Archive of Our Own

By the time Troy reached the front steps of Greendale, students were already spilling from the library onto the street. The doors were shattered. A foul, rotten stench hung in the air.

He recognized some of the roaming things in front of him, or at least who they used to be; there was Vicki in a sweater caked with blood, Neil beside her, his face a gnarled mess of red meat. Doctor Rich waddled past them, and aside from the gash across his eye, he almost looked funny in his stupid banana costume.

Troy tried to get a better look inside the building. It was no use.

A horde of his classmates were coming at him, and they looked hungry. There was no way he'd reach the thermostat in time.

He ran.

He ran until his feet hurt, and then more. He finally stopped to lean against a statue, catching his breath. The parking lot at the edge of campus was empty, the street dark and quiet.

The cool air sent shivers through his skin. At some point he would have to find a shirt.

More importantly, he had to find Abed. For all Troy knew, he could be dead. Or worse, not dead. But he had no clue how he’d get back there.

I disappointed Abed, he thought. I wasn’t the first Black man to make it to the end.

His chest began to fill with a familiar heat. His lip trembled. He felt pathetic. Usually Abed would be there to comfort him when he felt this way, but not tonight. No one was here, and there were no stars in the sky, or if there were, they were hidden away out of sight. He was all alone. And now that the world was officially ending, he'd probably be alone forever, left to wander through some sort of deserted wasteland like Will Smith and his dog in I Am Legend.

“Troy!”

He jumped. There was a figure in the distance, moving fast. Too fast.

If that’s a zombie, I’m screwed.

“Troy!” he heard again, and suddenly he was being hauled up to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

Abed stood in front of him, barely winded, eyes wild. Alive.

“We have to go.”

“Abed—how—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m here. Let’s go.”

-

They found Jeff’s car parked behind the dumpsters. Abed dug a key from his pocket with no explanation, opened the passenger door for Troy, and slid into the driver’s seat. Troy joined him, moving slowly, in a daze.

“Heated seats,” Abed said, pressing a button on the console.

Troy wanted to ask if Abed had driven Jeff’s car before, but it was obvious he had. He didn’t even realize Abed knew how to drive. There was still a lot he didn’t know about Abed.

He could be infected, he thought, trying to get a good look at him in the dark of the car. His costume was ripped along the side, but Troy didn’t see any bite marks, and there was a huge red stain, but it didn’t look like Abed’s blood.

“Did they get you?” he asked.

“No,” Abed said, pulling onto the street. “Turns out those judo classes last semester paid off.”

“Did you see anyone else from the study group?”

Abed’s face shifted.

“No,” he said after a moment.

“Okay.”

Shivering a bit, Troy wrapped his arms around himself. He felt chilled down to his bones, exposed. The heated seats did nothing to help. He wanted to go back to Abed’s dorm and watch a movie curled up on the couch, maybe something like Marmaduke. He’d probably never get to do that again.

“You need a shirt,” Abed said. “I have clothes at my dad’s place. It’s not a good idea to hang around here.”

“Okay.”

Troy let himself be driven. Tears threatened to spill out again, building up in terrified waves. He was supposed to be the hero, the one to save the world and fix everything, and now everyone else had to pay the price all because he failed.

Abed parked outside his house. Homes lined the street on either side, some with a light or two on, cutting gently through the dark as night drew in. Troy followed Abed inside. Abed flipped a switch to his left, washing the living room in warm light. It was empty and uncharacteristically quiet.

“Oh, I forgot. He’s working tonight.”

“Your dad’s not here?” Troy asked.

“No, he’s at the restaurant.”

Abed fished his phone out while Troy made his way upstairs. He flipped on each light as if it could bring him some semblance of safety. As far as he knew, someone was already there, lurking around the corner, waiting.

“He’s still not answering,” came Abed’s voice from behind. Troy tried not to jump.

“What do we do?”

“We leave.”

Abed stepped in front of Troy, into his bedroom, and began rummaging through the closet.

“We have to pack quickly. Army trucks were pulling up when we left, but I don’t think they were fast enough. I almost got bit on my way to find you.” He dug out a luggage bag, a pile of clothes, and threw them in. “I’m assuming it’s shoot-on-sight.”

Troy shivered again, but not from the cold.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is we need to hurry.” He threw a sweater to Troy and continued packing.

Downstairs, he shoved cans into his backpack and grabbed a jug of milk from the fridge. Troy watched as he poured it down the sink. He quickly filled it with water, then set it aside, searching the fridge again.

“We don’t want to take anything perishable,” he said. “But we could use a few of these containers. Hold this for a sec.”

He shut the fridge and passed a small tupperware container to Troy. A note on the top read Lunch. Troy emptied its contents into the trash.

Sirens echoed in the distance. Abed rushed around the kitchen, throwing a small pot and pan into his backpack, followed by a lighter, scissors, a few utensils, and a flashlight.

“Abed,” Troy said suddenly. “Maybe we… I don’t know, maybe we could try waiting it out, right? Maybe we’re just being crazy about this whole thing.”

Abed paused, still bent over to dig through his bag.

“Troy,” he said, standing slowly, and for a moment Troy felt like he was in trouble, but Abed’s hands came to rest gently on his shoulders. He stared down into his eyes as he spoke. “Our genre is shifting. We've clearly gone from quirky self-referential sitcom to full-blown survival horror. I need you to try to commit.”

Another siren rang out, loud enough to rattle the walls. Abed zipped up his bag and hauled it over his shoulder.

Something that sounded like a plane’s engine was roaring overhead, and Abed suddenly took him by the arm, pulling him outside. A few blocks away, red and blue lights filled the sky, and there were voices Troy couldn’t make out.

Abed tossed his bags in the back of the car with a thump.

“I think I have an idea, but we need to get out of here. The sooner the better.”

They drove for what felt like a long time. Houses flew by in a blur. Scatterings of trick-or-treaters still roamed the streets, ghosts and goblins and even the occasional zombie, smiling, laughing.

A group of kids in superhero costumes laughed as they ran up the steps of a house, where a man at the door was passing out candy. Troy watched, feeling disconnected from it all behind his glass. He wanted to stop, run out and scream, You’re in danger! Everything is about to change and I can’t save you! No one can save you! But he figured that might be a bit of a mood killer. It was probably their last Halloween. In a morbid way, he thought they should at least get to enjoy it.

One of the zombies was really convincing, he thought, watching as an older girl dragged herself down the sidewalk. She stopped before the same house, lurking behind the group. Her jacket hung in torn pieces from her shoulders. Troy squinted, trying to make out the text printed down the side of the blue sleeve.

Suddenly she lunged forward, and all the kids scattered, screaming as she sunk her teeth into the man’s cheek and ripped off a bright red chunk of flesh. Candy flew everywhere. He dropped to the ground, convulsing.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Abed asked, eyes fixed on the road.

Blood spewed across the porch. Troy didn’t see what happened next.

-

Abed tried his dad again as he drove. Still no answer.

“Should we stop at the restaurant?” Troy asked.

“No. I considered it, but it’s too close to Greendale. Too risky.”

