Gilman Black (gilmanblack) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-04-30 12:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | alternate universe, annie, complete, gilman |
Who: Annie & Gilman
When: Around the time Gilman and Annie broke up.
Where: Crow’s Landing!
What: AU: Annie & Gilman’s Most Excellent Zombie Adventure.
Warning: Lots of swearing, violence against zombies, and Gilman acts like a decent human being. Split into parts in the comments. 22k words.
The break-up had hit him a lot harder than he’d expected. Gilman had wrapped himself up so tightly in his own bullshit, he half believed it. In reality, he was pretty devastated to have broken up with Annie, especially over something so... but it was a big deal. To him, it was. But he could’ve handled it better. A lot better. Breaking up with her over something like that? It would’ve actually been better if it had been for cheating, or just because she was tired of how little trust he invested in her. He’d just freaked out over the concept of her being pregnant, and there wasn’t any going back from that. Maybe she’d had an inkling of his true colours, but having them confirmed? They were done for good. She’d probably never speak to him again.
Gilman got drunk, alone, in his trailer. When he woke up, there was noise. He shook his head, looking around in alarm, but besides a throbbing headache, there was nothing going on inside his trailer. It was on the outside. Was someone trying to get in!? His hangover clung to the inside of his head, but the rest of his senses flared to life. There was someone outside, banging on the door. They weren’t shouting, however. And were they... using their hands?
“Fuck off!” Gilman shouted, grabbing for his phone. There was no response, except that the banging turned into... scratching? Someone was scratching at his door? Gilman made a face and undid the latches on his door, “Seriously, Suze? How high are yoouuFUCK!”
Susie looked like absolute hell, and she lunged at him, grabbing and snapping her teeth. Her forward momentum made them both fall back into his trailer, Susie on top, and she was way heavier than he thought a dried-up meth head would be. And fucking strong. His phone when skittering across the floor as he wrestled with her, trying not to hurt her.
“What the fuck!?” he demanded, “Stop you crazy fucking--!”
It was a near miss. Susie grabbed a mouthful of his shirt and shook like a dog tearing at meat. If he hadn’t been moving a particular way at the time, she would’ve actually bitten him. Gilman finally got his wits about him and shoved her, hard, out of his trailer. She pitched backwards with a squeal and Gilman saw there were others outside. Shambling. Some of them were bent over what looked like a bloody carcass. Eating it. What the fuck was going on?
And could he hear the distant sirens from GenTech? They tested them once a year, but usually in winter, when people were less likely to react to hearing the alarms. Gilman slammed the door to his trailer, locked it, and scrambled for his phone. It took him a few tries but he eventually got Annie’s number up.
“Come on, pick up,” he said, struggling to hop into a pair of jeans, “Come on come on.”
Whatever was going on, maybe it hadn’t gone past the woods? All Gilman knew was that he’d just seen his neighbours literally eating people. The police should’ve been his first thought, but after yesterday? He needed to know Annie was okay. And he needed a plan. Gilman jumped as the banging on his trailer resumed. More hands, this time.
Her phone picked up, but Gilman didn’t wait to find out if it was actually her or her voicemail.
“Hello!? Don’t say anything just – don’t go outside! Stay in! Lock your door! I’m coming over.”
When Annie managed to open her gritty, puffy eyes, the first thing she noticed was her phone vibrating on the bedside table. It took her a moment to gather her bearings, and she wiped sleepily at her eyes. She didn't even know what time it was, and if she were to be perfectly honest, she didn't know the day. Annie hadn't managed to sleep the night before; her mind had refused to shut off. She couldn't stop thinking about Gilman and the things they said to one another. They'd both known that they wouldn't last forever, but that wasn't the way she ever wanted it to end.
And then, lo and behold, it happened early in the morning. It made sense, really, that fate would wait and resume her period the day after she and Gilman broke up over the lack thereof. Maybe it was the exhaustion of going without any sleep, or maybe it was something else, something deeper that she didn't want to examine, but she couldn't help it: she cried.
After shooting a text to the summer camp she worked at to let them know that she wouldn't be able to make it in, Annie crawled into bed, curled herself around Axel, and she'd fallen into a deep sleep filled with bizarre dreams, only to be woken up some hours later by the vibrating phone. Thinking it might be the summer camp or Hunter, she reached over to check the I.D.
Gilman Black.
Her first instinct was to answer the call, but just as her finger moved to tap the "answer" button, she thought twice and hit the "ignore" button instead. If he wanted to talk, she would talk to him later when their words weren't still so fresh and hurtful. For now, all she wanted to do was sleep away her problems and, if possible, forget Gilman Black existed for the time being.
Another buzz, this one shorter, had her checking her phone again. He left a voicemail? Well, now she was intrigued.
“Hello!? Don’t say anything just – don’t go outside! Stay in! Lock your door! I’m coming over.”
Was this some kind of prank? She wouldn't have put it past him, but that seemed overly tacky, even for Gilman. With a begrudging groan, Annie crawled out of her bed, made the short trek through the apartment, and stood in front of the door. As her hand lingered on the deadbolt, an uncomfortable feeling began to settle in. Why would Gilman tell her not to go outside? What was happening, if anything?
She stood there for what seemed like a small eternity, her fingers hovering above the lock.
She didn't pick up. Of course she didn't fucking pick up; he'd been a complete psychopath the other day. He was lucky she hadn't ordered Axel to rip his balls off. Whatever, it didn't matter. He was going over there. Gilman struggled into a wifebeater and finally pulled on socks and a pair of boots. Not all summer attire, but he wasn't going for a jog. He was sort of concerned for his life, if his neighbors were eating each other. Gilman looked around his trailer, but he didn't know what else he really needed to grab just to drive into town. Against his better judgement, he grabbed the aluminium baseball bat he kept under his bed. Susie had tried to bite him. And not just to inflict damage, either, she'd wanted an actual piece!
He took a few breaths, opened the door and shoved Susie and another neighbor back, running for his car. There were little scenes of gore all over the trailer park, and Gilman froze a moment, his brain not capable of comprehending what appeared to be mass-scale cannibalism. Was it a disease? Was it contagious?
Gilman got his ass into the car and nearly ran over Mike on his way into town. What the fuck was happening!?
