Reckoning Ballads

by Frostfoot-Dreamleaf

The Riverdale Gang takes on the Zombie Apocalypse, separated from each other, with ripples of one choice affecting another. A collection of all of my Riverdale Zombie!AU stories chronologically all together with new POVs.

3. May 12th, 2018

Riverdale (2:30 AM)

When Jughead thinks about those early days, they melt together like ice cream puddling at the bottom of a cone, a muddy brown, intangible mess of flavors.

Sometimes he's not even sure he knows the exactness of it all too well, despite how much everything else in his life has hinged upon getting the details correct.

Trauma, Fangs would say, an armchair psychologist from reading one book on stress, picked up at a razed bookstore, It's trauma, protecting your brain.

Doing a fairly shit job, Jughead thinks, because the things that hurt the most still ache.

Betty.

Archie.

His sister.

His mother.

He thinks one more loss would break in half completely. Already he felt like a phantom, ghosting through life, always ten steps behind saving anyone from this horrible fate.

And he had tried .

Maybe that's why nothing seems able to be pinpointed exactly. Maybe his brain is purposely messing up the details, trying to convince him that it wasn't his fault that everyone he loved was gone and dead.

But look at all those we saved, Fangs would argue, Isn't that something?

Selfishly, he'd trade all of them for even the hint of someone from that list back.

He's what he remembers.

His sister Jellybean and his mother took a vacation in Arizona. They left early before Jelly's school in Toledo finished for the year. They asked him to go, but Jughead - feeling like life here was too complicated lately and needed to get a handle on it - said no.

And maybe if he'd gone, he would have saved them.

Or he'd be dead, but at least he wouldn't be so alone now.

It's funny how you can have an entire hoard of people trusting you, but still feel like the loneliest motherfucker that ever walked this godforsaken planet. By all accounts, anyone would say that he should be glad he has the friends he does, but it's not his best friend or his girlfriend…they're just…placeholders, an ache for people Jughead is trying to desperately remember and at the same time, trying as hard as he can to let go.

He writes about them; every stupid little fact he knows about his sister, Betty, and Archie, because he feels like if he dies, they die too and he can't have that. So he fills notebooks that he lugs around, from the stupidest, smallest piece of information and they make this loss feel not so big sometimes, manageable at the best of it.

But he's getting ahead of himself.

Let's try this again; this is what Jughead remembers.

Early May of that year, the year everything fell apart, Jellybean had just gotten a phone and she was blowing up his messages with stupid pictures. Pictures of her in front of large road-side attractions. Pictures of her in ridiculous sunglasses. Pictures of her at the pool in their hotel. Pictures of her with shaved ice as big as her head.

Jughead replied to them with good-natured comments, playing along, at the time not sorry at all he hadn't joined in. It wasn't his speed. It was too carefree. What a blessing it was that Jellybean was so innocent, still, but sorry, Jughead can't imagine just going somewhere sunny and leaving the Serpents to pick up the pieces. He has a responsibility to them now.

And, after Archie was arrested, and not wanting to make Jelly feel like he didn't care about the tenth smoothie she'd had, he was stretched thin arguing with Keller to let him in the jail and responding to every single 'ping' that came across his phone.

He thinks, somewhere in there, Betty's messages to him got lost.

He had asked her to be his Serpent Queen before it all went down, but even he was a bit confused about what that meant. Still, it just seemed right. It was a step in a significant direction, probably akin to a promise ring or something. And he did mean it. He meant it with every breath he took. He loved Betty Cooper and he knew she loved him back.

But, they'd both agreed their respective best friends needed them.

Betty had shot him a soft smile, "We'll have time, Juggie," She had promised.

Betty Cooper wasn't a liar.

No one could have predicted this .

Jughead didn't hold it against her…most of the time. And, even when he did, he knew it was immature of him.

But fuck…sometimes, he couldn't help it, angry at the world more so than he ever had before.

It was so cruel, he mused, that the universe would give him the answer to everything he'd been looking for just to pluck it from his fingers.

It simply wasn't fair.

Their first few messages had been about Archie and inquiries about updates on his status. Not that Jughead had much to report on. Keller was being a real dick about it all, refusing to let anyone talk to Archie. It was like he actually believed Hiram, which was insane to Jughead. It probably didn't do him favors that Jughead had told Keller as much.

Logically, Keller had to be in Hiram's back pocket, paid off, because why else would Keller think Mr. Americana-Archibald-Andrews would have the guts to kill someone? Not when there was a literal mobster right there, and Jughead was under no illusions about public morality. Hiram Lodge had killed before and would kill again.

He'd asked Betty what her plans were but never heard something back.

In Betty's defense, she had assumed her message - telling Jughead she was at The Pembrook- had gone through. She'd sent it before Veronica started throwing shit; after that, she'd only been worried about her dark-haired friend. She never checked to see if it hadn't gone through.

Jughead just thought she had gone to sleep.

Sleep; ugg.

Jelly was wired on caffeinated soda and pinging him stupid memes that weren't even arguably that funny or were very specific to her vacation so Jughead didn't understand anyway. It was nearly 2 am and Jughead was bone-tired, the sort of tired that only exhausted middle-aged low-level corporate drones got to. The sort of tiredness that was unrelenting.

For just the quickest of seconds, he nodded off at the police station.

"Alright, you're done," Keller said.

Jughead jerked awake, "I'm fine. Let me just talk to him, please!"

"Jughead, if you don't leave, I'll have to charge you with loitering."

"Fine," Jughead snapped, "At least then I'd be in there with him!"

"Now, son, be reasonable. You don't want a petty thing like this on your record, to what? Console your friend? Archie knows you're not abandoning him."

"Does he?" Jughead pressed, "If we haven't been let in, that's rather hard to say!"

Keller sighed, looking at the ceiling, pinching his nose, "Go home."

"No."

"I'll let you see him tomorrow if you go home now and get some shut-eye."

Jughead looked at him distrustfully. People like Keller, cops, could never be trusted.

"You promise?" He sounded like a petulant child, but he didn't care.

"I do. Now git," Keller waved him out of the station lobby, "It's late enough already."

Jughead's phone blinked at 2:38 am.

The night was teasingly warm, hinting better weather was on the way. But he was still glad for his leather jacket, puffed up around his neck, for the walk home.

One thing he didn't notice back then, and he couldn't be sure he wasn't imagining post-events, but would almost swear to…was the air and the trees and the crickets were all so…still. Eeriely so.

But, Jughead was running on two hours of sleep, generously, and at the time, that silence was such a blessing.

The tents the Serpents were holed up in were down by the river. It sucked, and not just because Jedi wouldn't stop quoting the SNL skit ' In a Van Down by the River ', not even when his twin threatened him with violence. The uncertainty of it made the whole camp uneasy, like someone was just pulling and pulling and pulling on the tension, waiting for the string to snap.

So he wasn't surprised to see a few of his kind milling about, drinking from bottlenecks blanketed in crinkly paper bags. One of the elder Serpents raised his eyebrow as Jughead shuffled in so late, but didn't say much. He was untethered to normal expectations now; who gave a fuck if he was out far past his bedtime? He'd grown up all within a single fall season, feeling much closer to 28 than to 18. The older Serpent, someone who probably ran around town with his dad back in the day, held up his bottle, invitingly, but Jughead shook his head.

Even if he wasn't tired, he didn't think drinking would help much right now.

He maneuvered through the makeshift camp to the younger Serpents' sleeping quarters, and that was the nicest way he could describe it. Cheryl, and one of the few kind things she'd ever done, was get them all a bunch of those fancy multi-room tents. Of course, she wasn't generous enough to house them all up at one of her many family properties, and of course, Toni had been plucked away from such plebeian accommodations to sleep with her, but whatever.

It was a roof over their heads.

Plus, he loved Toni like a sister, and he was happy for her genuinely. He'd come around to Cheryl, mostly. She loved Toni. That's all Jughead wanted for her…for any of his Serpents.

Sweet Pea was still up, lounging on one of the ratty folding chairs they'd dug out of a dumpsite, cleaned by the Sweetwater River. He looked up as Jughead's feet crunched over the grass, gazing up from idly scrolling on his phone.

"Data sucks out here, dude," He muttered in greeting, and Jughead could see that slow-loading wheel turning endlessly on his screen.

Jughead gave a weak smile in response. Even though he'd never formally chosen Sweet Pea as his second-in-command, he'd filled that spot naturally. He was a leader that the other Serpents flocked toward but deferred to the greater power of the hierarchy to step down when Jughead joined in.

He didn't have to do that, but he had.

They may not see eye-to-eye on everything, but Jughead respected him. He liked to think Sweet Pea felt similarly.

Even now, he knew Sweet Pea was still up, watching over everything just in case. The way his eyes flickered at every sound coming from the riverbanks, the way his fingers were tensed in preparation for a fight, the way he held his jaw, as though expecting the worst to pounce out of the bushes…

"Go to bed, Sweet Pea," Jughead yawned, "Others are on watch."

"Can't sleep," Sweet Pea muttered, "Something has me wired, man."

The general unease was felt in Jughead's bones too. From a teenager being arrested, to a once-respected community father being revealed as a serial killer, well, things were sure strange lately. Jughead communicated as much, waving his hand semi-dismissively, not to be rude, but he was sure exhaustion was chasing Sweet Pea just as much as it was coming up on him.

"Times have been shit-,"

"Naw," Sweet Pea snorted, "I laughed when I heard Andrews got arrested and I don't care about Cooper's dad. No, it's something else." He chewed on his lip, staring out at the trees with a laser focus, like something was going to come crashing through them any second now. He seemed far away, his consciousness dragged by an unyielding pressure.

"Right," Jughead said flatly, "Because you're psychic, huh?" He knew what Sweet Pea joked about, even if Jughead didn't believe it. 'A little stitious', Fangs always teased. Someone who believed in fate and meaning and all the stuff that Jughead had decided was just life being a dick, no deeper meaning to be divined.

"I dunno, Jug," Sweet Pea gnawed on the side of his lip, "It's eating me up inside. The wind. The whispers in the trees."

"O…kay." Jughead was far too tired for any of this. Damnit, couldn't life just slow down one inch? If Sweet Pea wanted to sit out here and sing 'kumbaya' with nargles or whatever, fucking let him. He was an adult in every sense too, able to make his own choices. "I'm going to bed."

Sweet Pea flung his hand out in a dismissal, unwilling to tear his gaze away from the inky night.

"Promise me you'll sleep soon." Jughead lingered, too good to just let his sleep schedule be screwed due to some oogie-boogie feelings.

"Yeah, yeah, just another hour…" Sweet Pea replied hazily.

Jughead dove into his sleeping bag. He had managed to fight to the death for a smaller tent. Well, not fight to the death. He'd been gifted it, as their Serpent King. It may be tiny, but at least he wasn't packed like sardines in the ones the rest of his friends were. Right now, he was letting Jedi crash in here too; he'd gotten into a fistfight with Vade, and they needed to be separated. They fought like they were going to strangle one another sometimes, and FP was nearly sure they might accidentally if either of the twins got riled up. Jughead hadn't been thrilled about sharing his sleeping space with him, but FP had given a haggard sigh and asked him, nicely, if he'd let it go for just a night or two.

"I promise, man, I don't snore or anything!" Jedi had insisted, pressing an ice pack to his cheek.

Jedi was already inside, sprawled on the other side of the tent, a beer can dripping from his hand. Jughead gave a disgusted scowl and picked it up, flicking out the rest of it outside the tent.

Jedi was right; he sure slept like the dead. A trail of drool dripped out of his lips and onto the floor, but that was something he could clean up tomorrow.

"At least someone can pass out," Jughead muttered, curling himself in his sleeping bag. It felt scarily like his time when he'd been homeless, living at the Drive-In. But, well, at least then he had a wooden structure over the top of him.

Sometimes, what he wouldn't give to be blissfully alone there again.

Even just a week later, he'd be eating his wishes, feeling like an idiot for even thinking it.

He didn't think sleep would greet him, but his exhaustion wore out.

Before he went to bed, he glanced at his phone one last time to see if Betty had replied.

No signal blinked back at him.

"Fucking spotty signal," Jughead hissed in frustration, screwing his eyes shut, and didn't think anything of it at all.