“Abed,” he said, his voice a soft whisper, “I’m kinda scared.”

Abed removed a hand from the wheel and offered it to Troy, palm up. Troy took it without a second thought.

“You should rest,” Abed said.

“I don’t know if I can right now.”

“Okay, let’s play a game.”

They took turns changing the letters of movie titles, turning Die Hard into Dye Hard, Beauty and the Beast into Beauty and the Feast, a high-stakes drama about a caterer tasked with delivering the biggest meal of her career. But that reminded Troy of Shirley, and his chest hurt like it did when his mom told him his dog whose name was also Troy died.

Traffic began to calm down outside the city. That’s when it began to hit Troy. It came in cold, panicked waves.

“Abed.”

“What?”

He swallowed, inhaled, tried to breathe and gather his thoughts. But all that came out was, “What about Pierce?”

“I don’t know,” Abed hummed. “He seemed pretty zombie-like last time I saw him.”

Troy tried his best not to hyperventilate. Brief flashes of light dotted past him, cars with people inside who had no clue what waited for them outside.

It felt like hours before they finally stopped. Rain began to tap against the windows. Troy didn’t recognize the area they were in. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto, he thought, except he wasn’t exactly sure where they were. For all he knew, they actually might’ve been in Kansas.

A small motel came into view on their left. Neon letters above the door read VACANCY, and true enough, there was only a single truck in the parking lot. Abed pulled the car in beside it. Troy stepped out and grabbed his bag. Behind them, a long stretch of road descended into the night.

A friendly-looking lady greeted them from behind the front desk when they entered. Troy took a look around. The place seemed safe enough for the start of Troy And Abed’s Epic Zombie Apocalypse Adventure.

“Welcome. You guys come from a Halloween party or something?”

“Something like that,” said Abed. “We need a room for the night. What do you have available?”

She offered a small hm, typing something into her computer.

“Looks like we have some doubles on the ground floor and a few singles on the second.”

“We’ll take the single,” Abed said. Troy was secretly glad; he didn’t want to be an easy target for any potential attacks during the night, and the second floor seemed safer.

“Alrighty then. It’s fifty per night.”

Abed fished out a card from his wallet and slid it over. She swiped it before passing it back along with two room keys.

“You’re all set. Checkout’s at noon.”

“Thanks.”

They made their way to their room. The bed sat in the center of the wall on the left, and there were nightstands on either side, a dresser opposite the bed, and a couch near the window. Troy set his bag on the bed while Abed ran to the bathroom.

“Troy?” he heard.

Troy popped his head up. Abed stood near the bathroom door, shirtless.

“What’s up, buddy?”

Abed looked at the carpet, fidgeting. “Can you just keep an eye out while I’m in here? You can go after me. We should probably sleep in shifts too.”

“Yeah, of course buddy. Go do your thing, I’ll be out here.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Abed disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, the shower hissed to life.

Troy sat alert in the middle of the room, hairs pricking up at the back of his neck. He listened for shouts and creepy moans, but there was only silence beneath the patter of rain.

This is it, he thought. The end of the world. He sort of expected more fire.

His parents used to talk about it a lot when he was little. God was supposed to come down from the sky and replace the world with his kingdom. The dead would be resurrected and walk the earth. Maybe they were right all along, and this was his punishment. For all those ants he killed when he was a kid, all the people he shoved in lockers, for who he secretly—

The shower stopped. He heard movement, clothes rustling, and then Abed was in front of him again. Water droplets ran down the long line of his neck.

“Sorry,” Troy said once he realized Abed had spoken. “What were you saying?”

“I said the bathroom’s all yours and I’m going to try calling everyone else now that we’re safe. It’d be ideal if we could all meet up. We’ll have strength in numbers.”

Abed found his phone and flipped it open.

“Wait, so the others are okay?” A twinge of hope poked at Troy’s chest. Abed shrugged. He didn’t smile, which was normal for Abed. But he didn’t look happy. His mouth was pulled into a flat line.

“I don’t know, Troy,” he said. And his voice sounded weird. Distant. He didn’t sound like Abed. “I don’t know.”

Troy frowned. “Okay. But—”

“I don’t know,” he said again. In a softer tone, “Go shower.”

Troy went. He showered. When he came back in his pajamas, Abed was lying flat on his back in bed.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

The room was dim, barely lit by the lamp on the nightstand. It was still raining. It felt like they’d stepped into an alternate timeline. Abed would probably say that, Troy thought. But Abed didn’t say anything.

“You should lay down,” is what he eventually said.

“Who’s gonna stand guard?”

Abed shrugged his bony shoulders against the sheets.

“We’ll probably be fine for the night.”

“Okay,” Troy said, carefully climbing in beside him. “But if we both get eaten by zombies, I’m totally blaming you.”

-

The rain beat against the window all night. Troy watched it come down in sheets. If he closed his eyes, it sounded like a crowd of hungry palms smacking the glass, trying to break their way in.

-

In the morning, the world was quiet. The rain had ceased, and the sun was trying to take its place. Yellow slivers crept in through the window.

Troy yawned and shifted around. He didn’t sleep much. He’d tossed and turned all night, plagued by a thick sense of discomfort. He was too wired, and it was cold, and he was too close to Abed, whose limbs were too pointy for sharing a bed like this, even if it meant he got to be tucked into his arms for a little while.

I love you, he suddenly remembered. He’d said that to Abed. Last night.

The thought startled him fully awake. He tried to sit up, but Abed was still asleep with an arm around him.

I love you, I love you, I love you. Did Abed even remember? He had to. He’d—he replied, he said he knew.

“Abed,” he panic-whispered. Abed didn’t budge.

“Abed,” he tried again, attempting to untangle himself. Abed finally began to stir, muttering nonsense.

“What time is it?” he asked, eyes still closed. Troy moved to grab his phone and Abed wrapped his arm tighter around his waist, which made Troy almost drop it.

“Um,” he tried, clumsily tapping the screen on. “Almost nine.”

“Okay, cool.”

The location on his phone said Scottsbluff, Nebraska. Troy had never visited Nebraska before. Never even stepped foot outside of Colorado minus a family reunion as a kid. He scrolled through a few apps. Local news stations were beginning to report on the outbreak.

He grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on. Sure enough, a reporter from Denver was live, covered in full-body protective gear.

“We’re not sure of the exact origin of the virus,” she was saying, voice muffled through a thick mask. “But we know that it seems to spread through direct contact. If you encounter someone that you suspect to be infected, the best thing to do is distance yourself, get to a secure location, and contact the number on the screen below. There are rapid response teams on the ground dedicated to resolving this situation as soon as possible.”

In the background, sirens blared and smoke poured into the sky. It looked like a warzone.

“Holy crap,” he muttered.

Abed sat up on his elbows, head tilted.

“Do you think they just kill them?”

Troy turned to him. “What?”

“The government,” he said. “They’re just going to kill everyone who’s infected.”

Troy suddenly found his mind filled with a horrible thought.

“Abed, you… You didn’t get bit or anything, right? You’re totally one hundred percent sure?”

