Chapter 5

The next morning, I woke up on the sofa with a slight headache. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared, though it was clear we hadn't managed to drink much whiskey; it had hit us harder and quicker than expected.

Last time we stayed here, I had napped on this very sofa while Lila enjoyed the bed to herself. We might have shared a makeshift blanket fort bed, but an actual bed felt like a line we hadn't crossed. Not that I hadn't considered crossing it last night, a soft comfy bed, but it was a line nonetheless. I shook my head and groaned as I rolled off the sofa.

There had to be something in the garden we could use for tea. Mint tea was an obvious choice, but I wondered if there were other options, especially for easing our hangovers. Scanning the plants, I spotted chamomile. That would do nicely.

To make chamomile tea from fresh flowers, I began by gathering the chamomile heads. I carefully picked them off the stems, ensuring not to damage the delicate blooms. Once I had a good handful, I rinsed them gently.

I filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to heat. Once it reached a rolling boil, I placed the chamomile flowers into a teapot. I poured the boiling water over the flowers and covered the teapot, letting it steep for about 5 minutes. The aroma of the chamomile filled the air, promising a soothing effect. After steeping, I strained the tea into mugs and carried them upstairs.

"Morning," I called out softly, setting a mug beside Lila as she stirred awake. "Thought you might appreciate some chamomile tea."

"You're showing your age again, Five," she groaned, her voice thick with sleep. I just rolled my eyes, not biting at her comment, and made my way around to the other side of the bed. Sitting down, I leaned back against the headboard, cradling the hot mug between my hands. The steam rising from the chamomile tea tickled my nose, still a bit too hot to drink comfortably, but the warmth was comforting.

"How did you sleep?" I asked, taking a small, careful sip from the edge of my mug.

"Considering my head feels like it was run over by a train, actually, amazingly well." She pulled the quilt down from her face, revealing a half-asleep, half-dazed smile that made her look younger, softer—almost innocent. She stretched lazily, then frowned slightly, as if a thought had just crept into her mind.

"Shit, I didn't mean to gloat. We can swap tonight if you want—"

I chuckled, cutting her off before she could finish. "It's fine. The sofa's more comfortable than any floor we've had to sleep on in ages. Plus, it's not the first time I've crashed there." I took another sip of my tea, letting the warmth settle into my bones.

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing me over the rim of her mug as she took a tentative sip. "You're really going soft, aren't you? Who knew Five Hargreeves could be so accommodating?" The teasing tone in her voice was unmistakable, but there was something else there too—something gentler, almost affectionate.

"Don't get used to it," I shot back, though my words lacked the usual sharpness. "This is just a temporary lapse in character. A moment of weakness."

"Uh-huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that," she smirked, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Next thing I know, you'll be offering to cook dinner every night."

I gave her a sideways glance, my lips curling into a smirk of my own. "Don't push your luck. Besides, you wouldn't want to be stuck eating the same thing every night."

She laughed, the sound still a little groggy but genuine. "Fair point. But you have to admit, we've come a long way. This..." she gestured around the room, "feels almost normal. Almost like we're... regular people."

"Yeah," I agreed quietly, my eyes drifting to the window where sunlight was beginning to filter through the curtains. "It's strange, isn't it? How quickly you can start to find comfort in the simplest things after everything else has been stripped away."

Lila nodded, a wistful expression crossing her face. "I never thought I'd find any kind of peace again after everything. But this place... it's like a little bubble, separate from all the chaos but don't get too comfortable," Lila warned, her voice cutting through the calm. I glanced over at her, seeing the familiar resolve in her eyes. She was right, of course—she usually was when it came to this sort of thing. But there was something different about this place, something that made me want to ignore the warning signs, just for a little while.

I sipped my tea, the warmth seeping into my bones, and tried to push away the weariness that seemed to be settling in deeper with each passing day. "I know," I murmured, more to myself than to her. "This is just a pit stop. A chance to catch our breath."

But even as I said it, I felt a flicker of doubt. I'd been running on empty for so long, surviving one doomsday only to dive headfirst into another. The thought of finally settling down somewhere peaceful, somewhere quiet, was a luxury I couldn't afford to entertain. Yet, the idea gnawed at the back of my mind.

Lila studied me, her gaze softer than her words. "You're tired, Five. More than you let on."

