Uncle? Bilbo lowered his gun as Fíli stopped next to the man, who put a protective hand on his shoulder.
Kíli stopped on his other side. "Fíli's right. He's not a bad man."
The man, apparently named Thorin, looked back at Bilbo, eyes narrowed in suspicion. The gun was still aimed at his head.
Well, one of them was going to have to lower their weapon first. Bilbo relaxed his arms, holding both hands up in surrender. "I-I don't want to hurt you. I was just trying to keep Fíli and Kíli safe. I didn't know who you were."
At this, Thorin finally lowered his weapon, and Bilbo felt his body deflate in relief. "I'm their uncle. How do you know them?"
"I-It's a bit of a long story. I've been looking out for them for the past few weeks."
Kíli tugged on the hem of Thorin's shirt. "Can we go see mom and dad?"
Thorin looked down at him, gaze softening slightly, and nodded. "They've been worried about you."
Fíli straightened, eyes widening. "You found them?"
"They're not far from here." He started towards one of the cars in the lot, the brothers keeping pace with quick, excited footsteps. After a moment, he turned and nodded for Bilbo to follow as well.
Bilbo put the gun back in his pocket and started walking. Now that his momentary spike of adrenaline had begun to fade, he realized with horror what he had almost done. If his gun had fired, he would have killed the boys' uncle right in front of them. The thought made him sick to his stomach, and he swore he could feel the weight of the gun tugging at his pocket.
Fíli and Kíli clambered into the backseat of the black pickup truck, and Bilbo sat in the passenger seat as Thorin started the car. He sat in silence as they pulled out of the parking lot, twisting his fingers and trying to figure out how to apologize for nearly killing someone.
Thorin was the one to speak first. "You've been on the road with them all this time?"
"Uh, no. We were actually staying at my apartment north of here. W-We were just out getting supplies."
His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, but he didn't comment on what he likely considered to be an irresponsible move on Bilbo's part. Although, Bilbo reasoned, if he hadn't taken the boys with them, they would not have found their uncle at all.
"You were getting supplies at a toy store," Thorin said flatly.
"Well, yes," he replied, a touch defensively. "I wasn't just going to have them sit there all day." It occurred to him that they hadn't gotten any toys, though hopefully bringing the boys back to their parents would more than make up for it. But he remembered the candy in his pocket, and passed it back to them. He watched Fíli tear open one of the packages and pour some jelly beans into his brother's hand before taking some for himself and smiled.
He turned back in his seat and saw Thorin's eyes flicker over his face for a moment before returning to the road. Even that split-second look had been piercing enough to send a little flutter through his stomach.
When Thorin spoke again, his voice was softer than before. "Thank you. For keeping them safe."
"Of course." He clasped his hands together, a strange sort of heat growing on his neck and cheeks. "It was the least I could do."
"Not everyone would have," he said, regaining his gruffness. "There aren't as many people now who still have their humanity."
Bilbo wondered if he was talking about the dead or the living.
"We have room for you, if you want to come stay with us."
"Oh. Um, I-I wouldn't want to impose…" The idea had caught him off guard, but wasn't entirely unwelcome. He'd grown rather fond of Fíli and Kíli, and it would be nice to have others to depend on. But he didn't know if he was ready to leave his apartment behind, the place he'd lived all his life.
Kíli appeared in the corner of his vision, leaning forward with his elbows on the console between the two front seats. "Can you come stay with us? I can show you my room, and my Legos, and we can all play—"
"We're not going back to your house, Kíli," Thorin said. "We're all staying in a motel. And why don't you have your seatbelt on?"
He leapt backwards into his seat, and Fíli quietly admonished him, though Bilbo distinctly heard the sound of two seatbelts clicking into place.
"How did you end up in a motel?" he asked.
"We originally met up outside one of the quarantine zones set up by the military. But it was overrun before we could get inside, and they—" Thorin stopped, apparently noticing Fíli and Kíli were hanging on to his every word. "We had to find somewhere else to stay, and the motel was the first place we found that had enough room for everyone."
"Everyone?" Bilbo turned to look at him. "How many are there in your group?"
"Fourteen, including myself," he said. "My sister, her husband, quite a few cousins, and some family friends."
"Uncle Bofur is there?" Kíli made to get out of his seat again, but sat back as he remembered his seatbelt. "And Uncle Balin? And everyone else?"
Thorin nodded with a slight smile. "Almost everyone. We'll be there soon."
Bilbo couldn't help but notice that he hadn't mentioned any sort of partner for himself, nor any children. This was certainly not the time to ask about it, but he stowed the information away for later.
A few minutes later, a motel sign came into view on the left side of the tree-lined road. Bilbo leaned forward to get a better look. The establishment was called the Prancing Pony, and the sign featured a horse reared onto its back legs, though a piece of the top one had fallen off.
The motel was a two-storied building that formed a U shape around a parking lot in the center. A makeshift fence had been cobbled together across the open end. At one end of the second-floor balcony, Bilbo caught a glimpse of a man with a funny-looking hat carrying a rifle.
Thorin pulled up to the chain-link gate on one end of the fence, and a couple of men walked over to unlock and open it. Bilbo caught sight of a brown, rain-smeared splatter on one of the wood panels.