“I’m pretty sure. Here, look.”

Just like that, Abed’s shirt was gone. Next came his pants and socks, until he sat there in just his boxers. Troy’s face felt hot.

“Um—”

“Take yours off too,” Abed said. “Let me see.”

“What?!”

“You were shirtless almost all night. What if you got bit without realizing but your symptoms are late-onset?”

Troy scratched the back of his neck, trying to avoid staring at Abed’s body. He was all lean muscle, not nearly as bony as he looked, and he had hair on his chest, and—his—

“Troy?”

“I didn’t get bit,” Troy said dumbly. Abed frowned, his brows jumping up.

“I believe you, but you know that’s what the character in a movie would say after he definitely got bit, right?”

Abed quickly tackled him down onto the bed.

“Hey!” Troy fell back, heart racing as Abed’s fingers ghosted along his shirt. His hand brushed against the skin of Troy’s stomach, sending tingles through his body, and then he tugged Troy’s shirt up until Troy had to help him pull it off. He shivered against the cool air.

Abed hovered above him on the bed, hands planted on either side of his head. Their faces were so close he could just…

He tried to swallow down the ball of nerves in his throat. Abed was waiting, he realized. He wanted him to remove his pants.

Troy could shove him off, tell him this was weird, but he wouldn’t. Abed knew he wouldn’t.

Slowly and a bit awkwardly, he shimmied his sweatpants down. Abed helped him pull them off, fingers brushing against Troy’s.

I love you, he remembered again. I love you.

I know.

“Abed,” he tried, but his mouth felt dry. “Do I uh… Does everything look okay?”

Abed inhaled and gave a short nod, sitting back.

“Yeah. You look good.”

The heat in Troy’s face suddenly spread down to his chest. He sat up, grabbed his pants and threw them back on.

The room was quiet, warm. They redressed and grabbed breakfast downstairs.

When they stepped out, the sun was blinding. Troy covered his eyes with a hand, squinting. There was nothing around for miles but flat, untouched earth.

Abed popped the trunk open. He threw in his bag, then Troy’s, bending to organize everything. Tucked into the corner of the trunk was Jeff’s suit. The one he wore to the Halloween party. Troy’s stomach squeezed in on itself at the sight.

“Hey Abed?”

“Mhm?”

“Last night,” Troy said. “Last night, when you called everyone, who answered? Anyone?”

Abed closed the trunk with a thud. He straightened and met Troy’s eyes for a moment. Then he looked away, frowning.

“We should get going. There are reports of outbreaks in the area.”

-

A few miles down the road, buildings began to take shape against the horizon. It was enough for a sense of hope to spread through Troy’s chest.

The town was small; more a cluster of buildings than anything. Dirt plumed up from beneath the tires as they drove.

As far as he could see, they were the only car on the road. The whole place looked deserted.

Abed rolled to a stop and parked beside a sporting goods store. All the windows were broken in. Glass lay scattered across the pavement.

“I’m committing to the genre shift,” Abed announced. “I’ll be right back.”

“What—”

He opened the door and slid out without shutting off the engine. Before Troy could protest, he was gone, stepping carefully through the debris.

Troy tapped his hands against his legs, waiting. His eyes darted anxiously between all the mirrors.

He turned the radio on, searching for a familiar station. It was mostly static. A few voices cut through—

—as the prophecy foretold. The end is here! If Christ compels you, call us now for exclusive access to all of Heaven’s blessings—

—coming to you live from the apocalypse. If you haven’t gone outside today, boy do I have some news for you! You’re not gonna wanna miss our next segment, News or Snooze. Stick around after this word from our sponsors—

—spreads through direct human contact. Mortality rates estimated to be between 75 to 100 percent.

Troy didn’t want to hear any more. He turned the radio off and sat in silence.

Abed came back out with his arms full of what looked like clothing. Two helmets and two pairs of gloves dangled from his hands. And he had two rifles strapped around his chest.

The door clicked open. Abed threw everything in the back noisily.

“Are those real guns?”

“Yep. We’re in Resident Evil territory now, Troy. Saddle up.”

“Good thing I just finished that game,” Troy said, trying to lighten the mood.

A moment later, a loud noise came from somewhere not far from them, followed by a scream.

Abed quickly slid into the car, locked the doors, and pulled forward.

“Yep,” he said again. “Good thing.”

-

“Okay, now hold it with two hands.”

Abed’s voice was soft and low in his ear. He sat behind Troy, guiding him, arms encircling Troy and lifting his gun into the proper position.

“This part here is called the grip. It’s pretty much what it says on the tin. Use your right hand to hold it. Like this.”

He spread his palm out over Troy’s and eased his fingers into place.

Troy suppressed a shiver as he spoke again.

“Your other one goes here—” He took Troy’s left hand and moved it up, wrapping it around the base. “Good. That’ll make it easier to control your aim, and also you won’t get knocked back and give yourself a black eye.”

They were in the middle of a huge empty field, sitting in a small patch of shade provided by the car. Abed’s chest was pressed to his back.

“Okay, align your sights. Make sure there’s equal space between both of them, then set them on your target. You want to be confident in your aim.”

Troy focused on his target, a sunflower. It was facing away, its head tilted up toward the sky. His finger traced over the trigger. Abed’s finger traced over his.

“Why do you know so much about guns?” he asked.

“Paintball,” Abed said. “And I have a cousin who lives in Detroit. Okay, you’re good. Go ahead. Shoot.”

Troy nodded, mostly to himself. He could do this.

He squeezed down, and then jerked back as the gun fired, blowing the sunflower to bits, scattering yellow petals and leaves across the grass. Abed caught him from falling backwards.

It was loud. Louder than a paintball gun, that’s for sure. Louder than he expected. It made his ears ring, and for a moment he was scared he went deaf, but he heard Abed talking to him, saying good job, Troy, and the words wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He’d never shot anything before. It was just a sunflower, but it was alive before and now it wasn’t. His heart felt strange.

Before they left the area, he walked further into the field and gathered as many of its pieces as he could find. There weren’t many, but there was one full petal lying in the grass, unharmed. He carefully tucked it into his hand before joining Abed.

-

Two days later, they still hadn’t heard from anyone.

Troy was driving now. He was pretty sure they were somewhere in South Dakota. Abed told him to just follow all northbound signs, so that’s what he’d been doing. That, and avoiding any heavily populated areas.

Crossing through the Nebraska border had been a challenge. Fully-armed agents were stationed at checkpoints across the Midwest, and soon they’d be everywhere else too. They questioned Troy and Abed for what felt like hours.

Troy had no clue what Abed’s plan was. Maybe he didn’t have one. But he kept driving, and soon it was night again, and darkness began to close in on the road. He was getting tired; there was nothing around for miles, and he’d been staring down this stretch of cement for a long time now.

A gas station came into sight up ahead. He pulled in and parked next to a pump. The lights inside the building were off, but the gas pump worked, and it still charged him forty bucks to fill the tank. Two things that’ll survive the zombie apocalypse, he thought. Cockroaches and capitalism. Gross.

