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[graveyardboots]

The bombs fall and they hide in a church. Pope declares them chosen and it fits with what Mancea hears; the voice he hears now in the place of the scream of bombs falling.

Then the bombs keep falling and they get separated. He takes Gabe and a corpsman and he runs for the woods. It's instinctive. The corpsman is injured, though, and Mancea finds them a cabin to rest in. But the prognosis isn't good.

"What will we do?" he asks Gabe quietly one night. "I don't think I can save her. God says she is meant for paradise."

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[graveyardboots]

He's longed for so many years to touch Gabe again. Now that he is he doesn't pull away.

"I'll get it for you," he promises. If not at the hospital then at a grocery store or a convenience store, there are places still to loot. They haven't come this far to lose Gabe now. "How soon do you need it?"

[minuteofangle]

"I can hold off for a day or two if I push it."

He kisses Mancea's palm. No one's there to stop him.

"I'd have to stop wearing the prosthetics without it," he admits. And there are risks to not flushing the sockets. He can survive them, but it's still a danger. That, and any fucker out there in the world will know he's blind. Will start making a different sort of threat calculus.

[graveyardboots]

"You won't have to," he promises. They need every little advantage they can grasp.

Everything since the bombs fell has had him feeling raw and reeling. But Gabe's touch steadies him. He leans forward, touching his forehead to Gabe's. Just for a moment, that's all he needs.

"I'm glad I'm with you."

[minuteofangle]

They haven’t touched in years. Nothing real, anyway, nothing that would matter. Propriety, rules, those lines in the sand. It matters, Gabe knows, or it did, and now so little matters at all. The polite rules abandoned them in the fires. Pope says God didn’t, though, and now Mancea’s forehead is flush to his own. All that’s old is new again.

Gabe tries a crooked smile. “You still trust me?”

[graveyardboots]

"Always." And for the first time since news broke that the dead were rising, he can smile. "Nothing changes that."

[minuteofangle]

Gabe smiles, too. Just a little. Even in the middle of all this, he isn't alone. Maybe God's looking down on him kindly just this once.

"I have you. And you have me. Same as always."

[graveyardboots]

I still love you, he thinks, but it isn't the time to say it, is it? Instead he just strokes Gabe's cheek before he pulls back.

"Let's try to get some rest. I'll take first watch."

[minuteofangle]

"Yeah," Gabe agrees, too tired to argue. They're relatively safe, at least for the moment. There are walls, no moaning dead trying to eat them. Mancea's injuries aren't severe - yet. Vickers isn't dead yet.

That could change. It might tomorrow. Gabe doesn't have much faith in God these days, but he believes in Mancea. He believes in what the two of them can do together.

"Wake me when it's my turn," Gabe murmurs, and shifts to settle back in his chair. He holds Vicker's hand.

[graveyardboots]

Mancea puts another log on the little fire they have going, determined to keep Vickers warm even if they can't do much else for her. And then he patrols the perimeter, murmuring little prayers, seeing if God will answer with a voice like He did in the church. Like He had that morning when Mancea asked about the hospital.

Eight hours later he wakes Gabe. "It's not long before dawn," he murmurs. "Wake me in two hours."

[minuteofangle]

This time, no dreams follow Gabe. He closes his eyes and he’s just gone, lost inside himself. Too exhausted even for anxiety to take him down the road.

He stirs with a groan, rubbing at his face. Hungry as fuck. “You let me sleep too long,” he murmurs. “Asshole.”

There’s not much venom, though. He understands the impulse.

[graveyardboots]

"You needed it," Mancea says. Pacing all night was good for him; his head feels clear even if he's ready to sleep for a hundred years now. "I have a granola bar in my pack if you want it."

[minuteofangle]

We both need it, Gabe doesn’t say. He stands himself up carefully, ins hand braced against the wall to steady himself. His white cane got lost in the chaos but he’s got a big stick that’s almost as good; he doesn’t reach for it, though. Not quite yet.

