," he said, adjusting the dark blue scarf resting around his neck.
Patton nodded with a smile, "That's great. Did you two find anything?"
"Unfortunately, nothing edible. The trapping pit on the far left of the house caught one of the Infected, however, and we handled it accordingly."
"It wasn't too much trouble, was it?"
"Of course not," Logan waved his hand as if to brush off the thought, "it went fine."
"Oh good! The food's almost ready, so why don't you stay on this trend of being the messenger and let the others know?"
"I can do that, but there's something else I wish to speak with you about as well."
"Hm? And what's that?"
"We're running rather low on supplies again. Though it's apparent you're already aware of this," he noted, gesturing towards the pot of watery soup, "But therefore, we believe it would be best to go out scavenging, sooner rather than later. The cans you used are some of the last, as I'm sure you were also aware. Virgil is also nearly out of his medication, and though it's unlikely we'll find his exact perception, an alternative could at least provide similar benefits."
Patton nodded, stopping the frown that wanted to find its way onto his face, "When do you think would be the best time to go?"
Logan was well aware they needed to leave as soon as possible, but he still didn't enjoy sudden ventures out, as it didn't give them nearly enough time to plan in his opinion. Realistically though, he knew there was no way to plan for such a chaotic world. They had emergency measures set aside for all types of situations, but that was all they could do. They always had to discuss where they were going right before they did it, and this time, over lunch seemed to be the best option. After all, it wouldn't make sense for Logan to disagree now, considering he was the one to bring it up to begin with.
"The others wish to go after lunch, I find the proposal bearable."
"Bearable?" Patton asked, "It doesn't seem like you like the idea very much."
Logan shrugged, "It isn't as if any time would be particularly enjoyable."
"I guess not," he said, looking towards the side of the deck as he heard the others approaching. The two remaining boys were making their way over, with Roman bragging about his so-called natural gift in gardening, and Virgil rolling his eyes and limping along on his damaged ankle.
"The idea of a 'green thumb' is such bull. There's literally no such thing," Virgil said, looking at Logan as they climbed the stairs, "Hey! Tell Roman that I'm right."
Roman shook his head, "No, tell this ignorant man that he's in the wrong. There's definitely some totally scientific explanation for having a green thumb. Right, Logan?"
He raised an eyebrow, unsure of how the two even ended up arguing over something so inconsequential. "Well, no. Scientifically speaking, there is no proof of someone being naturally gifted in caring for plants, though I don't see what that has to do with the colour of one's digits."
Roman groaned, "That's so lame. And it's an expression, anyway. It doesn't actually mean your thumb turns leprechaun green when you're skilled. It alludes to a gardener having their fingers stained from working with plants so much."
"I see…" Logan shrugged, "In that case, although there's still no proof of anyone inherently possessing advanced gardening abilities, if your tendings do happen to be sprouting faster than Virgil's, it's simply due to the extra steps you take. For instance, everyone knows plants need sunlight and water in order to photosynthesise, but they also grow better when spoken, or even sung to."
"See! I told you my gardening tunes weren't in vain! Even the plants appreciate it," said Roman, placing a hand over his heart.
Virgil shook his head adamantly, "Well I sure don't, and I am not going to start singing to them either," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender and abandoning the conversation in favour of assisting Patton.
Roman chuckled and rested his hands on his hips, "I'll take what I can get."
"That may be wise," Logan agreed.
Patton looked to Virgil with a smile, "Would you mind serving everyone up a bowl while I get some water from the filtration system?"
"Sure, dude."
The blond nodded and headed off, and Virgil ushered the others to the wooden picnic table installed on the side of the deck. He poured the soup into the four bowls Patton had prepared, and placed each one onto the table in front of their may-as-well-be assigned seats. Patton returned soon after, handing out cups of purified drinking water to everyone, as well as placing a bowl on the ground for his dog that was now following close behind and wagging its tail excitedly. His name was Dug, a big sweetie of a golden retriever named after the movie Up that Patton had owned since before the world fell apart.
"There, everyone all set?" Patton asked, only taking a seat once the others assured him they were alright and not in need of anything else. Everyone began digging into their meals, and they ate in a mildly tense silence before Logan finally broke it by speaking up.
"So..." he began, "we spoke of partaking in a scavenging mission after dining, has anyone's opinion on that matter changed?"
"Mine hasn't," said Roman after taking a swig of his water. "We need to go, we're running dangerously low on supplies. I hate to bring it up, but I thought we agreed to never get to this point again if we could help it. Winter will be here soon, and then we won't even have most of our crops."