Riverdale (3:30 AM)

By the time night had rolled around, Sweet Pea still hadn't shaken that strange, unholy feeling.

Sleep eluded him entirely.

He didn't want to lay in his tent, staring at the rips in the fabric, begging for sleep. Instead, he hiked it out to the perimeter, where at least he felt like he was doing something by watching the treeline. The folding chair was uncomfortable, and Sweet Pea slouched deep into it, trying to find a way to stretch out his body.

His heart was still pounding hard like he was fresh from a fight.

What is the universe telling you?

He bit his knuckle, furious. It wasn't true, of course. He was just…just…

He didn't know.

He tried to open YouTube, but his phone was buffering like crazy. He hadn't tried the data here since arriving, so chances are it was just shitty so far out of the way from everything. At least he had held onto his iTunes, even when everyone told him he was weird for doing that he was glad he'd ignored them since Spotify was also acting like a little bitch of an app.

The trees shifted. Sweet Pea lifted his head to see Jughead stumble back toward the camp, yawning.

He had assumed Jughead had been here much earlier. A flash of irritation that he'd been with the red-headed idiot all night bugged Sweet Pea, not when he'd been here, holding things down with FP!

But if he started a fight now…well, Sweet Pea was feeling a little punchy.

And since he couldn't punch fate or gut instincts or worry, Jughead was probably the next best thing.

He offered an olive branch, "Data sucks out here, dude."

"Go to bed, Sweet Pea," Jughead yawned, "Others are on watch."

Oh, like it's so easy, huh? Sweet Pea swallowed back his derision, instead, shaking his head.

"Can't sleep," Sweet Pea muttered, "Something has me wired, man."

"Times have been shit-,"

"Naw," Sweet Pea snorted, "I laughed when I heard Andrews got arrested and I don't care about Cooper's dad. No, it's something else."

It was true. While it was really messed up what happened to Andrews, he wasn't Sweet Pea's friend. And he knew of Betty Cooper via Jughead, but if her dad was a murdering psychopath, he ought to be in jail. Plus, he was not nearly as surprised as the rest of the town. Northsiders always seemed like they were one screw missing from a full set, if you know what he meant.

So what is it, Jordan?

Usually his 'gut feelings' only lasted a few hours. This one seemed unending, which did give him some pause.

But he wasn't able to glean what he was meant to be seeing, which made him feel dumb.

"Right," Jughead said flatly, "Because you're psychic, huh?"

Sweet Pea held his tongue. He knew when he was being made fun of, and fuck Jughead, you know? Here he was, trying to level with his future leader and have an honest and vulnerable conversation and Jughead decided to make light of it. Yeah, Sweet Pea was used to Fangs or Toni doing it, always tapping his head and asking him for lottery numbers, but this was different.

But despite all that, Sweet Pea felt trodden down. He couldn't even manage a furious response. He was just pulled thin by this feeling, this warning.

"I dunno, Jug. It's eating me up inside. The wind. The whispers in the trees."

He knew that he'd said something he shouldn't have from how strangely Jughead looked at him. At that moment, he felt just as crazy as his druggie Mom, because this was how he used to look at her.

God, he was becoming her, wasn't he? Spouting off nonsense? What the fuck did he mean by 'whispers in the trees'. Damnit. Sweet Pea needed to get himself back to planet Earth.

"I'm going to bed. Promise me you'll get to sleep soon?"

Sweet Pea waved him away, "Yeah, yeah, just another hour…" He needed to ride out this feeling, or else any attempts at sleep would be futile.

Jughead nodded once, blinking slowly, and hobbled toward his tent.

Sweet Pea remained up another hour, never managing to get any of his apps to load, before calling it a night.

Sweet Pea did try to sleep again, in his tent, but his eyes just wouldn't close. The one time he got close to falling asleep, it was like something was shaking him awake, sending him into a panic.

Too claustrophobic in here!

Angry and over-tired, Sweet Pea balled up his sleeping bag. He felt immediately better as soon as he was out in the open air again.

And though at the time he cursed his stupid brain, honestly, it probably saved his life and set him on the right path.

But he knew none of that now, so all he could do was swear under his breath as he hiked it out to a truck on the other side of the road. It was Byrdie's, or maybe Hog Eye's, but it would do just fine for somewhere to sleep tonight. It was warm enough to be able to have this option, and a truck was equally as comfortable as his tent, since with both he had no bedroll, only a pillow, and a sleeping bag.

Out under the stars, Sweet Pea felt more at ease. As though he'd done the right thing, his anxiety had settled. It was still there, concerningly, but it wasn't the almost suffocating feeling it had been all day. He focused on his breathing, on his anger, and trailed his gaze past different constellations that he'd taught himself to recognize. It was enough so that when he slipped his earbuds in and fell asleep to his music, his mind was able to settle enough to allow him to slumber.

Riverdale (8 AM)

Morning came through the blinds and spilled light onto the carpet and the end of the bed. Veronica was sure she hadn't slept more than a few moments here and there. It wasn't her choice; whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the fear on Archie's face as he was led out of the gym. She was sure he wasn't sleeping right now, scared to death in that jail cell, so hell, what right does Veronica have to sleep?

If Veronica wanted to see Archie, she should go now. Before her father stops her.

Veronica considered waking Betty. Betty would be upset that she wasn't invited to go too; she loves Archie just as dearly but in an entirely platonic way.

She doesn't not invite Betty out of unkindness. Rather, Veronica felt like she has undergone a transformation. As of today, Veronica is an adult. She is no longer a child.

She knew the moment Betty woke up to this world, a world where friends were arrested and you realized that your choices and ability to help were slim, she too would be an adult.

Veronica, kindly, didn't want to force that upon her early.

Everyone in Riverdale will grow up too fast today, of circumstances that no one saw coming. But she is not to that point yet.

It was maybe 6 am, perhaps earlier. Veronica stared at her ashen face in the mirror, at her ratty hair, at her makeup making dried riverbeds on her face, and the bags that lived under her eyes. She considered doing her make-up, to show Archie that she had not broken, but her hand rattled so much that she oped to just clean her face until she looked somewhat well-rested.

She chose dark colors, not dissimilar to what she might wear if he died. It was pair of black jeans and a black tee-shirt. She cannot summon the usual thrill that fashion brought her before, feeling ill as she tugged her clothes on.

The last thing she does is jot Betty a quick note and post it on her mirror hanging on her bedroom door, sure that Betty would awaken and find her in a few hours.

B, gone to the prison! Join me when you wake up. Have faith; we'll survive this. Love, V.

Veronica wondered if her little encouragement at the end was a bit too much. She also had a feeling Betty will realize it was more for Veronica's sake, to convince herself than it is for Betty.

The entire house was silent as she crept away.

She walked all the way there. The town had not yet yawned and lifted itself from sleep. Only the cafe is starting to open its doors, but in such a small town, even the coffee shops didn't open for another hour.

Except for the jail; crime never sleeps, isn't that the expression? Someone was always there, at the police station, because it seemed Riverdale has added quite the collection of evil-doers since Veronica arrived here. Betty talked about it once; saying how once, there were so few people being arrested in Riverdale that the jail cells were borrowed out as livestock pens.

It sounded like a town urban legend, but then again, she felt as soon as her father touched his hand on the town, evil began to seep everywhere, infect everything.

By the time Veronica arrived at the Police Station, she expected to be the first person there, sans maybe Jughead.

It took a moment to recognize the flop of black hair frantically pounding on the glass front of the station. It had been a year since she last saw this person, and she had never been very close to him from the start.

"Joaquin?" She squinted. She thought she recalled Kevin telling her that he'd hopped a bus out of town. Of course, people can hop back on buses, but it's still strange.

"Ver…oni…ica…" The name was drawn slowly out of Joaquin too, as he furrowed his brow and stared at her.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" She asked with her arms crossed, "Are you filling in for Jughead?"

Joaquin blinked, "What?" Then, he shook his head frantically, "No, no, I'm looking for Kevin! The world's gone mad. The world's gone." Veronica felt a shiver run down her spine at those words.

A second later, Sheriff Keller opened the door.

"Morning, Lodge. I should have known," He said with a weary sigh. His gaze slid to the other person, "Joaquin?" He sounded entirely shocked to see the other teen at the door front.

"Is Jughead around?" Veronica breezed inside, and she expected to see his hat-wearing head slouched in a chair somewhere, napping away.

"I sent him home around 3 A.M. That boy needed sleep. Threatened public loitering charges," Keller replied with a sad, almost knowing smile, "I'm sure he'll be back. Now you, son-,"

"Is Kevin here? He's not at home," Joaquin interrupted, "Sir, this is very important. It's the end of times. I came from Greendale and everyone there is dead and-,"

"What are you on, boy?" Keller demanded, his kind expression growing stern and furious.

"Nothing! I swear it!" Joaquin ground his teeth, fists in balls, "Where is Kevin? Sir, just turn on the radio, or the news, or-,"

Veronica slipped past the pair of arguing men, knowing where the jail cells were already.

"Archie."

Her heart leaped as Archie startled, looking like he'd gotten no more sleep than she had.

"Veronica, you're here," He whispered reverently. He came and laced his fingers in hers, and they just barely touched foreheads through the bar cells.

"I didn't-,"

"Shh," Veronica shook her head, "I don't care. I know, I know. It's my father, of course, it's him," Veronica whispered in a shaking breathe, "I'll get you out of here. Me, Betty, Jughead…none of us will rest, you know that right?"

"Oh, how moving."

Veronica snapped around to see Hal Cooper pacing in the other jail cell. In the swiftness of everything happening, she had forgotten it had only been a couple of days since apprehending Betty's father as a mass murderer. Archie reached, as though trying to shield Veronica from him, even from where he stood.

"Ignore him," Archie whispered, "He's been baiting me all night. No use, of course."

Joaquin came through the door and Keller followed a second after, not leaving much more time to talk.

"Veronica, you can't just-," Keller made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, shaking his head, "There are rules to visitation."

"Let them out! They're coming, sir," Joaquin insisted vehemently, "They'll be sitting ducks in there!"

"Who? Who is coming?" Hal demanded, jumping on the opportunity.

"This boy here has an over-active imagination, it seems," Keller sent him a heated glare, "And we'll be booking him in a moment for illegal drug use."

"I'm not on anything!" Joaquin insisted again, jerking his arm away. Veronica felt like she was pretty good at reading people. When she looked at Joaquin, she saw true fear behind his eyes. Even if he was high, whatever he was seeing, he was genuinely afraid of it.

Something clanged about in the front of the station. Everyone froze, maybe a little freaked out by Joaquin's words, even if people like Keller didn't want to admit it.

It sounded like a bull shouldering through a china shop.

"Just one second," Keller said, his eyes narrowed into thin slits, "Probably some town trouble makers. Damn Ghoulies or something," He muttered under his breath, "I'll handle this. You; stay here," He pointed to Joaquin, "And you," He pointed to Veronica, "Once I return, we'll do this properly, ya'hear?"

Veronica nodded glumly, her fingers tightening in Archie's. She wanted to scream and defy Keller, but she had to do this right if any of them wanted a chance.

Keller crept out to the front of, hand on his holster.

His words were difficult to make out back here, but there was some yelling and sharp commands thrown, a confrontation with someone.

Then, everyone felt the hair rise on the back of their neck as Tom Keller screamed.

Riverdale (9 A.M)

Jughead woke to the smell of smoke and screaming.

He fought his sleeping bag, tangled in the puffed padding, kicking on the floor of his tent like a man caught up in a straightjacket.

There was a weird sound above him. A gurgling, maybe, or growling.

Jedi was trying to rip the sleeping bag open, a franticness that put the fear of god right into Jughead.

"What's going on out there, man?" From the way the light was filtering into the camp, it was very early morning. He couldn't have gotten more than three or four hours of sleep, but the camp was in a panic. Therefore, he was wide awake.

Was Keller doing a sweep? Had Mayor McCoy insisted they clear out and had called someone to forcibly shove them away? Was Hiram doing something dastardly?

Jedi didn't answer, just gave a strange groan.

His jaw came freakishly close to Jughead's arm.

"Woah, man, what the fuck?" He asked, swatting Jedi away, "Are you drunk?" He demanded, "Course you are," He muttered, recalling the beer in his hands. Probably the last of many he'd partaken in last night. He always got wasted when he was fighting with Vade. They were so explosive, it pissed Jughead off sometimes.

