A/N: I feel like maybe the progression of time in this fic isn't so obvious, so I just want to clear that up before you start reading. The times are all coming together now, but I think it will make it easier for you guys if I label what time it is specifically. When I finish this fic, I'm going to go back and put in what time everything is taking place at so that you know what's going on, and most importantly, WHEN it's going on. From here on in, I'm going to start annotating each group's passage with time stamps. Sorry if I confused some of you! :)
Verona, Italy – 1990
"You can't keep this act up forever, Darling."
"It's not an act, mom."
"I know my baby boy better than anyone else," she said, stroking his thick auburn hair.
He scoffed and turned away, his cheeks turning pink despite how hard he tried to will the flush to disappear.
His mother could only laugh at him softly, a sweet thing that always made his head turn. He would do anything to make his mother laugh, even though he would act huffed and annoyed when she did.
"Why don't you go outside and play with your brother before supper, look at how lonely he is down there. You don't want to make your little brother sad, do you?"
He looked out of the large Plexiglas window, shielding his eyes from the sun's hot rays, and then down at the pudgy little boy who sat in a sandbox all alone, piling sand around his bare legs. A large yellow truck sat adjacent by his side, and a small red sand pail sat in front of him, filled to the brim with water. He wanted to build a sand castle, that much was clear, but without his older brother's guidance, he didn't know what to do. He could only sit there and stare into the pail of water, hoping that his brother would come out and play with him.
He sighed and took to his feet, trying to ignore the gentle smile on his mother's face as he did so. Though his brother was only three years his junior, it felt like there was a large, gaping hole in between them. He had reasoned that it was because his younger brother was always babied by their parents and had absorbed that affection like a sponge, whereas he, on the other hand, pushed it as far away as possible despite how much he knew he wanted it. His mother and his younger brother seemed to be the only ones in his family that was aware of that fact, however. It was odd, how different he was from his mother and brother, and yet they both seemed to understand him perfectly.
He took the stairs two at a time, despite how much he tried to tell himself that he didn't want to go outside and play with his little brother. He was perfectly content sitting up by the large window, reading a book or just spending the afternoon napping in peaceful solitude. He cared about his brother, and about his family, but his best way of showing it was by not being around them. His negative outlook, and his nasty attitude were things that made them feel bad, and were met with negativity. If he stayed away, then they would be happy.
It was simple, really.
But, according to Feliciano, it was not that simple. His brother, his dumb, ridiculous, clueless, and sweet brother, who smiled at him and looked for his attention despite all of these problems. He would cling to him when he yelled at him, and even through his tears, he would demand that his brother not leave his side. Even if he called Feliciano names at night - tell him to leave him alone - he would always wake up with Feliciano snuggled into his side with a smile on his sweet, doughy face as he waited for him to wake up.
His mouth turned down in a frown.
"Lovi," Feliciano called when he heard the door to the outside opening. He knew it was Lovino before he even turned around. His doughy face stretched into a smile when their eyes met, and he took to his feet immediately. Though he had learned how to walk long ago, his still never failed to remind Lovino of Bambi when he tried to run.
Lovino stared blankly at his brother despite the feeling of joy – pride – when Feliciano motioned him to come sit beside him. The idiot dug a pit with his hands for Lovino to sit, and watched with pure, unadulterated love as Lovino quietly grabbed the pail of water and emptied it out into the sand pit.
Their father grew annoyed when they put water in the pit, as it was a mess for him to clean the mud that caked onto the grass around it. Lovino, however, didn't have a mind to care, because Feliciano's joy was more important than anything.
Feliciano clapped his hands together, the baby fat that still remained on his face jiggling every time his hands collided. Lovino laughed out loud at this, but was only met with a confused stare from Feliciano.
"What is it?" Feliciano asked.
Lovino shook his head, "it's nothing."
October 12 – 4:00PM
"The little blonde boy said South," Natalia repeated to her soldiers, "but I want a group on all sides. We can't trust what this boy is saying, and we can't be sure that they haven't changed their minds yet."
Ivan looked as though he was about to protest to the idea, and Natalia put a quick stop to that by stepping in front of him. Despite his being taller than her, it still drew all attention away from him. Natalia had a dominating presence, even more so than Ivan himself. It was no wonder that Natalia had been given the job to bring back patient zero, and not he.
"I will go South," Natalia said without missing a beat, "and with me I will take my sister, and I will also take both regiment twelve and regiment thirteen with me."
Yao was finally the one to cut in, stepping out from the crowd of his own soldiers who were already following Natalia like sheep without so much as a word of protest. "And what of my men, they do not answer to your leader."
Natalia smirked, "their leader is dead, they are free to choose who they follow."
Yao winced, but only for a brief second. He had died, supposedly from suicide, although all of their men were aware of what had truly happened to him. It wasn't honourable, but Yao's men had wanted their president to die, and were quick to jump ship to work with the Russians. However, they were still under Yao's command, meaning that Natalia could not move them without his direct permission.
He didn't think that would stop here, however.
