![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prisca posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
p_r_i_s_c_aTitle: Fever (Reboot 7)
Character: Casey Connor, Zeke Tyler
Word Count: 2373
Rating: R
Finished: February 2015
This is a chapter of my Reboot Story = Crossover/AU between Jeremiah / The Faculty.
On their way to Oregon, the storm hit them with full force. Cars were a rarity on the roads nowadays, but people usually walked around with handcarts or old trolleys, others riding bikes, sometimes a carriage, loaded with all kinds of stuff. But now the road was empty, and it seemed to be hours since they had seen any sign of life. No wonder the heavy storm had turned the world into a dark, strange place; huge swathes of lightning lit up the sky, the trees were bending up and down, the rain was pattering on the front shield of the Chevrolet, the wiper barely able to fight it.
Zeke had finally turned off the music, his concentration entirely focused on the road before him. It would probably be better to find a place where they could wait until the storm died down. But as long as Zeke was willing to move on, Casey would not ask him for a rest. Maybe their trip finally drew to a close.
About a week ago in a small town in California, Oilsdale. They were almost out of gas, and Zeke had decided to try his luck in the bar first; the bars were the place where you could find nearly everything nowadays. It was only a small, shabby room, smoke-filled from the open fireplace, most windows broken and nailed up so that the daylight was almost blocked out. When Zeke opened the door, low muttering voices, fighting, and yelling greeted them.
Casey always felt jumpy when they entered a place like this; one could never know what would happen, though Zeke was brilliant and always acted cautiously.
Unlike him, Casey grew up in a good but strict home, and he knew well enough without Zeke, his plan to find 'Thunder Mountain' would probably have failed within a week or two. He had left the Merriot Hotel with nothing than a small backpack, sometimes he wondered how far he would have been willing to go when his small ration of food, candles and other stuff would had been used up within some days. He had seen a lot during the last weeks, people took what they needed with brute force, others did sell all, their soul and their body. The thought always made him shudder that he probably would have ended like one of them if not Zeke had decided to come with him.
His parents had left him alone when he was barely thirteen years old. He had learned to live on his own and to fight for what he wanted. When he had left Herrington to follow Casey, he had taken a lot of helpful stuff with him: batteries, tobacco, booze, and he used it wisely to trade in all they needed. Put one or two batteries and some cigarettes on a table, and you could be sure to get all the attention you wanted. But it was also a risk. In a world without laws and rules, you could always end up with the wrong guys.
Zeke knew this as well as Casey and had tried to keep him out of it. But Casey had insisted on going with him. Not knowing what was happening and if Zeke would return to him in one piece was more scary than facing the danger. Zeke had given in but told him to stay in the background. Which was totally okay for him. Zeke might be good when it came to dealings, but Casey knew how to start talking with people and getting help in formations. Of course, he always asked about Thunder Mountain, too, but all tips he had gotten until now had led them to a blind alley.
This time, though, he had a good feeling. What the guy in the bar told him made more sense than all he had heard before.
„Thunder Mountain? I wouldn't get my hopes too high. Many people are already looking for this place, but no one I know ever came back.“
„But you've heard about it,“ Casey had asked excitedly. „So it is existing!“
„Just rumors,“ the man had answered. „The guy was only passing through. He got drunk, started to rumble. Talked about a restricted military base, built into a mountain somewhere in Oregon, where he had been working before the Big Death.“
He had paused and shrugged. „Some people cling to the thought that the huge complex he had been talking about, separated from the world, with its own power supply, water treatment, and all, still exists. They call it a sanctuary. Some even talk about laboratories where scientists are working on an antitoxin against the Big Death.“
„And what are you thinking,“ Zeke had asked him.
„The world has turned into a mad-house.“ He had smirked. „I wish I could still have some hope for a better one, but I've seen too much to follow some stupid rumors. This place is not the worst, you know, much better than to be alone out there.“
Casey knew Zeke secretly agreed with him. Oregon was a long way off, and going there could be a waste of time and gas. Even if this military base had ever existed and still did, it seemed rather unlikely that they could find it without any clue. But before Casey could say a word, Zeke had grinned.