Virgil nodded, "And I hate to agree, but Roman's right."
"Well," Patton took a deep breath, "I guess it's decided then, we'll go after lunch. But we'll probably have to find a new shop, we've cleared out anything useful from all of the ones nearby."
"All of those within a 5 mile radius, yes…" said Logan, "meaning it will be an approximate 4 hour round-trip to this new location and back. That is, taking into account any stops, detours, and the time needed to actually search the store we select. Though that estimate is only applicable if all goes as planned."
Patton gave a smile, "Some estimate is better than none, it's okay. And I'm sure that everything will go great. Maybe we'll even find a new radio! With ours having been broken for so long, it would be great to have a working one again. Imagine the great things we could have missed! Broadcasts from other survivors? We could really find some great things at a new store."
Virgil tapped his knuckles on the table, "Knock on wood, don't jinx us."
Patton chuckled and knocked on the bench beside him. "Right. Of course, kiddo."
"Does partaking in such superstitions really provide a sense of comfort?" Logan asked, prodding at his soup pointedly with his spoon.
"I don't know, but it's harmless fun."
"Harmless unit it becomes a necessity and leads to possible ruminations of-"
Roman cut Logan off, "Okay, okay. We get it, Specs. But like, why do you always do that?"
Logan raised a brow, "First of all, rude. Second, what are you talking about?"
Roman pointed at Logan's bowl, where he'd eaten around all of the onions and left them to sit at the bottom. "Do you really hate the taste of onions enough to waste them right now?"
"I'll have you know that I rather enjoy the taste of onions, Roman."
"Uh-huh… See, that doesn't make any sense."
Logan sighed, "The taste is fine, especially considering the limited materials Patton has available to cook them. I'm simply put off by their texture."
"Oh, that's right! I'm sorry, Logan, I always forget," Patton apologized.
"Nonsense, it isn't much trouble to avoid them. The others enjoy it and it provides more sustenance, there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, I experience hyper-sensitivity to many stimuli. It is the same reason I have an aversion to touch and clamour, so really, it's unavoidable in the long run."
"I guess so," sighed Patton, still feeling a bit guilty for the trouble.
Logan simply nodded and finished off his drink, truly not seeing the reasoning behind others getting worked up over his feelings. Why would his neurodiversity cause them to feel guilty? Did they feel bad for him? He certainly hoped not, though he did wonder sometimes. Logan didn't wish for pity, and he didn't need sympathy for existing-- that would be ridiculous, after all. He was more than capable of survival, proven by the fact he's made it so far in this apocalyptic hellscape. And it isn't as if he were set back developmentally, either. In fact, he was very intelligent. Some would even call him a genius, and he sincerely prided himself on that fact. His father always said his wit was only due to his co-occurring Savant syndrome, but his mother had been very adamant that he paved his own way to brilliance. Logan preferred to believe the latter, and did not appreciate the implications of the prior statement at all.
"Logan?" Virgil asked, snapping the man out of his daze.
He blinked quickly as he returned to the present, "Yes, Virgil?"
"Are you like… good? We were talking about plans again, and we need your input."
"Ah, yes. I'm alright," Logan said with a small smirk, "So, where were we?"
•••
The group eventually decided on a plan, though it took a little longer than hoped for everyone to come to an agreement. Even so, there was more than enough time left in the day to make their journey to a shop, so the four men suited up and prepared for a long, dangerous walk.
They all slipped on pairs of boots, lacing them up tight to avoid the hazard of any ankle biters crawling around. Jeans were also a necessity; thick denim made it hard for teeth or nails to break through the skin, and that tended to be priority number one.
Roman always donned a white leather jacket whenever they left, and though it was tacky as all get-out, he loved it and it kept him safe, so none of the other boys berated him about it too often. Virgil would opt for something simpler; just classic black leather over his usual handmade hoodie. He was often hot with all the layers he insisted on wearing out, but still couldn't bear to leave his comfort object behind, especially if anything were to happen. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd do if he left it behind, then never saw it again.
Patton set aside the cardigan that would usually rest around his shoulders. Its cozy presence felt like a constant hug, but it became a danger when outside the confines of their home, as it apparently made for an easy handhold to grab onto and pull him down with. Logan had a similar issue when it came to his scarf, which was already a replacement for the tie he used to wear-- as he felt incomplete without a presence around his neck. It was needless to say that professional attire had been his preference in the past. People were more likely to take him seriously that way, after all, and it made him feel heard. But there was no time to tend to fancy clothes anymore, nor was there time to find new ties. So a random scarf it was, and a random scarf he'd occasionally have to leave behind.