"You cannot take my men," Yao said. "I, for one, want to go back to the mall to look for any survivors. One of the men we were interrogating, Berwald, said that there were people in there that were trying to kill them. For all we know, the man we're looking for could already be dead inside that place."
Natalia seemed to consider this for a moment, and though her body language said that she didn't want to let Yao's men go, she still knew how to follow the rules, albeit without much finesse. If she were to overstep, there was a strong chance that she could lose her position to her older brother. Though she seemed to genuinely care and respect her brother, she didn't want to be beneath him. She wanted to rule over him – to protect him. It was a twisted relationship, if there ever was one.
"Fine," Natalia said. "Then, regiment eleven and thirteen will come with me. Do as you wish with your men, Yao, but do not mistake your position here. You still must report to me, and to the president. You control your men, but you must remember that you do not control yourself."
Yao nodded, though part of him wanted to continue arguing with Natalia, the girl who thought she had much more power than she truly did in the matter. Yao wouldn't put it past her to the kill the president, if she thought that she could protect her brother and herself by doing so. Natalia had become a master of self preservation, and it was obvious that she was willing to sacrifice all of her men if it meant her survival.
"Ivan will go west, out to the plains with regiment 1," Natalia drawled on.
Natalia had gone over the plans for what felt like hours, repeating them over and over so that no mistakes were made when they finally left. They needed to go immediately, so there was no time to sleep on it and think about what they would need to do. They needed to make snap decisions, and hope that they worked out alright in the end. Patient zero was their only hope of fixing things, and if they didn't find him quickly enough, then their chances for fixing what they had done would become near impossible. Most of the world would be gone by that point, and as it was, survivors were already beginning to go insane. Even if they weren't infected, there was no telling if they would be normal again after witnessing the unspeakable horrors that had been unleashed on the world.
It had barely been a month, and those who had been out there looked like they had endured years of the hellish disease.
"I want you to bring this man," Natalia said, pointing at the picture of the auburn haired man named Lovino, "back alive, if he is dead, he is useless to us."
"We can't be certain that he is still alive," Yao said, his brows furrowed. "What are we to do if he is? This mission will have been pointless."
Natalia sighed.
"It is highly unlikely that he is dead," Ivan said, cocking his head to the right so he could meet eyes with Yao. "The bite can't kill him."
October 13 – 6:00PM
"Slow down," Ludwig said harshly from beside him. Though he was always the calmest of the group, it appeared as though he was finally reaching his breaking point. Ludwig himself had no idea of where Gilbert was, and he had witnessed unspeakable horrors back in the mall. However, it was odd, the look on his face was not that of fear, but of concern and guilt.
Antonio slowly eased up on the gas pedal, feeling guilty for the way he was acting. Just because he felt like he had no other reason to continue surviving these horrible conditions, it didn't mean that the people around him didn't. They still had family and loved ones that they needed to survive for.
Lovino had died, and Antonio had been partly at fault, but at least he had closure on the matter. Ludwig had none – his brother was still missing, and for all he knew, dead. Feliciano had lost his brother – the only person he had left in this world that was close to him - and who had taken from him not once, but twice. Antonio was selfish for assuming that he was the only one in pain in the group.
"I'm sorry," Antonio said, pressing his forehead into the wheel as he came to a rolling stop in the middle of the road. There was nothing all around them for what seemed like miles. Just an endless maze of trees, fields, and rolling hills. If he didn't know what was happening with the world, he would assume that everything was fine by how fresh and healthy the outdoors looked. "I'm so sorry."
"I am too," Ludwig said, his voice sounding hollow and empty. His words were sincere, but he was distant, like he was beginning to fall away from himself. "I am very sorry."
There was a heavy silence in the car, the only thing that they could hear was the sound of Feliciano's steady – albeit restless – breathing.
What did that mean?
Finally, however, Antonio began to laugh bitterly, "where are we even going?"
Ludwig looked off into the distance, where the sky was beginning to show the telltale signs of going dark. A deep plum red ate away at the bottom of the horizon, slowly creeping its way up toward the sun. He didn't respond, he could only look forward at the monotony before them. Whether his question was figurative or literal, he did not know, but either way, there was no clear answer to either of those questions.
"Let's just get somewhere safe to settle for the night, then we can talk about it," Ludwig said calmly, although his clenched jaw said otherwise. He looked as though he had something to say, but couldn't quite find the right way to say it.
It worried Antonio, as it was the look of a man who was severely burdened. The look of a man who knew something that he didn't. Ludwig had always been quiet, but it was beginning to make Antonio question everything that he knew.
There was a piece of this puzzle missing.
Antonio could only nod his head, making sure to keep his foot from stepping down on the gas pedal. He knew that it was his subconscious that wanted to get as far away as possible from Lovino's corpse, but he knew, deep down, that it wouldn't change things. Even if he couldn't see his body, he knew that the image would still haunt him. The tell-tale bruises that marred his soft, smooth skin as his body began to go through rigor mortis. The deep, purple marks underneath his sweet, olive colored eyes, and his hair, that had grown thin and dry as the disease rapidly progressed. He had told himself that he wanted to remember him when he was healthy, but in reality, Antonio had never actually seen Lovino when he was happy and healthy.
