Chapter 2:
It's been hours.
Hours since the chaos and evil of the rushing crowds, the horror of civilization falling apart before Thor's very eyes, falling apart at the seams.
Hours since he lost his brother.
The station now is deathly silent, the ground strewn with dead bodies, torn open, splattered with blood and gore, intestines ripped out, internal organs and shredded flesh, or crushed beneath thousands of feet, skulls caved in and brains turned to mush.
The air here is stagnant, heavy with the cloying, sick stench of iron and excrement, the stink of death.
Thor can't remember the number of times he's thrown up now. Whatever food had been in his stomach before is long since purged.
Those who'd changed, who'd turned, had left now, gone on to someplace else, leaving the station empty of anything living, only a few stragglers remaining behind. Some of them had spotted Thor atop the train car, had tried climbing up to him, trying to tear him apart.
Almost mindlessly, Thor had killed them, all of them. Had taken off his heavy boots and beaten their fucking skulls in. Had found a twisted, torn off piece of metal piping and bludgeoned and stabbed and mutilated, until he was covered in their hot, diseased blood and he no longer felt anything, no longer cared that he'd committed murder.
They were already dead anyway.
He'd done that until there was nothing left moving, nothing left at all. Until he'd spent himself to absolute exhaustion, his palms and fingers blistered and bruised, his breathes coming hard, chest heaving.
And then he'd looked for Loki. Looked for him everywhere, a sick, awful nausea churning in the pit of his stomach.
He hadn't known what he feared worse.
Finding Loki dead already, torn apart and half eaten, like every other body in this place, or finding his brother, oh God, God, his little brother, turned into one of those things, trying to kill him.
He'd called Loki's name over and over, until his voice was nearly gone and his throat burned raw with fire. Cried and sobbed, snot thick in his nose and choking him, sight blinded by ceaseless tears, little by little his hope, any hope he'd had of finding his brother, slipping like sand through his fingers.
Gone, gone, he was gone. Loki was gone. His little brother, his sweet, beautiful little brother...
Until Thor had collapsed to his knees in the middle of all that death, his strength gone, his hope, his will to do anything but lay down and dye. He'd fallen there, his face in his hands, and he'd sobbed, brokenly and uselessly, like a helpless child.
His brother was gone.
He'd let Loki die. He'd let him die, oh God, Jesus Christ, God...
He's still sitting here now, and he doesn't know how long has passed. Knows only that he's cried so much he has no tears left, and his head pounds with a vicious headache.
The place is empty and silent, and the sun hangs low in the sky, and Thor wishes he were dead. He wishes he'd died in the crowd. Like his brother. He wishes he'd died instead of Loki. Oh God...
He doesn't know what to do.
He should kill himself, he thinks miserably. He should. He should, for Loki's sake. If Loki had to die, then he should too.
And then he thinks of their parents, and he doesn't even know if they're alive still or not.
He thinks of Mom, thinks of how much she loves Loki, and Christ, he can't... he can't do this. He can't, please, Christ.
He begins sobbing again, stupid, stupid child that he is. But he can't stop, he doesn't know how, doesn't know anything.
He doesn't know what to do, and he wants his mother, he wants his father, he wants his brother, he wants them so much, he wants...
"Thor?"
His head snaps up, and he thinks for a moment he must be hallucinating.
Of course he is. Of course. Because this isn't real. This can't be real.
Loki is standing in front of him.
His brother is standing there, and he looks fucking awful.
He's covered in blood, and his shirt is hanging in shreds around his mostly exposed torso, his fragile, bony frame plain to see, his ribs horribly stark, his stomach sunken in. His face is smudged in filth, blood and black soot and dirt, his wide, verdant eyes standing out starkly against it, huge with shock and fear and agony, his hair a mussed tangle of curls.
Thor stares at him for long seconds, blinking, fat tears rolling down his face.
He shakes his head.
"You aren't real." He chokes, and his voice sounds like gravel.
Only then Loki steps forward, and all at once, he sinks to his knees, and he's got his arms around Thor, around his shoulders, and he's burying his face against his neck, his skinny hands burying in the material of his shirt, pulling and digging desperately. And he feels real. He feels solid. Thor can feel the warmth of his breath against his skin, can feel him shivering and shaking like he's freezing cold, can feel the way his bones shift and move beneath him. Can hear the way Loki gasps, his stuttering, uneven breath.