Meanwhile, at Annie's side, Axel let out a low whine and then startled to growl at the door. Something heavy bumped into it, and then began a slow, steady scratching. Through the peephole, the nice old widow who lived next to her looked like she'd just dragged herself inside from a car accident.
Axel's hackles were up from his shoulders down to his rump, his tail stiff and his ears flat against his skull.
"Axel, what's wr--"
The sudden thud against the door startled her enough to send her stumbling back a step or two, and Axel was between her and the door in an instant. It wasn't the thud that turned made Annie's face lose its color. No, the scratching was what did that. "Holy shit," she somehow managed to murmur around the hardening lump of fear in her throat. Was this what Gilman was talking about? What the fuck was on the other side of the door?
Swallowing, Annie forced her body into motion and stepped toward the door once again, this time close enough to peer through the peephole. She instantly wished she hadn't. Mrs. Peters stood outside, part of her face literally missing, but the worst part was the eyes. They were milky and unfocused; it was like they didn't actually see anything at all, and yet the way Mrs. Peters stared blankly at the peephole made Annie feel like she could see through it, like she knew that Annie was standing on the other side of the door.
The more Annie looked at her, debating on whether or not she should open the door and help, she more she thought back on Gilman's message. Don't go outside.
Slowly, in an attempt to not make any noise, she stepped away from the door. "Axel, quiet," she warned, and though his hackles were still up and he still looked like he was ready to pounce at the first sign of distress, his growls died down. Annie wasn't for sure, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the less noise they made, the better off they would be.
Gilman's hope that the town wasn't yet effected by whatever had gotten out of GenTech was swiftly crushed. If anything, it had hit town first and wound up spilling into the woods. He considered calling Annie again, but it took everything he had to concentrate on driving. It looked like a disaster area, and out in front of her apartment wasn't any better. He parked and bolted for the door, grabbing his keys and remembering that he'd given Annie the spare key yesterday. Some of the sick looking people were shambling after him, having been drawn by the engine of his car.
He pressed the call button for her apartment.
"Annie? Annie it's me," he said, eyes wide and knuckles white as he gripped the bat, "You gotta buzz me in, okay? I don't have the key and I'm trapped out here."
Outside the door, alerted by the buzzing and Gilman's tinny voice over the intercom, Mrs. Peters snarled and threw her body weight against the door.
"Hurry, Annie," Gilman said. He wasn't actually a very violent person, but if any of these blood smeared freaks came near him, he was going to start swinging. What if she wasn't home? What if she was like one of them? The last things he'd said to her had been so purposefully hurtful, his stomach actually lurched. What was his plan, if she wasn't home? Gilman didn't even have one.
Oh, fuck, she thought to herself, her eyes wide. Gilman really was outside, which meant he was outside with whatever was out there. Trying not to panic (and failing), Annie scrambled to the buzzer to not only let Gilman into the building, but to give him fair warning about what was waiting for him on the other side.
"Gilman," she gasped, hoping he hadn't already dashed inside. "There's someone outside my door. S-She's sick, Gilman. And she's pissed." They were being too loud, and Mrs. Peters slammed herself against the door yet again, shaking the walls along with it. This was bad. No, bad didn't cover it. This was some sick shit, and by the way Gilman was acting, it wasn't confined to her apartment complex. "Be careful."
Outside of her door, Mrs. Peters was getting riled up. The snarls made Annie's skin crawl, and it was all Axel could do not to lunge at the door and make a scene. Even he seemed to know that they had to stay quiet. What if Mrs. Peters drew the attention of other people in the complex? The door was pretty sturdy, but it wouldn't hold up against a small group.
Maybe this was a nightmare. She would wake up in her bed, and everything would be okay.
"Just stay put," Gilman said, "I-- fuck."
Gilman released the intercom button and had to shove someone away who'd just stumbled out of the bushes and half on top of him, using the bat as leverage. He wasn't swinging for the fences just yet. Maybe they were just sick? He didn't want to get charged for murder, after all. Gilman was a lot of things, but murderer wasn't one of them.
Once he was inside, he considered the stairwell and just took the elevator. No sense getting trapped in a confined space with a very sick person, right? Gilman paced anxiously in the elevator, tense when it stopped on Annie's floor. When it opened he hesitated, seeing what Annie had told him about. Her neighbor, hurling herself at Annie's door, scratching and snarling like a wild animal. While she was the only sick person in the hall, he could hear shuffling and scratching behind other doors. Was this shit airborne?? It was a little late to get all concerned about breathing in the air. He'd just had Susie on top of him, and she'd been pretty damned rank. Gilman had to assume it was her breath.
He forced himself to move forward, slowly, eyes wide. What was he even going to do? She was making a real racket, and it was stirring up the other people. And was that old lady missing part of her face? How could she even still be alive after something like that?
Gilman didn't have a chance to think on it more as a door he passed suddenly lurched outward, a large, heavy figure slamming into him. He fought back wildly, and from Annie's vantage, Mrs. Peters slowly turned away from the door and lurched towards the signs of struggle. Gilman was weirdly silent. He'd been in fights, but the only times he'd ever really won were when he was just physically bigger than his opponent. Having a bat was a big help. The first man to attack him got a bat to the temple, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. The old woman, terrifying as she looked, Gilman just shoved back. Twice. In a panic (her fingers grazed his shirt), he planted his foot in her midsection and shoved her down, bringing the bat down on her head a few times.
Gilman thought he might throw up, and it was a bloodspattered and pale man that finally tried Annie's doorknob.
"Annie, it's me," he said, eyes wandering wildly around the corridor, "Lemme in before any more come."
He'd just killed two people. Maybe it was better if she didn't let him in. Gilman didn't even know anymore. He wanted to throw up and lie down, and revisit everything after a long nap. Maybe it was all a really messed up, booze-induced nightmare?
The scratching soon stopped, but the sounds of an ensuing struggle were worse. Much worse, because she knew that the person in the hall happened to be her boyfriend. Former, she corrected herself, not that it was an important distinction at the moment. She listened closely, wincing every time she heard a blow and praying to anything or anyone that would listen that it wasn't Gilman getting hurt.
There was silence, then. A silence so thick and dreadful that it made her stomach churn. She was just about to call out to Gilman when she heard his voice on the other side of the door. Without thinking twice, she threw herself to the door and trembling fingers turned the deadlock. The door was wrenched open a second later, and the moment that he was no longer in the hall, she slammed the door and locked it back, not about to risk letting anything inside.