Antonio bit his bottom lip, and kept driving without a word.
October 13 – 3:00PM
Gilbert held a hand tight over Matthew's shoulder, trying to slow the bleeding as best as possible. The bullet went straight through, and the bleeding wouldn't kill him, but it would definitely slow him down.
Matthew was good about it, he didn't make any noise when the bullet went through, and he had made sure that the people on the other side of the house didn't know that they had hit anyone.
"It's OK," Gilbert whispered, just barely loud enough for Matthew to hear. "The bullet went clean through, you're OK. You're going to be OK." Gilbert didn't know if he was saying that to comfort Matthew, or himself.
Matthew nodded his head jerkily, and though he seemed as though he was taking it well, it had obviously been very jarring for him. He had been so excited, certain that more of their group had made it back, that he had carelessly made their presence known by taking one of the boards down from the windows. Gilbert could see the rising panic and fear in Matthew's eyes, however, he could also see the rage he felt at himself for being so careless.
Gilbert grabbed the roll of gauze that Matthew always had tucked securely in the pocket of his hoodie and began wrapping it tight around one of his slight shoulders. It was makeshift, and wouldn't serve well to stop the bleeding, but they needed to move quickly. They were all armed, but there were only 4 of them in the house. The group of people outside were suited up in armor, and had far more powerful weapons than them. They were outnumbered and outgunned in every way possible.
Gilbert had been in a number of situations like this, and they had never ended well.
"Who the fuck are they," Alfred asked, crawling up beside Gilbert and placing a hand on the gauze over Matthew's wound. It seemed as though he knew what he was doing, so Gilbert gently pulled Matthew into a sitting position. Alfred had dragged Arthur to the ground when Matthew had been shot, quick to react to the situation.
"I don't know," Gilbert said.
"You don't think that they're people from the mall, do you?" Alfred said, swallowing hard around a lump in his throat. The look on his face told Gilbert everything he needed to know, but he still asked despite his awareness.
"People in the mall?" Gilbert asked.
Alfred looked straight at him, the panic still evident in his eyes, but he still managed to laugh bitterly. "Well, I guess that means you didn't run into any of them, I'm glad for that, at least." His face was pale, but it didn't seem to be the fear that made the color drain from his face. He looked sickly.
"Alfred, what-" Matthew started.
"That's where Arthur's wounds came from," Alfred felt himself shudder violently as he remembered what he had seen happening to his best friend. "They… they were bad people. They told us that they had been keeping an eye on the group for the whole time that we were in the hotel, and that they made sure that the infected got in so that they would drive us out toward the mall."
He wished he had been able to tell them this the night before, when he and Arthur had shown up, but he was so out of his mind with fear that he hadn't been able to conjure up to ability to talk. Hearing of Francis' brutal death had also hit him very hard, and he had fallen asleep restlessly that night without saying a word to the town men. Now, he was more clearheaded. It seemed as though he had gained some perspective from all that had happened, if anything.
Gilbert swallowed hard, part of him had known that there had been foul play - he wasn't happy about it - but he was pleased to find out that it hadn't been someone in the group that had let the infected in. Gilbert bit the corner of his lip between his teeth, he wished that there was a way that he could see outside, but he risked getting them all killed if he pulled another one of the boards away. He had only been able to get a brief glimpse of them when Matthew had taken one of the boards down, but he hoped that it was enough.
"They have silencers on their guns," Matthew said.
Both Gilbert and Alfred looked at Matthew quizzically, waiting for him to continue on.
"They know that sounds draws the infected."
Gilbert's eyes lit up immediately. He knew what Matthew was suggesting, and he also knew how dangerous the suggestion was. However, as the minutes ticked by, it seemed as though it was their only hope.
"Our guns don't have silencers, they're loud," Gilbert said, crawling on his hands and knees past the bed. He reached onto the couch and pulled the duffel bag down.
We need to make a lot of noise," Matthew explained to Alfred, who seemed to finally understand what they had planned. "If we draw the infected over this way, we might find a way to escape these guys. We're more protected than them on the inside of this house, we have walls. If the infected come this way, it might provide the distraction that we need to sneak away."
Alfred looked wary of the idea, if only for Arthur's sake. However, as though Arthur had heard these concerns running through his head, he finally spoke up after a long bout of silence.
"I'm fine," Arthur said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the chaos he had woken up to. "It's not a severe wound, so I know that I can do this. So far, we've been through much worse."
Alfred turned around to face him, looking him over as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to believe him or not.
"If it's our only chance," Arthur whispered, "then I don't want to hold anyone back. Matthew's injury is far worse than mine, and if he can do it in his condition, then I can do it in mine."
Gilbert cocked his gun and pointed it down toward where the window would be if the boards weren't covering it, not bothering to wait for Alfred. Arthur could decide himself, it wasn't Alfred's job to take care of him. He aimed, hoping that he would take out a few soldiers in the process. He waited, without a word, for the others to follow his lead.
"Go," he shouted.
October 14 – 8:00AM
"Berwald," Tino shouted, trying to stand despite the chains around his wrists binding him to the cold ground.
