Stevie and Peter explore Dunwich, looking for supplies, hoping perhaps they can leave something behind to help any survivors of the zombie plague. Little do they realize the survivors have found them, and lead them into a trap. With some special teamwork, they
escape.
⚠Captured teens (they get away).
Spitting didn’t help.
Stevie tried. Of course she did. But either her healing spit wasn’t working this week or maybe there was nothing left to heal. Seeing the dead that way was hard. They weren’t really dead, were they?
While normal people were rightfully horrified, Stevie instead asked questions like, “Do you think they’re in pain?” Zombies posed a moral and ethical quandry for her. She could fight, even with her powers being unreliable or a fraction of what they were. Fighting was never the question for her.
What she struggled with, was if putting them down was a mercy or another form of murder.
It had taken a long walk to process her feelings. The obvious places were picked over dozens of times, so it was the random places that offered small amounts of overlooked canned food and supplies. Stevie found a yellowed pillow case in decent shape and used it to collect their findings like trick or treating.
The city outside of campus wasn’t quite as taken over as Derleth had been last week, but it was impressive how quickly the weeds worked to get everywhere. A few places had burned down and reduced to rubble, and the growth filling it in made it difficult to discern if anything had ever been there at all.
“I guess, if there are any survivors, leaving them standing could be dangerous…” Stevie sighed. A part of her wanted to avoid the undead. She couldn’t bring herself to actively go looking for them. Their hunger, however, occasionally brought one or two to the teenagers.
“At least there aren’t that many,” she said.
If she’d known more about this world, that would have been a red flag.
Stevie thought about reaching for Peter’s hand. Instead she chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully and kept her eyes in front of her.
Peter adjusted the Louisville slugger slung across his back. He didn’t want a weapon. All told, his approach to fighting was to incapacitate with webbing if it was him against people who couldn’t take a super-strength punch and walk it off. And he still had his webshooters with enough webbing to handle a few encounters, which was a good thing. The bat had been given because it was a failsafe. As far as he was concerned, it was a security blanket so no one could argue with him and Stevie branching out.
Even between them -- even if their powers were touch and go more than usual -- they were still both formidable enough. But the agreement was a buddy system and a weapon. So, here they were.
“Pretty sure the main objective in any zombie movie is to keep everyone from being bitten so you don’t have to up the body count out of mercy,” Peter replied. He pulled a smile, but it wasn’t because he was happy about anything in particular. It just felt like an attempt to not let that kind of statement be as serious as it truly was.
“I keep thinking maybe there’s something we could do here. I mean, outside of survive a week. I just wouldn’t know where to start. And there’s only a week, so…” His flimsy smile fell away. “Might be that there isn’t anything we can do outside of trying to help anyone uninfected. That’s pretty bleak. And I’ve been through some bleak stuff before.”
“If there are other survivors, and we can help them, that would be something,” Stevie said. She frowned thoughtfully. “No matter how bad things get, there’s hope.”
Hope for the zombies? Maybe not. They looked too rotted out and injured. Not if Stevie couldn’t get her healing spit to work. But if there was a way to let them rest? Maybe.
“We’re in Dunwich, right? That’s where all the Derleths are. And it’s supposed to be a pretty good school. So maybe after we look for supplies we could go search Ellery or some of the other buildings we don’t even have in the Void. What if there’s something at the school that could help the people here? Even if we don’t find anyone, we could make really big signs? Paint the roofs of the buildings so they know where to look?”
It might have been slim they would find anything. Slimmer still that anyone would get close enough to see said signs. But Stevie struggled not to imagine some chance at a better ending.
Some of the streets were littered or blocked off with old cars. Stevie didn’t realize that their paths were limited, directed. She was more interested in looking at the buildings, and other small nooks and crannies that might have been overlooked by other survivors that once passed through. The streets were so quiet, Stevie didn’t realize survivors were closer than they imagined.
“Unless you think we’re close enough to somewhere else that would be better?”
They took a few more turns. Almost in place. If only they knew to turn back.
“I was thinking about…” Peter adjusted the backpack he was carrying. It was a fidget thing. “May used to volunteer at a place. Y’know, getting food to those who needed it. Maybe getting a central spot to stockpile things for survivors would be good. I mean, someone might deplete the whole supply if they find it, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”
And for that much, the thought of May stuck in Peter’s mind as he absently walked beside Stevie. She often came to mind when he was trying to sort out what to do. May Parker was a beacon like that. It didn’t matter what world Peter was in. She guided him.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t guiding him when it came to navigating the dilapidated streets. He looked up at a slew of crates and debris that was tossed across the sidewalk. It funneled them into the center of the street. And maybe given the circumstances, Peter’s Spider Sense would have pinged in that moment.
