Nestled deep in the Georgian countryside was a place that survived the worst of the outbreak several months before. Even though the station had once teamed with various forms of life, the train station now belonged to a unique group of people who found it during their darkest days and created something. Terminus was a dream most people did not believe was real until they stepped foot inside.
The station had been used for trains and transportation, and now housed a growing community of over forty people who each had their own purpose in the daily running of the community. Within the impressive fence that bordered Terminus, was a decent-sized courtyard that was used for gatherings. Around the corner, was an array of buildings that all had its uses.
The largest room in the compound was the aptly-named "map room" that got its name from the number of maps that adorned the walls. A series of tables were set up in that room for convenient making of the pieces of paper that led people to their final destination. This room, in a way, was central to what Terminus was now used for.
The other building that rested just around the corner, was the private quarters that only residents could enter. What was once a waiting area for the many that came, was now a set of bedrooms and bathrooms that was parted by a thin staircase that took a person up to the second or third floors.
In the bedrooms, people could rest and forget about an often hectic pace of rising and then immediately going to their jobs that were specifically selected for them. One of the perks about living in a place like an abandoned train station, was that emphasis on teamwork was very high. Not one person could slack off unless there was a medical reason, and no one could be afraid of getting their hands dirty.
For some, that meant collecting crops from the field that was just beyond the fence. The field had proven to be something of a lucky strike when it was first discovered. Instead of surviving on turkey vultures, and the occasional snake, people had real food to sink their teeth into. For others, dirty work was collecting the burn vats from the killing floor, and disposing of them.
The burn vats came from a separate place on the property that no one really liked to go into unless it was necessary. The killing floor was one such room that tainted the dream most thought Terminus was. A cold, steel room with a metal trough. Some who came thought it was used for pig slaughter. If only the reason why such a room existed was for the slaughter of cattle.
The truth was much darker than that, and was something that still seared the hearts of those who were around to remember it. The trough was regularly utilized for the slaughter of people who wandered through the front gates. Bound and gagged, they were hauled in front of the trough, and knocked out with a baseball bat, before they were bled out.
No one liked having to watch folks dragged from the train cars they were kept in, and taken to the kill floor. It was a sobering reality of what life looked like for them since they were forced to adjust to the message they heard. One person who did not relish ordering them to be imprisoned in the car, was the leader of Terminus.
Gareth discovered Terminus after roughing it with his family over the countryside while they searched for a place to stay. Tired from the endless walking he and his family had done, he could not fathom a place that wonderful still existed. After clearing it of the few walkers that remained, he began thinking of ways it could be used to further society.
A thinker by nature, he began assigning tasks to his people to get the place up and running. His mother, Mary, took her spot in the field where she planted seeds. The grill was another place she became familiar with after finding it in a storage locker.
Alex, his brother, made himself useful by showing people around when they came. A people person by nature, he was often the first one they interacted with once he and Gareth were done searching them. An optimist even through the worst times, Gareth was surprised when his brother voiced the concern that something might happen with how open they were.
"What could happen? Gareth demanded when Alex brought it to his attention.
"I don't know! I just think there are some folks out there that won't appreciate all this like we do."
Gareth paused, giving what he had to say honest thought. It did occur to him that not everyone was as welcoming as he was, and they might have problems. That, however, did not seem likely when they had an open-door policy for people.
"We have the numbers, Alex. We have the tactics that not everyone else has."
"I still think we need to vet these folks before we give them a solid answer."
Gareth shrugged his shoulders, before bending down to pick up a large crate of seed packets. "That's not what we do."
Gareth wished he had taken the time to listen to his brother one rainy afternoon barely a week after Alex came to him. With rain came additional tasks that were often shared between members. Mary was at the fence with Kaylee and Cynthia, fixing a weak patch that needed attention. Gareth was inside training Debra, a recent recruit, how to use the radio to broadcast their location.
Leaning over a shaky table that had tools for map making, he kept an eye on his trainee while he also supervised Alex. Hardly a slouch by any means, his brother also lacked the drive to complete tasks. Tsking under his breath when Alex make a simple mistake, he corrected it with a smirk.
"You want to make sure people can read these signs when they see them." They placed the signs at different stops along well-populated paths.
