WE ARE LEGEND
By
Lacadiva
Rating: PG-13. Disclaimer: All rights belong to Jeff Eastin and the awesome White Collar crew. I'm just playing in your back yard but I promise not to steal any toys.
Summary: White Collar meets I am Legend. Just an idea that hit me and I thought, what they hey? For you October 31st enthusiasts out there. Happy Hollah-weeeeeen!
"Hon…?"
Peter didn't answer his wife. He heard the fear and tentativeness in her voice, the bourgeoning tears, but kept his attention riveted on the twilight world outside the window…
Where was Neal?
…the world of shifting shadows and dead leaves falling from spindly trees that twisted and bent and moaned in the cold northeast wind. The world that was quickly losing light, and giving way to the darkness, for those who sought the darkness.
He should've been back by now.
In the summer months since the scourge, the Krippin virus that ravaged first New York before spreading worldwide, surviving was difficult, but at least the days were longer. More time to forage for food, build up an arsenal, and fortify the town house. Now, it being the end of October the days were growing not only colder but unmercifully shorter, and the long nights longer. With the darkness came the unspeakable terror, the creatures. Vampires, they called them at first, but they were nothing like the matinee movie ghouls with redlined capes and pointy incisors and Eastern European accents. These things were fast, deadly, and fed insatiably upon the flesh of the living.
What if they caught him?
The FBI was part of the first assault team against the so-called Darkseekers in the beginning, but agents fell quickly to the plague. Before long the bureau was disbanded, its surviving agents running with the rest of surviving mankind, scattering and desperately searching for safe haven from the virus.
There was no safe haven.
While rumors of a settlement in Vermont spread quickly, the ability to make ones way up north became more impossible with the onset of winter. It was Peter's decision to hunker down at the town house, as the vampires had already wrecked havoc in their neighborhood and moved on, and wait for spring. The longer days would make traveling easier, as would the absence of snow and ice.
And because Elizabeth was pregnant.
Peter chewed his lower lip at the memory of her confession. As they sat watching the very last news broadcast, watching the fall of their beloved city, she told him. After all the years they had tried to have a baby, there was no pregnancy, no promise of a progeny with whom to play catch or dress-up. Then, as if overnight, the world went to hell, and Elizabeth broke the news. Her tears and his tears combined as they held each other, fearing the worse, hoping for the best. There would be no hospitals, no doctors, no pediatricians. No insurance claims, no epidurals, no congratulatory cards, birth certificates, flowers or visits to the nursery.
"Hon…?"
Peter snapped out of his stare, released the troubling thoughts and turned to look at his wife's worried face.
"What if…"
"Ssshhh…" Peter said, reaching for her, drawing her close. "He's still got a few minutes till sundown. If anyone can make it, it's Neal."
He kissed the top of her head lovingly.
"Why don't you go upstairs and batten down."
"I did," she said. "It's all closed up and secure."
"Satchmo is in?"
"He's doing what he always does when Neal is late. He's sitting at the front door, waiting for him."
"He'll make it. You watch for Neal, while I go to the basement to check the generator."
Elizabeth nodded, absently rubbing her protruding tummy and sat where her husband had sat, watching and waiting for Neal.
Neal had spent a lifetime living in the shadows, ducking from the light of truth, but never going so close to the dark that he could not see, feel, or care. Now he sought the light. And there was never enough.
How had he so stupidly miscalculated? One moment the sun was high in the sky, the air warm and the way bright. The streets were empty, strewn with garbage and all the things left behind by civilization. Abandoned cars held a host of interesting items to be gleaned, everything from much need flashlights and batteries to water bottles, cigarette lighters, and the occasional packet of gum. Since moving in with the Burkes, it had become Neal's job, especially since Elizabeth's pregnancy, to do the foraging for them. Two or three times a week he would pick a direction and go, only as far as it would take for him to walk and return to the Burke's. Each time he would return with something, anything that they could use.
But as the days grew shorter, there was always the temptation to go a little farther or a little longer than he should. And then, it was a race against time to get back to the town house before the sun melted behind the buildings.
He was running now, running faster than he even realized he could run. The sun was a dim orange, and dusk was mere minutes away. Once the sky darkened, the 'seekers would come out of their hiding places. From old buildings, from sewers, subway tunnels. Any place the sun's purifying rays could not touch was refuge to the scourge. And now he spent his energy avoiding anything that held shadow.
