The inside of the Grill is, well Bonnie doesn't want to use the words 'untouched' or 'pristine' because they're not quite right and really don't fit. Yet somehow the Grill with its dark panels and heavy woods and pub-like atmosphere seems to be more undisturbed than the rest of the town. If one ignores the overturned tables and stacked bar stools that were doing sentry duty guarding the door when they arrived. They did their job well, as evidenced by the fact that Matt couldn't get them cleared in time as the shambling dead approached and they're now haphazardly stacked against the sides of the room and the door again, this time by magic.
"Matt, hurry!" Caroline yells. She's got her back to the door, a steel bar in one hand that she's using a baseball bat to swat away any undead that get too close. Stabbing isn't an option yet, not at this close distance. Not when the time it takes to dislodge her weapon might let two or three more close the gap.
There's the whistling of a crossbow released from its string followed by the sucking thwaping of it finding home. Ric is on guard, covering Caroline and Damon on the front lines while Bonnie pushes on the door crack to get a better view inside.
"I'm trying!" In the depths of the Grill, Matt's voice is both apologetic and scared.
The crack is just wide enough to cause a line of summer sun to slice its way across the comparative darkness of the Grill. Matt's head bobs and turns, arms moving through the sliver of light as he works to tear down his barrier at a much more rapid rate than he put it up.
"Matt, move!" Bonnie shoves hands and an arm through the crack, pushing it wider. There's a grunt from Damon over behind her left shoulder. A sickening wet, cracking twisting sound fills her ears and Bonnie forces herself to not look back.
"Just a few more - " The jock misinterprets, shakes his head and keeps going. A table laden with bar stools tumbles down with a loud clattering and crash.
"Matt. Move!" A bit louder this time, coming with more force and less questioning. Bonnie's words are strong and controlled, tight and sharp. Enough to cause Matt to lift his eyes, for that split second connection to be made as blue connects with brown. He's really not seen her power, but he's heard enough. In that moment he understands and he's scrabbling backwards from his tower fortress, disappearing into the shadows that Bonnie can't see beyond the door.
With little time to waste, Bonnie closes her eyes and focuses. Reaching inside the Grill with her mind. The witch can feel the wood of the chair, the veneer of the tables. The carefully balanced stacking and placement. As a soft chant falls from her lips, the barrier wall begins to tremble. Tiny shudders at first that become more pronounced until the whole of it vibrates to a timbre of its own.
Bonnie hears the sliding and scraping of the individual bits across the floor. She hears the barrier slamming into the walls inside the Grill, but doesn't register that the way is clear until Matt's yanking her inside with everyone tumbling in after.
The severed arm that Damon tore from a far too determined zombie still sits at the entrance.
Beyond that, the Grill is still the Grill.
"Why did we never think of raiding the Grill?" Alaric asks from his seat at the bar. An open bottle of scotch and two glasses sit between he and Damon. Not to be forgotten, an untouched glass sits before Bonnie and Matt and Caroline have a glass as well.
"I did," Damon snorts, picking up the bottle to top off his glass. "You thought it was better not to linger, and that the boarding house was safer."
"It was safer," Alaric argues. "Is safer." He takes a swallow from his glass, lifts it in a half-toast toward Matt. "As safety goes, however, the Grill makes an excellent second choice. Not too many windows, plenty of stock, separate generator, secure basement and backroom - "
"And all the booze you can drink," Damon finishes. He lifts his glass in a toast of his own before tossing the amber liquid back.
Bonnie bites back a scathing word or two, choosing to roll her eyes at the juvenile display instead. Normally, she'd loose a quip or two about Damon's behavior, but controlling the vampire's drinking isn't something that's top priority at the moment. Things are quiet, and they're safe, if one ignores the groaning and scratching of fleshy hands at the door.
Bonnie does her best to ignore it.
"If I'd known you were here . . . " Caroline hasn't left Matt's side since they found him. The blonde vampire hovers, reaching out sometimes to touch his shoulder or his hand, as though afraid that he isn't real. Or that he might disappear if she doesn't ensure his solidity. Bonnie can hardly blame her for that feeling.
"It's okay, Care." Matt's boy next door smile is full of warmth and affection. He looks no better than the rest of them, strung along by the horror of the apocalypse - because there is no denying that this is exactly the world they're living in, a post-apocalyptic horror - but somehow still holding his wits together. "I never thought to check the boarding house. After I got well, I checked your house and Elena's. . ."
"Yours too, Bonnie." Matt's soft blue eyes lift from Caroline to focus on his other childhood friend and Bonnie can't help but smile a bit. It's just like Matt to want to make sure that she knows she's important, and that no one feels left out. "Even yours, Mr. Saltzman." He shrugs, though pink colors his cheeks and crawls into the shells of his ears. "I figured everyone was dead, and even if Elena or Jeremy were alive, then Damon probably packed them up and got them out of town."
"If I had thought it would do any good," is all Damon says. He doesn't need to say more. Everyone knows that when the world came crashing down, if he could have saved Elena from it, he would have moved heaven and earth to do so.
In unspoken agreement, the group lapses into silence for a moment. Respecting those lost, or maybe just because there's nothing left to say about that world that's been swept away.
"What happened to you?" Caroline finally ventures to ask. She finally takes a swallow from her glass. It's an absent sort of gesture, drinking because it's there.
"Tamara," Matt says. He looks around and grabs a chair from a nearby table. One of the few that hasn't been sacrificed to the barricades. "She's my neighbor's daughter. She came around to check on her mother, and found me instead. I didn''t even know how I go there. She found me on the porch. I don't remember a lot from when I got sick."
"I know Mrs. Riley who lived across the street was going to take me to the hospital with her husband, but we couldn't get in. It was too busy, I guess. I remember wanting to go back home, but she wanted to wait. Maybe I went home on my own." Matt furrows his brow, as though sheer force of will can bring back the lost and scattered memories. Bonnie knows that it will do little good. The days she lost in the haze of fever and sickness seem to be gone forever.
"Tamara said she thought I was as good as dead, but she brought me in and took care of me anyway. When I got better, I made Tamara go home with me. That was a mistake. Some of those things had gotten there first." This time Matt throws back the entire glass of bourbon. Without a word, Caroline plucks it from his fingers and takes it over to Damon, silently holding it out for a refill.
More surprisingly, Damon only quirks a brow before refilling the glass. "I believe the word you're looking for is zombies. Because our existence wouldn't be complete until we experienced everything the supernatural has to offer."
"I think you're just upset that with werewolves and zombies, you're not a special snowflake anymore," Ric teases.
The timing is off. The mood is macabre. Somehow, though, it's what they need. The (former) history teacher's words might not bring guffaws, but there are a few smiles at the statement. Even Damon toasts Ric for the words.
"Matt." Caroline sets a hand to his arm, looking up at him with gentle eyes. "Where's Tamara now?"
The jock's head drops and his face shutters briefly. "Gone, I guess." The sentence ends with a period, but hangs in the air as well. A tagged on 'like everyone else,' left unspoken in the stagnant air between them. "She went scavenging and to look for survivors. My leg - I couldn't go - "
Bonnie's gaze falls to Matt's bandaged knee and then flickers back to his face. "It's not your fault." She says in the same breath as Caroline, except that it's the blonde who wraps him in a hug, and it's Bonnie who wonders if this is going to become a litany for them for the rest of their days.
"You're coming back to the boarding house with us," Ric declares. He empties his glass and reaches for the bottle. Why not? There are plenty more where that came from. "We'll scavenge what we can from here and go home."
No one argues with the designation. Mystic Falls, at least this part of it, with its empty houses and dead infested streets, isn't home anymore.