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Day 1
“This way, Mr. Murphy.”
An attractive nurse in a pressed white outfit led him down the corridor. The halls were wide and sterile and empty, exactly as they'd been every day since he'd woken up here. The only people he ever saw were nurses who never looked hurried or harried and the occasional looky-loo who came to peek in on him before scurrying away in silence.
They'd told him shortly after he woke that Warren was here and the others were not, though no one would say any more than that. He'd asked to see Warren, over and over, until they promised him he could as soon as he could stand and walk on his own. He was standing now, shuffling with uneven steps after this nurse with the red hair and great ass. They were a floor up from his room, but everything looked exactly the same.
The nurse led him towards an open door from which a stream of tuneless beeping emerged. Murphy hesitated a few feet away.
“She's in there?”
“Yes, sir.”
He didn't want to go in. He was exhausted from the walk, simple as it had been, and terrified of what he'd find inside. But Warren needed him.
“That'll do,” he said, waving the nurse away.
“I can't let you be on your own, Mr. Murphy.”
“That will do,” he growled at her, and when she opened her mouth to protest he actually growled and it startled her enough that she retreated to the nearby empty nurses' desk, frowning.
Murphy shuffled into the doorway, grateful the high-quality patient outfits in Zona provided full coverage. He'd shown his ass to enough medical personnel to last him the rest of the apocalypse.
Inside the room, Warren lay in bed, tubes and wires protruding every which way. Her eyes were closed and her hair was a dark, soft pillow around her head. She looked asleep. Murphy tried to tug a comfortable chair over, but he was too weak still, so he sat down on the edge of her bed and covered her hand with his. It was cool and smooth against his skin.
“Warren?” he said. “It's me. Murphy.” The beeping continued, unchanged. They'd warned him she was in a coma, but he still expected her to wake up now that he was here. “I heard you got shot, too. Same bullet that got me. You got some of my blood.” Murphy smirked. “Always wondered if you wanted a little Murphy in you.” She didn't wake up and smack him for that, which meant she definitely was in a coma.
Murphy looked around and realized there was no window here, just like in his room. The white walls constricted and he struggled to breathe deep. He glanced out the door and saw the nurse pretending not to listen, so he lowered his voice. “They say the others are gone. Doc and Addy and...Lucy. I can't feel her anymore. I can't feel anyone. It's just me in my head. And just you and me here.” He squeezed her limp hand. “You've gotta wake up, Warren. I'm not...I can't-”
From the doorway, the nurse cleared her throat and Murphy jumped. “What?” he snapped.
“I have to take you back to your room now, Mr. Murphy.”
“Already?”
“It took you awhile to get here and I have to get back.”
“Busy day skulking about not helping any patients?” But he stood, too tired to resist. “I'll see you tomorrow,” he promised Warren, patting her hand.
By the time he lowered his aching body back into his own bed, only a little over 30 minutes had passed. If that was all they were giving him then he'd walk faster tomorrow, get a little more time. He waved off the nurse when she asked if he needed anything else, and shut his eyes. Still no one else in his head with him, but knowing Warren was just above he felt safer. If not tomorrow, then she would wake up soon, he was sure of that.
Day 2
“I shaved three whole minutes off my time,” he told Warren from the chair at her bedside the next day. “Which gives us a little extra time to talk. Not that you're talking much. You've always been a quiet type but this is extreme.” He squeezed her hand to no effect. “The nurse says your wound has healed well. You're welcome.” Not even an eyeroll. “So what's keeping you locked in that brain of yours?”
Now that he was up, he felt unstoppable, even if his body didn't agree. Lying in bed for the last few weeks had been great after the last six years, but now he needed movement. He felt anxious, agitated. He'd hardly been able to sleep last night, and he'd eagerly waited for his breakfast delivery only to demand to see Warren again. They'd made him wait until after lunch.
Murphy leaned back in the chair, his foot tapping. “It's not so bad here, you know. Zona. The food is great once you get past the tube-feeding phase. Everybody bathes all the time. Look,” he showed her his freshly manicured hands. “I haven't felt this normal since, well, honestly a few years before the apocalypse. I can't wait to get out of this hospital and see what the rest of it's like. But you've gotta come with me. I won't leave you here alone.”
Perversely, he was grateful she was the one who'd been shot, too. He couldn't imagine being stuck here with Doc or Sun Mei or, god forbid, 10k. No, Murphy was better when it was Warren at his side. And this – navigating hospitals and charming the nurses and making sure she was taken care of – this he could do for her better than any of those others could have.
