#because the ghosts seem much more widely accepted and also it seems a bit dystopian

[libraryleopard]

been on a ghost book kick lately so i read the library of the dead by t.l. huchu which is about a girl living in edinburgh who earns a living talking to ghosts and i thought it was super interesting that it's set in a near-future, somewhat dystopian version of edinburgh, i didn't realize that at all when i picked it up but i thought it was a very interesting and distinctive choice

[virgilantejustice]

the infection (part two)

Chapter word count: Approx. 2500

Trigger warnings: Violence, corpses, dystopian setting

part one  part three  sea of stars  heartbreak

masterpost link

———————————————————————-

    It took about fifteen minutes to get away from the guards, but as soon as Logan could no longer see them in his mirrors, his priorities shifted.

    He spun the bike to a stop and dragged the interloper off the seat, throwing them to the floor with his knife to their throat. “Who are you!” Logan demanded.

   "Chill,“ the teen replied, holding their hands up in surrender. Their face was cool but their eyes were showing their terror. "I’m on your side.”

    “There are no sides in this, its each for themselves.” Logan started walking away and picked up the bike. All of his fury was bubbling up to the surface. He knew that it was irrational, illogical to shout at the kid, or to walk away, but he wasn’t thinking straight. “Why shouldn’t I just leave you here?”

    “Because I have stuff you might need.” The teen held up a duffel bag, full to bursting with supplies from the ball.

    “How did you get that?” Logan gasped, his feelings of aggression suddenly depleted. They simply smirked in reply. “What’s your name?”  

    “Virgil,” they said, standing up an offering a hand which Logan shook.  

    “Logan.” They looked a little younger than him and Patton. Skinny, with ragged hair, and hooded and bagged but bright eyes. “How old are you?”

    “Sixteen.”

    “You don’t seem very scared? Of everything that happened back there?”

    “What do I have to lose?” Virgil had a point there. Most people didn’t have much to live for these days. Families dead, homes ruined, lifetimes of hard work shattered. Risk was accepted far easier than before.

    Logan swung his leg over the seat of the bike and revved the engine. Virgil stood there, looking awkward and small. “Get on,” Logan said, and immediately they were behind him. ‘They’re quick’, Logan thought, 'and quiet, we could use that’.

———————————————————————-

    They were mostly silent on the way back, listening to the sound of the engine. They chatted a little, small comments with only a breathy laugh as a reply. They were similar, Logan could tell. He wasn’t exactly the warmest of people, but he could feel that Virgil was slowly getting less tense.        

    Logan had slightly underestimated how long the ball would be, and that the sun was already going down. He had told Patton he would be back by dusk, but it was too dangerous to keep going in low light, if he hit something and flipped, he wouldn’t be back at all, so he decided that it would be safer to stop.

    He slowed to a halt in the remnants of what must have been a small village, once upon a time, pulling up outside the only intact building left, a small village shop. He felt a prickling in his eyes as a dark blanket was pulled over the sky, and an increased pressure on his back told him that he wasn’t the only person who needed sleep.

    Logan hauled open the doors and stepped inside. It was damp and mouldy and the lights didn’t work, but the reinforced glass of the doors and windows would keep them safe.

    “After you,” he said to Virgil, stepping aside. Virgil did a small salute and went inside with a tentative smile on their lips.

    They lit a small fire in a clear-ish space on the floor. The flickering light threw shifting shadows on the walls, and provided a starker contrast to the parts of the room that remained in darkness, but they had more to fear than shadows, and fire kept that at bay.

    They sat opposite each other, their faces slightly monstrous in the uneven light, and they simply stared for a minute, neither of them sure what to say.

    “Thanks,” Virgil said abruptly, breaking the silence.

    “For what?”

    “You could have just left.” They looked up at Logan with wide eyes and a faint ghost of their smile.

    “Could I?” Logan replied, more to himself than them. Could he have left though? Physically, yes. And his mind was telling him not to collect another mouth to feed. But even he wasn’t heartless enough to just go. “Okay,” he continued. “Now you have to tell me some more.”