And then he's sobbing, broken and pained and loud, in a way Thor hasn't heard him since he was a little boy, a little child.
"Thor..." he weeps terribly. "Thor... Thor..."
And it comes to Thor like lightening striking him dead.
This is real. Loki is real. Loki is here.
Loki is alive.
He doesn't know how. He doesn't understand. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Only that Loki is here with him, that his brother is alive.
His arms lift numbly, wrapping around his brother's small body, crushing him against his chest. Holding him, and he can't let go, he thinks. He can't ever let go. Can't ever let go again. Not ever again.
"Loki," he breathes.
And then he's sobbing too.
Neither of them can stop for a long time.
Neither of them want to let each other go.
/
They don't stay there. They can't.
Eventually, when reality sinks in for Thor, that Loki is alive, that they're both alive, somehow, the shocked relief gives way to fearful determination.
Safe, he has to keep Loki safe, has to get them off the streets, away from... whatever the hell this is.
Everything is so quiet. So dead.
It's the most unnatural experience of his life, Thor thinks, finally pulling his face from Loki's shoulder and looking, really looking, for the first time around them.
The station is empty and silent, only dead bodies strewn across the ground to keep them company, no sign of life... no sign of civilization.
They have to get out of here. He doesn't even know to where. Where are they supposed to go? Has this... this nightmare spread everywhere, he wonders? Has it reached London? Has it reached Mom and Dad? God, he can't... Thor can't bear it, can't bear the thought of their parent's enduring what they just have... can't bear the thought of them dead.
Tears sting viciously, threatening to spill from his eyes, and Thor shakes his head, forcing them back.
He can't do that now. He can't allow his grief to fuck things up any more than they already are.
Loki... Loki is his priority. His brother's safety.
He pulls back, leaning his face down to look at Loki, his heart clenching and a sick terror rising in his throat as he really looks at his brother clearly for the first time.
Loki looks half-dead, still clinging weakly to him, his bare shoulders shivering, whole body trembling still, white skin covered in filth. He has his face pressed to Thor's chest, hasn't moved from there since he'd fallen to his knees and thrown his arms around him.
"... Loki." Thor finally starts, his voice a ragged whisper. "Loki, can you look at me?"
His brother only sits there, unmoving, shaking in Thor's hold.
"Loki." He tries again.
"I can't, Thor I..." Loki's voice is as rough as his own, run raw with screaming, and Thor feels his long fingers gripping, nearly tearing at the material of his shirt. "I thought you were dead." He breathes, and his voice breaks apart, a half-choked sob lacing through it. "I thought you were dead. I couldn't..."
"Shhh," Thor shushes him, even as his heart drops like a stone into his gut. His arms wrap tighter around his brother. "I'm here Loki. I'm right here."
Loki shakes his head against his chest, another, harsh sob slipping from him, muffled.
Thor wants to ask Loki what happened. How he escaped the crowd, how he managed not to be killed.
Equally so, he doesn't want to ask at all.
The sight of his brother alone is enough to tell Thor of the ugly horror it must have been.
"Loki," he tries again, gently. "we have to get out of here. Okay? It isn't safe here."
Long seconds pass before he feels his brother nod against him.
"Are... are you alright to walk?" Thor asks, his eyes running over Loki's form, trying to assess if he has any injuries. He can't see anything deeper than the blood and dirt covering him from head to toe, and he prays there isn't anything more than that.
Again, Loki nods.
"I think so." He answers. "You're... you're not hurt, are you?"
Finally his brother pulls back, looking up at him, doing as Thor just did, eyes searching his body for any wounds.
Thor shakes his head.
"No. I'm alright." He replies.
Loki's forehead is furrowed in deep lines of worry, his chest rising and falling in too rapid, almost panicky breathes.
"It's..." he swallows thickly, reaching up a shaking hand and rubbing at his eyes. "It's their bite. Their... if they bite you, you... you turn... Thor..." his eyes move up to Thor's face, and he looks so young, Thor thinks. "they're zombies Thor." He finishes, his voice laced in disbelief. "I can't... they're..."
Thor understand what it is Loki is trying to say.