Berwald was bruised and beaten, the color completely drained from his face. It seemed as though they had gotten to him, and had hurt him quite badly. Tino was certain, that just by looking at his wounds, he hadn't cracked for the soldiers. He had kept his mouth shut, and hadn't given away anything about the group.
Tino looked at the ground, feeling incredibly guilty.
Berwald dropped to his knees in front of him, and then it finally hit Tino, Berwald wasn't supposed to anywhere near him.
"Berwald-"
Tino felt the heavy metal cuffs holding him to the ground come loose, clattering to the ground in a heap. The lack of weight on his wrists felt odd, and he massaged at the bruises on them with his hands.
"We need to go," Berwald said.
It was only then that Tino saw the blood on Berwald's hands. It was obvious now that not all of the blood on Berwald was his own.
"What did you do," Tino asked, his eyes widening, "Berwald, what did you do?"
"I did what I had to," Berwald said, his face set. "We need to get out of here before the others come back, they will kill us."
"They will now," Tino shouted. "Berwald, they'll kill us, worst of all, they'll kill Peter too because of this!"
"I won't let that happen," Berwald said as he took to his feet, reaching down for Tino's hand. "I won't let them kill any more of us."
Tino felt his heart jump so hard that he felt it in his throat. "What do you mean by 'any more of us'?"
Berwald looked to his left, a brief flicker of worry shone in his striking blue eyes. For an expressionless man, Tino found it easy to read what he was thinking.
"Oh, God," Tino held a hand over his mouth, trying to control the nervous sob that was trying to escape his quivering throat.
"Who did they…"
"Both of them."
Tino finally choked on a sob, knocking Berwald's hand away from him as tears began to pool over his tired lids, running down his rosy cheeks and staining his pants. Berwald stooped down beside him, resting his head on Tino's trembling back. For someone who was constantly in a rush, he was very patient where Tino was concerned.
"They killed them because they wouldn't tell them anything," Tino whispered, his voice thick with tears. "They didn't say anything, and yet I spilled everything. This is all my fault, they would have made it if we didn't meet them in the mall."
Berwald was quiet, comforting Tino by smoothing his hand over his back. He seemed to understand that Tino didn't want to speak, and just sat quietly at his side as he spilled his guts, waiting for him to calm down. Tino knew that he was being unreasonable by not getting up immediately, but the grief struck him incredibly hard. He wasn't even there to see what had happened, they were just dead, just like that.
He wouldn't even have time to properly grieve for them.
Tino slowly took to his feet, refusing Berwald's hand to steady him. He wasn't ill, he didn't need anyone to help him. Berwald had been right in them needing to leave the place. The soldiers had lied to him, told him that his friends were fine, and then had killed them in cold blood, without any remorse. He didn't even know if Peter was still alive.
Tino didn't feel nauseous when looking at the blood staining Berwald's hands anymore, he understood it, he longed for that blood to be on his own hands, if only for a moment. These people had lied to them and had hurt them, and had only done it so that they could find the rest of their group and hurt them too. They needed to escape, and get as far away as possible from the place.
"Let's go," Tino said, staring up at Berwald, who handed him a pistol. He had obviously taken it off of the guards, as it was covered in still-warm blood. Tino didn't know how he had taken down two armed men with his own hands, but he felt comforted in knowing that he was capable of doing something so drastic when it came down to it. If he had Berwald with him, he knew that Peter would be safe.
Berwald, nodded as he walked toward the door, carefully peering around the corner when he opened it. The one good thing about the facility that they were in was that it was relatively new, and it was difficult to hear people walking around, and even harder to hear doors opening. Berwald and Tino were both barefoot, they could do this.
If anything, the armor on the men who were guarding the place was a hindrance.
"Do you know where he is," Tino whispered when he was sure that there was no one in the room with them.
"Yes," Berwald said, "they were keeping him in the Russian man's room."
Tino grit his teeth at the idea that someone else, someone that was doing such terrible things to so many innocent people, was handling an innocent baby like Peter.
By the minute, Tino was feeling more and more ashamed of himself, and how cowardly he had been compared to the others. It seemed as though all the others from his group had done so well and had been so brave, and yet he was here, oblivious to what was going on around him, and had given away the other members of his group in the process.
"We're close," Berwald said when they took another corner, breaking Tino free of his self-pity. When they opened the next door, it led into a room whose appearance was jarring. The facility had looked almost completely sterile white, and here they were, in a room that was wine red, and covered in gold trimmings. It was like something out of fantasy novel.
"What is this-" Tino said, uneasiness creeping into his voice.
"From what I understand, this was a plan that was long in the making," Berwald said. "This is not a normal CDC."
Tino looked ahead, and in the room, there was a staircase leading deeper into the facility.
"What is-"
Tino felt something whizz passed his head, rustling his fine blonde hair. He didn't even have time to react when he saw Berwald turn around and shoot several times.
The sound of something hitting the ground was what finally was caused Tino to turn around.
On the ground lay a young man with Golden brown hair. He didn't have any particular armor on, just a plain green suit, he looked relatively harmless. The gun in his left hand, however, said otherwise.