    “More about what?” Virgil replied, tilting their head to the side.

    “About how come you’re all on your own. Why you came with me so quickly. Why you were at the ball. How you got the stuff. Just- tell me.”

    Virgil stared intently down at their hands, twisting the fabric of their jacket between their fingers. They were taking deep breaths, presumably steeling themself. “When the second wave hit, i was only eight, my brother was thirteen. So me, my brother, and my dads went into the cellar. We had enough food in there for two years,” Virgil took a shuddering intake of breath as they remembered. They paused for a moment. Their face was pale, and they pieced the words together slowly and quietly, his lips trembling. "When that food ran out, my dads would go out and get more, and me and Roman stayed in the cellar. He wrote stories and read them to me. He loved writing stories, and they calmed me down.” They smiled for a moment, their eyes glassy with the past. “One day, probably about six months ago, my dads came back from one of their food runs. And Roman and I had never been outside during the second wave, I didn’t know what the symptoms were, I didn’t know what the yellow meant, they never told me.” They wiped their eyes vigorously, screwing up their nose. “My brother… Roman…. he held them off so i could get away… I saw him….. I saw….” Their voice caught in his throat. “But I managed to get away. I locked the door and didn’t turn back.”

    Logan stared at them for a while. Virgil’s eyes were closed, and their lips pressed together. Suddenly, they let out a forced, breathy laugh, with a smile that was more of a grimace. “What happened happened. Hey, Logan? There’s no use being sad now.” They kept the watery smile plastered on their face, but couldn’t stop the solitary tear rolling down their cheek.

    Logan wasn’t quite sure what to say. So he decided to just try to imitate Patton. “You’re not alone.” He said, staring into the flickering fire. “Me and Patton lost our parents too.” Virgil looked up at Logan, their head tilted slightly, their skin washed out. Logan kept together, his voice steady, that was what he needed to be. Dependable and steady, he always made sure of it. He forced the words out through gritted teeth. “When the second wave hit, Patton’s family moved in with mine. We were twelve at the time. So, it was Patton, his mum and dad, and my mums and my dad, and me. And we lived like that for two years. Then one day, there were about ten infecteds outside, and they broke down the door. Me and Patton ran away into the mines. Patton barely got away, and half his face was-” Logan somehow couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words, no matter how many years had passed, the image was still fresh in his mind. “But my mums and dad, and Patton’s parents, we left them. We didn’t have a choice. And we stuck together ever since.”  

    He had never recounted that. He had gotten Patton to agree never to speak about it, and there hadn’t been anyone else to tell. But just- recounting what happened, no matter how difficult, helped, somehow.

    Virgil yawned, making a slight mewing noise. Logan grinned, his lips trembling. “You need sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

    “I’m fine. Really.”

    “No. Sleep. It’ll be fine. I’ll keep watch.”

    With one last look, full of mock contempt, Virgil bundled up their jacket under their head and lay down. “Hey, Logan?” They asked, his face turned away from him.

    “Yes?”

    “Will Patton be mad that you let me come with you?”

    Logan smiled at the very idea. “Of course not. It will be fine, I’ll make sure of it.”

———————————————————————-

    Logan had meant to stay awake all night, to keep watch, but sleep seemed so sweet, and he was sure that nothing could get through the glass. It was all okay. When he woke up there were some scratches on the door, but the glass had held firm.

    He went over to Virgil and gently shook their shoulder. They moaned and sat up, rubbing their eyes. “I thought we could have some breakfast,” Logan suggested, pulling a bag of dried apricots out of one of the bags along with a bottle of water. Virgil smiled at him as he opened the bag and passed them a handful.  

    They ate in silence, devouring the food, as Logan hadn’t eaten since ere-yesterday, and, presumably Virgil hadn’t eaten for even longer. The mood was light, and they exchanged smiles, but there was a question burning in the back of Logan’s mind.

    “You never answered my other question,” he said quietly, tilting his head slightly.