There were only a handful of cars in the parking lot, all lined up to one side, and a beaten-up RV at the other end. An awning was attached to one side, and a group of people were sitting beneath it in a bunch of mismatched lawn chairs.
The car had barely pulled to a stop before Fíli and Kíli were both tumbling out and running to the group at the RV.
Bilbo waited they were parked before climbing out. The boys were both attempting to talk over each other while exchanging hugs with various people. Kíli seemed perfectly caught up in the moment, but Fíli kept glancing around the motel, as though looking for someone else.
Thorin walked into the group and began speaking with a red-haired woman, but Bilbo stayed near the car, feeling as though he would be intruding if he introduced himself now. Nonetheless, he realized he was smiling, heart warming as Kíli gestured animatedly to one of the men who had opened the gate.
"Mom!"
Fíli seemed to have found the person he was looking for. He sprinted for the stairs, eyes locked on a dark-haired woman that was standing on the second floor balcony. She ran for him, a man following her as Kíli followed his brother, and the four of them met halfway down the stairs.
Their mother kissed them both, tears streaming down her face, and Bilbo felt moisture gather in his own eyes. Kíli was still trying to talk, his face, half-pressed into his father's chest, and Fíli was trying to hug both his parents with shaking arms.
A slight prickling on the back of his neck made him turn. The woman Thorin had been talking to was watching him, and when they made eye contact, she nodded at him, a slight frown on her face. "Who's this?"
Thorin put a hand on her shoulder as though to reassure her, and this was when Bilbo realized nearly everyone in the group had weapons. Several had guns or rifles, and those who didn't had hammers or knives on hand. He resisted the urge to raise his hands in surrender and stepped forward.
"My name is Bilbo Baggins. Um…" Most of them were staring now, and some didn't look entirely pleased with his being there.
"He's been taking care of the boys for the past few weeks," Thorin said. He locked eyes with Bilbo. "I just happened to find them."
At this, some of them relaxed. One of the older men stepped forward to shake his hand. "We're all very grateful for what you did. I'm Dori, and those are my brothers Nori and Ori…"
He went around the group, introducing the others: Óin, Bifur, Glóin and her wife Brana. Bofur was on lookout on the balcony, and Dís and Víli were Fíli and Kíli's parents. Their group had three other people who were out on a supply run.
Bilbo nodded, trying to commit everyone's name to memory. If he was going to be staying with them…
He stopped short. Just as when he had decided to take care of Fíli and Kíli, the thought had snuck up on him. The motel, rundown as it was, still felt like a home with a family to fill it. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to stay, as opposed to returning to his empty apartment.
Dís made her way through the crowd, having left Víli and the boys on the stairs. "You were the one taking care of them?" she asked, and Bilbo nodded. She walked up and pulled him into a crushing hug. "Thank you."
For once, he was rather at a loss for words as he returned the embrace. Dís was rather short, but probably could have crushed him like a soda can. But more than that, he could feel the desperate gratitude in her voice. He'd been panicked enough seeing the boys in danger after only knowing them for a few weeks. He couldn't imagine what it must have felt like to lose the children she had raised.
She drew back and held him at arm's length. "I'll never be able to repay what you've done, but if there's anything at all my husband and I can do for you—"
"No, no." Bilbo shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, really. I'm just glad I was able to get the boys back to their family."
"Stay with us, then." She gave his shoulders a squeeze. "There's safety in numbers. Are there other people with you?"
"It's just me. I…" He cleared his throat. In truth, the decision had already been made for him. How could he go back to his lonely apartment, face the increasing anxiety of food shortage in this desolate world, when he knew there was something better out there? "I have some supplies back in my apartment. It's not much, but…"
Dís nodded and released him. "Every little bit helps."
Thorin stepped forward. "I'll take you back there. We'll pick up your car as well."
The two of them headed back to the car, and everyone moved aside to give them room to pull out. Bilbo glanced back at the group, and saw Fíli and Kíli watching him from the stairs. He hoped Dís would reassure them that he was coming back, and the thought spread a strange warmth throughout his chest.
They pulled out of the parking lot, and Nori and Bifur shut the gate behind them.
"You said your apartment was up north?" Thorin asked.
"Yes. I'll tell you where to go." He rested his hands in his lap, and felt his elbow bump against the gun in his pocket. "By the way, sorry for, um, almost shooting you."
"Next time you want to kill someone, take the safety off."
"The safety?" Bilbo took the gun out of his pocket.
"It's a switch on the side. If the red dot is visible, that means it's ready to fire."
"Ah." He found the switch and pushed it, revealing the red dot, then quickly switched it back. "Well, that's good to know."
Thorin glanced at him. "I'm surprised you've been able to keep them safe all this time. I'm guessing you haven't run into many walkers."
"Walkers? You mean the dead people?" Bilbo paused as he registered the first thing he'd said. "Hang on, what do you mean by that?"
"The first time you pulled that trigger was when you were trying to shoot me, and you didn't even realize the gun wouldn't fire. I'm wondering how you've managed the walkers so far."