Berwald didn't waste any time walking up to the man and grabbing him by the lapels of his uniform, dragging him up so that he was eye level. The man choked on his own blood, some of it spattering against Berwald's face. He seemed unfazed, however, and shook the man hard.
"The baby," Berwald demanded, "where is he? He was in this room, I saw that man taking him in here."
The man choked up more blood, spitting it up onto his own shirt. He had been shot in the stomach, but it appeared as though it had hit something vital. His eyelids were already growing heavy from the severe bleeding.
"Down," was all the man could muster. "He's downstairs."
"Toris!"
Tino looked up, and there stood a young man with tousled blonde hair, his skin rough and wind chafed. He resembled the man that Berwald had a tight grip on, only younger. He lifted up his gun, but before he could do so, Tino pointed his at the man Berwald was holding. Tino body was acting before his mind could even begin to fully process what was going on. Being around the infected for so long had its benefits, or so it seemed at the moment.
"I'll shoot him if you do anything," Tino finally warned, however his hands shook despite how much he willed them to steady themselves. He had killed some of the infected before, but he had never actually killed a living, breathing, human being before. He didn't know if he could do it, no matter how much he wanted to for all the suffering that they had imposed on them for nothing. "Just tell us where the baby is, and I won't shoot this man."
The blond boy bit his bottom lip, hard enough to leave angry white marks on his skin. He was young, far too young to be a soldier, and if Tino played his cards right, he believed he could manipulate him for their gains. Tino was confident in himself, at least until the small blonde man began crying. Large, heavy tears dropped from his eyes as he looked at the man in Berwald's hands.
"Please don't hurt him," he cried. "He's all I have left."
Tino felt the hold on his gun loosening despite himself. Here he was, prepared to kill two very young men who probably had nothing to do with what was going on, all for his own sick revenge. Two innocent young men who had no experience, and probably hadn't even been near the infected, and Tino was willing to shoot them dead because of the actions of the people around them.
Tino slowly lowered his gun, however Berwald's hold on the man did not falter.
"Please," the young boy called, "He's downstairs, I'll show you the way." The boy began walking forward, toward Berwald and the man named Toris, one hand outstretched. "Please, just don't hurt him anymore."
Tino was prepared to trust him, he was certain that a young boy couldn't do any harm, until he saw a glint of silver peeking from out of his pocket.
"Berw-"
Just as the knife was about to be plunged into Berwald's stomach, Tino fired his gun. He shot once, and got the boy in the arm. The boy dropped the knife and backed up, eyes wide in horror. It would have been enough to stop him, that was for certain, but Tino didn't stop shooting.
He couldn't stop.
Tino shot again, this time getting the boy in the shoulder. Again, and he nicked his neck. Again, and a bullet plunged itself into the man's pelvis. Tino shot again and again until the gun clicked – empty.
Berwald dropped the man in his hands to the ground after taking his gun from him. He was barely breathing, only shuddering from the loss of blood. However, he managed to drag himself toward the young boy. Tino could hear the gasping sobs, but only distantly. He could only feel the steady, heated thrumming of his heart, and the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins like liquid fire.
He didn't even notice that he was still pressing the trigger of his gun until Berwald came to his side and pushed his arm down to his side, taking the gun away from him. The concern was evident in his features.
"Tino, it's enough."
Despite the reassurance, Tino's finger was still twitching as Berwald led him toward the stairs, leaving behind the two dying men.
October 13 – 3:30PM
Gilbert heard a few cries of pain, and felt satisfied knowing that they had hit a few of the soldiers when they had let loose their barrage of bullets. Though it probably wouldn't hinder them all that much, any kind of distraction was good for them. He was concerned, however, when he realized they weren't firing back at them. He had had a brief glimpse of their weapons, and he knew that a good portion of them were powerful enough to rip straight through the house. They could easily kill them all if they all started firing at once.
"They want someone," Matthew said, as though reading Gilbert's mind. "They're not trying to kill us, they want one of us."
Gilbert could only nod his head, hoping that this was the case. They would have to wait, wait and hope for the infected to come after them. He didn't care if they wanted them dead or not, he didn't want those people anywhere near them. They were dangerous, that much was obvious. Gilbert had met people like them before, they were not North American soldiers, they were from somewhere foreign.
"Their uniforms," Gilbert said aloud, "they're not from here."
Realization dawned on both Matthew and Alfred's faces. Arthur hadn't managed to see them, but he trusted Gilbert's judgment. "They're Russian soldiers."
Alfred's eyes widened.
"They did this," Alfred said without any hesitation. "They did this, and they're trying to get rid of anyone that's left after the attack. This disease was an attack."
Matthew let out a shuddering breath, feeling the hope that had grown when they had found this place crumbling into fine dust. The Russians would greatly outnumber them, there was no possible way that they could ever live through such a large scale invasion.
"God," Arthur said, holding the back of his hand to his mouth to hold down the sickness that threatened to surface. All of their faces seemed to green at the prospect. There was no doubting it now, all of this was not some freak experiment gone wrong. This was controlled.