But it didn’t.
“I guess let’s see if we can get enough to keep Derleth going first, then let’s see what we can do with setting up a supply bank?” He turned, facing Stevie. He didn’t even notice someone was coming at them from the rear.
The survivors of this world had largely become desensitized to the hordes of undead. One day, they too would die and join their ranks. A zombie stopped being a person to them, and perhaps worse, so had many people. There were the members of their survival group, and there were those who would hungrily rip away whatever supplies and comforts they had managed to obtain.
To the survivors of Dunwich, they were not looking at two children, but two capable scouts more than willing to play to any sympathetic heart strings still remaining before the real threat showed up.
Stevie spotted the survivor too late.
“Oh hey--”
The trap was quick. They walked past a light industrial area with high chain link fences and large garage door openings that lead into a few shops. Those doors slid open quickly, thanks to a set up created by the Dunwich survivors.
The survivor didn’t acknowledge Stevie, walking backwards firmly, pulling another chain link fence behind him to a close, as about hundred or so undead started to shuffle out of the open buildings and head for Stevie and Peter, cutting off their exit and forcing them to run forward to captors they hadn’t seen yet.
Stevie didn’t have time to process what she saw or what it meant. Fight or flight kicked in, and being used to being the fast one, she grabbed Peter’s hand and started to bolt forward for the path exactly as it was designed.
“This way!” she said.
If Peter’s danger sense had been remotely working, it might have kicked in.
It was not.
He was left to turn at the noises, trying to patch together what was going on. Ultimately, all he was able to discern was that there was one way forward and a line of ambling, broken-limbed undead coming from one side. It pushed them to a choice they didn’t actively make.
And then Stevie’s hand grabbed his, and he merely obliged at the pull. If they got some distance, he could think and plan. They crossed a threshold unbeknownst to either. The narrowing of their escape route -- obstacles placed along the buildings to tighten the path of egress -- didn’t register. It didn’t even occur that behind those obstructions were people laying in wait. People with a plan. People with weapons.
“I think we’re gonna hit a dead end!” Peter shouted because it seemed like it was steadily becoming less plausible to keep running the streets. Makeshift fencing was all around, and the transition to being caged in went unnoticed until it didn’t make sense to backtrack.
They did hit a dead end, just not the one they imagined.
Stevie spotted the well armed survivors, thinking at first they were saved, then worried the survivors would also be in danger. She motioned wildly with her free arm, telling them to run.
Instead a gate closed behind them, cut off by zombies were at their back, while the survivors in front of them all pulled out guns and barked at the teenagers to get on their knees.
Stevie spent precious seconds confused. “Wait. This is just a misunderstanding! We’re here to help!”
She held her hands up instinctively, only letting go of Peter’s hand at the last second, while a survivor stepped forward to roughly search her for weapons before shoving her to the ground. The few items they’d found for supplies? Taken.
The gate closed, and when a line of guns presented in front of Peter he steeled his jaw. Of course it was a trap. In hindsight, every turn and obstacle blared a warning. Hindsight was 20/20, wasn’t it?
Stevie’s hand released his and it was then that Peter realized she’d been holding it. It hadn’t been the first time that happened. In the weeks passing, they always seemed to gravitate to each other. Team-ups and shared company. It was an odd moment to ponder that in the width of a second -- the impossible-to-measure pause between one emotional state to another -- but it crossed his mind.
He ultimately held up his hands in surrender, as well. Trying to fight seemed misguided at best given a laundry list of things, but most of all… these very people could be part of the group he and Stevie were just talking about trying to help.
They were fleeced. Taken to holding cages. And then they came to get Stevie, which left Peter to debate risks and routes in his captivity. He’d started trying to mentally map how they had come to be in this spot in the first place when Stevie was walked back to the immediate area. He moved to the front of the chainlink and threaded his fingers around it to try to get a better look. “Stevie! Hey, are you okay?!”
Stevie looked stunned, not making eye contact at first, nodding her head vacantly. They hadn’t touched her, but they’d made a lot of threats. A lot of them. Especially when they figured out threatening Peter made her the most panicked.
She seemed to snap out of it and then shook her head.
“We need to get out of here. These people, they won’t listen. They think we came here to hurt them. They think we’re spies. They won’t listen to anything I said. They don’t believe me. The harder I tried, the more they think it must be an act!”
There was worry but also the slightest hint of anger in Stevie’s voice. Her brows furrowed. She paced. She looked at Peter and frowned.
Their captors couldn’t imagine a world where any child grew up to be empathetic and kind. Stevie couldn’t imagine a world where people refused to listen to one another. Stevie even got White Diamond to listen. Eventually.