There was a knock on the open door, the nurse announcing it was time to leave. “See you tomorrow,” he told Warren. She lay still among the wires, her chest moving with slow, unhurried breaths.
Day 10
Murphy popped a fresh grape in his mouth and sighed blissfully, the same way he'd done with every grape he'd eaten off the bunch. “Real fruit, Warren! You are missing out right now.” He jolted upright. “Oh my god, what if they have wine? We have to get out of this hospital. Who knows what else is out there?” Murphy rolled his eyes. “No, I haven't forgotten about the others. We'll take them a case when we see them again. Besides, I don't think 10k is legally old enough to drink. Killing people doesn't suddenly mean you can handle your alcohol.”
He liked these back-and-forths, even if he was doing all the back and the forthing. He knew Warren well enough by now he could guess how she'd respond. “You're too fond of that boy,” he grumbled. “He would have killed you if I'd asked him to.” He paused. “Yes I guess technically I asked him to, but you have to know that wasn't serious. I couldn't kill you. I wasn't lying to you: I need you.”
Ten days of this and still not even a flicker of movement. Murphy set the grapes down on the small nightstand, his appetite gone.
“Yesterday they, uh, they told me Lucy still isn't here. Or The Man. Said they hadn't been found after going over the cliff. Do you think she's still alive?” he whispered. Even his head version of Warren couldn't answer that.
“They're going to start taking my blood for a vaccine tomorrow. Everyone here will get it, and you'll have helped me save humanity like you so badly wanted. And you're not even awake to appreciate it.” Murphy slammed his fist down on the table and the nurse appeared in the doorway.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Murphy?”
“It's fine.” He stood and clenched Warren's hand hard enough to hurt her, but there was no response. Murphy sighed. “I'll see you tomorrow,” he murmured.
Day 30
Murphy picked at the gauze tied around his arm. “Last blood draw today. They say they've got everything they need so I can go. On my own in Zona, a free man. Emphasis on the man. I don't know if you can tell, but I'm not a blend anymore. They've done something, or drawn enough blood, I don't know exactly. My hair's getting dark again!”
He tipped back the last of the energy drink they forced on him after every blood draw and coughed. “Still disgusting. When I get home, I'm going to stock my fridge with nothing but fruit and beer. They're giving me a house,” he added. “Did I tell you that? There's one for you, too, when you wake up.”
Gingerly he set the cup down on the bedside table, leaned forward and laid his hands on her still arm. “Come on, Roberta,” he said low and urgent. “I don't know what's out there. I don't know what happened to my daughter or to the others. I'm not even who I was before. I need you to wake up and come with me. They haven't hurt me but,” he glanced over his shoulder, saw they were still alone. “I don't trust them.”
The only response were the steady beeps of the machines, each one driving him crazier than the one before. He wanted to rip every wire and tube from her body and run out of there with her, to who knew where as long as it wasn't this huge, claustrophobic hospital with no windows. His hands went around the nearest line, an IV connected to some clear fluid he couldn't name, but there they stilled.
He couldn't care for her when she was like this. He wasn't even sure what the world outside of the hospital walls looked like. “This is insane,” he whispered.
Murphy slumped back into his chair and sat silently, the relentless beeping filling the space. He said nothing for five minutes, ten, until the nurse knocked on the door. “I'll visit every day,” he promised as he stood. “I won't let them keep you from me.” Only the machines called as he departed.
Day 31
“Holy shit, Warren, you've gotta get out of here and see this place. It's actual paradise. The sky is clear and blue, there are working toilets everywhere, and they do in fact have wine.” He brought the bottle he'd been hiding behind his back. “Ta-dah!”
He uncorked the bottle and took a long drink. It was like heaven on his tongue. “Want some?” he asked, gesturing at her silent form. “I didn't think so.” Murphy set the bottle down on the night table and leaned over her. “The Founder is coming to visit you,” he said, arranging her hair and clothes to make her look as presentable as possible. He wanted the Founder to be as impressed by Warren as she deserved, even in a coma. “He should be here in a minute. I wanted to make sure you were ready. Don't worry he's a nice guy. He was the first one to receive the special Murphy vaccine so when we met this morning he was very grateful.”
The sound of rolling wheels came from the hallway. “Speak of the devil,” Murphy said quietly as the Founder and his oxygen tank were rolled into the room.