I didn't respond right away. What was there to say? Of course, I was tired. Tired didn't even begin to cover it. Forty-ish years of solitude in an apocalypse, followed by another lifetime's worth of chaos, had worn me down to the bone. And now, here we were, in a place that was almost too good to be true. Almost.

"Maybe," I finally admitted, my voice low. "But I'm not stupid. I know we can't stay here forever."

"Good," she replied, though there was no satisfaction in her voice. "Because I'm not sure I could either. We're survivors, Five. We don't get to have... this." She gestured vaguely around the room, her expression a mix of longing and resignation.

"Yeah," I said quietly, but I couldn't shake the thought. The idea that maybe—just maybe—I could settle down somewhere like this. A small, peaceful place with a roof over my head and a bed that wasn't half bad. It was the kind of thing I could have only dreamed of back when I was stuck in that hellish doomsday, alone with nothing but my thoughts and the endless, empty horizon.

We sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, sipping our tea and enjoying the quiet. Just two people who had been through hell and back, finding a brief moment of peace in each other's company.

"We should see what this place is actually like," I said, setting down my empty cup. "What else there is nearby, if we have anything to actually be concerned about."

Lila rolled her eyes, though there was a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Why do you want to ruin it already, Five?"

"That's the point, I don't. But I'd much rather know if this place is unsafe now than get comfortable and let our guard down later." I got up from the bed, feeling the familiar stiffness in my limbs. We were both still dressed from the day before—a habit we'd formed out of necessity, not luxury. It felt strange to still look clean and fresh after all this time on the subways, where changing clothes was a rare privilege.

Lila nodded, following my lead. "Alright, what's the plan? What are we looking for?"

"I'll grab some paper from the study—or better yet, maybe there's a map—and we'll draw out a perimeter. If there's nothing within it that seems like an immediate threat, then… great." I didn't bother to say what we'd do if we found something. We both knew the answer to that.

We headed downstairs, the wooden floorboards creaking under our feet. In the study, I rummaged through the desk drawers, pushing aside old papers, pens, and a few books that had been left to gather dust. Finally, I found what I was looking for—an old, folded map of the area. It was yellowed with age, but still legible.

"Got it," I said, holding up the map. "Let's take a look."

Lila joined me at the desk, peering over my shoulder as I unfolded the map. We studied it for a moment, tracing the lines of roads and trails that crisscrossed the landscape. There was a small river marked to the north, and what looked like an old watchtower not too far from the house.

"We'll head in that direction first," I said, pointing to the tower. "If it's still standing, it'll give us a good view of the surrounding area."

"Sounds like a plan," Lila agreed. "But first, breakfast."

We made our way to the greenhouse, where the air was warm and fragrant with the smell of earth and growing things. The strawberries were ripe, their red skins gleaming in the sunlight. We picked a handful each, eating them straight off the vine. They were sweet and tangy, a rare treat after so many meals of dried rations and whatever we could scavenge.

As we ate, I found an old bottle and filled it with water from the kitchen sink, testing the tap to make sure it was still clean. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to keep us hydrated on our little scouting trip.

I grabbed a backpack from the corner of the room, stuffing the map, the bottle of water, and a few other essentials inside. Lila slung the pack over her shoulder, and we headed for the door.

Stepping outside, the morning air was crisp, and the sun was still low in the sky. It was quiet, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional birdcall. It felt strange to be somewhere so still after the constant noise and chaos of the subways.

"Ready?" Lila asked, adjusting the straps of the backpack.

"Ready," I replied. But as we started walking, I couldn't help but glance back at the house. It was a good place, maybe even a safe place. But we wouldn't know for sure until we checked as much as we could. And despite everything, despite all my instincts telling me to keep moving, to never let my guard down, a small part of me hoped that maybe, just maybe, this place could be different.

Lila and I made our way towards the watchtower, moving cautiously through the overgrown path. As we got closer to the tower, the air turned cooler, and even the sounds of the forest seemed to fade away, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the soft crunch of our footsteps.

The watchtower loomed ahead, old but still sturdy. The wooden beams creaked slightly in the breeze, a reminder that this place had seen better days. I gestured for Lila to go first, watching as she began to climb the narrow ladder to the top. I followed closely behind, scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger—anything that could tell us what the hell had happened here.