He'd been grabbed once. Thrown to the ground. And the thing, drooling, breathing faster than any living being should, leaped upon him and screamed in his face. Neal saw sharp, dripping, animal-like teeth descending upon his neck, smelled its hot, fetid breath and knew he was about to die horribly.
Or worse, become one of them.
Gunfire rang out, and the thing atop him leaped to its feet, reared back its arms and roared and the shooter before it ran.
Neal, unable to move, to even breathe could barely hear the voice of his rescuer shouting his name. His muddled, terrified mind cleared and he recognized the voice of Peter, who grabbed him by the collar and yanked the younger man to his feet.
Peter would not be there for him tonight. If the 'seekers got a hold of him, he was dead. Or banished to the darkness with them.
Neal was close to the house, but he realized the darkness was certainly going to catch him first. He didn't regret what he had tried to do, the reason he had wandered so far away this time. His only regret would be that it may all have been for nothing.
Neal stopped in his tracks when something fast ran by him, ducking behind a cluster of wrecked vehicles.
And then the thing howled.
Neal was in deep trouble.
Peter turned off all but the dim light in the dining room while El kept watch at the window. He joined her, and with hands firmly, lovingly on her shoulder he bent down and whispered in her ear.
"We have to close up now."
"But Neal's still out there!"
"I know…"
"We can't just leave him out there!"
"Listen to me. Neal is a survivor. He'll make it. He'll be knocking on the door as soon as the sun comes up in the morning…"
"And if he doesn't? Peter…he's our friend, the only friend we have left!"
"Hon, please, don't get yourself all worked up…"
He reached for his wife, but she pulled away.
"We can't abandon him."
"Fine," Peter said, reaching for his jacket and the automatic rifle in the corner. "I'll go look for him."
"NO!" Elizabeth cried, throwing her arms around her husband. "You can't go out there. I can't lose you! I can't lose you both…"
"I don't know what you want me to do!"
She buried her face in his chest and sobbed. Peter wrapped his arms lovingly around her.
"Ssshhh…"
Elizabeth pulled away. "You're right," she said, and reached for the steel shutters Peter had fitted to the window. She gave one last look out, hoping to see Neal making his way toward the house. Her hope was dashed when all she saw was her own reflection and the deep indigo of night overtaking the world. It belonged to the Darkseekers now, the night and everything out there. She closed the shutter and locked it, effectively sealing them in from the frightful outside.
"He'll be okay," Peter promised, fighting to believe his own words.
They ate soup warmed on a small table top electric stove powered by the generator. There was a third place set for Neal, but his bowl was empty. Satchmo remained at the front door, lying forlornly on the floor, waiting for Neal to come home.
They both froze when they heard the mournful howl of a 'seeker. That meant it had just fed.
Peter could not feel worse. His one and only surviving friend was out there, probably out of ammunition, freezing, helpless. Terrified. He prayed that if the 'seekers caught him, they would kill him instantly, rather than turn him. The thought of coming up on a pack of vampires only to discover one of them was Neal – changed – was more than he could take. He sat his spoon down, unable to finish eating. Elizabeth reached out to touch his hand to console him, but stopped short when Satchmo began to bark.
Peter and Elizabeth looked at each other – they had planned for this moment, knowing at some point it would come to this. Peter saw no fear or reticence in his wife's brilliant blue eyes. She rose a beat before he did, knowing exactly what she was to do.
Both grabbed sited rifles and raced to their strategic positions. Elizabeth bounded up the stairs to where she would barricade herself in their bedroom, open the center window enough put the barrel of her weapon through, hunker down, aim for and kill whatever came close to their house. Should the house be overrun with Dark-seeking vampires, and Peter couldn't get to her, a loaded handgun was on the bedside table and she would do what had to be done.
She silently prayed this would not be the night…
Below, Peter was at the living room window, sniper rifle at the ready, finger poised on the trigger to pick off whatever was moving in their direction.
"Shut up, Satchmo!" he said softly.
The dog, however, continued barking.
This could be it, Peter thought. First Neal, now them. They'd held out as long as anyone could, survived despite the night terrors that roamed the street seeking human blood and flesh. He knew it couldn't last forever. He wished he had kissed his wife first before she ran upstairs.
