A/N: Oh my God, my poor readers! I am, by far, the WORST writer that has ever existed! Seriously, feel free to beat me over the head with something blunt and heavy, I totally deserve that and worse! I am SO SO sorry for dropping off the face of the earth!
I could give you a long (VERY long) list of excuses as to why this chapter took for-freaking-ever (how long has it been? 6 months? More? Dear God...), but instead of boring you with that, I'll just say that life has been waaay too much to handle lately :( And I made a stupid mistake with this one. You see, this was actually supposed to be Chapter 9. The chapter that I had been working on that was supposed to be Chapter 8 was almost finished when I realized that I needed to switch the chapters -_- So, the bad news is that I could've updated weeks ago but I had to go through the process of writing ANOTHER chapter. The good news though is that Chapter 9 is nearly finished (I just need to tweak some things) so you can expect an update soon! (and I mean it this time!)
Now, enough of my excuses and groveling. Enjoy the chapter! (even though I'm pretty sure you're all gonna want to kill me for it...) Also ignore any mistakes...I didn't proofread (as per usual...) Also, sorry it's a little shorter than usual. Chapter 9 is much longer, so that should make up for it :)
Chapter 8
When Gregory woke up, he was alone. Groggily, the blonde untangled himself from the various blankets that were draped over his body. The space beside him was cold. Christophe had been gone for a while. Gregory yawned and stretched as well as he could in the confines of the tent before pulling on another jacket and making his way outside. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting an orange hue on the campsite. In the soft silence of the morning, he could hear the faint singing of birds. The melodic tunes soothed him, something normal in a world gone completely mad.
The rustling sounds to his left, however, set him immediately on edge. He quickly reached for the small handgun that he kept on his belt and drew it. While he would rather not waste a bullet and awaken the rest of camp – as well as drawing the attention of anything else that happened to be wandering about – he had not grabbed one of his hunting knives.
"You need to learn 'ow to relax, mon cher," a familiar voice called out, making Gregory sigh in relief.
"If you weren't creeping around out there making a bloody good amount of noise, I would have no reason to worry," Gregory retorted, lowing the gun that was currently pointed at his boyfriend's head.
Christophe flashed him a grin before taking a long drag of the cigarette that was dangling from his lips. Even the end of the world did nothing to make the Frenchman kick the disgusting habit.
"What on earth were you doing out there anyway?" Gregory asked curiously.
"Setting a perimeter," Christophe said, "I want to 'ere zees beetches before zey get too close to ze camp."
"Let me guess, empty cans and fishing wire?"
"Oui.
"How far out?"
"Couple 'undred feet. Far enough." The Frenchman paused momentarily. "You were really going to waste a bullet on me?"
The Brit rolled his eyes, "I forgot to grab a knife."
"Smart."
"Shut up," Gregory cuffed his boyfriend playfully, "Speaking of which, I was wondering about what we should do with these newcomers in terms of arming them."
"You want to give zem guns?"
"We might as well make them able to protect themselves. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be in charge of looking after their arses."
Christophe huffed, "Fine. But not ze twitchy one."
Gregory laughed. "Not the twitchy one," he agreed.
"I'll go make some breakfast," Christophe said, changing subjects.
"How are we doing with supplies?"
"We 'ave enough for anozzer couple of weeks," Christophe said, "I will 'ave to start feeshing again when we run out."
"Why don't you take some of them with you and teach them? They might as well make themselves useful."
Christophe nodded in agreement before stalking off towards the supply tent, blood-encrusted shovel slung casually over one of his shoulders. Gregory watched him for several heartbeats before deciding to make himself useful and get a fire going.
~o~o~o~
When Tweek woke up, he instantly became aware of two things. One: he was incredibly cold, and two: the left side of his body was burning up despite the frigid temperatures. He froze, trembling slightly as he tried to determine what could be causing the heat. Could the tent be on fire? His hazel eyes widened at the horrifying thought, but then he managed to calm himself. The fire pit was a good 20 feet away. The likelihood of the tent being on fire was very low. Besides, he would smell smoke, and a quick sniff of the air told him that there was no black could of death in the area. But what if there was a type of fire that didn't make smoke? Did that exist? But wouldn't the entire tent be up in – smokeless – flames by now? So why was only his left side burning hot? Confused, and fighting to keep from freaking out, he sat up. He shivered as he untangled himself from his blanket but he ignored the cold in favor of glancing down at the figure lying beside him.
