Perdition: Part IX

Ethan roused again a while later, realized that he was in his apartment, in his bed. He turned over; saw Cain sitting on the floor beside the front door, gun disassembled yet again, his hand methodically cleaning the separate pieces. Ethan sat up, the room remarkably stationary, his stomach stable.

"Cain?"

Cain's head jerked up. He abandoned his gun to walk toward Ethan, gripping his shoulder when Ethan tried to get out of bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting some water," Ethan said, trying to shake him off.

Cain just scowled and put both hands on Ethan's shoulders, shoving him back down to the bed. "Don't move," he said.

"Cain—"

"Don't move," Cain snapped, holding a hand out. He waited, staring Ethan down. When Ethan remained seated, he walked to the kitchen. Ethan heard him opening cabinets, floorboards creaking. Eventually he came back, bottle of water in his hand.

"Thanks," Ethan said, taking it and drinking. The water had barely passed his lips before Ethan choked and spat it out again, spluttering.

"What?" Cain asked, taking the bottle from him. "What is it?"

Ethan rubbed his throat, spitting onto the ground, his mouth burning. "It tastes—it hurts."

Cain frowned, lifted the bottle to his lips and drank. His expression didn't change, no sign of discomfort passing across his features. When he lowered the bottle again, he was stony-faced.

What little relief Ethan had felt when he woke quickly diminished. It seemed that he wasn't getting better at all; he was getting worse, moving through the stages, heading into darkness and death.

"We should go back to the warehouse," Ethan said.

Cain's answer was a long time coming. He was staring at the bottle of water, hardly blinking. Eventually he said, "Why?

"The car," Ethan said. "It's not done yet."

Cain sneered when he raised his head to look Ethan in the eye. "So? What do you care?"

Ethan sighed, rubbed his eyes, could feel a headache coming on. He felt thirsty; parched, really, but the thought of drinking water again made him feel nauseated.

"I'm not just going to stop," he said. "Just because I was bitten doesn't mean you shouldn't still have a way out of here."

Cain blinked. "Alone."

"What?"

Cain didn't answer. He walked back to his gun and began to put it together again, his movements slow; thoughtful. Ethan watched him, something that felt a lot like unease growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Have you ever thought about it?" Cain asked.

Ethan frowned. "About what?"

He lifted up his fully-assembled gun, setting it upright; butt on the floor. From where he was kneeling behind it, Cain leaned forward, wedging the barrel under his chin. He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Ethan said. His hand moved to his wrist and the bandage covering the bite.

Cain's eyes followed the movement. He relaxed back and let the gun fall to the floor again. "You ever think of it before that?"

Ethan swallowed and nodded. "Right after everything happened…when everyone started changing. I got back to my house a few days after reports started coming in about how weird some people were acting. My house was close to where I was working, on the east side of town. It was a really dumpy place; I never stayed there when I could avoid it."

Cain was watching him silently, back against the front door, head tilted back and watching Ethan was heavy-lidded eyes.

"I hadn't been there in a few days. The street was empty…silent. I'd never heard it that quiet before." He took a breath. "The first thing I heard when I went in was something banging. Over and over again. The back door was open, moving back and forth in the wind. I thought someone had broken in; I was about to call the cops when someone came at me. The lights were off; I couldn't see anything."

Ethan hesitated, looking down at his hands in his lap, the white of the bandage peeking out from beneath his sleeve.

"You kill it?"

Ethan looked up at Cain's words, could feel himself grow clammy just at the memory. Picking up the closest thing to him; a poker from the fireplace, darkness, flashes of light from the back door, lifting the steel rod, tripping over a footstool and falling. He had felt the person lean over him, jabbing up with the poker without thinking. It was pure luck that he had managed to hit the head, to kill the thing right then and there.

"First time I ever killed anyone," he said. "When I realized…the kind of world that I'd be living in from then on, I wanted to end it."

"Why didn't you?"

Ethan licked his lips. "I'm not sure. I didn't think I'd be able to kill people…not even to protect myself, but…I always did. I always fought back. I couldn't give up, not even on my own life."

Cain snorted. "That doesn't count."

Ethan stared at him, confused. "What?"

Cain hoisted himself to his feet, picking up his gun again. "They don't count. They're not people anymore."

"They were once, though," Ethan said, headache really beginning to make itself known. "The guy in my house…he was my neighbor. He was always playing cards, carried a pack with him everywhere. All those things….they had lives and jobs and friends and..." He had to stop to take a breath before he continued, "and families."