They didn't have time to dwell on it, however, when they heard the first set of shouts of fear, and gunshots coming from outside.
The infected had heard their call for help, and had answered with vigor.
October 13 – 10:00PM
Even after hours of driving, they hadn't found a place where they could stop. Their gas was running dangerously low, as was their own sanity. Feliciano had finally woken up, but instead of becoming violent like he had before, he sat in the back in silent resignation. He didn't not put up a fuss that they had left behind Lovino's body, or that they had left without telling him, he just sat in silence.
Ludwig had crawled into the back and sat beside him, and he wasn't met with protest, but with silence.
Antonio could see the worry on Ludwig's face, he could feel it in himself, but they knew that it was best to keep quiet. If they pushed him anymore, Feliciano would break, and they both knew that they couldn't bring him back when he did. As it were, Feliciano was already dangerously close to losing all sense of himself. at least what was left of him.
Antonio watched as the gas gauge reached lower and lower, feeling his eyelids growing heavy as he stared out at the endless, open road. He wondered, absently, if driving off of the road and into the trees would be such a terrible thing. If he just ended it all for them right here. Speed up, and let the car veer off into the trees.
Quick and painless.
Just as he felt himself about to succumb to the urge to do so, he saw two sets of lights up in distance.
He felt Ludwig tense behind him.
"Do y-"
"It can't be them," Ludwig shook his head in the rear view mirror. He was sitting in the back seat with Feliciano, stroking his hair. "That isn't a normal car."
Feliciano finally reacted to this, sitting up stiffly to stare forward at the oncoming car.
"Turn around," Ludwig said.
Antonio slowly began rolling to a stop, "why?"
Antonio didn't like that Ludwig felt so certain about this, almost as though he had been expecting it to happen.
"Turn around, and drive as fast as this car can go," Ludwig shouted, not bothering explaining himself to Antonio. Antonio felt goose pimples freckle his arms, however he listened to Ludwig without any hesitation. The man was very worried, and he had no doubt that he had every reason to be, but perhaps not for the right reasons.
Antonio quickly turned around.
The car behind them was moving very quickly, they were clearly in a rush to get to them.
Antonio stepped on the gas. "Ludwig, what is it."
"It's an armored car," Ludwig said.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Antonio asked, looking in the rear-view mirror at the rapidly approaching car. They were in a rush for a reason.
"Do you not see the flag?"
Antonio looked carefully, he couldn't see much through the darkness, but every now and then the flag would flicker out in front of the headlights. Red white and blue, but not the pattern he had grown used to seeing them in. Horizontal stripes is what he saw.
"I don't understand," Antonio said. "What does it mean, and why are we running? They might be here to help out the survivors."
"They're going to try to kill us," Ludwig said without missing a beat. His voice was laced with absolute certainty.
"What do you mean, how do you know this isn't relief?"
"This is their attack."
"Attack… What are you talking about?"
"They've been planning this for a very long time," Ludwig said, a rising hysteria in his voice. "The infection spread because of them, it was something they made."
Antonio was silent, and just as he was about to open his mouth, Feliciano looked into Ludwig's eyes and spoke for the first time since they had left the house. "How do you know this?"
Ludwig swallowed hard, "Virus M09." Ludwig almost sounded relieved to say this, tension visibly leaving his shoulders.
This was why Ludwig had been so quiet, this was what he had wanted to tell them.
"Ludwig, how do you know this?" Feliciano demanded, his voice high and rough from crying and screaming for so long. Antonio felt his heart sink into his stomach. The car behind them was getting closer and closer, and it seemed as though things inside the car were taking a dramatic turn for the worse.
Feliciano grabbed Ludwig hard by the label of his coat, his fingers turning white from his tight grip. Ludwig did not fight him, and just sat there in resignation as Feliciano got into his face.
"Tell me this isn't what I think it is," Feliciano demanded, his voice wavering, not with anger, but with disappointment and betrayal. His actions were so out of character, this harsh side of him was something Antonio had never seen before. It was as though Feliciano had turned into a completely different person.
Ludwig turned his face away from Feliciano, refusing to meet his eyes.
"This is why you were so damn quiet," Feliciano cried, his voice almost deafening in the confined space. "You had something to do with this."
Feliciano finally let go, and sat back down heavily next to him, he let out a heavy breath of air. "You had something to do with this, and yet you let us carry on like this the whole time. I knew it, I knew there was something wrong back at the house."
"I would never have done this-"
"Shut up," Feliciano shouted. "Shut up."
Feliciano ran his fingers through his dirty hair, pulling at the strands until a mass of them came loose.
Antonio didn't know what to say, there was no possible reaction to what he was hearing.
"I didn't think it would get this far," Ludwig said.
"Is this why you agreed to go with Gilbert to come here? You knew it was going to spread, and your best bet at protecting him was to go with him. You didn't want to leave him alone here to die."
Ludwig was quiet, which was all the confirmation Feliciano needed.
Feliciano let out a deep laugh, and it almost sounded as though it had come from a completely different person. "I hope he's dead."
Ludwig finally looked at Feliciano at this, dread in his eyes.