Her expression softened. That little traumatic core of anger she felt wasn’t going to help them.
“Do you trust me?”
Peter was searching for a sign that they’d touched her, but it wasn't because he thought she couldn’t handle it. He’d seen her in action before, and he would bet on Stevie any day, even if powers were touch-and-go for them all. She inspired that sort of hope, and Peter felt he’d anchored to that. There wasn’t much that couldn’t be solved when someone like Stevie was in your corner. Or so it felt.
He saw her shake her then, then listened as she described some dire straits for them both. This world was so bleak and strained that it seemed like the survivors had grown to distrust anyone. That was something of an impasse for sure. But it wasn’t as if he wanted to fight their way out. Kicking those already down surely applied even to a small group of people trying to survive in a dismal environment.
He looked at Stevie. He nodded. “I trust you.”
Stevie nodded back. “Okay.”
Stevie faced Peter and threaded her fingers through the fence, laying them over his, holding his hand. It was nice. She worried that old thought might be a distraction. They had to synchronize. They both wanted out of this place, without harming any of their captors. The goal was escape only.
And she’d fused before when her powers were on the fritz, with her dad who’d never fused before. But they’d had music to help them synchronize and form Steg. And there was probably a limited window before their captors came back.
She’d have to make do, somehow.
Stevie looked Peter directly in the eyes, she squeezed his hand. Focus.
“We’re getting out of here together and no one is going to get hurt.”
He wasn’t totally sure what the plan was, but Peter willed himself to hold Stevie’s gaze. He was trying to think on what she said. Trust her. Maybe he needed to somehow keep that at the front of his mind? Was he already overthinking it?
He should ask.
But Stevie squeezed his hand and he reconnected eye contact.
“We’re definitely getting out of here together and no one’s getting hurt,” Peter echoed. It felt like that was the right thing to do. He gave Stevie a smile, even as his vision became obscured with a brilliant glow.
As a bright pink glow started to drown out her vision, Stevie felt herself pull Peter through the chain link fence.
There was always an adjustment period to becoming someone brand new. The fusion stood where Stevie had stood and looked down at their hands. Peter and Stevie’s shoes were on the floor next to their much larger feet and for some reason, perhaps because the combination of the two couldn’t help but be thoughtful, the fusion quickly threaded Stevie’s flip flips through the laces of Peter’s sneakers and tied the shoes together in a knot, throwing them over their shoulder.
“Okay,” they said. “Now to get out of here.”
They were taller and stronger, well over six foot and lean. Perhaps not as strong as either Peter or Stevie with the full range of their powers, but it was an improvement. With Peter’s natural kinesthetic intelligence and Stevie’s years of training, the fusion moved with an almost comforting level of confidence.
It made them smile when they were able to scale the wall and fence easily, climbing to a promising looking escape.
“This is pretty cool, huh?”
Except right. It was just the fusion. There was no Stevie or Peter to answer them. Maybe after they got away, they could look in a mirror. Or a selfie? Yeah. A few selfies would be good. Just not… right then.
Escape first.
“Pretty cool, but physiologically a little confusing.” It was the same voice, same inflection. There was a bit more of a hint of Peter in that particular reply, but it was a reply to themself… answering a question asked by themself.
But the synergy of the combination just worked. A decision made didn’t need both components to debate because the fusion just knew. They scaled up, then touched down on the street. There was a clear path to get out, but also one that led towards where the survivors had stowed everything they removed from Stevie and Peter’s persons. Supplies… and phones. At least one phone recovered seemed like a critical path considering they didn’t have physic ability. Beyond that, Peter’s webshooters would be really handy right now.
“One quick detour then back to Derleth.” It made sense. Get what was needed and what belonged to them, then go.
It just felt nice. And yeah, they were the manifestation of Stevie and Peter’s friendship, who they were together as people. The fusion for a moment just wished that this first time was spent doing something more fun.
And sure, the other survivors were dangerous and best avoided, but that didn’t mean the fusion couldn’t make the most of this moment, right?
Peter’s intelligence was… neat. The fusion could picture moving, calculating the physics behind it, then carried out each graceful action just as they imagined. They probably shouldn’t have been smiling the entire time while avoiding spotters for the survivors and sneaking in through a window to get their phones back but…
The fusion avoided humming so that was something, right?
Phones. Webshooters. Yesss!
The fusion grabbed them, shoving the phones into their pockets before doing another set of hop, skip and jump through the side window before declaring, “Physics works!”
Shh. Right.
Getting away should have been harder, but the fusion found purchase, able to scale a wall of a nearby building and disappearing behind it to freedom.