Jedi snapped his mouth just a hair's breadth away from Jughead, and sirens went off in his mind. Something was seriously wrong with his friend.

"Back the fuck up, I'm serious!" Jughead commanded, and when he managed to free himself, trying to figure out why it smelled like burning flesh, he got a good look in Jedi's eyes.

They were glassy and empty.

Not in the way someone was when they were high on Jingle Jangle, but in the way someone was when all thoughts had left the building. Totally vacant, no lights on up there.

That's not Jedi anymore…

The thought was crazy. Of course, it was. Whatever he was on was gnarly, but it was still the goofy Serpent he knew, right?

So, if so, why had that thought felt like such a certainty barreling through him?

Freaked out, Jughead stumbled through the opening of his tent and into absolute chaos.

The source of the burning smell was that, literally, the camp was on fire.

The tall grasses around the banks were lit up like sparklers; cattywampus, reeds, and tall foliage swaying on fire. It had spread to the tents where his dad and his friends had been sleeping, the flames eating away at the plastic, the once colorful view now obscured by thick, black plumes.

People around Jughead were screaming. A Serpent barreled past Jughead, knocking his shoulder as they fled in terror.

But not everyone was running; no, that was what was strange. Some of the Serpents seemed to be shuffling, oddly, in the same gaited way that Jedi had been.

"Jughead! Help! Help!" Someone wailed to his left and Jughead spun around to see Buzz dragging himself on the ground, crawling pitifully, tears streaming down his face. Jughead leaped into action, trying to help him up, but Buzz motioned to his legs. Someone had torn the jeans clean apart, and taken a bite out of his flesh.

"What the fuck…" Jughead echoed, eyes wide, "Are you…joking?"

Man, it must be a bad batch of Jingle Jangle. Whatever those ghoulies put in it, Jughead was going to kill every single one of them. It wasn't bad enough that they were displaced from their home, but they had to kick their enemies while they were down by eviscerating them too? Jesus!

He pulled Buzz to a standing pose, though Buzz could hardly hold himself up. Just as they were hobbling away, Jedi broke loose of the tent behind Jughead, grasping onto Buzz's shoulders.

"No! Bad Jedi!" Jughead said, tugging the other direction, "Let him go!"

He didn't know why he was still talking like Jedi had any sense of comprehension in him; it was clear whatever drugs he was on were melting his brain like mad.

"Don't let him get me, don't let him get me-," Buzz was wheezing so hard Jughead thought he was going to pass out, "Help me, man, help me!"

Jughead kicked at Jedi, but Jedi possessed an above-average strength. Not just that Jedi was a secret body-builder or something, but strength unusual for someone so doped up. Now that he had his dirty, bloodied hands on Buzz, he bit onto his shoulder hard.

Buzz let out an inhuman scream as Jughead stared, uncomprehendingly.

An arrow whizzed past, right into Jedi's head.

The dim light flickered out in his expression and he toppled backward, staring up at the blue, clear sky.

Jughead spun to see Toni and Cheryl, Cheryl taking careful aim.

"What are you doing?" Jughead ran in front of her.

"Good god, hoodlum, do you want to be speared through the eyes?" Cheryl demanded.

"What are you doing?" Jughead demanded in a harsher tone, "You killed Jedi!"

"He was already dead, sweetie," Cheryl replied in that condescending way Jughead despised, "That wasn't him."

"You…you…" He struggled for words. For a writer, he was not usually so illiterate, but the tiredness and the exhaustion that still clung to him, mixed with the absolute confusion, felt like someone had turned his brain to mush.

"Buzz!" Toni gasped, flocking to her friend's side, "Oh…oh….shh…" She leaned down, soothing the dark-haired boy with quiet hums.

"Help…me…" He gurgled, his fingers pressing against his neck. It had been torn away, a jagged line of flesh hanging limply.

Cheryl stalked over to Jedi and fished the arrow out of the former Serpent's head.

Then, before Jughead could so much as move, she trained the arrow to Buzz's head and let her fingers go.

Jughead felt his former dinner rise up his throat.

"He wasn't going to survive for very long," Cheryl said, almost emotionlessly.

"What the fuck is happening?" Jughead asked in a watery, pained tone, wiping bile from his chin.

"The end of the fucking world, obviously!" Fangs yelled, using his crutches to beat back one of…those. Cheryl dispatched it quickly, to the relief of Fangs, who looked like he was having a tough time with his broken leg.

"Fangs!" Toni said, relief slouching her shoulders as she ran to him, pressing her nose deeply into his shoulder, "You're alive, you're alive-,"

"Only barely. Man!" He shook his head, "It's crazy!"

"It's the Ghoulies," Jughead spat, "And some fucked-up drug."

"You haven't heard?" Cheryl asked, almost amused, "Oh, Jughead, it's everywhere. It's an epidemic."

Jughead blinked at her, shaking his head, "Wha…what?" He sputtered, "No, no-,"

"Where's Sweet Pea?" Toni asked Fangs, craning her neck around.

Fangs looked green, only pointing to a tent on fire.

"He went to bed late…I couldn't get there, it was already up in smoke…" His voice broke, "I tried, Toni, I tried," He whispered, his words falling into sobs as he showed her a blistered burn all up his arm, "God; the screams…the smell…"

"He was…I just talked to him last night…" Jughead whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Jughead! Jug!"

Jughead whipped his head around to see his Dad.

"Dad!" He yelled, jumping over bodies to reach his father, pushing himself into the warmth of his embrace, "Everyone's dying…we're on fire here…Jedi's dead and so is Buzz and-," He babbled, words falling out in a hurried stream, and he realized he was shaking so hard it was hard to talk.

"I don't know what's going on, but we gotta get out of here!" FP said firmly, "Blossom, keep shooting! Headshots only; it seems to be what's slowing them down."

"On it, sir," Cheryl said, taking the arrow from Buzz's skull. The sound it made when it came out made Jughead sick to his stomach once again.

"What is 'them'?" Jughead whispered.

"Awe, I don't know, but it's nothing good," FP said, "C'mon; grab anyone still alive, we gotta retreat!"

"To where?" Fangs asked, helping someone else stand.

"How about the high school?" Lann asked, covering his mouth with a shirt and coughing deeply, "Southside High? It's not far!"

"Yes; there," FP seemed relieved to have someone else suggest somewhere, "Retreat! To Southside High! Grab anyone you can!"

It was a mad dash. Jughead had never been so exhausted as right now, but he had to keep pushing. Pushing himself, pushing others forward, pushing people up, and pushing that fear out of the back of his mind that Betty was trapped somewhere in this too, or already dead.

Of course, you're going to go looking for her, Jughead told himself, But you gotta help the Serpents first. Then Betty; no if, ands, or buts.

What good was the Serpent King and Queen, he thought wryly, if there would be no Serpents left?

Besides, he reminded himself, he loved Betty because of her fire and spit.

She wouldn't go down without a fight, and honestly, he was sure she wouldn't 'go down' at all.

Somewhere, she was probably waiting it out, waiting for him.

I'm coming, Betty.

He tried to ignore how many people he knew were dead on the ground, limbs torn off in medieval ways that made him want to scream. So many left; so many staring forever at the sky, faces morphed in pure terror.

He couldn't imagine what their last moments must have felt like.

The screams followed their convoy all the way to the high school.

"It's the end of the world," Fangs repeated again, deliriously, "End of fucking times."

Yeah...sure as shit was.

Riverdale (11am)

Polly was screeching.

It grated on Alice's ears as she stared out the window of their perfect suburban home, with their white picket fence (now splattered with blood), and their blooming flowerbeds (now trampled into the dirt), and their cute little mailbox (mowed down by a wayward car, now on fire). She stared at the person in the middle of their street eating someone else, horrified, though, not as much so as she ought to be.

The world has gone to hell.

Alice had trained herself out of using such language a long time ago, desperate to be seen as better and less crass than her Southside teenage self. But, in moments like this, she couldn't think of a better way to say it.

The world has gone to hell, and left us here to fight it.

In the turning of night over to day, the world just outside her door had exploded into chaos.

God, Polly was still screaming. And her screaming was going to eventually attract something, though Alice was sure it wasn't going to be a good thing.

She slapped her hand over her daughter's mouth.

"Just…" Alice searched for some soothing, kind reassurance, but her brain found none "Shut up!"

Still, this seemed to be the trick, because Polly's voice died down to a muffled whimper, her eyes gathering with tears as she stared wide-eyed at her mother, blinking fast.

"Stop screaming," Alice said tiredly, slowly retracting her hand. Then, she took stock of the situation, "We need to go. Now."

"What?" Polly asked, sniffling, holding in great breaths.

"We need to leave," Alice repeated, "Until this all blows over."

"What blows over?" Polly warbled, "What's going on, Mom?"

"I don't know, Pol!" Alice wanted to tear her hair out, "Drugs. Something nasty, I'm sure of it. Alright?" She wasn't, but it was a decently good guess. The whole fuss about bath salts and flesh-eating degenerates popped into her mind. This had to be similar, right? A bad cocktail of halogenics.

Polly nodded, seemingly glad that her mother was taking charge. Even if she doubted it was this (but Alice didn't think she had the capacity to question) she seemed like she was willing to turn her brain off right now.

"Where will we go?"

Alice was already throwing things into suitcases. She was sure this was going to just be a weekend thing, and soon the CDC or DOJ would swoop in and clean up Riverdale, but god…she just couldn't be sure.

"Mom?" Polly asked again, her pitch rising.

"Grab whatever the twins need for an extended weekend," Alice snapped. She took the stairs two at a time, flinging her closet door open, reaching for her leather jacket.

"Are we going to the Serpents?" Polly asked, shrinking and shivering.

Alice considered it.

She did more than consider it; she dreamed about it. About finding FP in the wake of what seemed like the end of the world, reuniting with him. She deserved it, one last time, didn't she? To not continue to punish herself with this distance, to mend old wounds and apologize for long ago fights?

Oh, did she ever want to.

But even if she'd 'rejoined' the Serpents, if this was drugs like she suspected, there was no way that the Serpents weren't a part of this. While she suspected it was the Ghoulie's fault, the Serpents weren't good at ignoring designer drugs hitting the street.

And she had grandchildren to think about.

"No." Alice said forcefully, more to herself than Polly, "No, we'll…we'll go to Grandma."

She hadn't talked to her mother in years , but where else did you go when you were scared? You went to your mom. And her mother's house was far out of the way, hidden, and safe. Plus Grandma Smith was terrifying in her own right. She was always a bit distrustful of government, as a good Southsider ought to be, and Alice knew she had more than one gun squirreled away, just in case.

Yes, they'd head upstate.

"Polly, get a hold of Betty, will you?" Alice asked.

Polly wiped her nose, sending off a text. She stared at her phone a moment, and then frantically pressed the phone to her ear.

"Mom, the texts aren't going through…and I can't get a tone!"

"Oh, Polly," Alice gave a heavy sigh, "Give it to me. Go pack, now."

She was sure her daughter's franticness was causing her fingers to fumble. But when she pulled out her own phone, all her messages gave the '!' warning and her phone rang and rang and rang forever, without answering. She also couldn't find Betty on 'Find my Phone', but that may be nothing. Betty could have turned it off a long time ago in a fit of teenage rebellion. No need to worry…right?

This is much worse than you think it is, Alice.

But she couldn't tell Polly that. Polly would would break into sobs at even the mere mention of this being something to truly worry about. She had to stay strong for her other daughter, for her grandchildren.

She finished packing, lugging their things down the stairs.

"But…what…about…Betty?" Polly asked between hiccuped sobs.

"Betty is in three likely places. One; she's with Jughead. The Serpents won't let anything happen to Betty or Jughead. FP will get out of dodge if things are bad, or send them back here. Two; she's with Veronica. I don't like Hiram, but do you think he's going to let anything kill him? Three; she's with the gang at the prison, supporting Archie. If that's the case, that may be the safest of any." Alice said evenly, "Betty will no doubt try to find us soon."

Between her two daughters, Alice was more sure Betty would handle this without falling into hysterics. Truth was that wherever Betty was, it was likely safer than if she were here. She didn't want to leave without Betty, of course not, and when they reunited after the weekend, she'd have a long talking to about turning off her location, and ground her appropriately.