"Sure," Alex mumbled. "Hand me some more paint."
Handing over the requested item, Gareth looked down at his walkie when it crackled. Giving his brother a look, he listened to the message that was being communicated from his mother: Several men were at the gate. This was not unusual, but the tone of her voice was. Ignoring the worry in the pit of his stomach, he gave a final set of instructions to Debra, and left the room. Alex was following closely behind, his nervous breath right on the back of Gareth's neck.
Having half a mind to tell him to step back, the thought died on his lips when he came upon the scene that awaited them. Right outside the door to the courtyard, were the men his mother told him about. They were armed, and they had their group held at gunpoint. Some of them handled it better than others, but the terror was evident on their faces. Attempting to talk his way out of it did nothing.
They were all herded to a set of train cars that sat along the back of the property. For the next few weeks while he sat in darkness, Gareth contemplated what this meant for his family. They would die if they did nothing to get it back. They already did lose people in the first few days. Not able to take watching any of them pay for this, he began doing what he did best: Plan.
They were beginning to lose hope for their circumstances. Some of them resembled nothing but skeletons that clung to skin. A few of the stronger women held out, but that was the only comfort Gareth had. The plan required everyone to be at attention after weeks of facing their tormentors. Their bodies, barely able to function, would have to once again. Once they were done, they would dine on their captors.
The move was not a sick one, but a desperate one born out of hearing the message that was supplied to them by their captors: They were either the butcher, or they were the cattle. Even without hearing the message, Gareth's stomach burned with a primal hunger that could not be sated.
"The hell you tryin' to make us?" Alex croaked, his arms wrapped around their bruised mother. "We ain't those people."
"I know," Gareth responded calmly. "But we've ignored the message they've been giving us. In order to take this back, we have to adapt."
And so they did with each one playing their own part in taking back the community. With weapons that had been made from wooden shivs, Gareth led his group to a hard victory. They had gotten their home back after fighting against those who had taken it from them. The battle was not an easy one to engage in with an empty stomach, but they managed. Once it was done, Gareth sank to his knees, and took a carving knife to one of the men.
Repulsed at the thought of trying human meat as a food source, he swallowed his disgust after his mother placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Her soft words were like a beacon of light to him that gave him clarity to finish the job. Sawing through bone and muscle to amputate the leg, the job was hardly clean and it bothered him. Shoving back his distaste once his fingers got a brief taste of raw meat, he knew this was the right thing for them.
That moment happened months ago, and most of them had adjusted to what life was after the worst thing could have happened. Even though Gareth swore they would not stick with this diet for the long haul, it was obvious that it made the most sense. They had the means to lure people to their place, and even had the train cars to trap them. The old tactics Gareth used to ensure their safety, had been replaced with snipers on the roof, and a set of questions people had to answer.
Waking up with a low groan after going through another night of restless sleep, Gareth rolled over on his back and tried to orient his mind to the start of a new day. Days tended to begin early at Terminus, and the last thing he wanted was to be late to the start of their ritual. Heaving his worn body up, Gareth's hand groped for the gun he always kept on the nightstand. To his extreme confusion, the weapon was on the floor.
Washing a hand over his face, he ignored the dull ache in his legs, and picked up the gun. Tucking it behind him, he wracked his mind for a plausible reason why he would have not heard the gun clank to the floor. Checking the rounds in the chamber while he picked through his supply of clothes, Gareth frowned when he only shook out seven bullets as compared to the eight that was there the night before.
"What the hell?" He muttered to himself.
Wondering if he was not simply seeing things after obtaining little sleep, he tucked the gun behind him and headed out. The thought of what could be happening with his gun was the main thing the leader thought about as he ventured down the hall. Fingering his walkie, he switched it to Alex's channel.
"Alex, heading downstairs. Second floor looks clear, you copy?"
No answer.
"Alex?"
Still no answer, which did not surprise him when his brother was likely still sleeping after taking a late shift. Shaking his head, he switched to his mother's channel. She would be the one that would be up and ready to begin the day.
"Mom? You up?"
Almost immediately, Gareth heard static on the other end. Increasing his stride, he waited to hear her voice before he was comfortable. "I'm up."