“Murphy!” the man wheezed, shaking Murphy's hand. “It is good to see my hero again so soon.”
“This is the real hero,” he gestured at Warren. “General Roberta Warren.”
“Move me closer, Khan,” the Founder directed the huge man pushing him. Murphy stepped back as the Founder leaned towards her. He felt a weird surge of jealousy as the other man rubbed Roberta's hand. “She is...so beautiful,” the Founder breathed.
“That's not even her best quality,” Murphy said. “She's tough and smart and kind.” He smiled at her. “And she cooks a mean cricket casserole.”
“She sounds...lovely.” The Founder took a deep breath from his oxygen mask. “She will make...a good addition to...humanity's future.” Murphy frowned, but the Founder patted Warren's arm and motioned Khan to wheel him back. “The doctors tell me...she has been in a coma?”
“The whole time.” Murphy shrugged. “They don't really tell me anything else, though. What's her prognosis?”
The Founder examined Warren with sharp eyes. “Uncertain,” he rasped. “But they are...the best of the best left. If she is to get better...they will do it.” He took another hit of his oxygen mask. Murphy wondered if it was just oxygen in there.
“Come, Murphy. I have many people...to introduce you to. Khan.” The silent man nodded and wheeled the Founder out of the room.
Murphy glanced back at Warren, half expecting her to have woken up and be giving him her patented skeptical stare. But everything was the same as it had been since they'd arrived. Even one day out of the hospital and he already felt different. They could have a life here, a real life, not whatever that was they'd just escaped. If only she would open her eyes.
“I'll see if they have any rooms with a window for you,” he promised. “Maybe that will convince you it's okay to wake up.” He patted her hand one last time and headed after the Founder.
Day 120
Murphy poked his head in the doorway and saw Warren as unconscious as ever, but he still slunk guiltily over to the chair at her bedside. “I brought flowers,” he said, setting an ornate vase on the nightstand. It was filled with a chaotic clash of colors: white daisies, red roses, yellow tulips, some purple ones he didn't know what they were. He'd just randomly picked flowers he saw around the neighborhood and put them in there. They looked like they were all trying to escape the vase in different directions and were fighting each other to be the first one free. He straightened a crumpled leaf. Turns out he'd under-appreciated the difficulty in floral arrangement.
“I know it's been over two weeks,” he finally said. “But you know how full my schedule is! I'm trying to make a good impression for both of us and it's the middle of squash season. I've made sure they know all your exploits, General.” He paused. “Don't Murphy me. I have to be sure they're treating you well. And you've earned it after the last few years.”
He tried to shove one of the flowers back into the vase and a shower of petals fell out.
“You know I'd visit more often if you'd just wake the fuck up,” he muttered, ripping the offending flower out instead. It was a rose, bred specially to be thornless. Just like everything in Zona it was all pleasure, no pain.
Everything except his visits with Warren.
“The Founder and I have been spending a lot more time together. I think you'll like him, he's got big hopes for humanity. A lot like you did, though you'd never know it now.” Murphy rubbed his hands over his face, suddenly exhausted. The last time he'd visited, he'd chattered aimlessly about his neighbors, his activities, all the wonders of Zona. And still she'd laid there unmoving, breathing in a steady, unchanging pattern, as she had for minute after minute after minute of their time together.
He hardly noticed the quiet hum and beep of the machines anymore, except in these moments when the pointlessness of these visits overwhelmed him.
Murphy leaned forward and pressed his hands tight against his knees. “Warren, listen. I know we've already cut back to once a week visits but I think maybe it should be less. Like, a lot less.” She didn't stir. He hands were sweaty, so he wiped them on his tailored slacks and took hers one more time. “I'll check in occasionally, every couple of months. The minute, the second you wake up, I will be here. But this is...” His freshly human heart beat hard and painful in his chest. “I can't keep doing this.”
He brought her hand up and pressed her cool palm against his cheek. Murphy closed his eyes. He imagined she was awake, soothing him with a simple touch. He could see her smiling, her dark eyes warm and calm and bright with understanding. She knew in the apocalypse you couldn't stay stuck in your past too long, and as long as she was in this hospital, it was a tie he had to cut. Just like the ties he'd already cut to Doc, and Addy, and...Lucy.
Murphy opened his eyes, blinked against the blurriness and found Warren's eyes still closed, her hand limp in his. He set her hand gently down at her side and brushed his fingertips along it. He would come back. As long as there was hope, he would come back.