Clyde's back was facing him, but he didn't seem to be resting peacefully. He was shaking violently as if he were extremely cold. But he couldn't possibly be that cold, could he? He was curled up under at least two heavy blankets and had fallen asleep in his jeans and thick outer jacket. Besides, the heat seemed to be coming from him, so him being cold made absolutely no sense.
"C-Clyde?" Tweek asked, shaking the brunette slightly and frowning at the heat that was radiating off of the other teen's body.
"Clyde!" Tweek tried again, shaking his friend more firmly.
When Clyde didn't even stir, Tweek pulled him over so that he was lying on his back. One glance at his friend's face made Tweek's heart skip a beat.
"GAH! O-OH JESUS! SH-SHIT!"
~o~o~o~
Craig was talking with Stan and Kenny when shouting from across the clearing caught his attention. Conversation stopped as Tweek came stumbling towards them, shouting something about Clyde and twitching so badly that it was a wonder he was even holding himself upright.
"Tweek?" Craig asked before he suddenly found himself with an armful of shaking blonde.
"Th-there's something w-wrong with Clyde!" Tweek shrieked frantically.
"What?" Craig asked.
"ACK! He's burning up!" Tweek shouted, "G-God man, it f-feels like he's – ngh – on f-fire! Invisible fire! I c-can't see it, but it's like he's b-burning alive! OhGodOhGodOhGod, what do we do?"
"Where is he?" Kenny asked before Craig could say anything.
"Our tent," Tweek whimpered, pulling on Craig's sleeve, "GAH! We h-have to help him!"
Craig nodded, letting the petite blonde drag him back towards the tent. Craig pulled back the flap covering the entrance and peeked in. The normally stoic teen gasped at what he saw.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Stan asked as he and Kenny came up behind him.
Dead serious, Craig turned to them and said, "You might want to go get Christophe and Gregory."
Craig watched as the pair scampered off in search of their foreign companions. Tweek slipped past the noirette and sat down next to Clyde, running a shaky hand through the brunette's hair.
"He'll be ok, r-right Craig?" Tweek asked, turning worried eyes to his boyfriend.
Craig knelt down next to him and pulled him into his arms. "He'll be fine," he told the smaller boy, tightening his grip and Tweek began to shiver, "It's probably just a fever. Christophe and Gregory will know what to do."
It wasn't much, but Tweek seemed to take comfort in his words. The blonde nodded slightly and buried his face in Craig's chest. Craig only wished that he felt as calm as he sounded.
~o~o~o~
Clyde was deathly pale, the dark bags beneath his sunken eyes standing out in sharp contrast to his pasty skin. Though the outside temperature had dropped during the night, a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. Stan watched as the brunette shifted restlessly, mumbling something unintelligible through his trembling blue-tinted lips.
"What's wrong with him?" Stan asked, staring wide-eyed at his friend.
Christophe crouched down and placed a hand on the teen's forehead. His brown eyes darkened as he quickly moved to Clyde's leg. The Frenchman gently rolled up Clyde's jeans, bringing his leg wound into sight. Stan couldn't help but gasp at what he saw.
The skin around the wound was a sickly grey color as if it were completely dead. The wound itself was a mixture of yellow, red, and black. It was a sickening sight and Stan could feel his stomach lurch as he looked at it.
"It looks infected," Kenny said.
"Eet's infected alright," Christophe snapped, standing up and pushing his way out of the tent. Gregory glanced down at Clyde wearily before following his companion. Kenny and Stan scrambled after them, leaving Craig and Tweek with Clyde.
"Do you guys have any antibiotics?" Stan asked.
"Even if we did, they wouldn't do any good," Gregory said.
"What do you mean?" Kenny asked.
"This is not an infection we can fight."
"But – "
"Don't you eediots understand?" Christophe broke in, "Your friend has been exposed to ze blood of a walker. Zere eez not'ing we can do."
"That's not possible," Kenny argued angrily, "He would have turned by now."
"If he was bitten, yes," Gregory said, "But it looks like the wound on his leg came in contact with walker blood."
"Eet will take a longer time for ze effects to show," Christophe added, "I would predict zat we 'ave anozzer 'our or two before 'e turns."
Stan and Kenny fell silent.
"What…what should we do?" Stan asked quietly.
"Ze answer eez obvious," Christophe replied.
"Kill him?" Kenny asked, horrified at the thought.