She snatched a piece of computer paper and scribbled a quick message, taping it to the back of the door.

Betty, love, come find me. I'm going to Grandma Smith's.

"Get the kids in the car," She commanded. Polly moved like she was fighting through molasses, sending too-bright and fake smiles at her children.

"It's alright, it's alright…"

Right before they left, Alice grabbed all the knives from the kitchen, depositing them into a metal mixing bowl.

"What the hell, mom?" Polly choked when her mother dropped the inventory in her lap.

"Just in case."

As they reversed, Alice caught sight of the Andrew's garage caved in. Mary had complained to Alice for years that Fred was ignoring the structural issues of it, and one day she'd had enough of everything.

"Wait; someone's screaming!" Polly cried.

"I don't hear anything," Alice lied, speeding away before Polly could stop her.

Sorry Fred. It's you or us; we need to survive.

"Mom…it's going to be alright, isn't it?"

"Of course, Polly," Alice said, lying through a smile, "Don't worry about anything at all."

Riverdale (11:30 A.M)

Betty wonders if she'd started this new world out with Jughead and FP if it would be different. She had plans to spend the night with Jughead before the pep rally, but cancelled them in favor of her friend and Jughead agreed, as he was preparing to spend a night in the sheriff's office to be around Archie. She's glad they've mended whatever problems they had with each other, since their friendship is something Betty never wants to see either of them loose. And, if Betty could, she may have been camping out with Archie too. But, Veronica needs her.

It's strange to to think, because she muses that if she didn't't have Veronica as a friend, she would be with Archie. However, if Veronica never came, Archie wouldn't be in prison to begin with. Maybe he'd be planning gigs for a garageband for the summer months, in between working at his dad's crew. Maybe Betty would be half-way on her way to another internship. Maybe Jughead would be sending out his manuscript to publishing houses. And, in a very impossible way, Betty wonders if maybe the apocalypse wouldn't have come at all.

She tries not to think about that too much, but in those first few months, it's fairly inevitable.

She didn't know what was creeping on their town. What she did know is that when she woke up the next morning, Veronica wasn't there. There was a note left on the vanity with Veronica's impeccable handwriting announcing she would be at the prison and that Betty should come whenever she wakes. It seems peppier than the night before, but from the way the pen presses hard, Betty knows Veronica is still reeling. Betty snatches the note off the vanity. Later, she'll be glad to have a memento of one of her best friends.

Betty checks her phone to text Jughead, wondering if he's still at the prison with Archie like he has been all night. She should have thought it strange she had no service, no internet. However, with the stress and exhaustion of everything else going on, brushing aside technology acting up is simple to do.

Hermione and Hiram aren't home either. No one is home in the large apartment, not even downstairs at the door, where there's always someone guarding them.

After everything, this does send shivers up her spine.

Betty makes an executive decision; she ransaks the apartment until she finds one of the many guns she knows Hiram has hidden away. She can apologize later, hopefully, when she's still alive. She just has to make it to that point, she tells herself.

She recalls the attempt on Veronica's life with Small Fry. How would someone not know, if they'd never seen Veronica, that she was not Hiram's daughter, if someone else was lurking around, waiting for revenge. The blonde hair may be a giveaway, but if she's learned anything, these thugs aren't ones to check facts first.

The internet router says it's a problem with the service. The Lodge's still have a phone hooked into the wall, probably for nefarious purposes, but when Betty picks it up, there's no dial tone. Betty waffles in the living room of Veronica's apartment for a couple hours, fighting with herself. She's been in more dangerous situations before, even if she does not exactly what the danger is. However, those situations have always escalated quickly, and she usually has someone else- be it Archie, Jughead, or even her mother. She has scouted the whole apartment and not found a single soul, so staying here would be the safest.

Betty likes to think that it was mainly her worry for her loved ones that drew her out, but in all honesty, it was her curiosity. Betty can't help it; throwing herself into situations like this.

Outside looks like the world just stopped existing. Cars are abandoned halfway in the street, windows are broken, and things- couches, money, personal items- are sprawled across the road. Most terrifyingly, there's just silence.

There's a pair of people in the street. Since Betty's phone is acting like she's in the middle of Antarctica and is glitching out, refusing to connect to service or wifi, Betty sighs, approaching them.

Ignoring the drug use, the Ghoulies, her own father, and Hiram Lodge, Riverdale is relatively safe (or, was) and Betty knows pretty much everyone in town, which is why she feels okay taking a couple steps forward. She thinks that one of the people might be the college drop-out who bags her food at the grochery store; his name is Chad or Chet or something. However, he seems unresponsive in the usual way. His body is bent forward in a position that looks highly painful, however he makes no moves to amend his stance. Her confusion about everything causes her to keep a hand on the gun.

"Uh, hey, hi...Do you happen to know what's going…"

She pauses, lips parted, frowning. She's just come around one of the abandoned cars and for the first time, she has a full view of the situation before her.

One of the people is laying on the ground, and they're undeniably dead. Their head looks like it was run over by a truck, and that should have been the worse thing Betty's ever seen. It isn't, but it's a close second. What is hands down the most vile thing Betty's ever seen is that the second person- Brett, yes, that's his name- seems to be eating the first, fingers digging into their innards like it's spaghetti. She's known Brett to be high on occasion, but weed doesn't make someone do that.

Brett- the cannibal, Betty at first thinks, wondering if this is meth gone really wrong- turns around.

"You're not a person," The words slip out before she can fully think it through. Brett is a person. This is not Brett, she realizes with a horrified intake. It's hardly human. A person would not have a bite ripped from their shoulder and look okay. A person wouldn't have their jaw hanging and still be eating flesh. A person wouldn't be whatever this thing is.

Betty think it used to be Brett, which is equally terrifying, but she cannot know what it is now.

Her instincts give her two choices; run or fight. Both alert her to the fact that this thing is no friend and she should be very, very afraid.

She raises the gun, stumbling back a step or two.

The thing stumbles toward her, making a low keening sound in the back of a throat she's not sure it still has, dragging toward her at no quick speed. It's not the speed that makes Betty's blood freeze, it's the whole thing and the feeling that she could be next on this thing's meal list.

She shoots it in the chest, but it does not stop. She shoots it again, and though it slices through the thing like butter, the creature continues to advance. Betty stumbles back, falling hard on the concrete, over a car.

The creature is at her feet and Betty raises the gun once more, aiming for it's head.

She doesn't register the hit, not at first, not until she's bathed in sticky, nearly black blood and the body falls beside her, unmoving.

Betty is shaking hard and it's really all she can do to drag herself into one of the empty back seats of the abandoned cards, slamming the doors around her.

Inside the vehicle, her fingers are numb and she drops the gun to the carpeted floor, wiping away her cheek and seeing it come back covered in something that she would compare to molasses, if molasses had the smell of decay accomping it.

It's all she can do at this point to scream into her hand, holding back the tears.

She wants to find Jughead. She wants her mother. She wants Archie and Veronica. She wants to find Brett alive somewhere else, because that would mean that she didn't just kill him. She wants her sister. She might even take her father now, because having him hold her in this moment would feel more normal than what's going on outside.

Betty is a logical person and literally nothing about this is making a lick of sense.

Betty also has rarely felt fear, not when she's gone through so much. She recognizes that fear would have been appropriate, after the fact, but when chasing the fake Black Hood or answering her phone, she's too aware of every other sense. Today, however, right now...this fear overwhelms her in a way that she's never felt before. It suffocates her, creeping into her darkness and strangling it.

Betty cannot imagine herself stepping a moment further. She hates herself for feeling like such a coward, but she can still see the the supine outline of Brett that she just killed, or thing- she is, once again, not sure it's a person- and that really puts something into perspective for her.

Her arm is hurting like nothing else. She peels back her sweater to see that it's bright red and matted. Somehow, when she fell, she must have sliced her arm open and just not even noticed. She wraps it as well as she can, wishing she had some advil or something, because now that she has only this to focus on, it really stings. She contemplates her options; she can venture out to find some pain meds, she can ventur even furthur to find people she cares about, she might run into more of those. She checks the gun and sees she used the last bullet into the brain of that thing. This pretty much cements her choice.

Betty stays in the car.

Riverdale (Noon)

It was as though someone went and hit 'mute', for it was so silent afterward that Veronica could have sworn she was dreaming. It was only when Joaquin started backing away from the entrance door, shaking and almost crying, and whispered, "They're here," that Veronica heard a noise.

Someone grunted and dragged themselves around outside. It sounded like someone was eating something. It was a terrible sound; sloppy, gnashing, squishy. The sort of sound of a group of high school students chowing down on sloppy joe's in the lunchroom, but there was something eerie about this, something that told Veronica something's not right.

"What's here?" Hal demanded, his voice now echoing off the empty space that surrounded them.

"Shhh!" Joaquin spun and shushed him so violently that it shut everyone up, "I don't…know…" He admitted, rubbing his arms, "Things. Evil. Demons. I don't know what they are."

Veronica held in a snort. Riverdale was always at the center of some weirdness, and she was sure this was no different. Usually, it was far less scary than it was made out to be.

"I'm going to check," She announced, rolling her eyes, despite her gut feeling.

As she said; it was always something incredibly stupid. Her gut feeling had been wrong hundreds of times.

"You are not!" Archie hissed, reaching out for her to try to stop her. Veronica shot him a loving glance.

"I'll be fine," She said with a soft smile.

"If she wants to check…" Joaquin motioned with a wave, "Then she'll see I'm not crazy. Or on drugs." He said with a flare of his nostrils. While Veronica didn't think he was on drugs, 'crazy' was just about relative. She did think she'd find something, but she thought it was unlikely she'd corroborate Joaquin's tall tales.

She carefully tip-toed to the front of the police station, the strange noises growing louder with each step forward. She covered her mouth and nose with her own hand to keep the sounds to a minimum - a gut reaction from having so many instances of needing to stay quiet- and peered curiously.

Veronica nearly threw herself behind the wall in terror.

She sunk down to sit, biting the flesh of her hand to keep from screaming. Her legs would not move, no matter how much she tried to urge them to crawl, crawl, crawl back to safety. An eek of a scream slipped out, like air escaping a balloon, and she screwed her eyes shut, feeling a terror unlike anything else she'd ever felt.

It had only been a mere glimpse, but that image would haunt her for all time. She would close her eyes and remember the first moment where she truly understood the danger they were all in, where yes, her world did change, even if she could not make heads or tails of what she saw.

Here's what Veronica saw; Tom Keller was eviscerated on the floor, his guts spilled out and his blood leaking out around him. There were people that seemed to be tearing, eating, his flesh away, wholly interested in this meal. The utter gore of it was straight out of a slasher film, but a great one with a high special effect budget that made you walk out of the theater feeling squeamish.

But this wasn't a movie.

This was real life and Sheriff Keller's blood puddled and spread to the point that her hands could almost touch it.

Tom Keller was dead, or god, she hoped he was. If he was alive, she couldn't imagine the pain he was in.

She crawled back to the jail cells slowly, dragging her legs more or less behind her, every audible inhale or whimper she produced sending a jolt of fear through her that whatever those things were would hear her and she'd be next.

She pulled herself to walk through the doors where the trio waited to hear back from her, but as soon as she was safe, she turned and shut the door behind them and locked it with every lock that she could.

"What did you find?" Joaquin asked, but hell, he already knew, didn't he? Is this what he'd seen? How was he still talking, not balled in his bedroom and crying? Had it been someone he knew? Someone he loved?

"They were…eating him…." Veronica managed to stutter out, knowing she was seconds away from breaking down completely.

"What?" Archie shook his head, "What do you mean by 'eat'? Cannibals in Riverdale?"

"It was more than that!" Veronica insisted, "Joaquin's right! It was…unholy. Deranged. They weren't right!" She felt bile rise up her throat as she recalled the sounds they'd made as they snacked on Tom's innards.

Joaquin found her a bucket and she barfed up the espresso she'd had this morning, hiccuping quietly to keep herself from full-out crying. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go to bed.

She wanted Archie and her mother and even her father.

"Bath salts?" Hal offered, his expression one she knew well. She saw it on Betty often, whenever she was taking on a problem that needed solving. It was nearly uncanny.