Day 180
The news came over his breakfast of fresh eggs and toast the morning of his next visit. A young man, nervous and pale, had knocked at his door and handed him a letter before fleeing without a word.
“Thanks?” Murphy called, shutting the door and taking the letter back to his meal. He hadn't eaten another bite since he'd opened it.
Dear Mr. Murphy,
We regret to inform you that General Warren has been declared brain-dead and moved to a more appropriate part of the facility for care. We know you had planned to visit her today but recommend that you do not, as there is no hope of cure at this time. Should her situation change, we will alert you at once. We hope you are well and having a great Zona day.
Sincerely,
Zona Hospital
The paper was pristine white, except for the neatly typed words that slashed the surface. Nobody had even bothered to sign it.
“This has to be some kind of a sick joke,” he murmured, shoving back from the table. He'd go check on her himself, just to be sure.
There was another knock at the door. Murphy hurried to open it and this time it was one of the women from the Founder's entourage. Brittany, he thought. He did know he had slept with her a couple of months ago. There was so much time in the zompocalypse and so little of it was spent getting laid; he'd rectified that drought in Zona as quickly as it had been offered to him. Which was frequently.
Brittany - he was pretty sure - smiled at him. “Mr. Murphy, the Founder sent me.”
“You know I would love to see him but I have an appointment I really can't miss.”
“With General Warren, I know.”
Murphy stilled. “You do?”
“That's why I'm here.”
“It is?”
Probably-Brittany nodded and placed a tanned hand on his arm, squeezing it warmly. “We heard the news from the hospital and he wanted me to come see you. May I come in?”
“Uh.” Murphy moved out of the way and shut the door behind her.
“The Founder wanted me to give you two things,” she said. “First, this.” She handed him a sealed envelope.
On the front in what was clearly the Founder's shaky hand was Murphy's name.
“Open it now,” Brittany urged.
As though she was the one with mind control powers, Murphy ripped open the envelope and read the short note inside.
Murphy,
My dear friend, I was saddened to hear the news about General Warren this morning. I'm sure you must be devastated. Don't worry, you are among friends who are here to care for you. You survived the apocalypse – and saved us all. You owe it to General Warren to enjoy every second of that.
Warm regards,
The Founder
Murphy folded the note and looked up at Brittany to find she was suddenly wearing a lot less clothing than she when she'd walked in. He hadn't realized her dress was really more a robe.
“This is the other gift,” she said, nearly purring.
“Um.”
“The Founder only said I should keep you company, but I thought it would be more fun if we engaged in some...physical activity.”
He thought of Roberta, still and silent in bed. She could have been well and truly gone that whole time for all he knew. It was better this way, he told himself, not having that last painful thorn of hope taunting him.
Brittany took a step towards him, her breasts straining against her too-small lace bra. “You don't have to,” she said, her lower lip pouting out a little. “But I think you'd enjoy it.”
Murphy swallowed and took Brittany's hand. “I think I would,” he said, putting on a smile and pulling her into his bedroom. Her laughter bounced alone down the hallway.
Day 731
“This way, Mr. Murphy.”
Murphy's long legs had him striding past the nurse, then having to slow down for her to catch up, then lapping her again. He wanted to run – he wanted to run away. He couldn't do either, so instead he hurried and stalled, hurried and stalled, until the nurse pointed at a door ten feet down.
“She's in there?”
“Yes, sir.”
He exhaled loudly and the nurse startled, then left him alone. Warren was in there. Warren, who they'd told him a year and half ago had basically died, just like Lucy and the others. He had done everything he could to forget them; grief like that had no place in the apocalypse, least of all in Zona. He thought he'd done a good job of shoving off that weight, but he felt fifty pounds lighter knowing they weren't all gone, that Warren could be by his side here in post-apocalyptic paradise.
Murphy pressed his palms to his burning eyes. He had not cried for any of them, not even Lucy. He would not start now that Warren was returned to him. Heart pounding, Murphy took a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow whoosh. Cool and cheerful, he told himself. He stepped to the doorway, saw her upright with a doctor checking her over. Her hair was white, but otherwise she looked mostly as he'd left her: beautiful, and alive. Until this second he'd been expecting it to all be a mistake and she'd still be lying there unmoving.
He couldn't stop the smile that dawned wide across his face when he entered the room.
“Well, look who's back in town,” he said, beaming into Roberta's open eyes.