Ethan tried not to think much about his parents; didn't want to believe it when Cain said that they were never going to come back for him. Now though, he couldn't stop their faces from floating into his mind. He was positive he would never see them again, knew it wouldn't be much longer until he was dead or turned…until he was hopeless; beyond saving. Ethan suddenly missed them so fiercely that he felt his chest tighten, had to close his eyes and beat back the overwhelming sadness that threatened to drag him down. God, what he wouldn't give to see them again, just one more time, to tell them he loved them and that he forgave them.

He opened his eyes and looked up. Cain was putting on his jacket. "Who…who was the first one you killed?" he asked.

"My mom," Cain said without hesitation. "Then my dad."

"In your apartment?" Ethan asked quietly.

Cain was zipping up his jacket and looking down as he said, "Yep. Took forever to scrape them off the walls."

Ethan's breath caught, thought Cain was too nonchalant to be sincere. No matter what Cain said, they were people once. "I'm sorry."

Cain caught Ethan's eye and raised his eyebrows. "Well, are we going?"

Surprised, Ethan nodded. He stood and followed Cain out the door. He looked back just once before leaving, taking it all in. The apartment hadn't been his home before, but it had become his safe haven after. He never knew the person who had lived there before him, never knew what happened to them, but Ethan had come to consider the little apartment his home. He knew it was stupid, but that didn't stop him from saying a silent goodbye. Then he closed the door and turned away.

The sun was just beginning to set as they turned toward the warehouse. Cain was on guard as usual, gun at the ready, eyes peering into every shadow and alley that they passed. A few minutes in and he had to shoot a fast-moving zombie that was coming straight toward them. The man fell back with the force of the shot, mouth gaping and hands twitching for a few seconds afterwards. Then Cain grabbed Ethan's arm and dragged him forward, quickening their pace before more of them came at the noise.

A few blocks to the warehouse and Cain slowed to a stop. Ethan looked around, searching for the threat, but he didn't see anything. He looked at Cain, saw him squinting at a dumpster in the shadow of a tall, posh building.

Ethan opened his mouth to ask what he had seen, but before he got a chance, he saw the shadows move, something behind the dumpster shifting in the darkness. Cain kept the gun lowered.

"Hey!" Cain said. "Hiding now? Never would've pegged you for a coward."

Nothing. Then the shadows moved again, something coming toward them. Cain's friend stepped into the golden light of the setting sun. Unlike Cain, his gun was at the ready.

Cain took in the scene with a marked lack of emotion. After a moment, he said, "Tch. Planning on using that, then?"

The other nodded, said something quietly in Russian, eyes flicking toward Ethan. Then he looked back toward Cain, jerking his head to the side.

Cain sneered and shook his head, said something fast and quick. Ethan saw the hand on his gun tighten, his whole body tensing up, as though he were preparing himself for a fight. He shifted to the side just a bit, moving so that he was mostly in front of Ethan, and Ethan understood. The guy wanted to kill him, to put an end to it, to protect Cain before Ethan could turn him…or kill him.

When the guy took a step forward, Cain's gun came up. A steady stream of unintelligible sounds poured out of his mouth at the same time; obviously angry.

They stood facing each other for a long moment, both armed, ready to shoot. Then Cain lowered his gun, grabbed Ethan's arm and started walking them away. Ethan didn't miss the fact that Cain walked at his shoulder until they were at the warehouse; covering his back.

"So I guess he knows now," Ethan said, shakily sitting down on the hood of the car.

"Yeah," Cain agreed.

"What'd you tell him?"

"That he couldn't kill you," Cain said. "That there's a cure and we're going to find it."

Ethan watched Cain's back as he slid his gun onto the roof of the car and then leaned back against the front door. "Cain…."

"Aren't you going to get to work?" he snapped.

Ethan closed his eyes, rubbed at his temples, and then stepped away. He opened the hood, and then stood staring at the engine for a long moment. Finally, he picked up his tools and got back to work.

He didn't know how long he was working before he started feeling woozy, wasn't even sure that it didn't come along all of a sudden. All Ethan knew was that one moment he was checking over all his work, hardly daring to believe that he was done, that there wasn't anything else to do, and then the next he was on the ground, head connecting painfully hard with the concrete.

He gasped at the pain, vision swinging out of focus. Then everything turned to black.