"No, maybe, I don't know," Veronica threw her hands up, wiping the back of her lips. Why did she suddenly have answers? She had none. "They wouldn't listen to reason, whatever the case. I don't want to try it, you know. And Tom is for sure…" She forced the words out, "Dead. He can't help us."

"Well, Jug will be here soon. Probably with FP or Alice or Betty. Someone will know what to do," Archie said, looking around, hoping for someone to agree with him.

"Get us out," Hal said, "I'm not going to wait here to die by some junkie who thinks I'm a prime rib!"

"His keys…" Veronica stuttered, "I'm not going out there. I can't, I won't!" She pushed herself away from the locked door. She hated how cowardly she was being right now.

"Do you have a bobby pin?" Joaquin asked, looking cautiously at Hal.

"Don't let him out! He's a serial killer, haven't you seen the news!" Archie spat in his direction.

"Then you want me on your side! I have no qualms with killing a few idiots if they come knocking," Hal reasoned, "I'm much more useful to you out there than in here."

"Are you going to kill us?" Veronica asked, wiping away her tears. She had to be strong right now.

He tilted his head, then paused, "No. If that kid unlocks me, I'm in his debt. And you two…Betty would never forgive me," He said simply.

"Like you care about Betty at all," Archie snarled.

"I do, whether or not you choose to believe it. I always have." Hal looked almost amused by his protectiveness.

Veronica stared him down, then her expression twitched, "Get Archie out first. Then him."

"What, babe, you can't be serious!" Archie's face was red with anger, "He shot my father! He deserves what's coming to him!"

"And we're three teenagers with nothing!" Veronica lowered her voice, very aware and afraid that they would hear noise back here and be summoned, whatever they were, "I don't want to die today, Archie Andrews and I suspect that neither do you."

Joaquin looked between them. Not waiting for Archie's choice, but not quite deferring his command to Veronica either. He just looked scared. Like a scared little boy too far in over his head. To think he'd been complicit in many ways in Jason's murder, and she'd thought he was so different than everyone else. But here he was, looking like he was two seconds from shitting his pants or wailing for his parents.

"Fine," Archie spat out, interrupting Veronica's assessment of Joaquin, "But only because I have a moral compass," He said as a slight toward Hal, "And I'd feel shitty if we left him in here to die. Like you said; Betty would never forgive me. Even if she's mad at you."

"Joaquin, well you-,"

The things began banging on the door, cutting Veronica off. She inhaled sharply, taking four automatic steps back. Archie's eyes grew wide and Joaquin dropped the hairpin.

"Shh…shh…" Veronica said, making a lowering motion with her hands, "Whisper; be quieter," She said, her words scarcely audible.

Hal just laughed, "You'd better work quickly. Seems as though time is not on our side anymore."

Veronica shot him a furious glare. She knew it was embarrassing to defer to a teenager, but seriously?

"You can open 'em quick, right?" Archie said in a quiet, now frantic tone, as though realizing that death could be seconds away for all of them. Even if they got Archie and Hal out, Veronica wasn't sure what was next, but it was better to have four against however many there were instead of two against.

"I can pick locks," Joaquin said, his bright blue eyes flickered up to Archie's face, and that seemed to calm Archie.

Not Veronica.

"You didn't answer the question, though."

Joaquin pursed his lips, "Wouldn't you rather want me working on getting them out than answering asinine questions?" He asked in a sharp tone, and his cleverness surprised Veronica, though it should not have. He was a Serpent after all, and frankly, most of the ones she had met were not dumb. Maybe not the most book-smart, but none were stupid.

Veronica raised her hands and backed off, and for six agonizing minutes, while the pounding, groaning, and moaning grew progressively louder outside, there was silence in the jail cell as Joaquin worked. Veronica watched a thin film of sweat covering his forehead and chin, and she was about to step in and snap something out of fear, but then there was the tell-tale click of a lock releasing.

"Thank god," Archie sighed, and as soon as he could, he came bounding out, "We need to find weapons." He said, grasping Veronica's wrist and leading her further back into the cells as Joaquin began work on Hal's.

"What?" Veronica stuttered, "This is meant to be entirely non-weaponized! It's literally the worst place to get stuck."

Archie grabbed a guard's chair and awkwardly placed it in Veronica's hands, giving a stressed sigh, looking around for something that he could use.

"Gotta fight with our bodies. And besides, anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough," Hal said. It was jarring. Veronica hadn't known him much before this, but Archie looked ashen-white. He sounded like a father, giving sound advice. He sounded normal, even if the words were not.

Hal had not been ostracized before this. He must have been well-liked. For years, no one even had a clue he had such vile thoughts brewing under the surface, and more than that, the town had seemed shocked when all was revealed. It was easy for Veronica to think of him as such a bad person, but even when Archie's father had been shot by him, Hal had been his neighbor for years and it was clearly like whiplash to the teenage ginger.

"You might have to give us a crash course," Veronica said, starting to see dents in the metal door. What were these things? Were they actually demons, as Joaquin claimed? She knew the jokes from Greendale well enough; magic, witches, voodoo. Had something actually happened? Was this an honest-to-god spell gone wrong?

Hal's lock clicked open and he moved in front of the kids protectively.

"Got any weapons on you, kid?" He asked Joaquin. Joaquin offered a shaky knife from his back pocket. Hal beamed in pride, "Good one!" He sounded like a proud father and Joaquin sort of beamed from the praise.

"It was the best I could do before I ran," Joaquin whispered, "Though not much good."

"Oh, it can be very good," Hal said with a wide smile. He laid out his palm and Joaquin, with far less hesitation than Veronica would have, handed it. Hal weighed the weapon before turning to Archie, "Take that stool, Andrews. Time to put your football muscle to good use."

The doors burst open and some ungodly creatures blew in. They limped, not as fast as Veronica would have thought, but fast enough to be terrifying nonetheless. There were only two, and here's what struck Veronica as the most horrible thing; they looked human. Not humans high on something, but human-like. It was tickling her danger signs and the Uncanny Valley warning sirens in her brain. They looked human, but they obviously weren't.

Though ludicrous, her mind was putting more stock in her Greendale theory.

They also were familiar. She was just trying to figure it out when she heard Hal take a sharp, stuttered breath.

"Bernard Klump?" He whispered. Veronica knew now who he looked like; Midge. Was this her father?

"And, isn't that Ginger Lopez's older sister?" Archie whispered frantically, "Scarlett! It's Archie!"

"I don't think they're those people anymore," Joaquin was the first to say what Veronica knew was on all of their minds. It was true. Their eyes were glassy. Nothing going on behind them. Not just dumb, but non-present.

Bernard lunged, or maybe fell, towards Archie on the outskirts and Archie swung the chair hard. It maybe wasn't meant to do much harm, but it sent Bernard's head flying.

Everyone stood in horror, except the Scarlett-not-Scarlett, as the body just slumped over and stopped moving forward. It was still twitching.

"Oh my god, I didn't…mean to…" Archie dropped the chair, "I'm never going to graduate high school. I killed Midge's dad!"

"It's not human," Joaquin whispered in anger, perhaps frustration, "Look!" He pointed towards the detached head.

It was still moving.

First off, normal humans weren't decapitated by a mere chair. Second, their jaws for sure didn't chomp after such activities and their eyes weren't still rolling around.

"In that case-," Hal kicked Scarlett back with a foot just as her grimy, blood-stained hands were reaching for him. As she started to flail, Hal pushed the knife deep into her skull. Veronica had never killed anyone, but it seemed to sink in far easier than it should have.

Scarlett jerked like she'd been electrified before slumping to the ground.

"Easy, eh?" Hal said, taking the knife out. It was covered in a black, goopy substance, "Yuck."

He wiped it off, and gave a half-hearted look at Bernard, "Take care of that, someone, hmm?"

Veronica was about to ask 'in what way', but Joaquin took two big steps away from the group and then slammed his foot down on the still jiggling head. It splattered everywhere.

Veronica hadn't eaten anything, but anything that was still in her stomach still came back up, whatever was left from the first time she vomited. It just stung like bitter bile.

She watched Joaquin examine the splatter on his jeans. He looked a bit green himself. He muttered something in Spanish under his breath, before doing the sign of the cross over his chest.

"Well, with that, it seems I've been granted a stay of execution," Hal said, saluting the trio of teens.

"What, you can't just…leave!" Archie sputtered, "You killed so many people!"

"You think there's a world anymore to punish me? And kid, I'm sure the police have much better things to worry about right now," He motioned to the bodies on the ground, "Hey, Joaquin, you ever picked a lock to an armory?"

"I won't let you leave!" Archie said, crossing his arms and sliding between Hal and the door to the front.

"Andrews, you're a good one. I don't think you killed Cassidy, I really don't. Let's not add an actual murder to your docket." Hal said simply, patting his shoulder, "Even if you could." He added with a snort.

"Archie…" Veronica whispered.

Hal had years on any of them of fighting and killing. Archie, for all his bravado and foolhardy arrogance, would lose to him.

Archie seemed to be realizing this too. He looked at Joaquin as if asking for backup, but the Serpent shook his head.

Archie began to walk away until Hal gave a little laugh of triumph. Before anyone could blink, Archie had turned and punched Hal hard. Hal startled, grabbing his nose. Veronica ran up and pulled Archie back, fearing a full-on bloodbath was about to begin, but Archie wrenched himself away.

"I'm done, I'm done now," He hissed, "For my dad, you snake," He spat.

"Hey," Joaquin said, "Watch the insults, pal!"

Hal just patted his nose and shrugged, He just looked past Archie to Joaquin.

"Kid, weapons," Hal reminded, pointing to a well-guarded door. Joaquin nodded twice, taking to the locks. Hal moved to Keller's body, laying out all bloody and destroyed, and began to search. There wasn't much left of it, not even enough for Kevin to I.D the body. God, Kevin? How did Veronica tell him that she'd watched his dad die and did nothing?

"I deserved that, I suppose," Hal said to Archie after a moment. Maybe Archie hadn't hit as hard as he imagined, "Do you know where Betty is?" He asked Veronica, "You're best friends, aren't you?"

Veronica opened her mouth, but in the split-second it took to reply, her brain screamed not to say. To lie. Veronica just smiled sweetly, apologetically, "No, I don't. We were supposed to meet here this morning to see Archie, but she never showed."

Hal's face clouded, "Oh no," He said, pausing his frisking, "She's strong, though," He whispered, and it seemed more like a promise or assurance to himself rather than writing her off. He found a key-set, "Let's see if any of these bad boys work."

"I only got through one," Joaquin sighed, disappointed in himself.

"Hey, if those things had eaten those keys or Keller left them elsewhere, you'd be invaluable. Because I don't think any of us would want to go bobbing for keys in their stomachs."

Veronica watched as Hal opened the armory with ease. As he was trying the keys, Archie looked at Veronica, fear written all over his expression.

"Do you think Betty-,"

"Shh!" Veronica shushed him. She sent him a look that said 'later' and hoped he understood.

"Ah, yeah. You'd all be smart to stock up too," Hal said, pointing outside to where people, or non-people, waddled around. They hadn't realized there were more people in the police station.

Veronica was no stranger to weapons. She knew her parents had many stored in the house. She watched as Hal loaded up first, strapping and hiding as many items on his body as he possibly could. When he was done, he stepped back. He seemed to be waiting to see if anyone would say anything, but when no one did, he nodded and laughed a bit.

"Well, I'd say it's been great, but…my family needs me." Maybe he meant Betty. Perhaps he meant Polly. Maybe he meant his wife. Or maybe it was just what one said to try to absolve himself of guilt.

The teenagers watched as he looked both ways and then slunk out of the police station.

"I'm surprised you stayed," Veronica turned to Joaquin.

"You have a better chance of knowing where Kevin is." He said, moving to start to arm himself, "The end of the world makes you realize how you feel about certain people." He motioned to them, "The Black Hood wasn't wrong. Start stuffing." He commanded.

As they were pushing items into hoods, pockets, and a bag Archie found near Keller's body, a white van pulled up in front of the station.

"Shit. It's my parents," Veronica said, groaning, seeing Smithers driving in front.

"Veronica!"

Hermione burst out of the back, her breath catching as she spied Keller's body. She whimpered, covering her lips. Hiram, however, strolled and stepped over Keller like it was just another day. Violence and gore were no stranger to her father.