Zombies, Christ... this sort of thing wasn't supposed to be real. It... it was like something out of some horror film. Some Hollywood crap. How this was happening in reality... Thor couldn't wrap his head around it. Didn't even know if he wanted to.
"I know." He says. "Loki, I know. But right now, we have to get somewhere safer. Somewhere high up, maybe, that they... they can't climb."
"You think they'll come back?" Loki asks, sounding lost and frightened.
Thor shakes his head.
"I don't know." He answers honestly. "There were hundreds of them, and then everybody scattered. I couldn't... I couldn't even make out who was who. But there's thousands of people in this city and... and if it's spread then..."
His voice trails off, unable to finish the thought. It's too horrifying. Too unreal.
God, all those people. Those poor people. They just...
But no, he can't get bogged down in that now. Not right now. They'll be time for that later. Right now they've got to get off the street.
"Come on." He says, hooking his hands underneath Loki's arms and standing, pulling his brother up with him.
Loki wobbles a moment, his knees nearly buckling, and Thor puts an arm around his waist, keeping him steady.
"You alright?" He asks, and Loki nods, his still trembling hands finding the material of Thor's blood soaked shirt, burying into it.
"Okay." Thor says. "Let's... let's go then."
Just where, he doesn't even know yet.
He's afraid to leave the bus station but... they're so out in the open here, and the place is filled with dead bodies and soaked with blood. If... if those things really are zombies, if they're only interested in eating flesh then... Thor can only assume they'll be drawn back here, eventually.
It isn't safe at all.
Somewhere else. That's all. Anywhere else.
He just has to keep Loki safe.
/
They end up breaking their way into a high-rise apartment and taking one of the abandoned flats on the upper floors.
It isn't easy. Outside the station, the whole area had been filled with those things. Thor hadn't... Christ, he hadn't seen a single other human being left.
He'd kept the piece of metal piping with him from before, using it to defend himself and his brother. Loki, too, had taken up an abandoned baseball bat, and had done more than his fair share of skull crushing. They'd stuck close to each other, Thor holding onto Loki's hand the entire time except for when they both needed to swing.
Still, the farther from the station they moved, more into the heart of the city, the more zombies there had been, the more overwhelming their numbers, and both of them knew they would have to get off the street and somewhere high up soon, or they would be overrun.
It had been a mad dash when they'd finally come across the building they were now in. Thor had nearly been bitten as they'd been attacked by a vicious horde of at least a dozen of the things, barely avoiding it when Loki had brought his bat down along the crown of the zombie's head, bits of brain and skull flying everywhere.
If Loki had any reservations about killing what had once been human beings, he showed none of it.
Still even, when they'd made it, somehow in one piece, into the building, having quickly to barricade the door using an overturned, heavy wooden table from the lobby, barely managing to get it into place before the hordes outside had crashed against the building's entrance, trying to get at them, the way had been treacherous.
Inside the building there had been more of them, a lot more. Killing them wasn't easy.
They were vicious and mindless, their only reason for being seeming to be to want to eat anyone who wasn't like them. They had no fear, no hesitation, and that made them strong, their attacks always without any kind of restraint or sense of self-preservation. They came at you with everything, and so it took nearly everything to fight them off, especially if you didn't happen to put them down with the first blow.
By the time they'd fought their way through them all and had made it into an abandoned flat, again having to barricade the door, the both of them were exhausted, heaving for breath and sweat pouring from them profusely, covered in absolute gore, blood and guts and filth.
Thor sits here now, trying to catch his breath, watching his brother with deep concern.
Loki's chest is heaving, his limbs shaking visibly as he collapses to his knees, his breath wheezing in and out of him loudly, his eyes wide and shocked.
He isn't used to this, Thor thinks worriedly. Loki isn't used to so much strenuous activity. And there's his heart. He isn't supposed to push himself like this, isn't supposed to put so much strain on himself.
Thor shifts, moving onto his hands and knees and crawling over to him.
"Loki," he says, sitting along his bottom and reaching out, putting his hands on his brother's shaking shoulders. "Calm down. Breathe. Okay?"
Loki nods his head jerkily, sucking in breaths, blinking rapidly.
"Are you alright?" Thor presses, his worry growing. "Can you breathe alright?"
Loki swallows thickly, and then again, before he gives another, stiff nod.