"Are you --" There was so much blood - so much that she didn't know if it was his own or something else. "Are you hurt?" she managed, voice low and hitched with emotion. She'd never been so happy to see Gilman's face. Who would have thought that a mere day after their break up, she would be in near-tears just at the sight of him being alive.
"What the fuck is going on? What ... what is wrong with everyone?" Was it a disease? Was it airborne? Annie mentally crossed that option off, since neither she or Gilman seemed to have it, and they both lived in crowded areas. So, what then? "Are you okay?" she asked again, so enveloped in panic that she didn't even realize that she'd already asked the question just seconds before.
He wordlessly leaned against the wall near the door. Gilman felt numb, but he was still clutching the bat. He could hear her asking him things, but if he opened his mouth...
Moving quickly, he shuffled into her kitchen and threw up in the sink. There wasn't all that much to bring up thanks to subsisting on a largely liquid diet over the past twelve hours or so, but he still heaved for a long while. One hand gripped the counter, but the other had a death grip choked on the grip.
"M'okay," he said once he'd heaved his last. Gilman moved a hand to wipe his mouth but saw there was blood on it and just let his hand drop to his side, "I think I killed your neighbor."
He looked at her, spooked. It wasn't too different from his expression when she'd said her period was late, though Gilman's mind was a million miles away from that at the moment.
Gilman sat on the kitchen floor, everything catching up to him in a rush. He was safe now, and he was feeling very, very lightheaded, "Sorry. About your neighbor. She tried to bite me."
Annie followed him into the kitchen, but Axel stayed behind, the ever-watchful guard dog. "Gilman, what's -" Her question was forgotten as he began to retch into her kitchen sink, his back heaving with every new wave of nausea. She tried not to listen to the sound of the vomit splashing into the sink, so she instead focused on the methodical hum of the fridge. It was strange, the things people would focus on in a time of distress.
So, Gilman killed Mrs. Peters. That was unfortunate, but she wasn't even entirely sure that Mrs. Peters was even human. And, God, what Gilman must have been going through. He could be a real asshole sometimes, but he wasn't a killer.
When she noticed the way he dropped his blood-covered hand to his side, Annie finally willed herself to move. "Hey," she said, as soothingly as her own panic would allow. "You had to do what you had to do, alright? She was going to kill you, otherwise." She reached for the rag by the sink, and after wetting it with cool water, she gently wiped off the blood and vomit around his mouth. After years of dealing with preschoolers, vomit wasn't such a big deal, really.
"Do you know what's going on? Has there been any kind of news reports or anything?"
There was a weird wave of guilt when she was dabbing at him with a cool cloth. He'd said some nasty shit awhile ago. Yesterday. It felt like longer. Gilman shook his head slowly, swallowing a few times before he spoke again. He could taste bile, but he didn't think he was going to be sick again. It'd just be dry heaves.
"I could hear those sirens they test every winter," Gilman said, finally looking at her. He needed to get his shit back together, and his brows drew together as he forced himself to focus. If Annie could hold her shit together, so could he, "From GenTech. I don't know if this is... have you watched the news?"
Maybe it wasn't that bad. If it was just GenTech... well, it was still fucking horrible, but it was something they could get away from. Gilman put a hand up behind him (still clutching the bat) and heaved himself back to his feet using the counter. He still felt woozy, but he had a mission now.
"I didn't watch any news in my trailer," Gilman said, "I woke up and my hooker neighbor tried to eat me."
For once, Gilman wasn't using a double entendre on purpose. He took a moment to wash his hands in the sink. What he really needed was a shower, but what was he going to change into? He was already exposed, at this point. To whatever it was. Once his hands were clean he moved into Annie's living room and turned the TV on, but he didn't sit, much as he wanted too. Gilman didn't want to get blood on her furniture.
The TV was bedlam. What was happening wasn't GenTech at all -- they were just running their sirens for some other reason. On TV were scenes like he'd seen in the trailer park, and he couldn't help but glance at Annie. He almost turned it off, but why? Yesterday he'd been gung-ho about scraping her uterus clean, and today he was getting all protective? What a white fucking knight he was.
Gilman jumped when the feed suddenly cut out on CNN. It was static, and then it flicked to the Emergency Broadcast System, advising people to be calm and stay in their homes.
"Shit," was all he could think to say. Quietly, he reached for Annie's hand and tried another news channel. Of course Fox News was going strong. It wasn't all bad then, right? Some TV was still working.
Had Annie been sleeping so heavily that she hadn't heard the sirens? Those fuckers were loud, and she hadn't so much as heard a peep from outside her apartment. It bothered her that all of this took place while she was asleep. What if she'd forgotten to lock the door? Or, God forbid, what if she had left it cracked? She'd done it before, on more than one occasion, when she was waiting on company or something of the like. "I've been asleep," was all she said at first, unable to form words without a serious and deliberate concentration beforehand.
If it came down to it, Annie had some oversized tee-shirts that she slept in and some sweatpants that he could maybe pull tight enough to fit his slender waist. He'd look slightly ridiculous, but who cared in a time like this? In a time where, according to the images on the TV right now, people were eating each other. Like, literally chewing on them and tearing them to pieces. What kind of fucked up shit caused something like this? This wasn't another zombie movie; this was real life, and Annie couldn't believe the shit she was seeing on the television.
And then it was gone, replaced by the robotic voice that told them to stay calm and not go outside. Brilliant, she thought, her hand pressing against her forehead. What were they going to do?
When she felt Gilman's fingers weave into her own, she realized something for the first time. He risked his life, literally, to come make sure she was okay. Gilman, the guy who couldn't even stomach the possibility of her being pregnant with his child, had put his own life in danger to get to Annie, and if he hadn't already been holding her hand, she would have reached for him in some fashion.
"We should barricade the door or ... something. Shit, I don't know."
"Yeah," he said, "That's..."
Maybe it wasn't important now, but for all Gilman liked to judge people's decision making in movies? He wasn't in a fucking movie. This was actually happening, and there was no way to predict what happened next. He had to address yesterday in some fashion.