And then he saw what had upset Satchmo so terribly. The thing was running toward their house. Just one of them. They usually ran in packs. Unless this one was some kind of scout. But why was it coming directly to their house?
Peter aimed at the thing that was running. He could see that this 'seeker had been injured. He kept falling, but found its way back up to its feet, determined to get to the house. Peter squeezed the trigger a little harder. He'd let it get a touch closer and then take it out with one clean shot to the head.
He breathed in, steadying himself, ready to fire. And then saw the thing for what it was.
It was Neal.
It could be trap! Peter considered quickly. The things could be right behind him; Neal could be leading them right to their door step. But why would he do that? Would Caffrey truly bring those monsters to their home?
The rule was that once the door was locked and fortified, Peter wouldn't open it again until day break, no matter what.
But he couldn't just leave Neal out there.
He looked through the site again.
Neal was bleeding.
Was he infected?
Was he bringing infection to their home?
Peter heard Elizabeth running down the stairs. She had seen, and she also knew. He heard her going for the metal door.
"No!"
He pulled her away. She pushed back frantically.
"But it's Neal!"
"He's bloody! He could be infected!"
"We can't leave him out there!"
She was right. He knew she was right.
"Get back, and be ready to shoot if he's one of them."
El did as told, raising the rifle, begging God that she wouldn't have to use it.
Peter unlatched the heavy bolt and pulled the door open just as Neal hit the steps and fell.
"Peter…! Help…me…"
Against protocol, against his rules, against common sense, Peter raced outside and grabbed Neal by an arm and dragged his weak, wheezing friend up the steps and into the house. He quickly slammed the door and bolted it back.
"Keep him, covered, El!"
She did, but all she wanted to do was kneel down and tell him he was home.
"Peter…"
"He's still talking," Peter said, encouraged.
El shook her head. "That's a good sign. Right?"
"Only if he keeps talking."
Peter knelt down closer and turned Neal over onto this back. He was bleeding from the shoulder and the neck, this clothes ripped and bloodied.
"Neal…did they bite you?"
Neal was fighting to get his breath back, his blue eyes wild and unfocused.
"DID THEY BITE YOU?"
"No…" Neal said weakly. "No. Razor wire. I fell…razor wire..."
Peter reached out, touching Neal's chin and turning his face to the side to get a better look at his friend's wounds. It looked exactly as he said…razor wire was the culpit. No sign of tooth or claw marks. Peter signed in deep, utter relief.
"You're gonna be fine, buddy. El, run get the first aid kit."
She did, without hesitation.
"Easy, Neal," Peter cooed as he helped Neal sit up. "You're home now."
The sun cast the city in gold, giving it some of the shine and vigor from days gone by. Peter opened up the house, letting blessed light and warmth enter. El made instant coffee for three and brought it on a small tray into the living room where Neal lay on the couch, finally sleeping after a long and harrowing night of pain and fright-filled dreams.
Neal, cleaned up and bandaged, awoke with the sound of activity, and feeling Satchmo's warm, wet tongue lick playfully at his hand. He sat up weakly and greeted the Burkes with a wan smile.
"I lost the backpack," he confessed. "I had food…"
"Don't worry about it. We have enough for a while," said Elizabeth. "We're just glad you're alive."
"I really screwed up."
"Yeah, you did," said Peter. "What happened? You knew the drill. You came up with it."
"I know, Peter. But I had the best of intentions."
"Good intentions…"
"Yeah," Neal said. "I know, road to hell…. I'm sorry I worried you guys."
"So…?"
"Hand me my jacket, and I'll show you."
Peter did, tossing the jacket to his friend. Neal reached into a pocket and pulled out three pill bottles and handed them to Elizabeth.
She looked at them, eyes becoming wide, and suddenly filled with tears.
"Baby vitamins," she said. "You got me baby vitamins."
"Took some digging, but I thought you'd like them."
Peter was speechless. He covered his mouth with a hand, fighting to hold back emotion.
"Thank you," said Elizabeth, touching her swelling belly. She opened the bottle and shook one out, tossed it into her mouth and swallowed it, using her coffee to chase it.
"Go back to sleep," Peter said. "Tomorrow, we both go foraging."
"Sounds like a plan," Neal said, closing his eyes and hoping to dream of the days before the virus, when the nights were safe.
The end.
Trick or treat! Hope you won't mind a quick review. Lacadiva.