#

It was the shouting that woke him. For a long moment, Ethan found the scene almost comforting in its familiarity; his mother and father were known to fight. On the mornings when Ethan woke into the chaos, he usually just kept his eyes shut, listening to their muted voices, waiting for it to stop, wondering what they could possibly be so angry about so early in the morning.

This was different though, the voices not muted at all, different from the yelling he was used to hearing. He opened his eyes, disoriented at the sight of the collapsing roof and the fact that he could see a blue-black sky and distant, twinkling stars.

He could also see someone standing just above him, tall and lean, with shaggy black hair. Ethan sat up, everything hitting him at once, recognizing Cain's voice even as he shouted in Russian, remembering everything, wishing he could just fall back into darkness, into thinking he was back home. Listening to his parents fight would have been exponentially better than listening to Cain try to protect him when they both knew it was pointless. Because Cain's friend was back; gun still in hand, facing Cain and watching as Ethan slowly came back to himself.

When Ethan moved, Cain broke off mid-rant and turned around, leaning over him. "Shit, what the fuck happened?" he asked.

He helped Ethan to his feet, grabbing his good wrist and hauling him up. The room swayed dizzyingly and Ethan had to close his eyes, tamp down on the nausea that surged in his stomach.

"I don't know," he said when he was able, opening his eyes and leaning back against the car. "I just finished the engine and I guess I fainted."

Cain opened his mouth, looking furious, then he paused, his expression turning blank. "You what?"

"I fainted," Ethan repeated.

"No—you finished the engine."

The throbbing in his head was back, beating steadily with his heartbeat, almost overwhelming in its loudness. "Yeah," Ethan muttered, raising a hand to his head. "Yeah, it's done."

Cain left his side without another word, rounding the front of the car to get into the driver's seat. Ethan was distracted by how odd it was to see anyone behind the wheel—he only ever used the back seat for sleeping; no point in sitting up front when the thing wouldn't run. But then the keys were in Cain's hand and he was just staring at them as though he were saying a silent prayer. Then he put the key in the ignition and turned it.

Ethan was holding his breath, waiting, some part of him almost positive that the engine wouldn't even turn over, that all his effort would have been wasted. But the car started, just like that, as if it had just been sitting and waiting for a chance to turn on.

Ethan sucked in a sharp breath, the room spinning faster, everything going out of focus, but he was smiling, couldn't help it. Cain was grinning too; a real grin, the realest Ethan had ever seen on him. Just like that though, it was gone, his eyes turning wide, shoving open the door of the car. Ethan didn't understand until he felt someone grab his arm, the bad one, and yank down the bandage covering his wound. Cain's friend jerked Ethan forward, but there was no gun in his hand, instead there was something short and sharp and he stuck it into the infected skin.

Ethan tried to pull away but the room was spinning so quickly, his stomach churning, and Cain's little friend was surprisingly strong.

Then Cain was there, shoving him away, grabbing at Ethan just as the nauseated feeling overwhelmed him. Ethan just managed to turn away before he started vomiting.

It seemed to go one forever, come out of him in buckets; an acidic stream that never ended. At one point Ethan was aware that Cain was almost entirely holding him up, all the strength gone out of his legs.

When it finally ended, Ethan couldn't even find the strength to wipe his mouth. He spat weakly onto the ground, allowed Cain to maneuver him back to lay against the car, who muttered, "Fuck…"

Cain's friend was in a near corner of the room, his lip bleeding freely. Ethan looked at the bite on his arm, then looked at the small man. As he watched, something fell out of his hand and onto the floor with a clatter. The thing rolled toward them, weak light from outside illuminating the surface: a syringe.

Cain realized what it was at the same time that Ethan did. "What the fuck did you do to him?" he asked.

The other wiped the blood from his mouth, then picked up a half-empty water bottle from a nearby bench and tossed it toward them. Ethan just managed to catch it, cradling it to his chest. The other said, "You're welcome." Then he slid open the warehouse door and left.

Ethan didn't know what to say or do, dumbly hanging onto the water bottle as if that would somehow give him answers. He watched as Cain picked up the syringe and examined it, frowning. Then he skirted around the pile of sick and removed the bottle from Ethan's grip, taking a swig.

"What is it?" Ethan asked, watching Cain's throat work.

"Water." He looked at the bottle curiously, then tilted the opening toward Ethan. "Thirsty?"

Ethan frowned and shook his head. "I can't."

"Try," Cain said, watching him closely.

He sighed, too exhausted to fight, and took the water from Cain, trying to prepare himself for another round of vomiting, for the burn to set in.

