Island of the lonely and the broken

When the new arrivals at the colony were released from quarantine, their heads shaved, their eyes red from the mist of peroxide which was supposed to eradicate any traces of blood – human as well as vampire – they stumbled into the reception area like newly born lambs. Shaky and unsure what awaited them. Sometimes, survivors were greeted by a family member or a friend. These joyful moments of reunion however were rare as most people with intact families and close friends had been found and turned by their loved ones at the very beginning of the plague, leaving the lonely, the broken and the desperate to be the more likely survivors.

For Fet it was clear that no one would be waiting for him. He had lost all hope of ever seeing his loved one again. When they had raided their campsite, and taken her away he had cried and screamed and raged against her captors and against his. Women were quickly separated from the men to be slaughtered on the spot or taken to one of the camps – provided they were healthy and of the right blood type. During the past year, Fet stayed alive only because some of his human guards had taken a sick pleasure in seeing prisoners fight against each other. These perverse gladiator matches would have only one survivor and no winners at all as the survivor was set up to fight again and again until a healthier opponent slew him as well. And Fet had fought, even though he didn't want to survive. He tried to kill his opponents as fast and as humanely as possible, releasing them from the hell of the camp. After his third fight, he had stopped feeling anything at all, becoming a soulless machine.

When Gus and his crew finally arrived to liberate (what did that even mean?) the camp, they barely recognized Fet. Bald and gaunt and with an absent look in his eyes, the strong and quick-witted exterminator seemed to be no more. Gus eventually managed to heave him aboard one of the fishing cutters who connected the eastern coastline with the survivor colonies of Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard.

The quarantine procedure was efficient and rough. The shaving of his body tore open half-healed wounds and the peroxide mist stung in his eyes and nostrils. Fet let it all happen passively, taking note of the hurt but not caring whether or not his wounds would ever heal. In fact, he knew they would not, he had simply lost too much. What hurt most was what he had lost before it could ever truly begin. He would die without ever having been truly loved and having been able to love in return. When he stumbled and knelt on the reception floor of the old Nantucket ferry terminal, wearing the denim blue scrubs they had given him, he couldn't find the strength to get up anymore. He would simply die here.

Only when he imagined for a split second that someone had called out his name, something in the back of his mind began to stir, like a memory long forgotten and about to resurface. After a while, he heard his name a second time, this time he was sure he hadn't imagined it. He looked up, staring into the grey faces of a large crowd, countless disappointed, empty eyes staring at him. But when he lifted his head he saw the crowd moving as someone made their way to the center of the crowd, towards him. Over the murmuring voices of a hundred onlookers he heard it again, this time loud and clear.
"Vasiliy, you are here, oh Vasily! Let us through, damn it!"

Then everything happened incredibly fast – too fast for his weakened state to fully grasp it at first.
His heart leaped, pain rushing through his entire body when he tried to get up. It was the first time he felt this much pain in almost a year and he figured that this was a good sign; life returning to him with the sudden hope that was blooming in his chest.
Before he could fall, losing balance on his injured legs, he felt warm hands rightly grip his torso stabilizing him and holding him in a tight albeit shaking embrace. Could it really be?

"Vasiliy, oh Vaz, my Vaz. it's really you! You made it, Vaz, you came back to me! I can't believe that I have you back. I love you, I love you, I love you", he heard her say, her voice so very familiar, piercing through the slight fog of his wavering consciousness. He was paralyzed from the sudden onslaught of emotion. After feeling nothing for so long, it felt like a torrent of warmth shooting through his frozen heart, releasing sensations overwhelming and painful and heavenly at the same time. Could it really be? Could it really be her, holding him, calling his name, saying the most wonderful words? He heard her speak of love and with the thought of finally being home, he let go, finally breaking down in shuddering bursts of tears at the end of this nightmare. When he lost consciousness, his last thought was that he will now die in peace, having felt, heard and smelled his loved one at last.

"Well, he's out", said the slender tall man standing above the shaking couple.
"I can see that he's out you idiot, help us up", she responded with a bright smile, laughing and crying at the same time.
And with that he helped her pull the exterminator up, each of them supporting one Fet's limp arms with their shoulders. Despite the massive weight he had lost, Michael could still see that Vasiliy was a large man – in fact, he must have been a monster of a man when she met him. Having heard so much about Fet and now seeing him in person was strange to Michael. Vasiliy had finally come to take his place at her side. Her love for the broken man Michael was currently carrying to his car had been unwavering, even after all hope seemed lost. Michael had never allowed himself to hope that she would ever be his and he berated himself for sometimes wishing that she could all the same. When he met her for the first time almost a year ago, he was the only doctor on the island and she proved to be an invaluable help in building a makeshift medical station. He admired her expertise, her dedication and her subtle sense of humor that she somehow hadn't lost, despite the unspeakable horrors she certainly had endured. It hadn't taken long for Michael to fall for her, but he realized, that she saw in him only a friend, a colleague and sometimes a big brother. So when they carried Fet to his van, Michael tried to be what he knew she needed him to be.

"I don't know what you see in him, he doesn't even have hair", he quipped, climbing into the driver's cabin while demonstratively running a hand through the shock of flaming red hair he had grown in the two years since his arrival on the island.
She rewarded his joke with the most genuine laugh he had ever heard from her. He was happy to see her happy and finally able to cry and to let go of a pressure that would have broken many other women in her place.
She was sitting in the back, leaning against the side of the truck, carefully cradling Vasiliy's head in her lap. When she looked up, her eyes locked with Michaels' in the rear view mirror. They both knew how the other felt.
"I am glad you have him back, you so deserve to be happy", he said, meaning every word.
"I would have never made it without you, Michael. You know that, right?"