"I've run into a few." He looked down at the gun in his lap. "I...I've just never killed any."
"You can't kill them. They're already dead."
He supposed that was true, but the thought of shooting one of those things still made him a bit sick. The only reason he'd almost done it to Thorin was that he wouldn't have been able to stop him any other way.
"You know, they were alone before I found them. They'd broken into my apartment, actually, looking for some food." He smiled slightly at the memory. "And they were trying to find a way to get to you, actually. We quickly found out that was a dead end, so…"
Thorin tensed, and Bilbo realized a moment too late that he'd said the wrong thing.
"You took them into the city?"
"Well, I—" There was no point in lying. "Yes, I did. And it was a stupid mistake, I know that now."
His voice carried a low rumble of anger. "The city's overrun. How the hell did you get out of there?"
"I-I'm not quite sure, honestly. They surrounded the car, but I just stepped on the gas and drove us out." He sighed, feeling old guilt surge back into his chest. "I wasn't prepared at all for what the city would be like. And I feel terrible for putting the boys through that. It was entirely my fault."
Thorin took in a breath like he wanted to add to that, then closed his mouth.
He didn't say anything for the rest of the trip.
It was late afternoon by the time they reached the apartment complex. Bilbo climbed out of the car and made his way towards the door, not waiting for Thorin to catch up. He was still embarrassed about the city thing. The niggling worry settled at the back of his mind that the others would not want him in the group if they knew what he had done.
Once he reached his apartment, he set to work, taking the box that had once held the canned beans and filling it up with everything from his pantry. After a moment's consideration, he added some toiletries as well.
Bilbo looked up as Thorin walked in. "Is there anything else here that you might need? Bedsheets, cooking supplies, anything like that?"
He crossed his arms, surveying the room. "We'll take the bedsheets. Bring any kitchen knives you have, too."
He assumed that didn't include butter knives and went to collect them from the drawer.
"Have you checked the other apartments?" Thorin asked.
"Well, most everyone left after the outbreak. Though Mrs Greenfield, down at the end of the hall, is dea—a, um, walker."
"I meant, have you checked the apartments for supplies?"
"Oh. No." He stopped short. Here he was, worrying about a lack of food, and he hadn't thought to check the rest of the building. Thorin gave him a look that indicated the same sentiment, and seeing it sparked a bit of indignation in him. "No, in fact, I wasn't exactly inclined to go looting my neighbors' homes."
"If they've left, they're not coming back. Whatever they have is more use to us than them." With that, Thorin stepped through the door again, presumably to check the other apartments.
Well, he couldn't argue with that logic, though he did grumble to himself a bit as he finished packing his box. It was a good thing, wasn't it, that he hadn't immediately resorted to stealing from his neighbors once the world had ended. It was a good thing that he was still trying to hold onto his humanity.
With that in mind, he looked around his apartment in search of items that weren't entirely necessary. It was possible this would be the last time he'd be here. He took a couple of his favorite books from the shelf and, after a bit of hesitation, took down his parents' portraits and placed them in the box as well.
Bilbo picked it up with a grunt and carried it to the doorway. He turned around and looked at the room for a moment, the sunlight streaming across the light yellow walls, the heavy oak dining table, his comfy green armchair.
With an echoing emptiness in his chest, he stepped out and closed the door.
Thorin was busy testing the doors down the hall, so he left him to it and brought his box down to the car. He looked back up at the building, and the bright red of his tomato plants caught his eye. They wouldn't provide much in the way of food, but it would be nice to bring a bit of home with him, something that would grow and add a bit of green to the space.
He went to retrieve his plants, and was halfway up the stairs when a gunshot burst through the hallway.
Bilbo jumped, wincing at the loud noise, then ran up the stairs, his heart pounding. He stepped into the hallway and froze. Mrs Greenfield's apartment door was open, and she was lying just inside, a pool of brownish-red blood spreading beneath her head. It had been a month since he'd last seen her, and her skin was even more rotted and sagging than before, but he could make out a torn wound on the underside of her chin.
"Thorin!"
Footsteps sounded from within the apartment, and Thorin appeared in the living room a moment later. "Everything alright?"
He didn't know why he'd cried out in the first place, but he couldn't stop staring at the body. There were drops of blood staining her sweater, like drops of falling rain.
"She was already dead," Thorin said, his voice softer. "Go wait in the car. I'll finish up here."
Bilbo nodded, feeling rather numb, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in the passenger seat, hands clasped between his knees. He stared at the dashboard, trying and failing to unravel the knot of emotion that had settled in his chest.
Some time later, Thorin came down with a couple boxes of supplies from the other apartments and started up the car. They didn't speak as they left the parking lot, and the building was out of sight by the time Bilbo realized he had forgotten to bring his plants.
That last scene ended up way angstier than I planned, which is how a lot of my writing goes lol
So now that our cast of characters has multiplied dramatically, I have to ask...who am I killing? I personally dislike reading stories where anyone in the Company dies, but this is a zombie apocalypse story...
I have definite plans to kill off one person in particular, but I want to know from my readers if you would prefer I keep everyone else alive or spice things up a bit. If I can't kill anyone, at least give me a potential amputee.