Who: Jack [Narrative] Where: ZENITH When: The past few days
Jack, by his nature, was a social creature. He needed people. They made him feel needed and safe and secure, even if he didn't always like all of them. The was some weird solace in the fact that, as awful as thing got in Zenith, at least they were all dealing with it together.
Waking up in Zenith alone like some horror show Kevin McCallister had been a special kind of terrifying. Every room empty, not a sound, not a soul. He wasn't even sure that the cameras were working with the power out, and it felt insane to find that actually unsettling. He'd searched the entire house and most of the town that first day, only avoiding the most decrepit houses for his own safety. Some rooms in the house still held fully furnished bedrooms, a few comfortingly recognizable, but so many others were empty, some that didn't make sense (Juno juno juno) that he wasn't sure what to think about it.
Leaving the house had been a mistake. Whatever charge the snowmobiles had left was enough to get him around town and back to the house, and he'd contemplated trying again the next day with the other snowmobile, but returning had brought a new realization. No electricity meant no heat. He returned to the house freezing cold, but found very little comfort upon his return. The larger rooms on the first floor, particularly those with large windows, were already frigid. It was marginally warmer the further up the stairs he got, and the bedrooms were still relatively comfortable for the time being, but that wouldn't last long. Another realization was that the sun was going to set soon, and without power there was no light.
He spent what remaining daylight he had remembering what steps he'd taken back home when the power went out in his apartment during a snowstorm, collecting flashlights and candles from around the house. He moved the contents of the freezer to a table by the pool to keep cold, not that the house itself wouldn't be cool enough on its own, not bothering with the fridge for exactly that reason. He cooked, lighting the gas burners with a match, the activity giving him a moment of solace until he started to wonder how long it would be before the gas was gone too. Was that a thing that actually happened? It had to be, right? He did his best to insulate the windows in his own room, then took a shower a soothingly hot shower by candlelight in his own bathroom. He didn't want to think about how long the insulation for the hot water heater might hold out, or how much water was even in there, or how much easier it had been back home when there was no heat because he had two friendly roommates to snuggle under blankets with.
God, he missed Anya. He missed Izzy. He missed New York.
He fell asleep under a pile of blankets on his bed, unsuccessfully trying not to think about how long the residual warmth in the room might remain. Trying not to think about how nice it would be for the electricity to pop back on, even for a little while, so he could take advantage of his electric fireplace. Trying not to think about how relieving it would be to hear familiar voices in the hallway. The dark hallway. Had he remembered to lock the door? Shit, with the divider in the way he wouldn't be able to see if anyone came in. Shit. Fucking ghosts in mirrors and guys in bird masks wandering the halls. Shit.
He hadn't wanted to get up, but he did, checking the door and moving the wastepaper basket in front of it so it would make noise just in case....just in case...
He'd fallen asleep to videos of Izzy on his dying phone, telling himself that he needed to be awake long enough to shut the phone down to preserve the battery and failing horribly. He woke up freezing with a dead cell and frozen water pipes. He'd moved into Kate's room, with her familiar bedroom without a divider, and her sweet-smelling pillows and wood-burning fireplace, that afternoon. He missed Kate. He missed Juno. He missed Pam. He missed Kai. He missed everyone. He hadn't gone back into town. He hadn't taken another shower. What little washing he could do was with soap and a stockpile of bottles of water (how long would they last?). He drank. He played pool by himself in full winter gear. He drank. He cooked. The gas didn't run out. He biked in circles in the foyer. He drank. He actually tried knitting for a bit, and failed. He screamed in the middle of the kitchen out of frustration after burning his hand, then just because he could, and no one heard him. He drank. He read. He cried. He drank.
He woke up in his own bedroom, warm and comfortable with a fully-working, blipping computer. He had a message. He wanted to scream again, but this time he didn't know if it was out of frustration or relief. He sat down at the computer, the sensation feeling alien after ignoring it for so many days. The idea that he could wander around in his bedclothes with no blanket and feel warm even stranger. He let the computer screen light up, and for a moment stared at it, then answered. Then the world grew, and he saw people he knew, and people he didn't, replying to their own prompts. He cried.
He went to the bathroom when his bladder couldn't take it anymore. When he turned after flushing, seeing the giant beady eyes staring at him from the shower, he'd shrieked. Maybe it was all of the built up tension from expecting something to happen in the days he'd been alone, or maybe he'd have done that anyway. Even peering at it more closely he couldn't really tell what it was, other than creepy as fuck, and he decided he was too tired to deal with it.
No Juno on the network. Edwin offered him tea. He didn't even remember if he even actually liked tea, but Edwin did, but it felt important that someone else did. Because someone else was there. He needed to shower, even if it meant moving that thing. He talked to Kate, feeling relief and warmth, and slight embarrassment for how she must have woken up in his abandoned lair.
His leg bounced. Kiley. Chase. Oliver. Pam. Marco. People he didn't know.
No Juno.
He stood up just to give his legs something to do, telling himself that maybe by the time he got in and out of the shower he could check again and she'd be there. He could just go next door, he knew, but his gut wrenched at the idea of seeing that empty room, and he felt like a coward for avoiding it. After his shower. He'd do it once he was clean and not a complete wreck.