"Before he turns and becomes a threat to us all," Gregory said rationally, trying to keep the other teenagers calm.
"You can't be serious."
"If you have any better ideas, do share."
Kenny opened his mouth to reply but found that he had nothing to say.
"He needs to know," Stan said quietly, "So he can decide how…"
Gregory and Christophe nodded, showing that they understood and relieving the noirette from continuing.
"Who should tell him?" Stan asked, feeling sick to his stomach.
"Token," Kenny responded almost immediately. "He's his best friend. Clyde would want to hear it from him."
"Shit," Stan breathed.
"I'll go fetch him," Gregory said.
"Wait," Craig spoke up from behind the group, surprising the others, "We'll tell him." Tweek, latched onto the older boy's arm, nodded shakily, but his eyes were set and determined.
"H-He should h-hear it from us," Tweek said.
Stan nodded, "Ok."
"I sent him and Kyle to fetch some firewood," Gregory told them, "They should be close by. If you follow the game trail behind the supply tent, you should run into them."
"Thanks," Craig said shortly before tugging his boyfriend towards the edge of the clearing.
"Wait," Gregory called, "Before you go, take this." He handed Craig a handgun. "Give it to Token," he instructed, "We can't know for sure when Clyde will turn. If Token plans on being in the tent alone with him, I'd rather he had some way of defending himself."
Craig stared grimly down at the gun before nodding silently.
Stan and Kenny exchanged an agonized look before watching their two friends disappear into the forest. Stan shivered and pulled his jacket more tightly around his body. Suddenly, the air seemed even more impossibly cold than before.
~o~o~o~
Craig and Tweek found Token and Kyle only a couple hundred feet from the clearing. They were both struggling to carry heavy loads of firewood.
"What're you guys doing out here?" Token asked curiously, catching sight of them.
"We need to talk to you," Craig said, cutting straight to the point.
"Both of us?" Kyle asked.
"Just Token," Craig told him.
Kyle just shrugged before continuing on down the game trail. Token, meanwhile, set down his share of firewood with a small sigh of relief.
"What is it?" He asked.
"You might want to sit down," Craig advised, finding himself a seat on a rock by the edge of the path.
Token just sent him a curious look before settling down on his pile of firewood.
The three sat in relative silence for several minutes, Craig searching for the right words; Tweek tugging at his hair and trying to keep from screaming, crying, or both; and Token looking confusedly between his two friends.
"Token…" Craig finally started, "There's…well…there's something wrong with Clyde."
"Is he sick?" Token asked worriedly.
"You could say that…" Craig said, pulling off his chullo and running a hand through his messy black hair.
This action set Token on edge. Craig was obviously upset, and seeing his ever stoic friend so affected by something made Token nervous.
"What's wrong with him?" Token asked, a demanding tone entering his voice.
Craig sighed. Tweek placed a small, thin hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, trying to comfort him though he himself was shaking like a leaf.
"He's infected," Craig finally said.
"As in…his leg wound got infected?" Token asked, "Don't Christophe and Gregory have antibiotics or something?"
"Not that kind of infection, Token."
Token's eyes widened at this. "What? But that's impossible!" He blurted out, "He wasn't bitten!"
"Christophe and Gregory think that blood from one of those monsters came in contact with the cut on Clyde's leg at the steel mill," Craig explained.
"You're kidding right?" Token asked, wanting so desperately to believe it. But then he saw a tear escape from one of Tweek's eyes and he knew that his friend was telling the truth. "No…" he whispered, "That can't…it can't be true."
Craig just shook his head, refusing to meet Token's eyes.
"How long?" Token croaked.
"Th-they don't know," Tweek spoke up, "Ngh – B-but they think m-maybe an hour or two."
"Does he know?" Token asked.
Craig shook his head again, "We thought that it would be best if you told him."
Token looked as if he were about to vomit.
"Y-you're his best friend," Tweek whimpered, "He w-would want to h-hear it from you."
Now Token looked like he was about to cry.
Craig swallowed painfully and pulled out the gun Gregory had given him. Token stared at him as he held it out, but he didn't take it.
"Gregory said it's for protection," Craig explained, "We don't know when it'll happen."
Tentatively, Token reached out and took the weapon, small tremors running through his fingers.
Craig then did something very uncharacteristic. He stood up and pulled Token into a tight embrace.
"Be strong for him," Craig said, "He needs you right now."
All Token could do was nod as Tweek burst into tears behind them.