He frowned, thinking of Britta. He settled back into the car and fished his phone out. No new messages, no new calls. Barely even a bar of service.

“We should get some rest,” Abed said. Troy rubbed his eyes. He was probably right.

“Do you wanna trade places?”

“No, let’s pull over behind the gas station and sleep here.”

Troy wasn’t sure about that. “What if someone… I don’t know, man. What if someone’s out there?”

“I looked around while you were getting gas. It should be safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’re both tired. I’m a light sleeper. If anyone tries to sneak up on us I’ll hear them.”

“Okay.” Troy was too tired to keep debating. He slowly pulled the car in behind the building and parked near a dumpster, tucked out of sight from anyone on the road.

He wondered again about his friends. There was a small chance someone survived and just hadn’t contacted him. He held onto that thought as much as he could.

-

After a while, another thought crept in.

They were all gone. His dad, his crazy stepmom and crazier aunt, his mean old nana. Pierce, Chang, the creepy coach he had in high school. Everyone who ever doubted him, everyone who ever mocked him. Everyone who ever judged him for not being the man they wanted him to be. They were either dead, undead, or in the same position he was. In a weird way, it was a comforting thought.

But that meant everyone he’d ever loved was dead or suffering too. Jeff, Britta, Annie, Shirley. His mom, his cousins, his penpal he’d never speak to again.

At least he still had Abed. They were lying in the back of the car with the seats folded down and their shoulders squished together. Crickets chirped outside the windows.

“This sucks, man.”

“I know,” Abed said. “I’m never gonna see Die Hard again.”

“I’m never gonna meet Clive Owen.”

“I’m never gonna become a filmmaker. Actually, I might. Post-zombie Hollywood might finally be ready for some of my ideas.”

“I’m never gonna get that signed photo of LeVar Burton,” Troy sighed.

His mind was beginning to drift into weird territory. Maybe it was the proximity to Abed. He was warm and solid, and lying here with him made Troy feel safer than he’d feel alone.

“I’m never gonna tour the Cougartown set. I was supposed to do that during spring break.”

“I’m never gonna have sex.”

Abed let out a little hm. He tilted his head, knocking against Troy’s.

“You’ve never had sex?”

“Not the point, man.” Troy’s face felt hot. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

Abed shrugged. “Sorry.”

An awkward silence took over. He shifted beside Abed uncomfortably. Even with the seats down, the back of the car was cramped, forcing their limbs to tangle together. Abed's legs were pressed against his, and there was a familiar heat coiling deep in his stomach and pooling between his legs.

He was hard. And there wasn’t much he could do to conceal it.

“I’m not judging, by the way. I just thought…” Abed’s face flipped between expressions. “Nevermind.”

“What?”

“You’ve mentioned butt stuff a lot so I was just surprised, that’s all.” Troy wanted to cover his face and turn away. “But I feel the same as you. I’ll probably never have sex again. I’ll miss it.”

Troy wanted to ask more about that, but he also wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible and go to sleep. Talking about this while pressed so close to Abed was doing weird things to him. It made his head feel fuzzy and warm, like he was a bowl of soup and his thoughts could just spill out. Even something like...

“We could… you know.”

Abed didn’t respond for a moment. Troy stared out into the night and wondered if he’d just made a horrible mistake.

“We could what?”

“Uhhh, you know,” he tried. “We could have s…ex.” He couldn’t think of another way to finish the sentence.

Abed frowned a little like he was thinking. Then he leaned forward, said “okay,” and suddenly his lips were on Troy’s.

It took Troy a second to realize he could kiss back, that he was being given permission to kiss Abed, that Abed was kissing him.

Part of his brain was crying, but most of his brain stopped working entirely.

He'd been fantasizing about this for months. Maybe a year. Longer than he'd ever admit out loud. He ran a cautious hand up Abed’s chest and into his hair. Abed tilted his head a bit and inhaled, gently moving his lips over Troy’s.

All of Troy’s past girlfriends—and the guy from his football team he’d secretly kissed after a game—just shoved their tongues down his throat and sort of tried to suck his mouth off, but Abed took his time, sliding his lips slowly against Troy’s, sending warm flicks of breath across his face. Each movement felt intentional.

He repositioned himself and brought a hand up to cup Troy’s jaw. One of his legs slotted between Troy's as he hovered above him, and oh, okay, whatever he was doing felt really good.

Troy broke away to exhale a shaky breath, grasping at the fabric of Abed’s t-shirt, and then Abed was kissing him again, deeper this time, prying his lips open with his tongue and licking into his mouth. He rolled his hips down, letting Troy feel him. Abed was hard too. Fully hard, and making out with Troy in the back of a stolen car.

There was something else between his legs, and he jumped when he realized what it was. Abed’s hand, unbuttoning his jeans.

“Abed,” he sighed, letting his own hands wander. He slid one down to work at Abed’s pants.

Abed let out a little hmm against Troy’s lips and rolled his hips again, more directly now through just their underwear.

Troy felt drunk, lightheaded. He was mostly just panting against Abed’s mouth now, too swept up by the pleasure coursing through his veins to kiss back. Abed didn’t seem to mind. He drew his teeth along Troy’s lip, and all the tension in Troy’s body snapped as his cock twitched and spilled inside his boxers. Abed kissed him through it, holding him close as he shivered, and it wasn’t long before Abed let out a gasp of his own, his hips stuttered, and Troy felt something wet and warm between his legs.

“Oh my god,” Troy managed.

His limbs were heavy and his head was spinning. And he felt a little gross from coming in his pants like that.

“Yeah.” Abed sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “Hold on. We have napkins around here somewhere.”

They cleaned themselves up and tossed the napkins outside. Troy hadn’t moved from his spot. He stared up at the ceiling of the car, trying to process the past few minutes.

He waited for the questions to come. You said you love me. We just had sex. What does this mean for us? But they never did. Abed readjusted himself, pulled his pants back up, and settled in beside Troy again, exactly where he was before.

For the first time in three days, Troy slept peacefully.

-

At least until he was woken up by a loud noise. The sun was out now; it must’ve been morning. He bolted up in—he wasn’t in bed. He was in a car. Right.

Abed was nowhere to be found.

He ripped himself from the seat and out of the car, grabbing his rifle as he went. It shook in his hands. What if someone hurt Abed? Or worse. He had no idea what he’d do if Abed was…

No. He pushed that thought from his mind.

From the other side of the gas station, there was a soft sound. Troy crept toward it. He held his gun carefully like Abed showed him.

“Troy?”

“Shit!” He jumped as he rounded the corner and met Abed, whose gun was also drawn.

“Hey. Sorry.”

Troy lowered his gun. Abed lowered his.

“What were you doing out here, man?”

“I had to pee.”

“Jeez, leave a note next time or something.”

“Sorry.”

They trudged back to the car. Dead grass crunched beneath their feet. The leaves were starting to change colors for the season, which felt oddly appropriate. The weather and the Earth were rearranging themselves together. As above, so below.