"Is everyone ready?" Patton asked, grabbing their stash of empty bags and handing them out. Roman was the only one to carry a full pack everywhere, a bag of just-in-case supplies that he insisted on lugging around since he was the strongest.
"I am," said Roman, slipping said bag over his shoulders with a satisfied grin.
"As am I."
"Me too."
"Great," breathed Patton, readying himself for the outside. "Let's go then."
He reached for the door and let them all outside, bidding Dug adieu with a promise to return soon before sealing the many locks tightly. They all made their way down the rocky path and through their tall fences, watching close as they exited the wooded area concealing their home. It always felt strange to leave and enter the world again, the poor conditions having a bad habit of catching them off guard. It was easy to forget how bad things were outside of their private little sanctuary, but passing by a heap of human remains was sure to snap anyone out of their delusions of safety. Even if the secluded nature of the area meant less Infected, they could never be too careful.
There was a thick silence between the four as they walked, trudging through the grass until it gave way to a street. The first few minutes out were always the hardest, as it threw them back to the beginning all over again, and they always needed time to pull themselves together. But it would get easier, it always did. This notion proved to be true, as by the time they reached the first stretch of long-since-looted buildings, the tension no longer felt quite so suffocating. It was no picnic, but they could breathe just a little easier, and keeping their masks on wasn't as miserable. When given the chance, they ventured away from any main roads in favour of the much emptier back allies, stealthily threading through the buildings to avoid any of the undead who may still be lurking.
The worst of the tension had diminished almost entirely after a few hours, replaced with achy muscles and the strange hypervigilance they'd adapted in order to survive. Somehow they'd gotten lucky, and were able to sneak by most of the Infected without engaging-- only having had to take down a few along the way. They forced themselves forward despite their discomfort, and even Virgil limped along as he always did. The old injury never seemed to slow him down much, and when worst came to worst, he was always able to keep up with the others when running. He'd sprint right alongside them, even if in the days after, he'd be hurting more than usual. Virgil never let himself complain about the pain, however, believing that since it happened so long ago, he had no right to dwell. Apparently he'd broken it before finding their group, and it never healed correctly, but he didn't speak of that much, either. He didn't seem to be struggling any more than usual, but Patton couldn't help but worry his friend was suffering anyway.
"Hey, Virgil?" he asked, finally speaking and fixing the empty backpack over his shoulders.
The black haired boy turned to face him, tilting his head slightly as they walked. "Hm? What's up, dude?"
"Are you sure you're doing okay on that ankle of yours?"
Virgil rolled his eyes, "You littearly ask me that every time we go out, Pat. I'm pretty sure it's okay by now."
"I know, I know, but I just get concerned. It always looks like you're in pain, and I hate seeing any of you guys like that!" Patton made sure not to raise his voice, even as his tone went up, "You never even bring it up, but it has to bug you if you're limping all the time."
He shook his head, waving it off, "I hardly notice it normally, so I really see no need to mention it. What good would it do?"
"Not too much, I guess..?"
Virgil gave a small smirk, "I think you might worry too much, and that's coming from me."
Patton cracked a smile, "Maybe you're right. You say you're okay, I should try and have faith in that."
"Now you're getting it," he said.
"I am, but you still never really talk about what happened. You tell us you broke it, and we know that, but why do you never talk about what it was like before you found us?"
"Because, it isn't important."
"Of course it's important! It's your life, and I wish you'd trust us with your stories about it."
Virgil sighed, and Logan turned to face them, "I must admit, I've found myself curious as well. We've never been able to attain any real explanation from you, it's rather troubling."
"Why is it troubling?" he asked, "What? Do you think I'm secretly a murderer or something?"
"No, I can confidently say I've never drawn that conclusion. But as Patton expressed, we have simply been… concerned, for your well-being. You do not make the situation seem particularly pleasant."
"I don't think anyone could describe the end of the world as pleasant," Virgil noted, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
"Probably not," added Roman, unable to stop himself from jumping in on conversation, "but you're this edgy book of secrets, and we all want you to open up. Like, come on, what's there to lose?"
"You guys are never gonna let this go, are you?"
"Well, we don't want to make you uncom-" Patton began, but Roman cut him off.