~o~o~o~
Token spent about ten minutes just standing outside the tent. The small structure that had provided a sense of shelter now caused his stomach to churn painfully. Tears were burning in the backs of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had to be strong. For himself. For his friends. For Clyde.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the flap and crawled into the tent. He almost lost whatever composure he had at the sight of his best friend.
"Clyde…" Token murmured, drawing the brunette's attention.
"H-hey dude," Clyde greeted him weakly.
"You look like shit," Token said bluntly.
Clyde chuckled slightly, wincing as if the simple action had caused him pain. "Feel 'bout ten times worse," he rasped.
Token moved to sit at his friend's side. They sat in amiable, yet heavy, silence for several minutes before Clyde spoke up again.
"How long?" He asked vaguely.
"What are you – "
"You know what I'm talking about," Clyde interrupted.
Token sighed, "An hour, maybe two. But we can't be sure."
Clyde nodded, eyes trained on his lap as he processed this information. Token, on the other hand, could not keep his eyes off of his friend. Silence fell again, but this time, there was a sinister weight to it.
Clyde tried to be quiet about it, but he had always been a messy crier. Normally, he would blubber and wail almost incoherently, voice breaking and hitching while tears – and snot – streamed down his face. He wasn't speaking now, but the telltale soft hiccups and hitched breaths were still present.
"Clyde…" Token started, reaching out to comfort him.
Clyde finally looked up and Token's heart clenched when he saw the tears that were present on his friend's face. Token laid a comforting hand on the other teen's shoulder.
"I want you to do it," Clyde said, a sudden clarity entering those brown eyes that had been so clouded over with tears.
"Wh-what?" Token stammered.
"I want you to be the one to pull the trigger," Clyde explained, a sob escaping his lips.
"Why me?" Token demanded, feeling tears once again burning at the backs of his eyes.
"You're my b-best friend," Clyde sobbed, "P-please, Token. Please."
"R-Right now?" A tear slipped down one of Token's cheeks.
"I w-want to…" Clyde struggled to continue, "to d-die human. I d-don't want to turn into one of those th-things."
Token didn't know what to say. His best friend, someone he had known since they were both toddlers, was asking – no, begging – him to put a bullet through his skull. He wanted to argue, to scream, and to curse at the cruel God who had put them all in this situation. But he held back. He stared into the tear-streaked face of the teen in front of him and made his decision. Had the dark-skinned teen been in Clyde's position, he would be asking for the same thing. He reached out to his friend, hugging him to his chest and burying his face in his sweaty brown hair.
"Ok," he whispered, clutching the other boy tightly, "Ok."
Clyde wrapped his arms around Token and hugged him weakly. Token felt a breath of warm air on the side of his neck as Clyde sighed.
"Thank you," he whispered, relief almost tangible in his voice.
Token wanted to run and hide from his newfound responsibility. He would give anything to just close his eyes and pretend that nothing was wrong. And while he wanted to simply hold his friend until the very last minute, he knew that it was now or never.
Several tears streaked down his cheeks as he reached back to where he had Gregory's gun tucked into the back of his jeans. He felt Clyde tremble in his arms, aware of what was happening. Token switched off the safety with a soft click, the sound making Clyde freeze completely, and brought the gun to his best friend's temple.
"I love you, Clyde," Token said, voice thick with tears, "You're the best friend I've ever had."
"I love you too, dude," Clyde sobbed, "T-Take care of the group for me, o-ok?"
"Of course," Token whispered.
Clyde placed one hand on the back of Token's neck and gently brought their foreheads together, a comforting gesture that dated back to their childhood years.
The gunshot was heard throughout the camp.
A/N: So...yeah...I killed Clyde...Trust me, I'm just as upset as you guys! Unfortunately, I needed to be realistic. This was bound to happen sooner or later to someone in the group :(
For the people who are reading this, thank you so much for sticking with me! It means the world to me that you are putting up with my bullshit!
I'll try to get Chapter 9 up very soon (within a week or so). After that, updates may be a bit spotty, I have my IB exams coming up next month (for those of you who don't know what IB is, the exams are these huge tests that can last up to 6 hours each - split up on different days - and include information that I've been learning in my college level courses over the past TWO years) So I'll probably be too busy busting my ass and studying like the world is ending. But once those are done, I'm completely done with school, so I should have PLENTY of time to get some writing done! So just be patient with me (I know it's asking a lot cuz you guys have already been so amazing), I promise that this story will be finished!