"Anything to report?" Gareth checked, heading down a short flight of steps.
"Nothing other than your brother has an uncanny ability to sleep through anything." Gareth smiled; it was rare he got to hear his mother joke.
"We know what he's like, but we love him anyway. If I walk into the kitchen this morning, what am I gonna find?"
Someone had to take over feeding duty for the forty plus people that lived at Terminus. Most of the time, Mary volunteered to help where she was comfortable. It was not uncommon to find her hovering over a stove full of bread, or even making a salad. She seemed to love providing for them, and Gareth was not about to stop her.
Hitting the landing, he carefully looked to make sure everything was okay. The incident with his gun still concerned him, and that was never a feeling he liked to have. On the other end of the line, Mary chuckled at his previous comment.
"Come in, and you'll see for yourself."
"Aye, aye, captain."
Disconnecting the line, Gareth pushed open a heavy door that led through a way he liked to take to reach the kitchen. The glowing room full of peacefully lit candles, had not changed much since it was first built shortly after they got the place back. Gareth liked to stop there, and remember the lives that were lost getting back their freedom.
After they had time to heal from the trauma of what happened to them during the siege, Gareth proposed a ceremony in an empty room to celebrate and remember the men and women who died for them. Gathering them all together, Mary's hand trembled while she lit the first of several candles. Gareth was after her, his composure hanging by a thread as he looked at the broken faces of their group.
After they took the time to share their own memories of the fallen, Gareth wrote a list of all who died, and then someone wrote their names in white paint on the floor of the room. Candles placed on the floor, gave it a peaceful feeling that seemed out of place. Watching his family mourn the tragic events of the last few weeks was hard, but also something they needed to do.
Once they were done, a member of them grabbed a thick bucket of paint, and wrote the message that Gareth came up with before the service. Disappointed and angry that they had been taken advantage of, he was determined to never let that happen again. With the inclusion of the text, he had hope that they would be able to stop and remember it from time to time.
NEVER AGAIN, NEVER TRUST. WE FIRST, ALWAYS.
Running his hand along the text now after several months, Gareth recalled the night it was placed there. Bowing his head, he tried not to show how much it cost him to remember their dead when he was supposed to be stronger. Turning around, he caught some of the names that sparked a memory. Most of the people who got caught, had been veterans of the place. Some had been new, and their deaths still stung.
Moving from the room once he was sure he heard someone moving outside, he pulled his jacket closer around his body, and gave a few orders to some of the tired faces he came across. Rubbing his hand across his eyes, he caught Kaylee, and told her to be outside on watch. The disappointment was not hard to catch in her eyes. The girl always preferred to be doing more inside.
Ignoring it for the moment, he passed a headset to Debra to work the job that she was supposed to be doing. The broadcast went out every few hours to those who still had access to a radio station. She took the headset, and gave him a once-over that made him feel a little self-conscious. The older woman survived the siege, but with the loss of her entire family after the men killed them for 'being too loud.' Now, Debra took it upon herself to care for the group.
"You didn't sleep, did you?" Debra asked, her tone almost accusatory.
"Now that you mention it," Gareth began, rubbing his sore eyes. "Too much stuff going on."
"Hmm, well, that still does not excuse the fact that you can't shut those charming eyes for a little while. If this was a pre-turn world, I would have insisted you get help."
Gareth smiled, contending with her worry while he moved in the direction of food. He could already smell the delicious aroma of something cooking that his mother put in. One of the perks about having a fully-stocked kitchen was the endless amount of food that most took for granted.
When they got the place back, they had to hunt for supplies all over again after the men looted nearly everything. Stepping over crumbs and broken plates, Gareth felt a rage that had only been surpassed by the rape of his mother while they were still being held prisoner.
"I appreciate the concern, I do. What you can do to help me right now is to do our broadcast. I added a few more words to the script, it's all written down. Someone will cover the afternoon shift."
Debra nodded, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "Okay, I'll get to it. Get in the kitchen."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Shaking his head in amusement, he turned away from the woman, and went toward the kitchen area that was tucked between some other rooms that were used for recreational purposes. The layout used to resemble a maze to the leader when he first explored the property. After being there for as long as he had been, he was used to the sprawling setting.