"I'm sorry I'm such an asshole," he said, barely able to hold her gaze. He gave her hand a very solid squeeze and then released it, going over to a heavy set of Ikea shelves that he'd helped her assemble. That was about as much emotional shit as he could manage right now. She had a point. They needed to be safe -- and quiet -- and see how things turned out. Where were they going to go? Portland? If it was bad in Crow's Landing, it was probably a slaughterfest in Portland. Or Baltimore. Or Pittsburgh.
He tried to focus on his current location and finally set the bat aside, grunting as he dragged the heavy shelving unit towards her front door. For all the shit he stacked on 'cheap plastic furniture', the unit was pretty sturdy. Better than some of his milk crate furniture back in his trailer.
"We should probably stay away from the windows," he said, not asking her to help. He wouldn't have protested, Gilman wasn't much of a macho man, but for all he fucking knew she was pregnant, so she probably shouldn't lift heavy shit, right? "Draw the blinds or something. I guess we just... sit tight? The power is still on and shit. It's not like it's the end of the world."
Gilman was the first person to make fun of superstition, but he almost stopped dragging the unit to knock on the wood.
"And I'd pick a spot for Axel to use as a toilet," he said, a little grim. He was a good dog, so he'd probably go for awhile before he had to give in, "Because I don't think it's gonna be safe outside for a little while."
"I'm sorry you're such an asshole, too," she said, and despite the seriousness of her tone, she was at least partially kidding. Their breakup might not be the most pressing piece of business (obviously), but she would be lying if she said it didn't make her feel a little better that Gilman did, in fact, have a more caring side than he would've liked to let on, a fact that Annie knew all along. If the fact that he braved the things outside to get to her hadn't of proven that, then his apology would have.
When she saw him struggling with the heavy set of shelves, Annie went to the opposite side and helped. Annie wasn't some delicate flower that would break under the slightest pressure, and she was pretty damn strong when it came down to it. With the both of them, they managed to pull the set of shelves in front of the door without much of a hitch. It wasn't the best barricade, but it would add some sturdiness to the door, which is what they needed for the time being.
The thought of having Axel take his shits inside wasn't the most pleasant thought, but if worse came to worse, they could always drop it outside the window. She doubted the landlord would be giving her any trouble over it, either. Briefly, she imagined her landlord as one of those shambling, gnashing things, and she had to shake her head in order to bring herself back to the present.
The electricity was still on for now, and she had plenty of food to make sure they didn't, like, starve to death and start contemplating cooking each other, but there was no telling how long it would take for the electricity to go back off.
"Holy shit, Gilman," she breathed, the weight of it all finally breaking over Annie like some kind of wave. "What the fuck are we gonna do? Holy fucking shit."
"I dunno," he said. He didn't really know what to do with himself besides shift his weight and watch the door, "Watch the news and see what's going on, I guess?"
Gilman rubbed his face. He needed a glass of water and something to eat, but despite the situation, he felt a little weird helping himself. Given the context of the situation, he thought he'd feel more casual about it, but what were they going to do? Waiting around was kind of the crux of it, but that was a lot of silence to fill only a day after they'd had a nasty fight. It was autopilot that had him on the couch with a carton of goldfish crackers and a glass of water, staring at the TV. The bat wasn't far from his reach, but he was physically incapable of staying tense and alert the entire time. All they knew on TV, as it turned out, was that there was some kind of illness sweeping not just the US, but the globe. People who died would get back up again, hungry for flesh. It was all so disjointed, Gilman felt a bit like he was watching a movie, not actually experiencing it. Occasional thumps and drags outside of her apartment said otherwise, though.
Gilman's phone started buzzing and he answered it so quickly, he almost dropped the phone.
"Courtney? Are you-- don't leave your fucking apartment!" he said, getting to his feet, "What do you... Courtney, no. That isn't him anymore, okay? You need something heavy-- fucking listen to me, Courtney! Don't--!!"
Gilman went very quiet, one hand curled into a fist in his hair, his eyes wide.
"...Courtney? Courty? Are you there...?" he didn't hang up, just listening to some very, very unpleasant, meaty noises.
It wasn't a surprise when Gilman found himself on her couch, a glass of water and a carton of Goldfish in his possession. She didn't say anything, mostly because there was nothing to say, and instead she settled down next to him, sure to keep a kosher distance between the two. Before she could think to call Axel and relieve him of his stance, he whined and jumped up next to her. "Shh," she soothed, rubbing the space between his ears. That seemed to calm his nerves for the moment, but the sudden buzzing of the phone had all three of them at attention.
Because of her proximity, she could hear Courtney's panicked, shrill voice on the other end, and she leaned in closer, already dreading what she might hear. Her eavesdropping was cut short when he jumped to his feet, his own voice raising in desperation. Annie didn't have to hear the phone to know what he was hearing, what he was afraid of happening.
And then he went quiet, and she knew exactly what was happening on the other side.
"Gilman," she said softly, knowing that she didn't even have the slightest chance at getting through to him right now. He was in shock. "Gilman, hang up the phone." There was no point in him listening; it would only hurt that much more. He wasn't listening, so she got to her feet, and before he could protest, she grabbed the phone out of his hand and hit "end." Courtney was gone, and listening to her dying was about the worst thing she could ever think of for Gilman. Annie didn't know a lot about his family, but she knew that he loved his sister.
"Oh--," was all Gilman managed to strangle out when she took the phone from him. He covered his mouth with one hand and shook his head. Maybe he'd never liked any of her stupid asshole boyfriends (go figure), but he'd never thought he'd actually regret not having his sister come live with him in Crow'd Landing. Her fucking boyfriend had eaten her. He'd heard it.
"Annie," he said, "Annie, she's..."
Courtney was supposed to be the one good thing about their shitty family. She was the one who was going to settle down and have a happy family, and make up for everything. Maybe it hadn't been fair to put all that on her, but she was so normal compared to him. His baby sister was dead. Was she going to get back up again, too, or was Trent just going to eat everything?
"You should call your family," he said, voice thick, "Before the phones go down. Make sure they're safe."
He needed some privacy to compose himself. Maybe he'd apologised for being an asshole, but this was probably the broadest range of emotions he'd ever displayed in front of another person. Another person besides Courtney, anyway. Courtney, who was dead. Eaten.
