revivalproject | [Open] Run Boy Run

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[Open] Run Boy Run

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Open
WHERE: Beach Area, Near Greenhouse
WHAT: Escaping Running Zombies, Fighting Zombies and Hiding Bite Status
WHEN: Beach: October 13th (Worst Birthday Ever, Again); Greenhouse: Vaguely late October
WARNINGS: CW: Discussion of hidden injury in Greenhouse thread

I. They're Dying To Stop You | Beach Area (October 13th)

Some part of him says this is punishment. That part of his brain ignores the fact that shit like this has happened, nearly reliably, around their birthday every year, that he really should have been prepared. But come on, yesterday was so magical and he felt like he was owed time to bask in that. Instead he wakes up to feel it. The sort of low tremble in his body that says his powers are long since gone. That he's been like this for hours. Has to have been for hours because his body feels the sort of sluggish that says he's been asleep for a while.

It took time to haul himself out of bed, to get Billy up and ready for the trip back to the city because the beach wasn't safe if it was a storm doing weird things. And then they had set out.

The zombies hadn't taken long to become a problem. They hadn't taken long to separate the boys either. Honestly, it was harder to stay together when being chased by running zombies. Which Tommy thought was distinctly unfair. He thought it really hard when he was running with all the speed and grace as one might find in an average high school track star, fleeing from Kate's mangled face. From a masked form that could have been Eli or Patrinot. From David. From his mother.

Too many faces. Too many fears.

Tommy can't help but sob as he runs. Which is a horrible choice, given it messes up his vision as the sand gives way to something a bit more plant rich and he trips. Falls. Ends up tumbled over the ground.

"Fuck," he whimpers before pushing himself back to his feet. "Fuck."

II. And Disappear in the Trees | Southern Temba (October 13th)

It takes more time than he'd like to make it into Temba proper. Normally, outside of a storm, it's barely minutes to cross the distance. Now it's hours sneaking in the trees and along the cleared path between the city and the beach to make it here. Tired. Scratched up more by plants than by zombies. Afraid.

It's only been hours. It's been hours since he went to sleep in peace and happiness. Hours.

Now what?

He stumbles out of the tree line and tries to figure out where he is in the fog. At last, despite the risk, he throws back his head and shouts. After all, he can always retreat into the trees if he needs.

"Is there anyone out there!?"

III. The Secret Inside of You | Near Greenhouse

These sorts of things didn't last this long back home, Tommy thought. A few hours. Maybe a day or two at most. There were just too many people with powers, magic and otherwise, for any serious undead incursion to linger. Maybe that was why there were movies and books about it. Because it was maybe the sort of disaster that humans could survive after powered people slaughtered themselves against it. Tommy didn't know.

David had always spoken about it with irritation, Tommy remembered that much. Back home the other mutant had dealt with too many instances of being attacked by dead people not to notice it and have opinions. The only time Tommy had run into it had been the day they found Mom.

That had been years ago. So many years ago. Billy had gone off and been stupid, Nate had shown up. Wanda had remembered himself. Cassie...

Tommy shunts that thought aside. He was getting too melancholy, which was foolish.

"Focus, Speed," he berated himself as he pushed through the doors of the greenhouse and then closed them back up behind him. "Focus. You've got to get the food to deliver. You've got no clue how long the storm will be nice enough to let you have your powers."

Probably not long enough to get back. He'd have to get to the mines in stages, just like he'd gotten here. At least the path should be mostly open given he'd blown up just about every zombie between here and the diner on his way over.

Not all of them fast enough, he thought as he adjusted the sleeve of the coat he'd grabbed from his apartment at the diner. Not enough to keep him from getting hurt.

But perhaps he wouldn't have to head back alone. His explosions were noisy things, and the path was temporarily clear. Maybe someone would come and join him. Find him. Walk back with him.

Maybe he didn't have to do this alone.

"You're a hero. You should be able to do it alone," he reminds himself as he picks up one of the supply crates he always left by the doors. "Which isn't important. Get a huge load of tubers, man. That's what you need to focus on. And some of that elfroot stuff. Come on. Focus. Get moving."

What else was he going to do, after all? Sit down and cry again? He was tried of that. Really tired of it. He was a super hero, dammit, and he was going to do his job.