"Nope, we won't."
Virgil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Whatever, sir-sing-a-lot. I don't know why you care so much, at least the others have genuine motives behind their wondering."
"I have genuine motives."
"Uh-huh, sure you do." Virgil shook his head and took a deep breath, trying to simultaneously think of what to say first and prepare himself to disclose the past. To his surprise, everyone waited patiently.
"Okay, let's see…" he mumbled, snapping his fingers as he thought of where to begin, "My ankle. Patton's always curious about that one… Well, I broke it trying to escape a hoard. I had to leave my old group behind so they could get away safely, I would've just slowed them down in the state I was in. I ended up hiding to wait it out, for three days or so, till the zombies got bored of me and gave up or whatever. It was maybe four months into the third wave."
There was a strange silence between the team for a moment, each of them staring at the clearly anxious man finally telling his story. They supposed they shouldn't be surprised to hear something grim, but some things just never lost their shock factor.
"I'm sorry, bud…" Patton was the one to break the silence, placing a hand on Virgil's shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.
"Hey, it is what it is."
"I suppose…" he nodded, "But you and your group? Did you guys get along okay?" Patton was trying to make light of the dim past, and Virgil could appreciate that to some degree.
"We were… an interesting bunch," Virgil chuckled softly, fixing his bag so it didn't fall from his shoulders.
"Is that so?" asked Logan.
He nodded slowly, "In my opinion, yeah. There were three of us… a trio of fuckin' weirdos, really. We didn't have a leader, but Dee usually liked to act like he was in charge. Well, his real name's Janus, but he always went by Dee. The dude's a pathological liar, for context, and used to be bullied a lot when he was younger, to the point some people straight up started calling him Deceit. He, of course, took the name and made it his own-- started going by Dee to prove they couldn't get to him. It stuck, and years later it's what all his friends still call him."
"I can appreciate that psychology, taking another's slander and integrating it into something pleasant…" Logan said, seeming to trail off absentmindedly.
"I figured you would," agreed Virgil, "He did that kinda thing a lot. From what I heard, he had a rough childhood in pretty much every sense of the word, so I guess he took to deflecting as a way to cope." He glanced around as he spoke, feeling the need to ensure that none of the undead had been attracted to their speech. They never tended to talk so much on outings, usually opting to remain quiet and listen. However, he saw nothing strange nearby, so the relief enabled him to continue.
"That's so sad…" said Patton, and Virgil couldn't help but nod in agreement.
"You said there were three of you, though," Roman noted, holding up a finger to represent each member. "What was the other fellow like?"
"Oh, right. He was… eccentric, I guess. He wasn't exactly right in the head, but once you got past his --frankly kind of disturbing-- antics, he wasn't a bad guy at heart. Dee knew him better than I did, though."
Roman nodded and chuckled slightly, "Ah, he sounds like my brother."
"You see," Virgil said abruptly and gestured towards the brunet, "you guys all get on me for being vague, but Roman does it too! We don't know anything about his brother besides the fact that they're twins and they didn't get along."
"How'd you gather that last part?" Roman asked, a look of mild wonder on his face.
"Common sense," he deadpanned.
"Well, since we're sharing… why don't you tell us about your brother, Ro?" Patton asked.
"I too, am curious," added Logan.
Roman sighed, "Very well… you see, Virgil and his strange psychic abilities-"
"-Common sense."
"-were correct. My brother and I never did get along very well. We fought like cats and dogs most of the time, which… in retrospect, I suppose I should have been the bigger person and chosen not to engage. He fell ill when we were young, and he never fully recovered. He acted rather strange, and always got everyone's attention. Which I now like to believe he needed, but as a child I felt as if he'd stolen my spotlight. Nothing I did felt remarkable enough anymore."
"I assume you've considered the fact that this is why portray yourself with such verve?" asked Logan.
Roman nodded, "My family certainly seems to think so. But I haven't so much as heard from my brother since I felt for college… and I can honestly say I've reached a point where I regret not reaching out when I could. Who knows how he could be doing now? Or if he's even made it this far…"
Patton reached out to pat his back, and Roman gave a small smile of gratitude in return.
"Huh…" Virgil mumbled in thought, looking up towards the dramatic man before him, "Hey, what's your brother's name anyway?"
"It's Remus. Why do you ask?"
Virgil stopped in his tracks, eyes wide with realization. If it were at all possible in reality, there would have been a light bulb that went off above his head. "Because we're talking about the same person."