"I know, Gilman. I know." God, poor Courtney. Annie didn't even know her, but she knew that she meant a lot to Gilman. "Why don't you sit down or something? Or ... go lay down?" She was biting her thumbnail, a nervous habit she developed as a young girl and had never really been able to break. And fuck if she didn't have a right to be nervous now. This seemed like more than an appropriate time, really.
How had she not thought of calling her own family before Gilman suggested it? She adored her family, especially her brother, and she hadn't even considered calling them until now. God, what was wrong with her? "Yeah," she murmured, instantly in motion. Her cellphone sat on the kitchen table, and when she reached it, her hands were shaking so badly that she could barely select her parents' number from her list of favorites.
It rang. And rang. And rang. The answering machine finally clicked on, their cheery voices sounding off in the midst of all this chaos. "Mom, dad, it's Annie. If you get this, just ... just please be careful, alright? Call me back as soon as you get this. Please." She didn't let herself think of any possibilities just yet. There could be lots of reasons they didn't answer the phone, right? Right?
Next, she called Mark. She thought it would go to the voicemail too, until there was the sound of a click. Then there was Mark's voice. He was alive. "Oh, fuck, Mark! Mark? Please tell me that you and Becky and the kids are alright?" They were okay. Holed up in their vacation home in the mountains. They heard the news reports and locked everything up tight. "I couldn't get a hold of mom and dad. Yeah ... I don't know. Have you -- no?"
She could have wept, she was so happy to hear her brother's voice - to hear that his kids were safe and sound with their parents. "I love you too, Mark. Be careful, alright? Keep everything locked tight." With a few more "I love you's," she hesitantly hung up the phone and turned her attention back to Gilman.
Gilman had heard her suggestion, but laying down didn't seem like the right reaction. Now he felt like doing something violent, but there were no outlets. He was sitting on the couch, watching TV but not really taking it in. What more was there to know? He'd been more interested in her phone conversation, anyway, and when she came back to the living room he dredged up a thin smile.
"Not all bad news," he said, not even sure if he was trying to be funny or not. There was a weird feeling in his chest, somewhere between too-tight and completely numb, "Your parents will call. It's not even noon yet and shit is all crazy."
Gilman patted the seat next to him, wanting her to sit close even if things were definitely a little weird between them. There was a temporary armistice, for now. Too much shit was going on for them to get distracted by something that was, at least now, petty by comparison.
"Where's your brother and his family?" he asked. Gilman wasn't even going to call his mother. There wasn't much love lost there, at least on his part. And truthfully? Hearing Courtney's last gurgling breaths was all the family he needed to lose over the phone for today.
Whatever relief Annie felt from hearing Mark's voice was tempered by the expression on Gilman's face. He was trying to comfort her, when he was the one that hear his sister, the only family relation that he openly cared anything about, die on the phone not some odd minutes before. He wasn't the type to show much emotion, sure, but Annie knew that it had fucked him up. How could it not?
She didn't protest when he patted the seat next to him, and when she settled into the cushion, her hand reached out to rest on his knee. It wasn't some overly sentimental declaration of love, but it was a simple gesture to let him know that he didn't have to deal with all of this shit alone. After all, they were in this together, whether they wanted it that way or not. And she'd sure as hell rather be in this with Gilman than alone.
If he hadn't come to her apartment, she would have been all alone.
"They're locked up tight in their vacation home in the mountains. They're safe, for now." She felt guilty telling him something like that after what he just went through. "Why don't you take a shower or something? I've got clothes here you can wear." And come to think about it, she had a pair of sweats that another ex had left over, and she hadn't ever remembered to give them back. They were buried somewhere in her closet, but she could find it.
"I don't think anything's going to happen, and if it does, you'll be able to tell by my obnoxious screams. And when you can get out, we can talk about plans." If there were any plans to talk about, that was.
"I don't need a shower," he snapped, though he did put a hand over the one she had on his knee. After a moment he squeezed it, hard, and looked at her sideways, "I'm just going to hang out with you for a bit, okay?"
He did need a shower, but he also didn't want to be alone. Even if he went out of his way to live alone, Gilman wasn't actually a loner. He liked to be around people, even if it was just watching them. Gilman had just lost his sister, so he didn't really relish the idea of leaving the room and coming back to find Annie missing pieces. Obnoxious screams or otherwise.
Gilman didn't release her hand for a few minutes. The more he thought about it, the more he could feel dried flecks of blood on him. The shower just made him think about yesterday. He'd been pretty sure his world was ending, yesterday. It was funny in a really, really bleak sort of way. There were almost visible gears turning in Gilman's head, practically pushing smoke out of his ears.
"Scream really loud," he said, finally releasing her hand and standing up. He shuffled into the bathroom and shucked his blood spattered clothes, not super concerned about possibly having to wear pink sweatpants and a sassy T-shirt. His shower routine was out the window, however, and he just stood under the tap, letting the hot water rush over him. Gilman didn't think he was going to be able to talk about plans. There was so much built up shit on the tip of his tongue, the only plan he was probably going to manage was 'let's go visit your brother'. Because otherwise, what were they going to do? Hang out in her apartment? Honestly, Gilman didn't think that was a bad idea, either. No sense putting themselves in danger while shit was still going down. Annie had a stocked pantry. They could hold out for a bit. Axel wouldn't be happy, but better a grouchy dog than an eaten one.
His shower lasted all of three minutes and he stepped out, reaching for a towel and looking thoughtfully at the countertop, remembering ever little detail of the day before. Towel wrapped around his waist, he headed to Annie's bedroom, where she was pawing through clothes looking for something.
"You need any help?" he asked her, lurking in the doorway.
Were it any other day, any other second, Annie might have snapped right back at him with some witty retort, but now wasn't the time. He just fucking lost his sister, and if he happened to be a bit short with her after that, then so be it. "Okay. Whatever you need, okay?" Annie insisted gently, not even a tick of frustration or annoyance across her face. There was only concern, and maybe even something deeper if he really bothered looking.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and while Annie had never been comfortable with silence (which was probably why she could talk someone's ear off at a remarkable rate), she didn't try to fill it. Not this time. She sat quietly, not moving her hand from his knee, her eyes on the television. FOX was still going strong, but Annie couldn't take in any of the words they were saying. She caught enough to know that it wasn't (seemingly) airborne, and the only ways it appeared to spread was by bites or scratches.
That was good news, at least. It meant that they wouldn't turn into flesh hungry monsters at any given moment, at least.