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The door yanked out from under him made Stu startle back, heel slipping on the spill of gore that he had followed and sending him crashing down into it as his feet went out from under him. He hissed at the jolt to his tailbone, and his shoulders were still rounded pathetically as he lifted his hands that he had flung out to brace himself, slick now with congealed blood and dirt. "Someone's been blowing stuff up out here," he reported meekly, as if that much wasn't already obvious from the state of him now, or Tommy's warning, or the noise that had lured more than just him. When he turned his head to glance back the way he had come, there was already movement in the alleys and shuffling around corners. He had to whip his head around to spot the bat that he had dropped in his fall before he was struggling back to his feet.

"That was me," Tommy confirms. "Get in here to stay safe. They're probably not smart enough to come in."

Because he doesn't want more relying on explosions if he doesn't have to.

"If the storm picks up, I can't do it more, so it's better to be out of sight."

Stu did as he was told, as soon as he was stable enough to dart into the greenhouse, watching over his shoulder as he went. Even as he did so, and they were securely behind the doors, he whispered like he could sneak in under the orders, "I was trying to get to the hospital, man. Billy's hurt really bad."

"Which Billy?" Tommy asked, taking a cloth up from a pile near the door and starting to clean his hands off. "One of mine, or the guy I've heard helped that Robin girl?"

He looks at Stu, considers. And then seems to make a decision.

"Just gonna put it out there. I know people suspect you of possibly being involved with the attempted murders around here. I haven't seen any of the evidence, couldn't say one way or another what you did or didn't do. But on the off chance that you're guilty and you know it, you may have height and weight on me, but I'm a literal superhero back home with years of training, superspeed, and I can create explosions. So no funny business while we're surviving a zombie incursion. And hey, if you're innocent, it's not even an issue."

But he thought he should have it out there.

The real answer was 'the only Billy that mattered', so Stu's nose wrinkled and he looked put-upon for being asked to elaborate. Tommy must have felt the same way, just for the wrong Billy, and if he had any balls he'd answer honestly when Stu challenged, "Does that change whether you want to help me?"

Tommy didn't really need to answer, though, when he laid in with the rambling threats. Stu's eyebrows raised, then he lifted his free hand to splay in innocent surrender. "Really interesting theory--what's the word? Propelling, even. See, me, if I was watching the crime show, I'd say the guest star that showed up to bring up the crime unprompted and started threatening people was definitely the bad guy." He slid back the way he had come, hand back on the door, and offered, "How about I don't tell anyone this happened, and I'll see you later?"

There are three Billys in town, and only one of them is the wrong one in Tommy's mind. Which just so happens to be the right one for Stu.

"Nope. Really doesn't. But first I've got to get food here and get it back. Can't guarantee I'll be able to help you. Gotta save the most lives I can."

And they need food for that. And if his powers hold, then that's an answer. That's all he's got to care about.

Though now he's laughing at the idea that it was even remotely possible that he did the crimes. Dude is just too jumpy.

"If I wanted you dead, I could manage it before you could blink. And in a way that people here could easily chalk up to any number of other people or to the zombies. So yeah, go out there alone into a zombie attack if you really think you're better off without the guy you're safer with who can explode zombies without even touching them. Sounds really smart."

The more Tommy fantasized about Stu's death, the smarter it did sound to get the fuck away from him, no matter Tommy's taunting about it. Stu grimaced, eyebrow raised to ask if he was really the only one that heard that first part. Everyone in this city really was a violent psycho. "Yeah..." Stu said slowly, "Have fun saving people, dude." He was already pushing the door open, but he hadn't even finished speaking when it collided with something soft and a little wet. Stu had to stop and look down at his hand like he was maybe doing door wrong, then up to meet the yellow eyes of the zombie crushing itself against the glass.

There's a difference between being honest (which Stu himself was clearly not prone to), and being honest. And Tommy was no stranger to being brutally honest.

But then the sound and the eyes... God, was that Cassie? Tommy shudders and in a blink he's there by the door. He pulls Stu back a few careful steps before, in the blink of an eye, some crates were stacked in front of the door.

"Because of course it opens outward. Fuck I hate it when this shit happens. Well, at least these things don't seem to have people's powers. Because she could just shrink to come in through the gaps."

Stu didn't really want to be pulled back further into the greenhouse, but he stumbled back further yet while the crates appears, and Tommy grumbled more of his weird fantasies. This was the chance Stu had to glance around and try to spot another exit, away from the psycho and back on his path to helping Billy, and had to try to answer evenly though his voice pitched up, "Yeah, but then she'd be really small--if all of these guys were tiny, they wouldn't be a problem, ant infestation, just bug-bomb them."