Passing others on his way in the kitchen, they each wore looks of determination and happiness to contribute to the daily upkeep of the place. Spotting one of his watchers stumble through one of their entrances, he looked as though he had gotten more of a good sleep then he had. Carefully looking over his ruffled hair and barely concealed yawn, Gareth knew he fell asleep on the job.
Tardiness was not allowed at Terminus, and certainly not when safety was factored into the equation. It was not the first time Nate had been caught slacking off, or even showing up late to a scheduled shift. He decided to worry about the issue later after he got some food inside him. Closing the distance that separated him from the food, he pushed the door open to be met with the sight of his mother hovering over the stove.
Her beautiful hair was woven into a loose braid that slung over one shoulder. She never stopped moving as she placed a tray into the oven, and then returned to a cooking board that was full of un-chopped onions. Making his way inside, Mary saw him and flashed him a smile that was only meant for him and his brother. Even as she smiled, Gareth could see a sadness that disturbed him. So much had changed, and not all of it was for the better.
"Did you get lost on the way?" Mary jested.
"I wish," Gareth mumbled, picking up a knife to help chop the onions. "Have you ever had something strange happen that you can't explain?"
Mary smiled, but it came out wrong. It was not her smile; it was the smile of a woman who had gone through the worst pain, and somehow escaped from it. "I thought our lives were like that."
"They are, but I woke up this morning, and my gun was on the floor. I always keep it on my nightstand."
Mary pursed her lips while she watched him dice. "Are you sure you didn't just-"
Gareth shook his head. "No."
Tearing his eyes away from her when his eyes began to tear from the food, he put one piece in his mouth and chewed while he tried to decode the mystery of his gun. When had their laughter turned to sorrow? When had his mother lost her genuine smile? When had they turned from any sense of moral goodness, and became the butcher?
The answer was not lost on him. This was the only way, but it did not mean he had to like the thought of luring people to their deaths on the promise of sanctuary. As much as he wished he could take a softer approach to the topic, Gareth could no longer afford to see the world the way it was. He had once, and his kindness nearly cost him.
"Was everything clear on our floor?" Mary checked, breaking him from his own mind.
"Yeah, seemed to be. Who was on watch last night?" The sight of his spotter tripping in after duty, did not help Gareth feel any better.
"Nate took the first shift. I think it was an early one."
"Nate did?" Gareth was surprised; he thought the teen had been the only one on call the previous night. "Who took over second?"
"Alex did. I saw him come in right before dawn."
Gareth shrugged, busying himself with more important matters such as trying the onion that was teasing him with how good it looked. Scooping up some tiny pieces, Gareth ignored the amused look Mary threw him while she watched him digest part of their breakfast.
"Do you remember when I used to eat onion back when I was younger?"
"I do," Mary replied, teasingly swatting him with a wooden spoon. "Your breath was horrible for days."
"I beg to differ." To exasperate her, Gareth blew his breath directly in front of her face. As expected, Mary shrieked and got out of the way. At least his actions did one thing in earning a genuine smile from her.
"Why don't you go wake Alex up? I doubt he wants to miss rolls and vegetables."
Gareth nodded, absently running his hand over the smooth counter. Their home was just that to him, but he could never deny the parts of it that resembled a nightmare. At least in the early morning hours, he had the chance to clear his head before he had to be everything to everyone.
"Okay."
Mary raised her hand, and moved it under the dark spots under Gareth's eyes. It was not hard to spot the concern in her eyes. Moving away from her when more people began coming in the kitchen, he saw her take one last look at him before he left. Turning left once he was outside, he moved across the hard tile floor in search of the flight of steps.
Alex was a heavy sleeper, but even this was was unusual for him. Along with thoughts about waking his brother, Gareth thought about his spotter that fell asleep on the job, and even the gun that was still bothering him. There was no reason for his weapon to have gotten on the floor without him knowing about it. Not only that, one bullet was missing.
Taking the steps two at a time when he got there, he kept his thoughts focused on his brother. In an effort to have some privacy, his family had their own sleeping quarters. Gareth was situated between his mother and brother, and sometimes questioned the brilliance of that when he heard Alex snore. Smiling, Gareth passed a portrait of his father that hung halfway down the hall.