"Mija, step away from that boy."

"Joaquin? He basically saved us!" Veronica knew her father didn't like the Serpents, but come on.

"That's not who I'm talking about."

It took a second, as though she forgot momentarily the entire rundown of yesterday, but when she did, she felt white-hot rage bursting out of her.

"Oh, screw you, dad!" She gave a dry laugh, "We both know that whatever you tried was just…just…" She threw her hands up, "Take this as a sign that the universe has other plans for Archie…plans where he's not in jail."

"He's a murderer, dear," Her father said evenly, "I'm just trying to protect you."

"Protect me? Are you kidding?" Veronica slammed a set of knives onto the station receptionist's desk, "Dad, honestly, we have bigger issues right now."

"He should be in jail, where he belongs."

"You are such a broken record. And we're just going to leave him to die then? I didn't know you to be cruel, dad." Veronica said, which was a lie, but her father's jaw clenched. He had done an admirable job of hiding his darker side, and it still bothered him that she seemed to know it had been him, pulling the strings of this. Or it bothered him that she was not naive anymore.

"This will blow over in a day…or a week," Hiram pushed back his hair, trying to regain control, "Someone else will surely deal with him soon enough."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? One of those things to deal with him?" Veronica gave a dry laugh.

"Hiram!" Hermione hissed, frantically, showing that she did not think this was as casual an issue as her father did, "Veronica, we're waiting it out at the Lodge. Get in the car."

Veronica looked at Joaquin and Archie.

"On three conditions." She said firmly, motioning for Joaquin to continue to clean out the armory.

"This is no time to be bartering, Veronica," Hiram began, starting to move towards her. Veronica grabbed a gun, shaking her head at her father. Would she shoot him? She wasn't sure and he seemed to know this too, because he stopped moving toward her.

"One; Joaquin comes with us, and we see if we can find Kevin." She said, smiling at the Serpent. He seemed okay enough, and he had chosen them over Mr. Cooper. Plus, he did have skills that were coming quite in handy. Even her father had to admit that, once he got to know the kid.

"Two; Archie comes."

Her father should have known this, but it still seemed to bother him.

"Three, we try to save as many as we can. The Lodge Lodge has plenty of room. Besides, this will blow over shortly, you said so yourself. Not everyone is so lucky as we are."

Lucky, or, in other words…rich, vicious, blood-thirsty, prepared…take your pick.

"Which means others can find another shelter," Her father growled.

"No. Those are my terms. Or else I can also find other shelters." She shrugged, "Your choice."

Hiram studied her, looking outside, and then at the two boys.

"I am your father. I command you to get in the van." He said with a hard edge to his voice, "You will obey."

"Try me," Veronica said. Was she sure how to win this stand-off, other than being incredibly stubborn? No, she wasn't sure. However, she was willing to try, especially when it came to Archie.

"Hiram, are you serious?" Hermione hissed, "It shouldn't be a question in your mind! This should be easy! And her terms are very reasonable."

"She is our daughter. We do not negotiate, we expect compliance," Hiram returned evenly, "If you think you're so adult-,"

"No!" Hermione strode in front of Hiram, placing her warm, sweaty hands on Veronica's cheeks, "Boys, in the van. With the weapons." She instructed. Hiram made a sound in the back of his throat, causing Archie to pause and waver. Joaquin did no such thing, as he began to bag the armory and bring them outside in quick trips.

"No, Hiram, this is not up for discussion. Otherwise, I will tell Smithers to leave you. I have other safe-houses you've never known about," She threatened, "And you will never find them."

"You're bluffing," Hiram said dismissively, as though amused to no end by the thought of Hermione standing up to him or being so bold, but at her face, his expression slipped for just the quickest of moments.

She watched as her father's fingers twitched, and then he clenched them quickly, "I suppose that he seems capable," He said, nodding to Jaoquin, "And as for Andrews…it would be better to keep such a dangerous man close, to be safe." She knew her father was trying to regain his power as much as he could. She saw Archie smile behind a crooked elbow, as though he was coughing, but he hid a smile. Yeah, the idea that her father was so afraid of a seventeen-year-old didn't cease to amuse, she supposed.

Veronica took her victory in small, powerful steps. She pulled herself into the van, totally expecting to see Betty waiting for her with a smile, but the back was empty.

By this time, Joaquin had loaded the weapons and everyone else was getting into the multi-seater. Veronica wasn't sure why her father had this car, but he owned a lot of strange cars.

"Where's Betty?" She demanded as soon as her father entered. He laughed.

"Now, why would I know the whereabouts of your little friend?"

"Because she was in the apartment?" Veronica said, and then as she saw genuine confusion on her parents' faces, she felt like screaming or throwing herself from the van right this instant, "She slept over last night. I left her sleeping there this morning. Are you fucking serious? Did you leave her there? She made sandwiches last night! And neither of you noticed?" Well, her parents were not going to be winning 'parent of the year' after this one.

"Last night I had many business calls to take, and your mother had a headache. We didn't leave our rooms at all after you returned from school," Her father said, his words edged and dangerous, but she could tell Hiram didn't want to admit that he had no idea someone besides Veronica had been present.

"Oh my god," Veronica felt faint, "We have to go back! We have to get Betty!"

"Ma'am," It was Smithers who spoke nervously, "The roads back to the apartment are filled with…" He paused, unsure how to describe them, "We cannot go back."

"But, Betty!" Archie was just as horrified.

"For all we know, she slipped away this morning, to find you," Hiram said, "She might not even be back there. It would be foolish to waste our time-,"

"Waste our time?" Veronica was livid, "This is my best friend and his best friend! I will never, ever forgive you if we leave her!" She cried, taking screaming over sobbing right now. She threatened her father with hate often, but this one felt the most real of all of them.

"Then I will have to live with that," Hiram said, "I agreed to your terms, but you can't go changing the contract later, as it suits you. Grow up, Veronica," He said with a shake of his head, "And listen to Smithers. Back there is done for, at least for the time being. We will not return."

Veronica started, as though she was going to open the door and jump, making a run for it, but it was Archie who pulled her back.

"She's strong," Archie repeated Hal's whisper to Veronica, "And smart. Wicked smart. We'll all have a good laugh about this in a few days, alright? Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she had the same idea as your parents and will beat us to the Lodge."

She turned to see Hiram frowning at Archie, unwilling to thank him or admit he may have been wrong, but all the same perhaps starting to see Archie as an asset to him. As much as Veronica did not want to listen to either of them right now, she made a choice. One she hoped Betty could forgive her for one day.

She chose Archie.

If her father thought Archie could control her, perhaps he'd be more inclined to not murder him in his sleep.

"Yeah," Veronica said, and she truly, truly hoped he was right, "She's probably hot-wiring a car right now, with Jughead, and they'll find us."

"Where to next?" Smithers asked from the driver's seat.

"Kevin might be at Pop's," Veronica realized, "Melody posted that there was supposed to be a brunch on her Instagram to plan for…" She trailed off, looking at Hiram and Archie. For Archie's arrest. Veronica had seen the invite, she recalled now, but thought her use would be better for Archie in person, not behind the scenes just yet.

"You have service?" Joaquin frowned.

"No, but I did remember. It's been a busy morning," She added defensively. Her phone hadn't had any for hours now. She thought it was a weird glitch or update, but now…now she wondered.

"I have it too. See? Just enough for that. Ooh… It's kaput now," Archie showed his phone, which he'd taken with the bag of his intake items from behind the station desk, and there was a flash of the invite before it powered down.

"Well, most people are probably looting grocery stores right now. It may be a clever move to hit a restaurant for supplies," Hermione pointed out to Hiram, "And Pop Tate certainly would know how to cook, if we have that need."

"Alright," Hiram relented, "But merely because it is the safe and logical option. Then, Lodge Lodge."

Pop's was on the way out of town anyway. When they pulled up, Veronica felt her stomach sink.

It seemed highly unlikely Kevin was here. There were a few of those demonic not-humans walking around, all people Veronica knew vaguely. None were Kevin, thank god.

"In, out, on the road," Hiram commanded, grabbing a gun.

"Headshots seem to be important," Joaquin supplied and Hiram gave him a nod of acknowledgment. Archie, not wanting to be left, grabbed a weapon too. When Veronica went to grasp one, her mother held her back.

"But-,"

Hermione merely shook her head.

There were only three milling about. It was easy work. Three on three, when your opponents were not quite all there, was simple. Too simple, enough to worry Veronica that they were being lulled into a sense of security about beating these things. She had remembered the awful smell and the way those things had clawed and snapped while she was in close contact with them.

"Okay, let's go," Hiram motioned to everyone's left when the things lay motionless on the ground.

Veronica hopped out, pushing open the door to Tate's. It immediately felt wrong. The smell was off, the lights were flickering ominously, and the whole place put a weird feeling in her stomach.

"Start grabbing. Where's Pop?" Hiram asked, looking around.

"Awe, fuck," Archie said, rounding the counter, "Found him."

Veronica leaned over to see Pop dead, just like Keller. In slightly more pieces, she realized, since there has been little of Tom Keller left after all was said and done. Pop Tate was undeniably gone, however, lying with an expression of torment on his face.

"Hmm, well," Hiram seemed unbothered, "This food shouldn't go to waste."

Veronica was two steps behind him as he opened the door to the freezer and two figures ran out, screaming a battle cry.

"Woah!"

Archie caught one by the arm, "Josie? Dilton?"

"Oh my god!" Josie was holding a rolling pin, and Dilton was faring slightly better with a butcher's knife, "You're…human?"

"Uhm…"

"Not those things, if that's what you're asking," Veronica said, understanding their inquiry.

Josie's shoulders collapsed and she cried out, "I thought we were dead!" She whispered, "I thought…this, this is the end."

"Well, why don't you go in the car? We're going up north for a few days to ride this out," Veronica offered kindly, gently taking the rolling pin from her hands. Her father made a noise, but she just held up three fingers, referring to her third agreement. If they couldn't save Betty, she was going to fight for everyone else.

"Kevin?" Joaquin asked all too hopefully.

"He had plans to come here last night with us, but…we're the only ones who showed up. We ordered and waited and then not even ten minutes later…" She swallowed hard, "I can't."

"It's okay, it's fine," Joaquin said, but from his face, he was hoping for more. Dilton was speechless, something Veronica had never seen.

"Be useful," Hiram said, "Start grabbing." It was unclear who he was talking to, but it reminded Veronica that time was of the essence.

Everyone besides Smithers, who was keeping watch, and Josie and Dilton who were understandably traumatized and not just shivering because they'd barricaded themselves in a cooler for god knows how long, frantically started transferring food into the van.

They were nearly done, the place looted to comical ends of nothing left when there were three frantic honks from Smithers. Veronica ran from around the pantry area to see something impossible.

"Dad, behind you!"

Hiram turned, dropping a crate of baked beans as Pop Tate loomed over him, gnashing his jaws and groaning.

"Isn't he supposed to be dead?" Archie asked.

"I think he is!" Joaquin yelled over the chaos and terror, "That's not Pop anymore!"

He slid a knife across the floor to Hiram, who started stabbing anywhere he could, but also tried to flee. It was hard to get the man's head; not just when you knew someone, but also because Pop had snuck upon him.

"Dad!" Veronica grabbed a cheese grater, unsure what she was going to do with that, as her father was back in the front of the store. Pop's body hit the doorstop and closed everyone off from him.

And then there was just silence. Cruel, taunting silence.

"It's just like…" Joaquin began, then paused, perhaps for Veronica's sake.

Veronica threw the door open to see her father on the ground, looking like he'd seen Jesus in the flesh, and Pop on the ground. A figure stood over him, a long…what was that? A sword? Yes, it seemed a sword has stuck through his head.

"Malachai," Joaquin greeted in an icy tone.

"That was close," The leader of the Ghoulies, painted in blood said with an ill-timed laugh.

"You saved me," Hiram said, a bit out of it.

"Where are the rest of you?" Joaquin asked, skittish, unsure.

"Dead! Dead, dead. Dead as a doorknob." Malachai sang, "Wait, why are doorknobs dead?" He frowned in confusion.

"We should go. Now." Hermione helped Hiram up, who was staring at Pop Tate in shock, confusion, and general fear. Whatever bravado he had about this scenario was shaken out of him now.