A few hours later, they were in a city, the first they’d seen in days. Troy’s phone said Aberdeen, South Dakota. Other cars were starting to pass by more frequently again. Buildings lined the road instead of trees and grass. Military trucks rolled in, and there were troops patrolling the sidewalks. Troy couldn’t decide whether he felt safe or not.

“Where are we going?” Troy asked.

“We need a few things, and there might be somewhere we could stay around here.”

They passed by a woman holding a sign: GIVE ME YOUR TIRED, YOUR POOR, YOUR HUDDLED MASSES YEARNING TO BREATHE FREE - MATTHEW 11:28, and below that, GOVT =/= JUDGE JURY AND EXECUTIONER.

“Abed? What do you think is gonna happen?”

“What do you mean?”

Troy wasn’t sure what he meant. What was going to happen to the world? To the people suffering from a condition they couldn’t control? To the two of them? He didn’t answer.

-

They stopped at a few places—a CVS and a Walmart—before checking into a Super 8 motel. Rooms on the ground floor were half off for the week. Capitalism and cockroaches, Troy thought.

He threw his bag down on the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe for the night, at least. No zombies or federal agents or mildly traumatizing bathroom breaks. Just Troy, Abed, and a stale-smelling room that seemed to be hand-picked from the eighties.

“I feel gross, I’m gonna shower,” Troy said.

“Alright. I’ll stand guard out here. The TV actually looks functional so I have some catching up to do.”

Things almost felt normal for a second. Troy smiled.

“Okay, buddy. Be back soon.”

“Cool cool cool.”

He stepped into the bathroom and stripped down. In the background, muffled TV chatter replaced the silence.

His reflection looked tired. He ran a hand down his face. There were bags beneath his eyes and a few new scrapes and cuts he didn’t have before. The person in the mirror was still Troy Barnes, but they didn’t quite feel like him.

He turned the shower on and got in, pressing his hands to the wall and letting the water pour over him. He wanted to wash everything away and start over. That was the difference between real life and his Resident Evil speedrun sessions, he figured. In real life, there was no going back.

He’d never graduate from Greendale and get his degree. He’d never get married and have Abed’s babies—or have totally straight babies with a girl. Firefly would never get a reboot. He’d never sit in Study Room F again. Tears slipped from his eyes and ran down his cheeks, mixing with the stream of water.

I’m sorry, he thought. I tried to save everyone, I tried. I’m sorry to my friends, I’m sorry to my family. I’m sorry God, I’m so sorry.

When he got out, Abed was sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes alert and fixed on the TV.

“They have HBO,” he said without looking away from the screen. “There’s a Sopranos marathon right now.”

Troy finally had decent reception again, and international news outlets were reporting on restricted travel from the United States into other countries. It was weird—the rest of the world just kept going, or tried to. He felt small, insignificant. Like no matter what he did, none of it made a difference either way.

“Want some chips?” Abed asked, holding out a bag of Let’s.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Cool.”

There was noise outside—people were talking, but Troy couldn’t hear what they were saying. It sounded intense. He sat up a bit, trying to get a better view.

He peaked over Abed’s shoulder, out the window, and saw two men in army gear talking to an older guy. It looked like they were asking him something. He seemed freaked out.

Before Troy could process what was happening, they grabbed him, restraining his arms behind his back while he screamed and struggled to break free.

“Get down,” Abed said, pushing Troy back onto the bed and covering his mouth.

His breath came out in quick huffs against Abed’s palm. He stared up at the ceiling; it was one of those popcorn ceilings that Britta said was made of asbestos. His chest felt tight and painful, and it shook from his racing heart.

He heard Tony Soprano yelling nonsense on TV, and beneath that, more screams from outside. An argument, begging and pleading. Blood pounding in his ears. Loud noises. It went on longer than he could bear.

Eventually, the noise faded away into silence.

Abed popped his head up. The room was dark now, and the glow of the TV lit up the side of his face.

“Okay. We’re good. Sorry.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. They’re gone now.”

They both sat up. There was no one outside the window anymore; the street was empty.

The episode ended, and the credits rolled. Along the bottom of the screen, a red bar flashed with scrolling text: COMMON SYMPTOMS OF VIRAL CORDYCECOCCOLUS INCLUDE: IRRITABLE BEHAVIOR, HIGH FEVER, HUNGER AND CONFUSION. IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING. A phone number and .gov website trailed the end of the message.

“Troy,” Abed said, “I need to talk to you about something.”

Troy was waiting for it. The other night, you said you loved me. Why did you say that? Why did we have sex? Why now? Anxiety began to fill his chest.

“Yeah, of course buddy. Anything.”

Abed stared ahead without looking at Troy again.

“This morning, before you found me, something weird happened.”

A different type of anxiety came over him. Cold fear, the swooping his stomach did on rollercoaster rides.

“What was it?”

“I went to go pee, and there was a rabbit. It was just laying there. There was blood everywhere and it had a huge bite mark on its leg. It wasn’t breathing. I thought it was dead. I think it seriously might’ve been because nothing that looked like that could’ve possibly been alive.”

He paused and shifted around, looking down.

“It came after me, which was weird because rabbits aren’t typically aggressive. It was fast. I had my gun, so I shot it, but it almost bit me.” He paused again. “I’ve never killed anything before.”

“Holy shit, Abed. Why didn’t you tell me? Are you sure it didn’t get you?”

Abed nodded, still staring at the bedsheet. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. But I guess what I’m saying is it’s finally hitting me that the world’s ending.”

The anxiety washed away into an unsettled, tired feeling.

“The world isn’t ending,” Troy said. “It’s just… changing.” Except neither of them were very good at dealing with change.

“If the virus can spread from humans to animals, then…”

Abed didn’t finish speaking. His eyes flicked up and down again, and he grabbed the remote and pressed the power button, encasing the room in darkness.

-

They passed by a couple cities the next day. Something big was going on near Jamestown, North Dakota—Troy wasn’t sure what. There was a detour that took them west, past a town called Pierce that made him kind of sad, and into the mountains. There was a dusting of snow along the tops of the trees, and a lake tucked into the crest of a huge valley. It reminded him of Colorado.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go back?” he asked as Abed drove.

“Back where?

“Home, dude.”

“Maybe,” Abed said. “Probably. Maybe.”

Troy frowned. He switched the heat on and rubbed his arms; the further north they traveled, the colder it got.

“Maybe we should try to go back and see if it’s okay now. Did you hear from anyone yet?”

“No.”

The car turned onto a patch of gravel and rolled to a stop. There was a trail off to the side, and a few clearings in the trees around them. Troy could see the lake and mountains in the background, tinted orange as the afternoon began to fade into early evening.

“This spot looks safe for the night,” Abed said. “Remember our awful camping trip a couple months ago?”

“Oh god,” Troy groaned. “We’re going camping?”

“Yup.”

Abed gave Troy a pat on the knee and climbed out.

At least he could pretend this was just an ordinary camping trip. There was no one else out here for miles. He heard birds chirping to each other somewhere in the denser woods, the soft hush of water from the opposite side of the road. It was almost… peaceful.

Along with a tent, they’d found a few other supplies the day before: a first aid kit, extra blankets, and a single-burner portable stove. And, per Abed, a bag of noodles and stick of butter.