"Your chest doesn't hurt, does it?" Thor goes on. "You aren't in any weird pain, are you?"
"Nn-no, just..." Loki gasps out. "I'm not in very good sh-shape for this, I guess. My lungs are burning."
"Okay." Thor says, moving around Loki's side, sitting beside him and putting an arm around his shoulders. "That's alright. Just try to breathe evenly."
Again, his brother nods, trying to do as he's told. They sit like that for a long while, quiet and still.
The sun's gone down now, the flat growing darker and darker, and Thor wonders absently if the electricity still works. He turns his head, glancing out one of the room's windows, and can't see any illumination from the street lamps. It looks black as a cave out there, he thinks dismally. Looks like the end of everything.
"Thor." He's snapped from his thoughts by Loki's voice. He turns, looking down at his brother, and sees Loki holding his phone in his hands, looking down at the darkened screen.
Loki doesn't say anything, and Thor shifts, leaning closer.
"What is it?" He asks softly after a moment.
Suddenly, Loki turns, pressing his face against Thor's shoulder, a shudder working through his frame.
"I'm afraid to call them." He says at last, and Thor knows immediately who he means.
Mom and Dad.
In all of this, Thor hadn't really given himself the time to think about them, his main concern at the time simply getting his brother to safety.
But at the mention of them now, and at Loki's terrified reaction, Thor feels his heart sink like a stone into the pit of his stomach, a fresh wave of fear and dread taking hold of him.
"What if they don't pick up?" Loki says, almost too softly to hear. "What if... what if they're..."
What if they're dead, is what he's going to say, only his voice trails off, unable to do it.
The thought sends Thor's head reeling, and for a moment he has to close his eyes.
It's too much, too horrible to think of. If Mom and Dad are dead, if they've been killed or... or worse, turned into one of those things, he doesn't know what they would do. He doesn't know.
"I shouldn't..." Loki starts, then stops, and Thor hears him suck in a sharp breath, another tremor working through him, and he realizes a moment later that his brother is crying again. "I was such an idiot Thor. I was... I shouldn't have been so unkind to them. To... to Mom even. I was so mean, I was so..." His voice breaks and cracks as he's overwhelmed by tears, shaking his head against Thor's shoulder.
Thor squeezes him tighter against his side, shushing him softly.
"Shhh, Loki, it's okay. It's alright."
"It's not." Loki says brokenly. "They... they must have thought I hated them."
"No," Thor tells him, horrified. "no, Loki. They didn't. They don't. They know how much you love them. Mom and Dad both. They've always known that."
"... But... but if they didn't, if they didn't know that... if they thought I hated them, and now they're... they're dead. Thor..."
"Hey, hey," Thor starts as his brother dissolves into sobs, and he moves until he's sitting in front of Loki, grabbing him around his arms. "Loki, look at me." He orders.
His brother can't seem to though, bringing a hand up to his face and covering his eyes.
"Loki, they don't think that. They don't think you hate them, and they aren't dead. You hear me. They're going to be fine. You know them. You know how smart they are, how resourceful. They'll know what to do. Okay? If you and me made it out, so will they."
Several, long seconds pass without his brother responding, too overcome by emotion, and finally Thor reaches out, pulling him into a hug against his chest, resting his chin atop Loki's head.
"They'll be alright." He repeats, even as an awful voice in the back of his mind keeps screaming at him that no, no they won't. Telling him, if they were alright, wouldn't they have called by now themselves?
Long minutes pass then, the two of them just sitting there, Loki crying, Thor struggling not to.
After a while, his brother at last begins to calm, sniffling against him.
"... I should... I should try them." He finally says in a hoarse, weak voice. "I haven't... haven't got much charge left on the phone."
Thor nods, pressing a kiss to Loki's crown.
"Okay." He says, and he lets his brother go, watches him with numbing fear tingling down into the tips of his fingers as Loki pulls up the screen of his phone and begins to dial their parent's number.
/
AN: Hey guys! First of all, I just want to thank all of you so much who have read and/or reviewed this story so far! I've never actually written anything like this, and of course, I'm afraid I'm failing miserably at the genre, lol. I hope it's at least a little scary, and that it's proving good grounds for exploring the relationship between Thor and Loki, since that's my real goal. As always, if you have a chance, drop me a review and let me know what you think, and again, thank you so much for reading!