"Malachai, we're going to a safe-house." Hiram said, "I think I owe you a life debt."

Malachai pulled the sword from the body, "Chill, man." He shrugged and put on one of those little paper-serving hats that Pop wore. He caught his reflection and giggled uncontrollably.

"Dad, you can't be serious."

Hiram gave Veronica a self-satisfied smirk, "Stipulation Three." He parroted back to her, thrilled to be maliciously complying with her demands.

"You coming, Joaquin?" Archie asked.

Joaquin gripped his knife and then sighed, "I'm not leaving you guys alone with that joker," He spat at Malachai, "And…" He sighed, face full of despair, "I don't know where Kevin is. I have to hope he wasn't stupid and we'll meet back up when this blows over. I don't know…" He trailed off, looking at the van, but Veronica understood. He didn't know if he'd get a chance like this, at safety, again.

Everyone loaded up, shoulder to shoulder to make way for the food.

Malachi was the only one without a grim expression on his face, taking it all in. Now, Veronica was sure he was on something. He had to be.

No one was this cheery in this sort of crisis; not her father or Hal, who were the two most fucked up men in Riverdale currently.

Yeah, he was probably high as a kite, seeing kittens and rainbows and unicorns instead of blood and guts.

Or he was just a sadist.

"A mix of the two," Dilton muttered from right beside her, and she realized she'd been muttering under her breath. If Malachai heard, he didn't acknowledge it, and it seemed everyone else was too far pulled into their own safe spots in their minds to really hear her.

There was silence for about half an hour. Just shell-shocked silence and confusion.

"He…came back to life?" Hiram finally whispered, showing he'd been turning it over and over in his mind.

No one had an answer. No one had anything else to say either. What would they have talked about? The most recent episode of the The Voice ? The New York Mets game? The last day of school?

The only one who said anything was Malachai. As he peered out of the window, at the trees racing past, he gave a little laugh to himself and said entirely to no one in particular, "Man, I hate this part of Texas."

Riverdale (1pm)

Sweet Pea woke up to the absolute worst smell he'd ever had the displeasure of smelling.

It smelled vile; like cheap gasoline, burning plastic, and some other scent that choked his lungs that he couldn't place, but something about it felt unholy.

Sweet Pea choked on black, thick plumes of air. He grasped over the side of the truck and spat up bile, waving his arms to try to create a pocket of space.

He rolled out of the truck, eyes burning as he peered across the road to the camps.

Oh; they were on fire.

Not just a little fire, but fully ablaze.

His first thought was that it was those fucking Ghoulies.

The camp seemed abandoned, however, which was probably a good sign. Maybe they'd gotten the tip off early, he reasoned, before Malachai set the structures ablaze.

Sweet Pea watched in shaking fury for a few moments, scanning desperately for life. He saw footsteps, dragged items, telling him that everyone had abandoned ship.

His own tent was absolutely engulfed in flames.

The one good thing about this temporary structure was that he hadn't taken much of anything special with him. While a few of his favorite jeans were probably no more than cinders, there wasn't anything he didn't carry on him at all times that was lost to the fire.

He ought to follow his brethren.

The path between the place he could see everyone running away and where he stood currently was a rolling flame.

Sweet Pea began to go around the side, but as he did, something darted out, pulling around his ankle. Sweet Pea nearly lost his balance, turning around to see a Serpent dragging himself out of the burning tents. He was half-way on fire, and Sweet Pea was shocked he was still alive.

"Help…help me…" He begged, crying, "Help me!"

Sweet Pea couldn't move. He was trying to make sense of what he was seeing, but before he could do anything, something dragged the Serpent back. Sweet Pea opened his mouth to greet an older Serpent that he knew, but all his words died in his throat when the Serpent latched onto the exposed leg of his friend and bit down and ate the flesh.

Sweet Pea scrambled back, horror catching his breath. He couldn't find air. The world was choking him.

Oh my god; what the fuck? What the actual fuck?

Sweet Pea's second thought was that this was absolutely those fucking motherfucking Ghoulies. Not only were they gonna kick the Serpents when they were down by burning their camp, but they'd clearly…perfected some nightmarish drug that had really gone wrong. So wrong that it was worse than just one person on bath salts.

It was spreading.

Now that Sweet Pea was aware of it, they were everywhere.

"Oh god have mercy! Oh, help me, help me!"

The dying screams of one of the Serpents rattled Sweet Pea. He scrambled to his feet, running away in a direction, any direction.

A sick feeling grew in his stomach as he ran when he saw more of those things.

This was not just a gang turf war. This was all of Riverdale.

Jesus; the Ghoulies really fucked things up now, didn't they?

They stumbled. No, they walked, but like they were fawns on shaky legs.

Motherfucking Ghoulies, motherfucking drugs and motherfucking walkers!

His mom had died of an overdose and spent most of her life high.

Sweet Pea didn't touch that shit, nothing stronger than weed and the occasional mushroom. Not the hard stuff that was causing cannibalism.

He found himself at the baseball diamond. Sweet Pea had no weapons on him. Even his pocket knife had fallen out in his mad dash to escape.

He needed something to protect himself.

He grabbed a baseball bat from the dug-out.

He'd prefer a metal one, but Riverdale was so 'sunshine and retro' that it only had wooden ones.

Fuck it; he could still make this work.

A few walkers stumbled for him, reaching out their fingers like gorey invitations.

"Stay back; I'm warning ya!" Sweet Pea screamed, wiping sweat and smog from his face, waving his bat around.

They didn't seem to recognize anything he was saying. It's like he was speaking Greek to them! Naw, even then, they'd understand he was trying to say something. It's like these people weren't hearing anything at all.

One approached and Sweet Pea swung his bat at their stomach. It was with enough force that it ought to have taken a normal person down, even a person with spiked adrenaline high on bath salts or meth.

But it didn't.

He swung rapidly as another snapped for his hand, fully intending on eating whatever they could get their jaws on.

This was really, really, messed up.

"I don't want to hurt you!" Sweet Pea warned again. These didn't look like Ghoulies. They looked like the Little League Coach. And he doubted it was his fault that he got messed up in this.

When one of them snapped a bit too close for comfort, Sweet Pea swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry!" He yelled, smashing the coach across the head. With this amount of force, he absolutely should have gone down.

So why wasn't he?

Sweet Pea hit frantically, until the head was caved in.

And then, he just stared.

You murdered that dude, Sweet Pea.

Okay, well, self-defense!

And frankly, it didn't really seem like…like he was much of anything anymore.

Sweet Pea found a sharp stick and spun around, impaling the second walker. It just kept coming.

That should have dropped him too.

Well, between him or this dude that Sweet Pea didn't know…he'd feel really bad about it later, he told himself.

And then, he grabbed his bat and ran toward the center of town.

These people didn't seem to be people anymore. He watched someone with a gun shoot one of them six times in the chest, but they just kept coming.

He never got a head-shot in, and Sweet Pea hid behind a car as someone else was cannibalized.

Head-shots only.

And, the noise from the gun seemed to…attract the rest of them, and they all lumbered toward the sound, and then descended upon the citizen.

By the time they moved on, there wasn't really much of him left anymore.

Sweet Pea emptied his stomach for the second time, wiping his sleeve on his lips.

He was rapidly gathering knowledge.

These things, these walkers, didn't seem to have any humanity. They'd eat anything alive thy could. They were called to some poor soul by noise. They wouldn't stop unless you blew their brains out.

Sweet Pea stumbled into the Main Street to utter madness. He saw people looting stores. He recognized one of the looters as a former Southside senior, someone he'd crossed paths with a few times. The boy met his gaze, scared, clutching a laptop to his chest.

Then, the boy gave a watery shrug.

"The Purge, eh?" He asked, then continued his looting.

The fucking Purge indeed!

That's the only way that Sweet Pea could reconcile what was going on, if the Purge was mixed with a disease-ridden twist that turned people into undead cannibals. But it was Purge rules, right?

As Sweet Pea looted through a Walgreens, going for shit that would keep him safe first, he mused on what he ought to do next.

He had no idea where the Serpents were. He had a few strong guesses. They might have went back to Sunnyside or the Wyrm. But he might be wrong about either of those. Since last night, he hadn't seen the group at all, and no one had thought to to text him an update.

Fucking assholes.

He tried to send a text to Toni, and Fangs, and then even Jughead, but nothing went through.

Fine, whatever, he'd find them later.

As he beat back the town's former pharmacist, Sweet Pea was filled with an unholy, unfettered rage.

All of this was Hiram's fault.

It was his fault that these drugs were on the streets, because who bankrolled the Ghoulies? Hiram! It was his fault that they were kicked from Sunnyside and were in a position to have their camp burned. It was his fault that Southside High closed, as well as so many other spots that were theirs . And though Sweet Pea couldn't connect Hiram to Fangs' leg being shot at, he was pretty sure if you gave him enough time, he could do it.

Every shitty thing that had happened within the next year was Hiram fucking Lodge's fault.

And someone had to pay, right? Someone had to hold this monster of a man responsible!

What are you gonna do, kid, kill Hiram?

The sneer in his mind sounded suspiciously like his deadbeat, long-dead mom.

"Yeah, maybe!" He spat under his breath. At the very least, make him apologize. Maybe make him beg for his life.

And then shrug and say, 'It's just business'. And maybe he'd decide it was just to kill him.

After, he'd take some reparations for all the Serpent's misery. Hiram had to have a few fun things floating around, like some priceless jewels or stacks of money or maybe a real life gold bar.

It was fucking Purge rules, right? If Hiram didn't want someone coming for his ass, he should have been a bit more careful with trusting the Ghoulies not to fuck things up so colossally.

In between the main drag and the Pembrooke, Sweet Pea lost his 'sorries' for killing those things.

Whoever they were before they weren't anymore.

They were inhuman.

And he got pretty good at it; all his rage, he funneled into taking them down, lest they don't wander off and bite one his friends. Sweet Pea had always felt like he was teetering on the edge of exploding, and now, someone had pulled his threads loose.

He had a lot of anger to burn through, but the more of these things he saw, the more it seemed unending. He wondered when he'd burn out, or if his rage at Hiram would only mount with each more walker killed.

In his mind, every person Sweet Pea took down was another tally on Hiram's ledger, blood on his hands.

He started counting; he was keeping himself going by fantasizing about cutting off one finger per walker. But then there were more than ten, so Sweet Pea thought about one section of finger and toe per walker. And maybe Hiram's tongue, so he couldn't sweet talk his way out of things. And his ears, and eyes.

He wanted Hiram to suffer .

The path to the Pembrooke was deserted of people, but near the entrance, there was a hoard of them, pounding against a car. Six or so.

If they wanted to get into that car so desperately, Sweet Pea reckoned there was someone still living in there.

Was he lucky enough that it may be his intended target? Oh, that would be sweet success if he saved his worst enemy from those things, just to turn around and yank that relief away.

He swung his bat, whistling.

Sweet Pea wasn't built to be good for much, but apparently, he was meant to be very good at…whatever this was. The Purge? End of times? Hell?

Ah, either way, Sweet Pea excelled at it.

His brain kicked in with a sick guitar riff.

Another bites the dust, another bites the dust, and another one gone, another gone, another bites the dust!

Sweet Pea whistled one of Queen's best as he beat the walkers into a pulp. Gooey, noxious blood splattered across his face and arms, but at least he knew that they weren't going to move again.

He opened the door and was disappointed when Hiram didn't come stumbling out, kissing his feet and bowing in reverence at his heroic moment.

Sweet Pea couldn't see who it was because of the sunlight for a moment, but they weren't scrambling for his flesh, so that was a good first sign.

"Are you human?" He asks. If this person can muster anything more than a groan, then it seems they haven't fallen victim to whatever this is yet. It's a pretty easy litmus test.

He moves and catches blonde hair in a tight ponytail. Something in his heart beats fast, a memory of unblemished smooth skin sliding on a pole, a memory he tries to frantically wave away.

Betty?

It's Jughead's girl. It's a pretty shitty thing to covet your new leader's Queen - and to be clear, he doesn't covet her exactly - but goddamn it, some part of Betty has always fascinated him, far more than it ought to.

Why isn't she with him?

Betty Cooper looks up, worse for wear and bleeding but certainly still human, and then, she grins. She grins at him like he's her savior, a much better person than he knows he is. But just for a second, he lets himself bathe in it.