When we reached the top, we were met with a panoramic view of the area. The dense forest stretched out endlessly in all directions, our temporary home just barely visible through the trees. But what really caught our attention was the town in the distance. It was unnervingly still—no movement, no sound. Cars were left abandoned on the roads, some doors still open as if the drivers had bolted in a hurry. It was a graveyard.

Lila exhaled slowly. "Well, there's nothing out here ready to jump us. That's good news, right?"

I nodded, but my eyes remained fixed on that dead town. "It's too quiet," I muttered, mostly to myself. The silence was unnerving, like the calm before a storm, and a stark contrast to the chaos I'd grown used to in past apocalyptic scenarios. "Something's off."

Lila looked at me, concern creeping into her eyes. "You think the people in the town just… disappeared?"

"More like died," I said, my voice grim. "But why? If it's some kind of contagion, there should be signs—warnings, quarantines, something." There was something we were missing, something important. We climbed down from the tower and made our way back to the house, moving faster now, a sense of urgency pushing us forward. As soon as we got inside, I headed straight for the study. If the residents had left any records—diaries, notes, anything—it would be in there.

Lila trailed behind me, her mood noticeably lighter now that we hadn't found anything threatening in the immediate area. "You think they kept records? Something that could tell us what went down?"

"Maybe," I replied, already rummaging through the drawers of the desk. Old papers, maps, notebooks—they were scattered everywhere, but nothing really stood out at first. Then, in the bottom drawer, I found a leather-bound journal. It was worn, the edges frayed from use.

I opened it and began to read, the handwriting neat and precise at the beginning, but growing more frantic as the entries went on.

Entry 1:

"Dr. Evans came by today with the news. There's been an outbreak in the city—some kind of flu, but worse. They're saying it's spreading faster than anything they've seen before. They think it might be related to the recent experiments at the labs. People are panicking, but we're far enough out that maybe we'll be safe."

Entry 6:

"It's getting worse. The city's under lockdown, and we've had to barricade ourselves in. Dr. Evans thinks it's a mutation—something to do with that Luther boy and the gene splicing they did on him. They were trying to create a cross between man and ape, but all they did was unleash a virus. People are dying in days, and there's no cure in sight."

Entry 14:

"We're running out of supplies, but it's not safe to go out. The virus is airborne now, and even the animals are getting sick. No… not sick. The animals seem fine, but it's tearing through people like wildfire. Dr. Evans said it's the ape gene—something about it making the virus adaptable to humans but harmless to other species. God help us."

Final Entry:

"There's only a few of us left now. The town is dead. We've heard nothing from the surrounding cities in weeks. I don't know how much longer we can hold out. The fever is setting in for me, too. If anyone finds this… I am dead."

I closed the journal, my mind racing. "Lila," I called, looking over at her. "The town isn't just dead. This timelines doomsday has already happened."

She stared at me, the weight of my words sinking in. "Should we check out the town, see if there's anything left?"

I shook my head, firm in my decision. "No, there's no point. Everyone will be dead. If there's even the smallest chance of the virus lingering on a surface, it'll be there. But…" My voice trailed off as I considered a new, unsettling thought. "But where's the person who lived here? If his body isn't in the house, it has to be outside somewhere. There wouldn't have been any point in going to a hospital, so he wouldn't have died there either. Unless…"

Lila's expression mirrored my thoughts, the same grim realization dawning on her. "Where is the person or persons who lived here?"

"They said they got sick. Maybe they didn't let the sickness kill them. Maybe they took themselves out." My eyes drifted toward the woods, a cold shiver running down my spine. "Guessing it was better than the alternative of dying from the virus."

I sighed, thinking about the grim possibilities. "We might come across them, but let's not actively look. Let them lay in peace where they decided to rest. For now, we know what it was, how it happened, and the chances of anything else happening here are slim to none."

A sigh escaped me, and despite everything, I found myself smiling—a small, tired smile, but genuine. "I think we can actually stay here as long as we want. The water should be safe, but let's always make sure to boil it first." I went to the sink, poured out the water we'd collected earlier. Better to be safe than sorry.

Lila started laughing, and before I knew it, I was laughing too. I wasn't even sure what was so funny, but maybe it was just the relief of having a safe place, a moment of peace. We hugged, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to breathe easy.