"I hope he suffered, and I hope he knew what kind of man you were before this happened. I hope he knew that his precious little brother, who he thought was so great, was a cold-blooded murderer."
Ludwig grit his teeth. The look on his face said that he wanted to hit Feliciano, but the other part of him looked guilty.
Feliciano let out a sob, but no tears fell down his cheeks, his reservoirs had all but dried up. "I got mad at my brother, my brother who I love more than anyone, because he didn't trust you!"
Ludwig remained silent.
"I trusted you, right from the start, and followed you around like a puppy," Feliciano spat. "All that time I followed you around, I could have been spending time with my brother. I saved your life, back on the hotel, and this is what I get in return?"
"This isn't what I wanted."
"No, you didn't want to get attached, but here we are," Feliciano whispered bitterly. "You got attached, and now you feel guilty."
Ludwig didn't argue with him, he knew that it was true.
"Then try to feel my pain," Feliciano said. Before Ludwig could question what he meant by that, Feliciano opened the door beside Ludwig. He leveraged himself by the handles of his door, and kicked Ludwig in the shoulders. The man wasn't wearing a belt, and he tumbled of the door and onto the grass outside with a heavy thump. At the speed Antonio was going, he didn't know if Ludwig would survive or not.
"Feliciano," Antonio cried, the car swerving as he tried to take in what had happened. It was so quick, all of it had happened so quick.
Feliciano pulled the door closed and climbed up into the passenger side. "You're not going to die here," Feliciano said. "You're going to live, Antonio."
Antonio looked at Feliciano beside him. His eyes had cleared, but not for the better. In his once soft, hazel eyes, he saw nothing but burning rage as he grabbed a strong hold of the steering wheel and turned it toward the oncoming car. The car came to a screeching halt, and Feliciano threw the passenger door open, letting himself out.
The armored car was getting dangerously close, however, Feliciano leaned into the car to peer at Antonio as though he had all the time in the world.
"I know what's happening now," Feliciano said, his voice filled with a quiet sadness. "I know what's happening."
Antonio was confused, he was ready to get out of the car too, but Feliciano was quick to stop him.
"No," Feliciano said, holding Antonio's shoulder. "Drive away from here, drive far away and try to find the others. I know what I'm doing. I'm not as weak as you think I am, Antonio. If you care about my safety, then you'll leave right now."
Feliciano leaned in before Antonio could protest and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to one of his cheeks, a kiss that was often reserved for the dearest of family members. "Thank you, for protecting my brother and I all this time."
Feliciano shut the door and walked away from the car, pulling down the rifle that was slung neatly over his shoulder.
Every part of Antonio wanted to get out of the car to follow after Feliciano, but he needed to do as he said. He trusted Feliciano – he trusted that he knew what he was doing.
Antonio started the car and drove away, the sound of gunshots echoing in the open field behind him. Antonio didn't look back.
October 14 – 9:30AM
The stairs to the basement of the building had been long and winding, dangerous in the sense that they could not see what was coming from the front and the back. There was a reason for that, Tino was sure, but he wasn't certain if he wanted to entertain what that reason was.
The basement had been the same sterile white - albeit the lights were much dimmer - as the above floors, but it was obvious that this part of the building was made for something different, something sinister.
Tino's first concern, and first confirmation that something terrible was happening, was when he realized that access to all of the rooms were unblocked. No locks, no keycard passes necessary, save for one room that stood at the far end of the vast, dark room. He didn't want to talk, because his voice would echo.
It was only when he heard Peter's cry that he perked up. The baby was not far from them.
Of course, the only problem with that was that the sound was coming from the room before them.
Lights flashed on in the room before them, and it was only then that they realized the locked room was surrounded by thick, clear windows. However, it is what they saw inside that made their joy turn to absolute terror.
Inside the glassed in room sat Peter, in one lone crib in the middle of a large white room. Beside him, with only a small barrier between them, was a room with two of the infected.
It was who they were that threw Tino into a rage.
Lukas and Mathias stood in the room adjacent to Peter, slamming their fists and their bodies against the window in an attempt to get to him, completely mindless from the brutal infection coursing through their veins.
Tino ran, without even considering that this was obviously a trap, toward Peter. He didn't care if it was a trap, he needed to get to him before anything could happen. He had already failed so many people, he couldn't fail Peter too. He would do anything to save him.
Tino threw himself against the locked door, but with no fruition. The door was a solid iron, he could see that just from looking, and knew that nothing could penetrate it. If they wanted to get in, they needed a key, and he knew that the only person that would have it would be the tall Russian man, or his violent sibling, both of whom were gone.
Tino, despite this, continued to batter his fists against the unforgiving door, as though that would cause it to open for him, as though it would feel his desperation and allow him access out of pity. He shouted and threw his body against it until he was certain that his entire right side of his torso would be severely bruised.
Berwald didn't stop him.
It was only when a voice from over the speakers came through that he realized their situation was even more dire than he had initially assumed.
"Tino Vainamoinen and Berwald Oxenstierna," the heavy accented voice said. The man was Russian, just like the two siblings that had tortured them for information about their group. "You've killed some of my men."