    “Huh?” Virgil replied, pausing their hand halfway to their mouth.

    “How did you get the stuff?” Logan asked, gesturing to the bag that Virgil had brought. “You never told me.”

   Virgil looked down guiltily. “Well, for the last 6 months, i have had to survive somehow. I wasn’t good enough to go to the ball properly, so, little bit after I ran away, I went to the ball and I snuck in, and I stole some stuff, and I got away, and I didn’t get caught, and then I did it again a few months later and then I went to do it again yesterday, and I nearly got away when you blow the place up. Got spotted, got chased. You know happened from there.” They spoke slightly babbley, all of the words running together, all the while staring at their hands.

    “Sorry about that,” Logan muttered.

    “It’s cool,” they replied, looking up at him. “You also got me away again. Besides, I didn’t have anyone for all that time, or anywhere, so thanks.”

    Logan felt the corner of his lip turn up slightly. “I couldn’t leave you on your own.” They sat and looked at each other for a minute, then Logan realised the amount of light streaming through the windows and the amount of time that had passed. “Speaking of homes, we’d better get going,” he said, quickly standing up, shaking out his stiffened joints. Virgil did the same, and they looked at him. There was something about that look, almost like, admiration? When, honestly, when Logan first took them away from the ball, it was to keep himself safe. Logan turned his eyes away, picked up the bags and headed out to the bike.

———————————————————————-

    They rode on, listening only to the sound of the wind rushing past our ears. It was strong today, the dust on the scorched ground dancing and swirling over the brown. To be honest, strong weather wasn’t exactly unusual. Climate change. They had denied it. But it had led to their demise. They had no chance against the virus when their own planet was working against them.

———————————————————————-

    They had rode for about an hour when Logan realised something. Something wasn’t right. The motorbike rumbled on as normal, the rocks and ruined buildings lining the road was par for the course. So why did it feel off?  

    They were riding through an old, abandoned town. Normally, Logan would have stopped to look around for supplies, but there was something wrong.

    He kept his eyes straight ahead, and drove a little faster. “Close your eyes,” he muttered over his shoulder. He didn’t know what was happening, but he was pretty sure that he didn’t want Virgil to see it. Virgil began to protest, but Logan cut them off. “Close your eyes,” he said again, firmer this time, and he assumed that they did so, as there were no more complaints.

    He paused for a moment when he saw a small lump on the ground, covered by a tattered, bloodstained sheet. He stopped the bike and walked over to it, and saw a small, rotten hand, clutching a shredded toy rabbit, and he felt bile rise in his throat. Logan could see many more of these lumps. All different sized, some of them not covered. The town had been totally eliminated.

    Then he heard a hissing, strangled, tortured growl emit from one of the ruins. He didn’t wait to see what it was. He already knew.  

    He ran back to the bike and jumped on, speeding away as fast as possible, ignoring the sickening crunches as he didn’t waste time going around the rotting villagers.

    There were footsteps behind them. Fast but uneven footsteps. Logan didn’t look back to see what it was. He already knew.

    “What’s that?” Virgil asked from behind him. “Why did you stop?” Their voice shook with fear, but they presumably kept their eyes closed. Logan didn’t answer, but kept going in a straight line, until the footsteps faded into the distance.

    “You can open your eyes,” he called softly over his shoulder when he couldn’t see any more victims. Virgil didn’t say anything, but Logan felt the iron grip loosen slightly around his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

    “Yeah,” came the somewhat shaky reply. Logan guessed that the infecteds still had an effect on Virgil, six months wasn’t a long time.

    They didn’t talk for the rest of the way back. Logan was pretty sure that Virgil slept, as he felt the weight increase on his back, but he didn’t mind. It made him feel secure, and in control. Bonds formed fast in those times, they either had to trust, die, or let others die. Virgil felt a bit like a sibling to him.  

———————————————————————-

———————————————————————-

@the-blue-belle-blog @monstercupcake61176 @starryfirefliesbloggo @iolanomsgranola @mourning–star