Dan had been killed at the start after he headed plans for his family to evacuate their home. Sprinting down the path to the street, he had been ripped from them after a team of the dead lunged at him. Seeing his father fall, and hearing the screams of his mother and brother was one of the first times Gareth realized how changed the world was. Leaning down, he looked at Dan, and saw the agony in his eyes as he fought to breathe.
Behind them, Alex was trying his best to console their hysterical mother who was trying to break free from his protective hold to reach her husband. Finally succeeding in that, Mary collapsed to the ground beside him, and took his bloodied face in her hands. Dan gazed at her, his chest heaving up and down while blood pooled from various wounds in his neck and chest area.
Gareth knew the only logical outcome of something like that happening, but his mind refused to admit it until he heard Alex's pained breaths beside him as he joined him. His little brother was never shy about expressing emotion, but it was rare for him to break down like he was. Wishing he could do something to comfort him, he was frozen as he stared at his dying father. Everything he thought he knew about being strong in the face of tragedy, was flying out the window.
"Gareth," Alex pleaded, bowing his head while he squeezed tears from his eyes. "Do somethin.''
"I don't know...I don't know what to do."
It was unusual for him not to know what to do in any given situation, especially when he helped their father plan their leave from the house after it became clear the military was losing control of the situation. Hoping to stifle the impending vomit that was building, Gareth put his hand over his mouth and looked at his father, and saw how badly he was struggling to keep going. He would never be able to survive something as serious as a walker bite.
Before he could do anything to make a choice about how he would best help his father, Alex took matters into his own hands, and swiped the gun that was holstered to Gareth's side. Staring at him uncomprehending, Alex stood up as he trembled uncontrollably. Raising his arm to wipe the tears from his eyes before he performed the mercy killing, Gareth saw a pain in his brother that he had never seen before. His little brother was growing up before his eyes, and was no longer the immature one who drifted his way through various jobs and college. He was a man, and he was becoming one under the worst circumstances.
Wincing when he heard the shot resound through the area, he lifted his head to see the agony in his mother, and the sorrow in his brother. Things had never been the same between any of them since they lost Dan. He was the rock they built their family on, and the foundation that they needed when they were losing everything. Mimicking what he knew his father would do to lead them, Gareth became an unwilling leader in the days and weeks that followed. Having to make split second decisions was not him, but was more of his father.
That day had been almost a year ago, and Gareth still remembered it as though it happened yesterday. One of the best ways he knew how to honor his father, was to place his picture along the wall in their private quarters. It helped him gain clarity when he felt as though he was faltering under the intense scrutiny he faced as the boss in charge. At times, he could still hear his father whisper instructions to him that he tended to follow. He may not have been there physically, but he was in spirit.
Forcibly moving on once he remembered why he was up there, he imagined having to drag Alex from bed like a toddler. Not completely against doing it for the fun of such a thing, he stopped outside the door and knocked three times. No response, again. Rolling his eyes, he reached for his walkie and switched it to Alex's channel. Leaning against the door, he knew how furious Alex would be for being woken up.
"Dude," Gareth said into the device. "Mom wants you down in the kitchen. You copy?"
To his extreme surprise, the walkie crackled with life on Alex's end. Straightening up, he waited to hear something from his brother. Waving to Martin when he walked down the hall, he could see one of their newest recruits was eager to play with a fireworks pack they acquired to get rid of the dead.
"Gareth, I'm-I'm here."
There was something wrong with the way Alex was speaking to him. His voice shook, but he was trying his best to control it. Not sure what to make of what was going on, he tightened his hand over the walkie, and tried to think of something to say to him that would either confirm or deny his theory. The last thing he wanted was to face a nightmare in the morning, but it was likely that was happening whether he wanted it or not.
"What's wrong? Spill something on your sheets again?"
Alex laughed, but it was not his laugh. It was a terrified, hysterical laugh that sent a cold chill down Gareth's spine. Over a year of being forced together, had given him the instincts he now had when it concerned his family. "No, uh, it's really chilly in here. Might have to get the furnace fixed."