Tino was silent, he knew that having a back and forth with the man would be fruitless. He returned to his task of throwing himself against the door and pounding against it, breaking to grab one of the chairs that stood beside one of the pillars and threw it against the window keeping him away from Peter. He knew that his actions would be fruitless, but that didn't stop him from trying.
"You've killed my men, I feel that it is only reasonable if I kill some of yours."
"You already have," Tino cried in frustration, dropping to his knees in front of the mirror. Peter was only a breath away, so close that he could almost feel his soft downy hair. The baby was oblivious to what was going on, cooing and playing with his feet quietly.
The voice was silent, but the static from the speaker said that the man was still there, listening and waiting.
"For good reason," the man said.
"What reason could that possibly be?" Berwald asked.
"For the sake of saving humanity," the voice said casually, as though that were something he talked about a lot. "You two do not understand just how serious this situation is."
Tino laughed, "dead people walking around, eating people? No, of course we don't understand how serious this is."
The voice laughed, however, it was full of humour. This man, the man that was keeping him away from Peter, thought this was genuinely hilarious. His laughter carried on for what seemed like hours, until it slowly eked away into sickening chortles, causing a blinding, white-hot rage to well up inside Tino.
"You can tell that you and these two men were related."
Tino froze up, then opened his mouth.
"Let me guess, you're going to ask 'how do you know that'?" The man chuckled again. "Oh, I've known the lot of you for a very long time, Tino Vainamoinen."
Tino felt the wind being knocked out of him, as though someone had physically hit him.
"You're probably asking yourself questions like 'why me?'" The man sighed, "well, you just happened to be there, that's why."
Tino felt sick, and before he could even lean over properly, he expelled the meager contents of his stomach onto his pants, and then the floor.
"You all lived because I allowed you to, a small gift from me," the man said. "Now, I'm going to take that gift back."
Tino watched in resignation as the door between Peter, Lukas, and Mathias opened.
"L…L…Ke…Lov...Heart…Up."
Lovino turned onto his side, his limbs felt stiff and cold. His heart thumped sluggishly against his rib cage, as though it were trying it's very best to wake him up.
"Sweetheart, wake up."
He opened his eyes, and beside him stood his younger brother, his mother, and his father. Feliciano was so small that he could barely see over the top of Lovino's bed, but he tried his best to climb up with him.
His mother saw him struggling, and lifted Feliciano up on the bed. He immediately crawled up next to his brother and wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheeks. For once, he didn't want to push him away, and he wrapped his little brother up in his arms. Feliciano curled into his side, his hair still soft and sleep-warm.
"You're sick, baby," his mother said as his father placed a cool hand against his forehead. "You're sick, but you can get through this. You're strong."
Lovino was confused.
"We love you, sweetheart, and we miss you," his mother said, a stray tear rolling down her cheeks.
Lovino couldn't find the voice to speak, nothing would come out of his mouth. 'But I'm right here, mom', is what he wanted to tell her. 'I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere'.
His mother ran a soft hand down his cheek, "I always knew you were special," she whispered.
Lovino blinked in confusion, his mother was being strange.
He noticed that Feliciano's warm weight had disappeared, and he was now alone in the room with his mother and father standing calmly at his side.
His father was the next to sit down beside him, leaning in to press a kiss against his forehead. "I want you to stay, but you need to go," he whispered.
"Fix this," his mother said. "This is what you were meant to do."
Lovino felt tears welling up in his eyes at the confusion he was experiencing. He felt like he was dreaming, but it all felt so real. He could smell his mother and father, who always smelled like fresh chamomile, and the constant smell of fresh flowers that lingered in the air in their beautiful house was present too. He could reach out and feel his mother's soft hair, and his father's stubbly face.
"You're so strong," his father whispered. "You're so strong, so I know you can do this. You just need to wake up."
'But I am up,' Lovino wanted to cry at them, his heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his throat. His veins began to thrum, and his lungs began to work at an steady pace. His skin became hot, and tingled in the cool night air.
"Wake up, Lovino, wake up and do what you were always meant to do."
Lovino opened his eyes.
A/N: So, um, yeah. I would apologize for confusing the hell out of all of you – and perhaps scarring you a little – but it will ALL be explained soon. We're so close to the end, I can almost taste it! I needed to pull an all-nighter today to catch up on some work for class, and at about 5 in the morning everything was done, so I decided to edit this baby up for you guys. I'm pretty darned tired, so I'm sorry if there are a few errors in here.
I hope you guys like this nice, long-ass chapter. I feel like this might be one of the most "eventful" chapters in this fic, and I'm happy to say that it only gets wilder from here on! Really, this fic doesn't slow down until the very, very end.
It will get slightly more confusing in the next chapter, but things will start coming together rather quickly.
I also want to tell you guys that there will be an epilogue that will go along with this! I actually had that written about a year ago, because I was so excited about the ending of this fic. The epilogue isn't necessary, but it will definitely make you look at this story in a completely different light!
Thanks for reading and commenting, it really keeps me going. All the nice comments and words of encouragement really make my day! :)