It never did. He drank, and it was just water. Ethan finished the bottle, throwing it aside. Cain was watching him, wide-eyed, then his gaze slowly returned to the needle in his hand.

Ethan's mouth gaped. He was positive he had never been more surprised in his life. "Is that—is that…how—"

"I don't know," Cain muttered. "That little shit—" He broke off, and Ethan startled when he made a sharp noise, realized a moment too late that Cain was laughing.

"What—"

He grabbed Ethan's bad wrist, removing the bandage and holding it up to Ethan's gaze. Ethan glanced down; saw at once what he had found so amusing. The skin that had once looked irritated and infected was already healing. The bite was scabbing over, the skin around it returning to its normal shade and consistency.

"Oh my God," Ethan said, holding it right in front of himself for closer inspection. "It's—that's—how is that possible?" His gaze turned to the syringe. "How did he find that?"

"Who fucking cares?" Cain said, pushed Ethan's hand away from his face and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, hauling him forward.

"Cain—" Ethan said, turning his face away, horribly aware of the fact that he had just emptied his stomach a few minutes ago.

Cain just cupped a hand around his neck and turned Ethan's face forward again, kissing him before he could make any more objections, wrapping his arms around Ethan's torso and bending him against the front of Cain's body. Ethan didn't resist, grabbed at Cain's shoulders and pulled him down farther, could barely stop smiling long enough to kiss him properly.

#

Everything was ready to go the next day. Cain's friend hadn't come back, wasn't lingering around the warehouse as far as either of them could tell. Ethan put extra gas tanks into the trunk; the ones he had been collecting for months now, enough to get them pretty far.

They emptied the warehouse of anything useful, taking all the bullets and guns that they had and piling them into the backseat, along with all of their food and water. When there was nothing else to pack, nothing else to do, they both turned to look at each other.

"We should find him," Ethan said. "I need to thank him."

"He knows," said Cain.

Ethan bit his lip. "We can't leave him here."

Cain just snorted, dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them to Ethan. "He doesn't want to come."

"What?" Ethan's hand curled around the solid metal in his hand. "Why not? You asked him?"

"Yeah, I asked him. Said he wouldn't like it away from the city…nothing to do." Cain was smirking, but Ethan only frowned.

"He'll be all alone."

Cain shrugged, smile sliding off his face. "So if he gets lonely, he'll come find us."

"But how?" Ethan said. "We don't even know where—" He broke off when Cain pulled something out of his pocket.

He rolled the syringe between his fingers, examining the numbers along the side. "He'll find a way."

Ethan opened his mouth then closed it again, frowning.

"Come on," Cain said. He opened up the passenger side door and got in, grabbing a gun from the back.

Ethan walked to the warehouse door and slid it all the way back, opening up half the wall, early morning sunlight streaming in. Ethan hesitated, taking in the city buildings and the silent, empty streets. Then he turned back to the car.

"You drive, I'll clear a path," Cain said as Ethan started the car.

Ethan just raised his eyebrows as Cain rolled down his window, resting his gun on the ledge. He put the car into drive, and then they were rolling out onto the street. Ethan glanced into the rearview mirror as they drove away, watched the warehouse grow smaller and smaller, then they turned a corner, and it was gone.

"Where to?" Ethan asked, resting his hands on the wheel, catching sight of the bite on his wrist; scabs already peeling off, leaving behind a ring of baby-pink skin.

"South," Cain said. "Out of the city, get to a farm."

"A farm?"

Cain was looking outside, watching the city streets roll by, his hair lifting in the breeze from the open window. "Not as many zombies in the middle of nowhere. Plus, we'd always have food."

"South it is," Ethan said, taking another corner toward the highway. A few zombies shuffled toward them, but they outstripped them easily, zooming past, Cain not even bothering to pretend he was going to shoot them

They drove in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the steady whirr of the engine, the sound of wind whooshing by. Ethan almost wished they could listen to the radio, but something about the silence was a comfort.

When they finally made it out of the main part of the city, Ethan said, "I hope we don't run into much traffic."

Cain looked at him, smirk already hovering around his lips. When he saw Ethan's determinedly straight face, his smile grew, then he was laughing. Ethan couldn't help but join him after a few seconds, too drunk on the fact that he was alive and that they were getting out, going somewhere new; better, leaving their hell behind.

A/N: That's it, everybody! Final chapter! Thank you all so, so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Also, for future reference, any new fanfic will be posted on my AO3 account (link in my profile). :D