They set up their tent between a group of trees, just out of sight from the road but within walking distance of the car. Troy unfolded their blankets inside and gathered some clothes to use as makeshift pillows. He set their guns and a few pieces of gear in a corner. He heard Abed rustling around outside, then clanking, the clicking of the mini stove.

He tapped around on his phone for a minute. Headline after headline taunted him, reminded him this wasn’t just some adventure into the great outdoors with his best friend.

UN Issues Joint Statement on Health and Safety of Infected Individuals. Troy scrolled further down.

How to Track Outbreaks in Your Area, and below that, Why Canada is Limiting its Border Entry.

He turned his phone off and crawled outside.

Abed had a pot of buttered noodles going, and it actually smelled pretty good.

“Hey,” said Troy. “You look like a cowboy, or Bear Grylls or something.” It was true—with his flannel shirt and backdrop of trees, Abed almost looked like a lumberjack, but a beardless, skinny one.

Abed hmmed and stirred his noodles.

“If you can’t fix it, you’ve got to stand it,” he said. “Brokeback Mountain.”

“I’ve never seen that one.”

Abed hmmed again. After a moment, he turned the stove off, emptied the noodles into two bowls, and passed one to Troy.

They ate with their knees and shoulders squished together. It was the first real meal they’d shared in days. The noodles were warm and just the right level of buttery, and it felt good to eat; it tasted like home. He watched the lake turn pink and red as the sun lowered over the horizon.

Inside the tent, Abed fished his laptop out of his backpack. He’d charged it at the hotel the night before; it had a full battery and lit the small space up with a white glow.

Troy watched him click around a bit. He found a video of a campfire and set it to full-screen, then placed the laptop in the corner of the tent.

“I don’t know how to start a real fire,” he said, settling beside Troy and lying down. “C’mere.”

Troy didn’t hesitate. He cuddled up to Abed, breathing in his scent, listening to his heart thump beneath his ear. Abed’s arms around him felt warm and strong. He felt safe.

He leaned up and kissed him. His lips pressed gently over Abed’s, then his nose, his cheeks, and back to his mouth again.

Abed made a satisfied noise. His fingers slipped beneath Troy’s shirt and trailed up, brushing over the skin of his waist. Troy sighed against his lips. His whole body felt tingly and hot.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next, but he knew what he wanted to do, so that’s what he did. He planted his hands on either side of Abed’s head and shifted to straddle him, lowering himself even further onto his elbows so that every inch of their bodies were touching as they kissed.

Beneath him, Abed was hard in his jeans. He felt it when he rocked down, and he was so turned on by that it left him dizzy.

Hands trailed up his back again, and then his shirt came off. Abed sat up without breaking the kiss.

“Troy,” he breathed against his lips. “I want you.”

“I want you,” Troy sighed back, voice shaking.

“Open my bag,” Abed murmured. “There are condoms and lube in the second pocket.”

“Okay.”

Troy dug clumsily through Abed’s bag. His hands trembled as he searched, and despite the cool temperature, he was pretty sure he was sweating. All his senses felt cranked up to a hundred.

He returned to Abed, who pulled his own shirt over his head and surged forward to meet Troy’s lips again.

“Lie down,” he said, guiding him back without breaking the kiss.

The sky outside the tent was dark, but the laptop still provided a muted light. Up close, Troy could see that Abed had freckles scattered over his face and chest, a few moles, some scars and scrapes across his torso.

He ran his hands over them. Abed made a soft noise in his throat, and Troy did it again, tracing the shape of his ribs and up over his collarbones, his shoulder blades, enjoying the warmth of his skin, the thump of his pulse.

“Abed,” he sighed, and he was being kissed again, pressed down gently into the pile of blankets. Abed’s hands slid over the bare skin of his stomach and waist. His mouth left Troy’s and trailed down, sucking lightly at the side of his neck, sending warm huffs of breath across the sensitive skin there. It felt good, almost too good, like it was something they weren’t quite supposed to be doing, and according to his family and religion and all the made-up rules they weren’t, but none of that mattered anymore. It was just them now. Maybe all that stuff never mattered in the first place.

The rest of their clothes came off and landed in a pile. Abed worked his mouth down, down, down. Troy squirmed. Hot breath ghosted between his legs, and then Abed took him into his mouth.

Troy threw his head back. He bit down on his lips, breathing harshly through his nose, muffled sounds struggling to escape. Abed’s tongue swirled over the tip of his cock and lapped at the sensitive spot below the head. Then he sucked, and all the air left Troy’s lungs in an embarrassingly loud noise. He grabbed the blankets, Abed’s hair and shoulders and hands.

Abed pulled off with a slick sound and glanced up with hooded eyes. Troy gulped in a breath. He looked like he wanted to eat him.

“Please,” Troy choked out, but he wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

Abed seemed to know. He sat up and kissed him again, then pulled back.

“Lift your legs a bit,” he said gently, and when Troy did—“Good. Good job,” and he kissed him again. There was something in his actions that he wasn’t saying out loud—We don’t have enough time, maybe, let’s just cut to what we both want.

Abed grabbed something to his side. There was a popping sound, followed by the sound of something wet, and then Troy jumped as a finger slid between his legs and over his rim.

For a moment, Troy felt incredibly vulnerable. He felt scared. It was late—he heard cicadas and crickets singing outside, and he couldn’t see much outside the tent aside from stars and the moon—and he was naked, and they were completely alone out here in the forest. Abed was about to be inside him. If someone—or something—came after them, they’d be defenseless.

But it passed. He’d waited long enough for this moment. The world as they knew it was gone and fading further with each day. When he really thought about it, there wasn’t much left for him to fear.

Abed craned down to catch his mouth in a slow, deep kiss. He worked him open carefully. His fingers curled up against a spot that made Troy’s whole body break out in shivers, and it wasn’t long before he felt a familiar tightening sensation in his stomach.

He pressed a hand between his legs to try to relieve some of the pressure, over his aching cock, feeling precum leak down from the tip.

“I think I’m ready,” he whispered. He cringed at how small his voice sounded. Abed kissed him again, slowly dragging his fingers out.

Troy bit his lip in anticipation as he watched him roll the condom on, slick himself up with lube, and line up.

He felt a nudge at his hole, right where Abed’s fingers had been moments before, and he let his head fall back again, soft whimpered sounds escaping with each shift in movement. Abed pressed in.

“Don’t hold your breath in,” Abed instructed. “Exhale.” Troy didn’t realize he was holding his breath. He let it out. His muscles relaxed, allowing Abed to slip in further, pressing deeper, deeper. He held Troy by the hips and pulled out a bit, then thrust back in, slowly.

Troy couldn’t contain himself; he was breathing loudly between moans, and he couldn’t keep his body still beneath the flood of sensations. He squirmed, grasping at Abed’s arms and shoulders. Abed kissed him once on the mouth, letting his breath wash over Troy’s face.

“Stay still,” he murmured, but Troy shook his head.