"I promise," she assured him, only taking her hand off of his knee when he made the move to stand. Once he disappeared into the bathroom, she took that time to go rifling through her bedroom closet. Annie's apartment was generally neat, but her closet had always been a disaster. She dug through her ridiculously extensive wardrobe, tossing away shirts, dresses, pants, all in hopes of finding that one pair of sweats so Gilman wouldn't have to wear a pair that he could get lost in.
So caught up in her digging, she hadn't been paying attention to the sound of Gilman's footsteps, so she very nearly yelped in surprise when she heard his voice behind her. "Jesus," she gasped, turning to momentarily look in his direction. "Scared the shit out of me." She was still on edge, her nerves frayed and her senses on overdrive (despite the fact that she hadn't heard Gilman, mind you), so every little thing startled her. "One of my exes left a pair of sweats over here, and he was about your size." With that, Annie went back to digging, and finally, she yanked free the grey sweats, holding them up in the air like some kind of prize.
"They're clean, and you won't feel like you're in a circus tent."
He muttered an apology when he startled her and remained in the doorway until she held the sweats up. It was weird to worry about clothes right now, but still necessary. All his crap was back in his trailer, and who knew if they'd even go back that way. Again, there was dark humour in it: she never would see the inside of his trailer, would she?
"Thanks," he said, not making a movie to take them. He adjusted the towel on his waist, not looking at her, "Annie, I--"
Gilman scowled hard and shook his head, one shoulder pressed hard on the doorframe. This all felt so insincere. He wouldn't even bother feeling bad about yesterday - at least not in front of her - if this hadn't of happened. It was hard, having his general shittiness put in perspective.
"Six months is the longest I've been in a relationship. Ever," he started with. He felt like a fucking idiot, but it was this or deal with the phonecall he'd received. And in comparison? Admitting what a fucking asshole he was was way easier than coping with loss. Annie was still here. Annie was present.
"Six months is the longest I've been in a relationship. Ever." Annie was floored. Not because it was his longest relationship, but because he was actually bringing this up. Gilman, who loathed anything too personal or too emotional, was bringing this up first. Had they not been in a really, really shitty situation, she might have taken the time to point that out. As it was, she simply stood to her feet and faced him, the sweatpants in her hands all but forgotten.
"We don't have to talk about this," she told him, not wanting him to feel cornered. Gilman didn't like feeling cornered into things, if yesterday was any kind of proof. "Look, I'm not --" She felt so stupid just saying the words, because if she would have waited a single day to tell him about the possibility of her being pregnant, they never would have had the fight to begin with.
The world would have gone to complete shit either way, though, so what did it matter?
"I'm not pregnant. It's not even a possibility. My period decided to show up this morning." Which, hey, could it not have chosen the worst day ever to show up? Not only was there some kind of raging disease tearing across the nation, not only had Gilman's sister just died, not only were her parents MIA (she still didn't let herself think about that), but she was on her fucking period.
Brilliant. Just brilliant, world.
Gilman blinked owlishly at her and put a hand on the side of his face, his reaction sort of inscrutable.
"We might not be able to talk about it later," he said, backtracking a little bit. She wasn't pregnant. He was so fucking relieved he could puke. It wasn't just his personal hang-ups, either: considering what was going on outside? Not a great time to be knocked up, "And I feel like shit about it, okay?"
He realised how self-centered that came out, but fuck it. He did feel like shit about it, and it wasn't like he was a moron. Gilman knew she felt shitty about it, too. The whole thing was complete shit, made worse by the fact that he didn't even know if he would take it back, given the chance. Some things just ran too damn deep.
"I like kids," it was actually easier to talk about, knowing that he wasn't actually going to have to deal with it, "I mean, that's not even the issue."
Gilman made an exasperated noise, visibly agitated, still using the doorway was a sort of shield.
"It's stupid," he said, "My dad left when I was five and my mom was still pregnant with my sister. It was fucked up. And my step-dad was a drunk asshole who sort of made me think he," Gilman swallowed the L-word like it was a live cockroach, "That he cared about me and then turned around and made me feel like shit any chance he could. He did it to my mom and my sister, and I just can't-"
Gilman closed his mouth a moment and looked down at his bare feet, digging his toes into the carpet. He wasn't even going to touch on the dark twisted that made him snap photos of people even when he wasn't on assignment, though the more he spoke, the more complete he felt. Filling in all the blank spaces instead of distracting from them.
"I'm really messed up," he said, "I don't ever want to mess up a kid. It makes me fucking sick, thinking about it, Annie. You deserve better than that."
So did hypothetical mini-Annie, but since they weren't in the picture now, he didn't think he had to add that part. There was a zombie apocalypse outside, and he chose now to spill his guts. He was a real catch.
"Don't talk like that. Of course we'll be able to talk about it later." Annie didn't even want to think about the possibility of something happening to them. They were safe here, at least for the time being, and even if they both knew they couldn't just sit in her apartment like sitting ducks, it would hold for now. Maybe once things began to die down, they could make the six hour journey to her brother's cabin. It was in the middle of fucking nowhere, so there wouldn't be such a population issue. The less people there were, the less infected people there were. Simple math, really.
Gilman openly admitting he felt like shit over everything? Had Annie not been resting against the doorframe of the closet, she might have literally been floored. "I'm --" Her words stopped dead in her throat. He wasn't just admitting guilt; he was suddenly talking about his step-dad. He was telling her things that he'd never even hinted at before, and part of her didn't believe she was actually hearing this.
She didn't know what it was like to be unloved by either of her parents. They showered she and Mark with affection and unconditional love every chance they had, and the thought of Gilman having to deal with a terrible, alcoholic step-father made her hurt in a very literal way. Something in her chest seized, and she suddenly had the desire to embrace him.
Though they hadn't talked about it until now, Annie had always thought that there was something about Gilman's childhood that must have made him the way he was. People weren't just that closed off and secretive by default. He didn't trust anyone, not even the woman he'd been seeing for six months, and she had always wondered why. Now she knew.
Before she even realized she was in motion, Annie swallowed the distance between them with a few hurried, short strides and put her hands on either side of his face. They both said some shitty things the day before. Things that, if not for the end of the world, they probably never would have been able to forgive. She didn't have to tell him that she forgave him; her lips on his did that just fine.