„So, let's get our stuff together, Oregon sounds good for me.“
:::
Casey did awake rudely from a light sleep when the car stopped abruptly. Zeke groaned briefly.
"What's wrong,“ Casey asked, expecting the worst, a collusion with a fallen tree or a failure of the engine, they were alone out here, the storm was still ragging ...
Then he noticed Zeke's face, pale and exhausted. Guilt rushed through him; suddenly, he felt selfish; all he had thought about was to reach the mountains in Oregon and start searching again. Someone would know more about this military base, about Thunder Mountain, and would be willing to tell him how to get there. He had pushed the thought aside that he actually didn't even know what to do when he finally reached his destination. And Zeke was with him all the time, without complaining. He had struggled with the storm for hours, not caring about his exhaustion.
"Zeke, you need a break," he almost whispered. „We should look for a place where we can stay overnight.“
No reaction. Zeke had closed his eyes now, leaning back his head. Sweat on his forehead. Alarmed Casey reached out for his arm, he could feel the heat of his body even through the thick fabric of his old jacket. Despite that, he was trembling all over. A wave of panic caught Casey; he started to shake him desperately. He could laugh and call him an 'overreacting drama-queen' or yell at him: 'Hey, what are you doing?'
Everything would be okay for him, everything. But a slight groaning was the only reaction he got; it was evident that Zeke had lost consciousness.
:::
Hard to say how long Casey was just sitting there, staring at Zeke. He seemed to regain consciousness after some minutes, but this was not a relief for long. Soon enough, he was tossing and turning fitfully; he was coughing and choking, and worst of all, he didn't seem to recognize his surroundings anymore. Or Casey.
It was frightening to see him in that bad state, Zeke was the one who always kept a level head even in the most tricky situations. Casey usually just followed his instincts, and often, he was right. But at the moment, he couldn't feel anything but panic. Pictures crossed his mind, the first days after the alien incident, when the old world was falling apart, when people collapsed just everywhere, in the houses, at work, on the streets. He hid under the porch of his home, closed his eyes, and covered his ears to block out all the horror. Until Zeke did find him, bringing him back to life.
Zeke! Casey sniffed and bit his lip until he tasted blood. Was it possible that the Big Death was back? Only adults seemed affected back then, while the children and teenagers could survive. But Zeke always warned not to be too careless because every virus could mutate.
Suddenly, Zeke started to tremble all over and tore Casey out of his numbness. His mind started to work again. The storm had calmed down a bit, but the rain was still pouring down. Impossible to set up the small tent, not to mention to light a fire. But he needed to keep Zeke warm. He somehow managed to adjust the back of Zeke's seat, and then he grabbed for a cushion and one of the sleeping bags they stored on the back seat. Zeke groaned when he carefully lifted his head; the skin felt hot and sweat-soaked.
“Don't you dare it,” Casey murmured, fighting his tears. “Don't you dare it to leave me alone in this mess!”
He needed to bring the fever down. Desperately, he tried to remember what his mom had done when he got sick. Hot tea with honey and cold compresses, bed-rest in a darkened room. Compresses sounded good. Zeke had always insisted on some cans with boiled water; now Casey was thankful for that. He tore one of his older T-shirts in stripes, wet them, and put them around Zeke's ankles and on his forehead. The boy tried to fight him.
“Cold,” he groaned.
Casey pulled the sleeping bag back around him. “I know,” he whispered. “But it will get better soon.”
Though he was not sure, there was not much he could do. Water. Zeke needed to drink plenty of fluids but it seemed to be a hopeless try to make him swallow. He coughed and put up a fight when Casey hold a glass onto his dry lips, spilled most of the liquid. With shaking hands, he was sitting beside him, and he wished he could turn back the time and there would be doctors and hospitals. But this was a pipe-dream, no one would come to help Zeke, it was all up to him. He needed to figure something out.
Suddenly, a small box with a printed black logo caught his eye. They had discovered it some weeks ago in the basement of an abandoned drugstore. Not much, just some bandages, band-aids and antiseptic, some expired meds … and one-way syringes. Maybe, if he could fill one of them with water and feed Zeke drop by drop?