“I can’t,” he said, voice whiny and thin. He didn’t care how he sounded anymore. He could barely focus on anything but the warmth of Abed’s hands on his skin, the tug of his cock inside, filling him.

Abed let out an amused hum and held him down with both hands. He moved faster, harder, drawing a low moan from Troy’s throat. Heat coiled up deep in his gut and spread through his limbs. Precum pooled on his lower stomach. He reached a shaky hand down to stroke himself, barely keeping in time with the pace of Abed's thrusts. There was a slick slapping sound as Abed fucked him, louder as he sped up.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Abed breathed when he saw what Troy was doing. “Touch yourself, that’s good Troy, touch yourself for me.”

His muscles began to tense and sweat broke out over his skin. He was getting close. Abed must’ve been able to tell—he leaned in to kiss him, brushing his hand aside and replacing it with his own.

“Come for me,” he said against Troy’s lips, “I want to see you come for me so fucking bad,” and that was it. He spilled over Abed’s hand, panting out high sounds into the quiet of the tent, shaking and trembling beneath him. Each wave felt more intense than the last, and his muscles tingled with it, but it quickly became too much. He gathered enough strength to move Abed’s hand away.

“Keep going,” he rasped out. “I want you to come, I want you to keep going.”

Abed exhaled a soft noise of his own, and he sped up a bit before his hips slowed, and then Troy felt a tiny bit of extra warmth inside as he came, which made him feel kind of dizzy to think about.

“Abed,” he sighed, bringing a hand up and tangling it in Abed’s hair. He pressed a kiss to the side of his face. Abed kissed his neck.

He wanted to stay tangled like this forever. But they couldn’t. After a moment, Abed sat up and carefully pulled out. He rolled the condom off with a frown, tied it, and threw it outside the tent.

Troy tried to catch his breath. He was covered in at least three different bodily fluids and it felt a little gross, but he couldn’t find the energy to move right now.

Abed seemed to read his mind. Before Troy could process it, he had a towel in his hand, and he was wiping up the mess of lube and come and sweat drenched across his body. He swept it across Troy’s stomach and chest, then leaned down for a soft, quick kiss.

“Holy shit, Abed,” Troy finally managed. “I never knew you were so good at butt stuff.”

“You never asked.”

“Damn, I guess that’s true.”

They found their clothes and redressed. The laptop screen was black now; the only light in the tent was from the moon outside.

They settled down together in the nest of blankets. Abed tucked himself behind Troy and held him close. His breath was warm against the side of his face, and the blankets felt soft beneath his skin.

“Troy?” Abed said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too. Sorry I didn’t say it back before.”

“Pretty sure the whole zombie apocalypse thing was a more pressing matter at the time.”

He felt Abed shake his head and press a kiss to his shoulder.

“No, I should’ve said it. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I mean, I figured, but…”

Troy squeezed Abed’s hand tight in his own.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Promise.”

“Cool. Me neither.”

Troy relaxed in his arms and let the night fold in around him.

-

The next morning, Abed was gone again.

Troy was starting to really, really hate this. He tried to think logically before panicking this time. Abed was typically awake before him, which meant he could just be eating breakfast or going pee or doing something dumb and nerdy like birdwatching.

He waited. He waited some more. Abed didn’t come back.

“Damnit, man,” he muttered.

He threw a shirt on and grabbed his gun, checking that it was loaded just in case, and hauled himself out of the tent.

He squinted against the sun. A few yards away, he could see their car, but there was no one in it. There was no one anywhere in sight.

“Abed?” he called, anxiety beginning to fill his chest.

No response. He tried again, a little louder.

“Abed? You okay, buddy?”

His voice echoed into the woods. Nothing.

He was actually starting to freak out now. He positioned his gun the way Abed showed him and crept down the trail toward their car.

Then he had an idea—he texted him.

Hey buddy where u at, he sent. He waited a moment before pocketing his phone.

There was a noise to his left. He followed it. Up ahead, the path branched off and curled into a thicker section of forest. He heard something again, and realized it was coming from behind him—there were voices. Someone was talking.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying. He crept toward the source of the sound slowly, trying to avoid crunching any leaves beneath his feet. He came around a large tree and saw the back of someone’s head.

Gray hair, bald near the back. It was an old guy, and he had something in his hand—a long wooden stick with something sharp at the end, like some sort of makeshift spear.

He wasn’t alone. There was someone else with him, but they were on the ground.

“Shit,” Troy whispered.

He tried to get a better look, but he didn’t want to alert anyone. He turned back around and pressed himself to the tree, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

Bzzt bzzt, he heard—but it wasn’t coming from his phone.

He gathered enough strength to look. The person on the ground was wearing a flannel and skinny jeans, and Troy could see a dark head of hair lying in the grass.

It was Abed. He wasn’t moving.

The other guy bent over, maybe to get Abed’s phone from his pocket—but Troy moved quickly, and he must’ve heard him coming. He turned and came toward Troy, and Troy didn’t hesitate. He held the gun in position, took aim, and pressed down on the trigger until it fired.

It wasn’t like in the movies. The guy crumpled and made a weird, gross gurgling noise, and then he just fell over. His head looked like a split-open watermelon.

There was blood everywhere—on the trees, the grass, on Abed.

“Abed,” Troy breathed, running to him and taking his hand. He was warm. He had a pulse, he was breathing—he was alive. He was okay. “Abed, oh my god, Abed, please wake up, buddy, wake up.”

He tapped Abed on the face a few times. A horrible sinking feeling filled his chest.

“Please, please, please wake up, I love you, Abed, please,” he choked out. “I can’t… I need you to just wake up, buddy, please!”

He shook him once, then twice, hard, and Abed made a groaning noise, like he was in pain. Up close, Troy saw there was a small cut on his forehead.

“Abed, please…”

“Troy?”

“Oh, thank god,” Troy sighed.

Abed scrunched his face up, rubbing his eyes. He slowly began to open them, then blinked rapidly, running both hands down his face.

“I think that guy gave me a concussion,” he muttered.

“What the hell happened?” Troy asked. He suddenly realized they needed to get out of here as soon as possible. He stood, helping Abed up.

“I had to pee. I didn’t want to do it by the tent.”

“And he just attacked you?!”

“No,” Abed said. “Well, not exactly.”

He hissed as they walked, and Troy realized he was limping.

“Well, what happened? Did he hit you with his MacGyver spear?”

“Yes. I think he thought I was infected.”

“Why would he think that?”

They finally found their tent and began packing up. Abed didn’t respond. He gathered his cooking utensils into a bag, then helped Troy fold their tent and blankets into the back of their car.

“Abed, why would some random old dude think you’re a zombie and try to shank you with his MacGyver spear?”

Abed sat in the passenger seat with the door open. He lifted his pant leg up and rolled down his sock. There were bite marks on his ankle.

“What’s…”

“I feel fine. It was probably some sort of animal or large insect. But…”

Troy’s gun was still strapped around his chest. Abed wrapped his hands around the barrel and pressed the muzzle to his own forehead.

“If I start acting weird—weirder than usual, I mean—I need you to shoot me.”