"Really chilly" was code for one of them having a knife or gun pressed against them. Someone had gotten through their security and was now threatening the life of his brother. A thousand thoughts raced through Gareth's mind, and his heart pounded painfully under his chest. Hoping no one else was involved in what was likely a hostage situation, he made himself speak calmly into the walkie.
"How cold is it in there?"
"Free-freezin'. Think we need to get it checked out. Although we might have double the work ahead of us, you know?"
"Freezing" was another code word that he had a knife to his throat, and was trying to stay calm. Alex had never been the best person to handle situations like that, and that was why Gareth often had him out of the line of fire whenever possible. "Double" was obvious to him that they were dealing with more than one person. Checking himself, he had a gun and a knife on different parts of his body. Those weapons, as useful as they were, would likely do nothing in a bind like that.
Gareth wracked his brain to remember the last time they dealt with something that overt, and that was when he remembered the siege that robbed them of everything they worked so hard for. Palms sweating despite his efforts to keep himself under control, he brought the walkie to his mouth again, and attempted to form a response that would not tip anybody off that might be listening.
"Need me to come in there, and check it out? Maybe I can work some of my magic on that stupid thing."
"Yeah," Alex said, and Gareth was stunned to hear his voice break. "Get in here before somethin' happens, okay? I don't like the way this thing is lookin.'"
Gareth nodded to himself in answer to what Alex said; he was scared but he would never admit that to his brother. Taking out his gun, he kept it at his side, and tried the doorknob under his unsure hand. It clicked open immediately, and Gareth hesitated before pushing it open. The room was dark, but enough light came from the window to illuminate his brother's shaking form. Alex was tied to a chair, and his throat bore obvious signs of being cut a fraction by the knife.
Anger surged through him as he took in Alex's none-fatal wounds. Whoever was doing this to him would pay dearly. Crossing the room, taking a look around as he went, he knelt in front of his brother, and gently took out the gag that had been placed in his mouth. Like he expected, Alex was petrified with terror, but was trying to be strong. Looking at him bound to the frail chair, he saw the baby he fell in love with when he first met him. Alex was his baby brother, and nothing would ever change that.
Gareth knew the attacker was still in the room somewhere, but he had no clue where. His heart raced erratically at not knowing where the enemy was. Alex was not speaking, but he could see everything through his expressive eyes. Those eyes that shed countless tears since being forced to live in a fallen world; those eyes that perfected the look their mother could never resist. Alex was everything to Gareth and his mother, and he could not imagine having a funeral for him if something happened.
"It's gonna be okay," Gareth whispered. "I gotcha. It's gonna be fine."
"Gareth...it's him."
Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Him who?"
Gareth received his answer when a blow came from behind him. Stumbling back when he was hit from behind, he only had to take one look at the filthy man before he recognized him. He was the lone survivor of the bandits; the one they kept imprisoned in one of the train cars as a further reminder of what they went through. His matted hair fell in odd places around his face, and his eyes glowed fanatically as he once again held a knife to his brother's throat. The man glared at him before he drew a small amount of blood.
How could he have gotten out when they kept him locked securely in the car? Who could have done such a thing that put all of them in danger? So many questions went through Gareth's mind that he was having a hard time keeping ahead of them. Instant hatred rushed through him, and all he wanted to do was put his hands around his neck and strangle him for hurting Alex. His brother squirmed against the ropes that bound his hands and feet to the chair. His breaths came out ragged, and his eyes shone with tears.
"STOP IT!" Gareth screamed, true panic making itself known to him.
"I will only if you kneel. Should be an interesting position for you."
Gareth would do anything if it meant this man, this monster, would leave his brother alone. Aching from the knock in the back he received from the disgusting man, he slowly obeyed the command and got down on his knees in front of the chair that held Alex. Avoiding looking directly at the bandit that was grinning like he had just accomplished the entire world, he wondered if anyone heard the commotion from downstairs. Things tended to get noisy during the day, and he doubted anyone would even think to check on them.
Visually searching the man for weapons, he only saw the knife and the butt of a gun that was tucked in his pants. Clearly, whoever let the man out, had given him access to things he was now using to harm them. Remembering who had been on call that night, he wondered who had been the one to fall asleep and let someone in to free their captive. Knowing those answers would come sooner or later, he contented himself with making sure nothing happened to Alex.