He'd honestly been expecting scorn. Maybe even hoping for it, seeking punishment in some sick, fucked up way. Gilman was taken aback when she kissed him, though it didn't take him long to respond, returning it in a way that was sort of out of character for him. He wasn't demanding anything from the kiss. He was just enjoying it.
She wouldn't be so understanding, he thought grimly, when she knew just how messed up he was. Annie was probably the only person who was aware when he took pictures of her. There were a lot of exceptions when it came to Annie, really. Things that he didn't normally do tended to come to the surface around her.
Gilman (reluctantly) broke the kiss and laid a hand on her shoulder, the other keeping his towel on. If he hadn't just lost his sister, he might actually go for it. Right now. He really didn't care if she was on her period -- she had a shower. With her so close, he felt like his throat was too thick to allow sound out, but he made himself. It was almost like a dam had broken, the kiss a battering ram to knock any and all resistance away.
"I watch people," he said, his voice much lower since she was close. Gilman dropped his hand and looked away, "When they don't know it. I've got pictures of so many people in town, doing all kinds of weird shit. And not for jobs, Annie. I just... like it."
Right now it was impossible to imagine enjoying it, of course, but it didn't make it any less true. He couldn't help it after a moment, and he let out a brittle laugh, taking his hand from her shoulder and wiping it over his face.
"I'm kind of a huge mess," he said, "You'd probably have to actually see my collection to believe how messed up it is, though. I can't really put it into words. I just didn't turn out great, you know? Courtney did. Courtney was probably going to marry that asshole and-"
His voice hitched and he scowled automatically. Okay, this was getting a little absurd. There were actual zombies outside, and he was having an Oprah moment wearing only a towel.
"I'm sorry I acted like I did," he felt it was worth repeating, "Really sorry. We're both hot as hell. How cute would our kids be, right?"
Ah, humour. The last bastion of the desperate.
The kiss was just a kiss. He wasn't taking, she wasn't pushing, and it was just there - a sign to show him that she wasn't running away because of his fucked up childhood. A lot of people were messed up because of their childhoods, but it didn't make them bad people. It didn't make them unloveable or worth less than anyone else on this planet. Gilman could be a giant dick when he wanted to be, sure, but who couldn't?
When he broke the kiss, Annie wasn't expecting him to say anything else about himself. Him talking about himself to any great detail was shocking enough as it was, so when he went on, Annie wasn't quite prepared for what came out. "You watch people?" she echoed, her eyebrows stitched together with obvious confusion. He elaborated soon enough, and Annie fell quiet for a long minute. She wasn't upset or disgusted; she was merely processing.
Okay, yeah, his hobby was weird. Like, really weird, but a lot of people had weird hobbies. It wasn't like he'd ever hurt anyone. He just liked to ... snap photographs of them. Strange and creepy, yes, but not anything that would up and make her think he was a terrible person. She didn't want to picture Gilman hiding in the bushes somewhere, snapping photos of some unaware girl. Maybe "weird" wasn't a strong enough word. What he did was straight up stalking, but she supposed she shouldn't have been too surprised. Gilman liked to live his life behind a lens.
"You're right. That's all kinds of weird and fucked up," she admitted, not one to sugarcoat anything. "But you didn't hurt anyone. You snapped some photos. I don't want to know of what, like ever, but that's all you did. You took some photographs." Maybe her attitude would have been different if she actually saw the pictures, but she was perfectly fine living in ignorance on the matter. And, again, it wasn't like he hurt the people he photographed or sold the photos to the public. Besides, assuming they wouldn't get a chance to go back to his place, the photographs were gone now.
And if they did go by his place, Annie would personally make sure the photographs were thrown away.
"Maybe the end of the world is a chance to change that?" she offered quietly, and there was nothing in her voice to indicate that she was angry. Confused, maybe, and probably even a little put off, but not angry. "You're not a bad person, Gilman. You're not. You're strange and a Grade A creeper, but you're not a bad person." And besides, who didn't have their weird quirks? Gilman's was just a little stranger than most people Annie knew.
Annie wasn't one to pull her punches, and her reaction to what he'd said was... not as bad as he'd thought. Some of it, he knew, was the situation. If he'd told her in the middle of dinner or while they were out, she probably would've broke up with him then and there. He couldn't help the burn of shame, acceptance or not. None of this would've come to light if they weren't in some fucked up situation. They would've stayed broken up, and he would've just moved on to whoever decided they were interested next.
"I dunno," he shrugged his shoulders, finally moving past her and grabbing the sweatpants she'd produced for him. He tossed his towel on her bed and pulled them on, making sure to pick the towel up again, "Maybe it is."
He stopped as he went to move past her, to hang the towel back up in the bathroom. Gilman stopped to look at her, really look at her, and he gave her a sincere, if crooked, smile, "You're probably the only person on the planet who doesn't think I'm human garbage. So. Thanks for that."
His sister being dead was still going to be a raw, open wound, but Gilman was good at prioritising. Right now, his girlfriend (who wasn't pregnant) was being pretty chill about him vomiting up all his issues on her feet. Once he hung his towel up, he went to check up on the shelves. Nobody (or nothing) was trying to get in, so that was something, right? When Annie joined him, he was pulling shades and blinds. Right now it was probably fine, but they'd need light at night, right?
"I think we should just chill here for a little while," Gilman said, "There's food, power and plumbing, and who knows? Maybe this shit will get sorted out," he didn't sound convinced, "If it doesn't, though... does your brother's place have room for two more people?"
It was his best guess, and he quickly added, "Maybe we'll pick up your parents on the way."
Her phone hadn't rang again.
"Maybe that's because you're not garbage," Annie told him, her arms folding before her. "You've never been garbage, and it pisses me off that you think otherwise." Gilman was a lot of things. He was selfish and crude a lot of the time, and he could be infuriatingly stubborn, but he wasn't garbage. If she ever for a second thought that he was garbage, she wouldn't have ever slept with him. She could be hard on herself, but Annie had a great deal of self respect, believe it or not.
Annie stayed behind in the bedroom when Gilman first disappeared into the living room, if only to give herself a moment to process everything, and not just Gilman's confessional. She was almost sure that this day couldn't get any more bizarre, but she wasn't about to say that out loud. She wasn't quite suspicious; that didn't mean she wanted to risk it, though.