“What?!” Troy jumped back, holding his gun tightly, away from Abed. “Yeah, you are acting weirder than usual. No way in hell am I gonna even think about doing that, man. Are you crazy?!”

“I’m serious. What if I hurt you, Troy?”

“What if you hurt me?! You just asked me to shoot you, Abed!” Troy threw his gun in the trunk. “You know what, man—just get in the car. Stop saying dumb shit.”

He slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door. Abed shut his, clicking his seatbelt on without another word. He took Troy’s hand as they drove, holding it tight.

-

That evening, they got a text. It was from Shirley.

Please tell me you’re okay, it read. I miss you all so much.

Troy pulled the car over and cried. Abed held him close, petting his hair, whispering soothing words into the top of his head. They stayed like that for a long time.

-

They fell asleep tangled together. They were still on the side of the road the next morning, and a few cars passed by as Troy began to stir. That was good; nearby must’ve been civilization, or something that pretended it was civilized.

Abed was here with him. That was good, too. He was alive and breathing. At least for now.

“Hey buddy,” he whispered, bringing a hand up to Abed’s face, tracing over the sharp edge of his cheekbones, his jaw. His eyelids began to flutter, and then he opened them, meeting Troy’s eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered back.

There was a warm glint in his eye. A warm feeling in Troy’s chest. The whole car felt warm.

“How are you feeling?” Troy asked.

“Good,” Abed hummed.

“Yeah? No sudden urges to devour human flesh?”

“Besides yours? No.”

“Shut up.” Troy laughed and ducked his head against Abed’s chest.

Abed craned his neck down to chomp playfully at Troy’s ear. “Nom nom nom. Mm, yummy.”

They got in touch with Shirley. She was staying with family in Georgia, and she was safe.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Troy sobbed into the phone. Abed held him in the backseat of the car. “Have you heard from anyone else? Britta? Annie? Jeff? Dean Pelton?”

“No, baby,” Shirley cooed. “I haven’t. I haven’t heard from anyone.”

“Okay,” Troy gulped. “I’m sorry, I just—” Everything hit him all at once. He broke off crying again, and Abed took the phone.

“Where are the two of you?” Shirley asked.

“We’re going to Canada,” Abed said. Hearing it out loud felt weirder than any of the actual traveling they’d done so far. The world didn’t end at all. It was becoming something new and taking everything else with it.

“Oh, dear sweet Jesus…” Troy could imagine Shirley clutching her chest. “Please be careful. Do not do anything to put yourselves in danger, do you hear me?”

“Of course, Shirley,” Abed said. “We’re okay. I promise.”

“Hold on, I want to send you some money.”

“We’re okay—”

“Oh, shut the hell up and take the damn money,” Shirley insisted.

After a few minutes, they found a way for her to wire it over—and then they had three hundred dollars.

“Shirley, thank you so much,” Troy cried. “I wish I could hug you.”

“You will,” she said. “Just find somewhere safe to stay, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We love you,” Abed said.

“I love you too, honey,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

They talked for a little while, but Shirley had to go, and they needed to hit the road. They didn’t have long to go before they reached the border, and from there, Troy wasn’t sure what would happen. Only time would tell.

The sun dropped as they drove. Troy cranked the heat and tugged an extra sweater over his head.

“Cold?” Abed asked.

“Yeah, sorry.”

Abed gave him a little smile and took Troy’s hand. Troy felt sort of dumb, but it actually helped.

A sign ahead said US Customs and Border Protection 5 mi, and below that, Winnipeg 150 mi. Flat, empty farmland surrounded them on both sides.

After a while, they reached the checkpoint. It looked hastily put-together, the result of a broken system trying to make itself appear functional. There were a few empty stations where federal agents were probably supposed to be, but only one person was actually stationed out here.

He was a small guy, maybe a few inches shorter than Troy. Skinny, too. His uniform looked oversized on his body. The gun around his chest was as big as his head. He stood outside his small outpost, holding some sort of device that Troy assumed was used to check identification.

Abed dug around and fished out his wallet. The officer came up to the window. Abed rolled it down and passed over his license.

“Good evening, officer,” he said.

The short guy turned Abed’s license over in his hands a few times, squinting.

“Abed Nadir?” he asked. “What kind of name is that?”

“Pa…olish, sir. Polish.”

“You don’t look Polish. Where are you from?”

Abed grimaced as a flashlight assaulted his eyes. Troy bit his tongue. He didn’t want to escalate the situation, but if this guy tried to hurt Abed, it wasn’t going to end well.

Another thought was lurking in the back of his mind, too. He wasn’t sure where his wallet was. He didn’t remember if he even brought it. And he had a feeling this guy wouldn't just let him through without identification. Maybe he still had his Greendale student ID somewhere.

“Colorado, sir,” Abed answered.

“Where in Colorado?”

“Riverside. It’s near Denver. The rest of my family is from Detroit.”

“I see.” He passed Abed’s license back, and a wave of relief washed over Troy. It vanished a moment later—the device in his hand was some sort of high-tech thermometer.

He remembered the bite on Abed’s leg. Abed was acting fine, and he said he was fine, but—but if he…

“Alright, 98.6. Perfect temp.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Troy exhaled.

The officer came around to his side. His hands fidgeted against his jeans. He prepared an explanation for his lack of ID, but before he could open his mouth something was being shoved into his hand by Abed. It was his license.

“Thanks, buddy,” Troy breathed. Abed gave him a knowing nod.

Troy handed it over, then received it back a moment later. Then came the thermometer. He waited as the guy leaned in and scanned his forehead.

He pulled back, reading the device, his face lit up by its screen.

“You’re a bit warm, kid. Any confusion? Hunger? Headaches?”

“Um, no,” Troy said. He was definitely sweating, but that was from the nerves. He didn’t feel warm.

“Oh, we have the heat on,” Abed said, smiling in a way that was very obviously forced; a character. He reached over and flipped the heat off. “He’s fine.”

“You sure?” The flashlight was in Troy’s eyes now.

“Yup... All good. I’ll definitely keep an eye out for anyone acting zombie-like.”

“Alright,” he said. “Go ahead.”

That was it. He let them pass, and further down the road was another sign. Welcome to Canada, it read. Enjoy your journey.

-

The officer left them with a piece of paper. It had a phone number and website on the front, and the same information printed in French and Spanish on the back.

They called the number, and a few hours later they were in a hotel. It wasn’t anything luxurious, and it wasn’t Abed’s dorm or Pierce’s mansion—but it was nicer than anywhere they’d stayed in the past week.

Abed went straight for the TV. Troy flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. He thought of Britta. He thought of Greendale. He thought of everyone he’d never see again. Once again, a strange feeling came over him. Like he'd crossed into a parallel dimension, one where he didn't quite belong.

He imagined Riverside without him, if it even still existed. For some reason, he pictured that everything was exactly the same as he’d left it, but that a new, different Troy had stepped in to take his place.

He was pretty sure the thought was supposed to be comforting—or that maybe it would be to someone else—but instead it just left him unsettled, empty. The world kept spinning without him, and life went on.

-