"Pretty interesting concept you got here," Gareth mused. "Playing mind games with us, right? Don't think I didn't notice my gun on the floor this morning, and missing one bullet."
"Same tricks you pulled on us," the bandit remarked. "Only your style was a bit more colorful."
"You locked us up for no reason-"
"And then you had a feast on us. I may have been born at night, but I'm not blind. I saw you taking that knife to Joey and Reg."
A reckless rage had overcome Gareth as he watched his brother struggle. "And you know what? They tasted wonderful."
A glint of fury flashed across the man's eyes before he crossed the room, and punched him across the face. Wincing in response, Gareth looked around the room, and saw no one there that could help the bandit. Feeling hopeful that perhaps not all was lost, he turned back to the man.
"You made a pretty foolish mistake. Going in without backup? Didn't you learn how to stage a hostage situation? Or were you too busy raping innocent women?"
"That's where you're wrong, my friend," the bandit sneered. "This pretty thing helped me last night. Why don't you come out, darlin'?"
Assuming for one second that the man was crazy, Gareth watched as a tiny girl inched out of Alex's messy closet to join the tense stand-off. Her hair was tucked to one side of her face, and her chipped fingers shook as she surveyed the scene. It was not uncommon to have people find Terminus late at night. For that reason, Gareth had watchers take constant shifts. The girl studied him while she went to stand with the man.
"So you found someone gullible enough to rescue you," Alex said, shaking his head. "Lured her in with a sob story that she bought hook, line, and sinker?
"Kind of what you folks do, right? She came after you fell asleep on the job."
Gareth directed his attention to Alex. He hoped with everything he had in him that he did not fall asleep like he suspected he did. One look at Alex's face confirmed the truth, and it stung in a way that Gareth was not used to. Out of everyone, Alex knew what was expected when he was put on the job. To have him fall asleep, even late at night, was shocking.
"It was late at night. Nothin' was happening. I just took over for Nate after emptyin' the burn vats. I did, and I regret it more than you know." Alex looked at his brother. "I'm so sorry, Gareth."
"It's fine," Gareth mouthed. It was not fine, but he was not about to cause more stress for his brother.
"What's your name?" The man drawled, ogling the girl with a hungry fervor that made Gareth sick.
"Si-Sienna."
"Sienna," he sang, pushing a lock of her hair behind one ear. "Can you go search that man? And then tie his hands with that roll of rope?"
Gareth waited to see what Sienna would do, but he already knew what she would choose when the man was circling her with a six-inch knife. Sienna shook as her feet carried her across the room to Gareth. Taking a look at her face, he figured she was only fourteen or fifteen. It was hard to muster any sympathy for her, but he could not help himself when she was a victim of the bandit.
When she crouched behind him, her hands quaked as she ran them over his body. It did not take a genius to know she had never searched someone before. Twisting around when he felt her hands pull his behind his back, he reacted with a speed that could only have come from adjusting to life that involved stealth and accuracy. Pushing her away from him, she stumbled back with a squeak, but did not have time to do anything else when Gareth grabbed her gun and shot her in the head.
The bandit was obviously not anticipating his victim gaining the upper hand, and lunged at Gareth, but the leader of Terminus was ready for his advances and pushed him back when he tried hard to reach the gun that was in his hand. Using defense moves that he had been made to learn during the early days of the turn, he kept hold over the gun while the bandit tried to wrestle it from him. Playing a twisted game of tug-of-war with this person, he saw Alex try to move out of the way.
"You think you can come in here and take my home? My home? Rape our women, and beat the men until they can hardly see straight? You have another thing coming." Kneeing the man in the groin, he was satisfied to see him stunned, before he quickly recovered.
The bandit's hands were around the gun, and Gareth was quickly losing his grip on the one thing that guaranteed him some power over the situation. His knife would be nothing compared to a gun that could shoot him in nothing flat. Heart pounding until he could hardly see right, he gasped when the crook twisted his hand enough so that his grasp on the gun faltered. The bang that came from the gun discharging, shook him to his core.