"The vacation home has enough room for a small army." It was true. Her brother had a job that practically shelled out cash, and if they somehow managed to make it to the mountains, they would probably have their own fucking wing of the house. She'd been up there a few times, and the more she thought about it, the better it sounded. Mark was a green freak; she went on and on about the environment, and he had made sure the vacation home was all self-sufficient and environmentally friendly, even if that meant installing million-dollar solar panels throughout.
Gilman was right about staying put for now. There was no telling how insane everything was outside of their little town, or if they would even be able to make it out. If this was nation-wide, the interstates had to be packed with cars full of desperate people to make it out alive. "I think bunking down for now is the best bet."
She didn't say anything about picking up her parents - only nodded in agreement. Her phone hadn't rang since she left the message, but that didn't mean anything, did it? For now, Annie was content in wearing her rose colored glasses, and she didn't plan on taking them off anytime soon.
"So long as we stay quiet, we shouldn't have a lot of trouble," Gilman said. He didn't think that'd be a problem. This situation wasn't really the sexiest one he'd ever been in, and despite his sudden outpouring of all his fucking problems, the fact remained that he had still acted like a total asshole yesterday. Maybe the extenuating circumstances had given him a bit of a clean slate, but it was still in the back of Gilman's mind.
He sat on the edge of her bed. It was barely midday and he was tired. The day had been harrowing so far, physically and emotionally, and he'd woken up with a nasty, nasty hangover.
"I guess we can sort of plan what to take on the trip," Gilman said, rubbing his hands on his thighs, "I'm running out of effort for today, though."
What was it going to be like out there? Would the sick people sort of... run out of steam after awhile? Or were they going to keep going? Gilman really didn't like the idea of having to clear a path to the car with a bat, but a gun was totally out of the question in his mind. Having a gun just escalated everything, and the noise they made couldn't be worth it.
Planning what to take wasn't going to absorb a lot of time, either. They might end up talking, something they really didn't do a whole lot of before. There was always something to distract with -- going out, or eating, or fucking, their jobs. It was just the two of them, now. The world felt so much smaller.
"I was going to head up to Portland today," he said, itching his perpetually scruffy jawline, "Look at cameras."
Hook up with someone who didn't know who he was.
"We'll have to stop by my trailer," he decided, feeling a sudden surge of obligation, "Get my dark room shit, if it's not too crazy at the trailer park."
And he felt sort of obligated, now, to let her see the interior of it. It wasn't that important, but at the same time? He'd started down the fucking path, so he might as well go all the way, right? And if shit was as bad as it looked, he didn't want to never take another photograph again.
"We should keep the lights off as much as possible when it gets dark." It would be easy to throw some blankets over the blinds to make sure the light from a lamp didn't creep out and alert whoever or whatever was outside of their whereabouts. "And we should charge our phones." There was no telling how long the electricity would last, and they needed their phones. If they got separated somehow, they would need a way to contact one another, and she was still expecting a call from her parents. "I've got a couple of flashlights in the kitchen and some extra batteries for them, so even if the lights go out, we won't be completely in the dark."
A switch had gone off, putting Annie in plan mode. It was easier to think of plans than it was to think about everything else weighing down on the two of them. "I get that. I didn't --" She almost admitted that she hadn't slept at all the night after Gilman left, but she paused beforehand, unsure whether she wanted him to know how much it had affected her. Oh, what the hell? They seemed to be in a sharing mood, anyway. "I didn't fall asleep until a few hours ago," she admitted, a hand running through her long, blonde waves. "We should get some stuff together today, just in case, but then you should get some rest." He'd been through enough for a few lifetimes for the day.
When he brought up his dark room stuff, Annie wanted to ask him what could possibly be inside there that was worth risking his life offer, but she kept quiet. He loved his camera and everything having to do with it. "Yeah, if the trailer park's not overrun," she agreed, still keeping sure to lower her voice. There were still those things in the apartment complex, which made Annie wonder if there were any survivors within the walls. Surely there'd been people who hadn't gone out since last night, and if she and Gilman were alright, then there had to be others. They couldn't be the only people left.
They couldn't.
Gilman didn't address her admission about her lack of sleep, but he'd heard it. He hadn't done great last night, either, but he'd probably said more than he ever would about his mental state ever again. She looked less sure about his plan to hit the trailer park, and took that on board without comment as well. He really wanted what was in the trailer, but if they couldn't get it, they couldn't get it.
"We could throw some food and stuff in some bags," Gilman suggested, "In case we need to pick up and go. Everything else isn't too big a deal."
He somehow managed to avoid adding 'tampons' to the list. Even for Gilman, it was a bit of a touchy subject to joke about.
Gilman forced himself back to his feet, and between the two of them, they got her apartment pretty well situated. The windows were covered, there were two duffle bags with essentials, and they had their phones on charge. They were definitely going to work through all the perishable food while they were staying in her apartment, too: if the power went out, it'd be silly to hoard it.
Once all was said and done, it was late in the afternoon, and both of them were tired. Gilman paused in her doorway.
"You want me to sleep on the couch, or...?" he was looking anywhere but her. He'd shared a whole lot of shit with her, and he didn't really know where to start with... anything. It was weird, being so exposed.
Between the two of them working diligently (and quietly), they got everything squared away and organized in case they had to bolt. There was more than enough food to wait it out here, and even if the electricity cut out, there was still plenty of non-perishables. Axel had two huge bags of dog food in the pantry and a smaller one next to the bags they had prepared, so there was no concern of him starving to death.
Now what the fuck did they do? They'd been so busy planning for the fucking zombie apocalypse that they hadn't needed to actually talk about anything significant since. The tension was actually tactile; it weighed heavy on the apartment like a blanket, impossible to ignore.
At first, Annie didn't respond. Did she want him to sleep on the couch? She wasn't angry at him anymore for their fallout. It seemed petty, to hold that sort of thing against him now, when he was literally the only person she had here. "You don't have to," she finally mused with a shrug of her shoulders, attempting nonchalance. "You could sleep in here with me." Originally, she thought they would need to sleep in shifts, but Axel was on high alert, and she doubted even the slightest sound would be able to get past her loyal companion.
"If you want to, I mean. If you'd be more comfortable on the couch, go for it. We still have plenty of blankets and everything, so ..."