Sorry kid, no other exit. Keeps the greenhouse more secure to keep warmth and moisture in to only have the one.

"Yeah, but she can also grow to about twenty feet tall. So that doesn't really help anyone. Come on. Best place to hide will be to head down into the mushroom rooms. The scents in there should hide us to let us stick around until they get bored and leave."

That left Stu with many questions, the most immediate of which felt like it had to be, "They can smell us?" Tommy's threat was only started to feel more real, because Stu had killed a zillion of these things and it hadn't even occurred to him whether they could shrink, and he was pretty sure it wasn't his odour that was appealing to them. There really might have been bodies around here that conveniently looked like zombie casualties.

"Yeah, why do you think zombies whose eyes are messed up can still find you when you're close? Pretty sure it's the blood."

And come on, they're full of blood. But he moves to walk deeper into the greenhouse, gesturing for the guy to follow.

Stu did follow obediently, though from behind Tommy came a small voice, "I thought they could hear us..." Stu could manage how much noise he made. Most of the time. He didn't know how to manage what he smelled like. A 'mushroom room' wouldn't have even made his mindmap.

"Some can, probably. Depends on the genre of zombies. And given how Octobers get around here, there's probably a variety of different zombie lore origins."

And that's without considering hte ones he knows from home.

"You've been watching too many movies, man," Stu grumbled, completely unable to handle what Tommy might have meant by genres and lore. There were zombies outside, that acted like zombies, all doing the same zombie things, like biting people who needed to have their arms cut off. More sharply, Stu demanded, "Can't you just blow them up again? I need a doctor. I need the hospital now."

"Actually, there's been a few different zombie incursions back home. Usually related to super villain powers," Tommy counters. So no, it's not movie knowledge.

As for blowing them up, he sighs.

"That takes time, and they're close to the glass. I can't risk the glass because this place is literally how we eat. It's too important."

'Super villains' didn't sound much more reasonable than 'genre' or 'lore', it was all kind of the same thing to Stu. He had to grumble again at that answer, sneaking glances at Tommy from where he kept his eyes mostly on the ground ahead of him, suspicious that his selective explosive power was one of those super villain things, even if his excuse did sound like it kind of made sense at first. Sure, long term, people had to eat. Stu was not much of a long term planner, though. "Who cares if they're dead?" he snapped, flinging an arm back the way they had come. "I don't care if the glass is broken if it means we get out of here and can help Billy. That's more important."

"We have to survive to get to this friend of yours, you get that right?" Tommy snaps right back. He whirled quickly when he said it, but the motion almost seemed to... stutter.

Like a movie projector messing up the film speed for half a second.

"The storm is unpredictable right now, and that's a problem. It can take out my powers any second, and I can feel that building up in my bones. So yeah, I could try and go back to the front, open the door, and step out to try and explode the zombies. Start building up the molecular destabilization. But do you know how long it takes to explode a body? I do. It's not quick. Too many different sorts of parts that you have to get into the right level of vibration fast enough. Do you know how long it takes to explode a window?"

Tommy raises his hand and snaps his fingers.

"That long. Because it doesn't explode. It shatters. Pretty instantly once you add the sort of vibrational forces I generate. So, stepping out right now to fight them is a bad idea. Because I'll shatter the glass almost immediately, ruining our future food supply. And making this place completely indefensible. Meanwhile, if my power fails soon like I can feel it's about to, then I've left you vulnerable to a slew of zombies and killed none of them, and made enough noise to bring more. Do you think that sounds smart?"

Because Tommy really doesn't.

"Meanwhile, we take three minutes to maybe let them get distracted, maybe let me tell if my power is really out or not, and we have a better chance of getting out of here. Maybe find your friend. And-"

He points up sharply. The roof, above them. A distant roof of glass.

"if we make ourselves smell like less of a target, there are ladders to get us up there. Cutting one window out would let us gently walk back toward the far side of the greenhouse. From there we can slide down the side of the building and get moving. And we can do it on the western side of the building to get a bit more distance toward the hospital. So tell me, does that maybe sound just a bit wiser?"

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[Open] Run Boy Run

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cw: discussion of violence against zombies/bodies