“Split it with me. We need the calories.”

And he’s not in the mood to humor Mancea’s impulses toward self sacrifice. Not today.

[graveyardboots]

Anyone else and Mancea would have argued or insisted or even ordered them to take the whole thing. But Gabe won't abide that, and he knows it, so he breaks it in half and offers it.

"We should savor it. I have a feeling it will be some time before we have chocolate chips again."

[minuteofangle]

No argument—good. Gabe sighs, acknowledging the sad fucking truth that they probably won’t have chocolate for a while or maybe ever again. He eats his half of the bar slowly, savoring the taste, thankful that it’s not stale enough they need to soak that shit in water to soften it up.

The chocolate tastes damn good.

“World’s different now, isn’t it?”

[graveyardboots]

"Different," he agrees, chewing slowly. "But not gone yet."

God is still there. Louder than ever before. That means something.

"The others made it out. Once Vickers is stable we'll start looking for them."

[minuteofangle]

"Not yet," Gabe agrees. And in that there's possibility if not precisely hope. Gabe's never been one to hit a wall and give up. It's cost him sometimes. He's taken more scars because of it. But he's still alive, in the end.

That's something, right?

He shifts to bump his arm against Mancea's. "Maybe you got faith enough for both of us."

He thinks Vickers is going to die. But maybe not. They'll operate like she'll make it until she doesn't.

[graveyardboots]

He leans against Gabe a moment, before he lies down. He casts a worried look at Vickers.

"I can keep the faith," he agrees. God hasn't said anything about Vickers getting better, is the thing. But they have to try. They won't just leave her.

At least he has Gabe. There's no one he'd rather be with, even under the circumstances. "I think you'll find your faith too, though."

[minuteofangle]

Gabe hums and lays his hand on Mancea’s shoulder, reaching for his stick with the other. He worries about being on watch; there are things he just doesn’t notice anymore, details he misses that the others wouldn’t. But his hearing is still good despite how many gunshots he’s been around. He has training. And the simple truth is that Mancea needs sleep, too.

“Rest,” he says, instead of making any promises about faith. “I got you.”

He’s always loved Mancea. And for Gabe, love involves trust.

[graveyardboots]

Mancea lays his hand on Gabe's lap, allowing himself this little comfort. He falls asleep that way, and only wakes after few hours, jerking awake hard, reaching for a gun.

[minuteofangle]

“Easy.”

Gabe lays his hand on Mancea’s head, his own voice calm and slow. Controlled. It’s not the first time one of them has startled awake. If it goes violent, that won’t be the first time either.

“It’s just me.”

Vickers is still breathing. Beyond that, Gabe can’t say.

[graveyardboots]

He looks up at Gabe, slowly remembering where they are. He reaches up, brushing his hand along Gabe's cheek. Then he sits up.

"Has Vickers moved?"

[minuteofangle]

"No."

He resists the urge to press into Mancea's hand, to linger here. They have work to do.

"She doesn't sound worse, at least."

[graveyardboots]

That's something. If they can keep her stable maybe she'll mend.

He sighs and rubs his face. "Ready to get to scavenging?"

[minuteofangle]

“Yep.”

Ready as he’ll ever be. Gabe exhales and scrubs at his face again.

“You’re gonna have to guide me. I thought about doing a tether like when we go jogging, but there’re too many ways that could go wrong.”

If they get tangled up on something, they’ll get each other killed.

“So, you’re gonna have to take point. You good with that?”

[graveyardboots]

"All right." Truth be told he prefers taking point with Gabe. He can face danger firsthand, and he can clear the path for Gabe to follow.

He gives Vickers a little water. She stirs only long enough to swallow a few mouthfuls. Better than yesterday, though, even if she still feels feverish.

"Let's go," he murmurs to Gabe once they're packed up. It's a long walk, but he takes his time to be sure Gabe won't stumble.