The sound of it reverberated throughout the room, and he knew that anyone in the compound, would have been able to hear a blast as loud as that and in such close proximity. Getting the gun away from the bandit when his own grip failed him after so long of trying to keep hold of it, he was instantly met with a stabbing pain that sliced through his shoulder when the bandit's knife pierced him. That, however, was nothing in comparison to the very real victory that he got the weapon.
Aiming it at the man, fully intending on ending his rule over their lives, the trigger clicked in his hand while he tried to figure out what was wrong with it. It would be his luck that he reclaimed the gun, and was now having no luck whatsoever in getting it to do its job. With that distraction, the bandit took the opportunity to launch another attack on him. Dropping the weapon when it failed again, the shot that came from it stunned both of them. Ducking out of the way on instinct, he could instantly see where it ended up.
"Gareth?" Alex was squirming in his chair, his hands fighting the ropes that were tied around them. His face was paling rapidly, and his grey shirt was slowly starting to become coated in blood from a gunshot wound to his abdomen.
"Alex," Gareth choked, not even caring the bandit was still breathing. Making his way toward him, he was cut-off by the fist that aimed a punch at his face. Full of a white-hot rage that burned a fiery trail through his system, Gareth picked up the knife and stabbed him in the chest.
The leader hardly cared that the threat was over before it even started; he did not even care that Alex played a part in the attacker getting in. All that mattered to him was getting to his brother, and finding some way to help him. Skidding to a halt on his knees in front of the chair, Gareth's hands trembled as he worked the rope that was tied around his wrists. Alex was shaking, but that was not what concerned his older brother the most.
What concerned him was the copious amount of blood that was staining his shirt. Finally getting his hands free after some wrangling on his part, he bent down to get his feet away from the chair. A thousand thoughts were running in tandem with each other as he focused on his brother. Once his feet were free, Alex got up under his own power, and sank to the hardwood floor where he could lay down.
"I really screwed up, didn't I?" Alex said, laughing through his tears.
"Nah, you've done stupid crap like this before. On the Alex scale of stupid? It was high up there."
"There's a scale?" Alex choked.
"Yeah," Gareth said, as though it should be the most obvious thing in the world. "I have to have some way of entertaining myself at your expense."
Putting pressure on Alex's bullet wound, he carefully checked, and did not see an exit wound. They had medical facilities, but they were not equipped to handle a trauma of this magnitude. His brother gasped when he felt the pain from the pressure that was being applied, but Gareth ignored it. He would rather have him in pain, than have him die for something like that.
"The guy was in here when I woke up. He was pressing a knife to my throat."
"I know," Gareth said, avoiding looking in his eyes, trying not to feel guilty for failing to check on him when he first got up. "I tried reaching you on the walkie, and you didn't answer. I figured you were sleeping. Like usual," he added, earning a small smile from Alex.
"He told me not to say anythin' when you tried to reach me. When you-when you came back, he wanted you to come in. This hurts really bad, Gareth."
"I know, but I can't stop applying pressure. If there's one thing I learned from all this, it's not to stop the pressure when there's a bullet or stab wound."
Gareth wished he could alleviate the pain Alex was going through; it would save him having to contend with the feelings of guilt that resulted from his fight with the man right in front of him. There was no other way he could have ended the fight with the bandit, but he wished his brother had not paid the price for what happened. Reaching with one hand, he took hold of his walkie, and switched it to his mother's channel. As a former nurse, she would know what to do.
Alex was turning whiter by the minute, and he knew how bad that looked for him. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to speak to a woman who treasured her family and the bonds they shared with each other. After losing her husband right at the start, Mary had clung to her children as the only family she had left.
"Mom, I need you to get up here. We had a problem...Alex was shot."
Gareth heard her sharp intake of breath, before she forced herself to speak into the device. When she did, Gareth heard a calmness that was unheard of for her. "I'll be right there."
A/N
Time permitting, I do plan on updating this whenever I can get to it. As of the posting of this story, the site has had a review glitch that keeps reviews from showing up. I have an account on A03 (Archives Of Our Own) under the handle MintyRick. You can leave a comment on there if you want to if the site still isn't showing reviews:)