"Sweet Pea, hi."

Riverdale (3pm)

Betty hadn't meant to fall asleep. It was wildly irresponsible, given the climate. However, the mixture of the adrenaline with the dizziness she was feeling from the loss of blood leave her far more tired than she thought, and sleep overcomes her. Plus, last night, she was worried equally about Veronica and Archie and sleep eluded her most of the night.

She awakes to hand prints being shoved against the windows of the car and those same rasping moans.

Betty instinctively rolls to the ground, out of sight as much as she can be. She tries not to gag, but the smell of death is really overwhelming everything else, so much that she throws up in her mouth just a little.

She wonders how Jughead felt, going in to face Penny that night not too long ago. Knowing he might die. His was a choice, though. A stupid choice, but his choice all the same. He had a chance to call Betty. Betty would very much like to live in this moment, but feels like it might be out of her hands. She only comes up with a ice scraper as a weapon and she will go down fighting if she has to, but she counts six separate pounding bodies, so she knows she's outnumbered.

"I'm sorry," She whispers, unsure who she's apologzing to. Her mother, for never coming home? To Jug, for being scared? To Veronica, for not waking up with her this morning? To everyone?

She prepares herself to fend them off until her dying breath, until she begins to hear bodies thumping. She also hears...whistling? She is almost sure she's going absolutely batty because it almost sounds like it's to the tune of Another One Bites the Dust. She presses a hand to her forehead, first to see if she's got a fever. She wonders if maybe she's actually dead. She hears the sickening sound of bones cracking and figures- dead or alive- she's going to be ready. Her fingers curl around the blue plastic ice scraper, preparing herself to open the door.

Nothing prepares her for the door opening suddenly, at least, not the door opening by someone other than herself. She nearly hits her head on the concrete as she slides out of the car, head facing toward the sky. The sun is setting and reflects off the car, shining right in her eyes. She raises an arm to shield her eyes without thinking about the danger that might be around, and blood dribbles onto her cheek.

"Damn it," She mutters, noticing she's dripping blood from her arm again. She might need stitches.

"Are you human?"

The question is careful, but stupid Betty decides. If she wasn't, she'd be attacking him right now. She probably wouldn't be hiding out in someone's rusted SAAB, that's for sure. She has a biting reply on her lips, but tells herself that this person just saved her life, so she should be gracious. And, at that, she realizes she's still not sure who it is. The sun is still in her eyes, so Betty squirms all the way onto the ground, and then pulls herself to sit.

Betty looks up to see her savior; Sweet Pea. She only knows him by association- that he's part of Jughead's serpents, but he's been an aggravator at many points in Jugheads attempts to take the reins. He's covered in blood like she is, but she thinks his is from the six people he just felled. He has a baseball bat clenched in his fist, heaving like he just ran a marathon, and looks strong as hell.

"Sweet Pea, hi," Her voice is raspy, "Yeah, I'm human. If you mean, not one of them…" She blinds, unable to think harder than that. Her witty responses go right out the door when she sees the carnage behind Sweet Pea and sees a pool of black blood that is inching closer to her, "Thank you."

They've only ever had a few talks, and most of them spats at that, so to thank Sweet Pea is unexpected. However, he's never been outright mean to Betty and she knows Jughead doesn't hate him, so there's a count there. He did just save her life, albeit he didn't know it was her in the car, but still. She knows Serpents would die for each other. It seems wildly out of character that he would stop to save someone that likely wasn't a serpent. Or, Sweet Pea is more of an enigma than Betty knows and he might actually be a half-decent guy.

"Fucking apocalypse," Sweet Pea gives an aggravated sigh, more so to the world than to Betty, and she thinks he might have muttered something else (but all she catches are the words 'unprepared' and 'playlist') but she finds the strength to shakily stand. She grabs the empty gun from the car, but when she turns she stumbles.

"Woah," Sweet Pea grabs her arm; her bad arm, and she hisses. He pulls it back to see it's covered in blood, and he stares at his palm with a darkened look.

"That looks bad."

"I just need some gauze," Betty insists, "Tis but a scratch." She says before she can stop herself. It's a joke she would make with Jughead. However, this probably isn't a time to be making light of the situation, and two, does Sweet Pea even know what she's talking about? From his almost smirk, she gleans he's at least seen Monty Python, "Really. I'm okay." She insist after a second. She turns and what she sees on the ground breaks her heart. It's a student, her age.

She didn't know his name, nor much about him, other than that he came from Southside High but was not a part of the Serpents. And now he's laying on the concrete, his cheeks and eye sockets sunken in and his skull bashed in. She looks up at Sweet Pea, and Sweet Pea bites the inside of his cheek. "I had to."

"I know," Betty's own foot nudges what's left of Brett, trying to show that she understands that he had to kill this thing, even if it was once his schoolmate. She turns back around, but her gaze falls on the kid again. He looks a ghastly gray and one of his arms is torn up, but not elegantly like some animal, but like something with duller teeth decided to take a bite.

"He just wouldn't stop trying to get into the car. Joshua, I think was his name. A freshman." Sweet Pea is following her gaze, "Did you come from the Lodge's?" He asks, pointing to the white fortress just ahead. Betty nods. She's glad he switched topics. Talking about Joshua, who was fourteen or fifteen at most, is not on her list of things she wants to do.

"It's empty, though."

"Shame," Sweet Pea sighs, "I figured the apocalypse would be the best time to off old Hiram, you know. Revenge for everything."

"Yeah, well," Betty isn't sure she wants Hiram dead. As much as Veronica said she wishes that her father would die last night, and Betty agreed, Betty is unsure that's how either of them truly feel. Betty despises her father but she doesn't want him dead, however, Sweet Pea's life has been ruined a whole lot more than hers has by Hiram.

"We're going there."

"Uhm, no." Betty tightens her ponytail, "I need to find Jughead and my mom."

"You've lost a shit ton of blood. You're not going to get three steps." Sweet Pea slings the bat across his shoulders, "But go ahead, go on," He says, raising an eyebrow. He's challenging her and he looks so smug that it infuriates Betty.

Betty defiantly takes a step forward, which doesn't seem bad. The second is fine too. So is the third. It's the fourth that'd disastrous, that leaves her crumpling in a ball, her legs buckling.

Sweet Pea picks her up off the ground, slinging her arm over his.

"It was four steps," She argues quietly and Sweet Pea snorts, but he almost smiles. She will not admit defeat, but he knows that she realizes her weakness in this moment too.

Inside, they go back to the Lodge's main living room. Sweet Pea makes a mess of their bathrooms, searching for medical supplies while Betty gingerly works her sweater off. She still has a shirt underneath, so she's not stripping naked for a boy she hardly knows. She bites her lip hard when she unwraps the fabric she'd patted over her wound, tears pricking her eyes as it lifts up from where it has stuck itself to her cut. It's like pulling off a band-aid, but with none of the healing properties a band-aid has.

"Rich people have great meds," Sweet Pea rattles a bottle of vicodin, "Bottoms up."

"I don't know," Betty gnaws her lip, "Maybe we shouldn't be doing that. We should have our wits and all."

"Well, it's here if you need it." He sets it in front of her, "Now...your arm."

Neither of them know what they're doing, but they manage to slather on a whole lot of antiseptic and bandage it pretty tightly. It's not as bad as it looks after all the blood is cleaned away, and luckily will not need stitches, Betty decides. It's going to leave a nasty scar, but Betty can live with that. She's surprised how methodical, how careful Sweet Pea is as he uses a rag to clear away the excess blood.

"Why did you help me?" She asks as Sweet Pea is tying off the ends of the gauze.

"Too tight?" He checks. Betty shakes her head. He's not medically trained, but the Serpents get bashed up often, so it's not wholly unheard of that he'd know a basic thing or two, "Serpents are all about survival instincts...except Jughead, who seems to run right toward certain death. All that aside, you've got some balls, Betty Cooper. Don't think I ever told you that."

"Erm, thanks?" Betty has hung around boys enough to know this is a compliment. She never thought Sweet Pea thought so highly of her. It seemed that whenever they were in a room together, they ended up fighting over something.

"Plus, seeing you bleed over the Lodge's thousand dollar furniture is almost satisfying my revenge," He says, nodding to a throw pillow that's been irreparably ruined and stained with Betty's blood.

"Right," Betty agrees dryly, "So do you know what's going on out there?"

Sweet Pea takes a set next to her, "Not a damn thing. I woke up and the world was burning. At the riverside where we're camping, I mean that fucking literally. Someone thought that maybe burning these demons would work…" He frowned hard, "Far as I've seen, only way to stop them is to get a headshot in. I tailed it to the baseball diamond and managed to pick this bad boy up. It's done me well so far." Sweet Pea taps the bloodied baseball bat against Betty's leg. His fingers clench and unclench around the handle, as though reliving his morning.

Betty has a thousand questions. Two spring up as the most important. One is emotionally driven, one is logically driven. She fights between two, finally asking the second.

"What are these things?"

"Ask what you really want to know," Sweet Pea doesn't command it, but offers it. Betty is almost warmed by the gentleness in his tone, and this along with her question that she does truly want to ask nearly makes her cry.

"Is Jughead okay?" Her voice shakes much more than she wants. After being told she has lady balls, she would hate to seem weepy, but Sweet Pea doesn't seem to hold it against her.

"I'm sorry, I don't know," Sweet Pea whispers, "He-, along with Fangs and Toni and Cheryl- were gone when I woke up. I figured he came to you, that Toni and Cheryl were together and Fangs?" Sweet Pea looks so angry, "I don't know where he is."

"I'm sure he's okay."

"He's a cripple in a world of psychotic undead things eating people's flesh, Cooper. Don't coddle me." Sweet Pea snaps, "And if all this was for nothing, if our death was having to move to that freaking river bed, if we all could have been safe in the trailers," Betty notices his lack of a swear word and figures he's really upset, "Well, I figured Hiram could pay for it in his blood, then."

"Oh."

"And I dunno, to your other question. I don't know what these are, but it's nothing good."

"Yeah," Betty nods. She gets up, "Hungry?" On one hand, after seeing all this, it should be impossible to eat. However, she also realizes it's been nearly all day since eating, and that's not healthy.

"I guess if someone put food in front of me…" Sweet Pea looks at his hands, more red than flesh toned, and is thinking the same lines that Betty is. He makes a face, wiping it across the back of the Lodge's sofa, settling his muddy boots over their coffee table. He does not look calmed, but Betty wouldn't call her current self 'calm' either. She recognizes that one of them needs to take some sort of motherly initiative. She doubts it's going to be Sweet Pea.

"Okay. I'll see what we have."

It's getting dark now and Betty is smart enough to know that Jughead is smart too. He is, arguably, smarter when it comes to street logic. His father is smart too in that same way. Wherever he is, he's found somewhere safe, and going out now would just endanger her and she wouldn't get a block out, not when the walk between the kitchen and the living room (albeit that it may be a larger distance than most kitchens and living rooms are) makes her still feel nauseous.

She will search in the morning.

Riverdale (5pm)

It took the entire day to hobble the remainder of the Serpents to the high school, reinforce the doors, and triage the injured.

Luckily, the fire had been set near the single Serpents, and the family tents hadn't taken much fire, meaning that most of the wives and children were safe.

Of course, this meant that many people Jughead would consider as good as family had perished; either dead on the ground or MIA. On one of the whiteboards, they'd started a morbid list of the dead they knew.

Jughead's fingers had shaken as he'd written Jedi and Buzz's names. He'd barely gotten through writing the 'J' when Vade had collapsed into screams.

Their last words had been a fight; Jughead couldn't imagine the guilt the teen would carry around with him for the rest of time.

Toni hadn't even been able to write Sweet Pea's name, blubbering so much that Jughead had taken the chalk and scribbled it, a stomach gut-punch feeling growing inside him.

Sure, their numbers were better than the original morning would have indicated, but there were far too many who hadn't survived it.

Jughead did as he was told ; he hoped if he did what his father asked of him, if he stepped up to the plate, he could run to the Cooper's in the morning and collect Betty. He hadn't asked, so far, not when there was so much that was needed right now.

Eventually, his father had ordered him to sleep, and like the night previous, he'd been so exhausted that he slipped into slumber, despite the current state of things.