He lost track of time, changed the wet clothes, refilled the syringe again and again, and finally, after long hours, Zeke seemed to calm down and fall into a quieter sleep. Casey wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad sign, but his exhaustion gained the upper hand over his urge to take care of Zeke. He curled up on the co-driver seat, one hand at Zeke's chest, and drifted off.
:::
Zeke opened his eyes and felt a dull pain in his head. He needed a moment to take in his surroundings; he was in the Chevrolet; darkness around him, only the moon gave a dim light. He frowned. It was quiet outside. Too quiet. The storm, when did it calm down? He was driving … driving, endless, empty roads ... Oregon, he wanted to go to Oregon, the Calapooyas, where they wanted to start their search for the Mountain.
He licked his dry lips and slowly sat up. A dark figure was crouching beside him. Casey. Casey? He reached out and touched him. With an outcry, the boy jumped up.
“Sorry,” Zeke murmured. “Didn't mean to wake you up.”
“Zeke?” Casey's sleepy voice turned into panic. “Oh no, I was asleep.”
“That's okay, I guess.” Zeke was still not sure what had happened. “It's in the middle of the night. But where are we? The storm … the last I can remember. We were driving.”
“Until you got sick.” Casey sniffed. “A high fever and all. And I didn't know what to do.”
“Shit!” Zeke dropped his head back into the cushion. “Can't remember anything.”
“You suddenly broke down and didn't even recognize me.” Casey's voice was still shaking. “I was all alone and didn't know what to do."
Zeke closed his eyes again, slowly the pieces started to fall back into their place. The exhausting drive, his eyes had started to hurt, his head hammered wildly. Then nothing. He had lost hours, good god.
“Here. Drink some water! I've managed to get some in you with a syringe, but..."
It was quite an effort to re-open his eyes. "You did what?"
Casey shrugged. "There was much I could do. Some water, cold compresses. I felt so helpless. And I was so scared. Thought that it might be... the virus."
"Oh God!" Zeke stretched out his hands, placing them around Casey's face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be silly." Casey sniffed slightly. "This was not your fault. I've pushed you too much. You were driving for hours without pause and ignored any signs of exhaustion. Only because I couldn't wait to come to Oregon."
A weak smile turned up on Zeke's face. "Stop that, Case. Not all of what happens in the world is your fault. I am old enough to make my own decisions."
“But without me, you would never have gotten into this situation. You would still be in Herrington, which is a much better deal than being on the road for weeks until you break down. Looking for a place you don't even believe it exists.”
“Case, it does matter if I believe in the existence of the Mountain,” Zeke said gently. "I believe in you. Together with you, I will go to hell and back.
Come here!” He reached out for Casey, pulling him closer. “You are shaking like a leaf! Let me take care of you now."
"But..."
"Shhh." Zeke pulled the thick sleeping bag around the two of them and placed his lips on Casey's. "Don't worry. We will be okay again. All we need it some rest."
Character: Casey Connor, Zeke Tyler
Word Count: 2373
Rating: R
Finished: February 2015
This is a chapter of my Reboot Story = Crossover/AU between Jeremiah / The Faculty.
On their way to Oregon, the storm hit them with full force. Cars were a rarity on the roads nowadays, but people usually walked around with handcarts or old trolleys, others riding bikes, sometimes a carriage, loaded with all kinds of stuff. But now the road was empty, and it seemed to be hours since they had seen any sign of life. No wonder the heavy storm had turned the world into a dark, strange place; huge swathes of lightning lit up the sky, the trees were bending up and down, the rain was pattering on the front shield of the Chevrolet, the wiper barely able to fight it.
Zeke had finally turned off the music, his concentration entirely focused on the road before him. It would probably be better to find a place where they could wait until the storm died down. But as long as Zeke was willing to move on, Casey would not ask him for a rest. Maybe their trip finally drew to a close.
About a week ago in a small town in California, Oilsdale. They were almost out of gas, and Zeke had decided to try his luck in the bar first; the bars were the place where you could find nearly everything nowadays. It was only a small, shabby room, smoke-filled from the open fireplace, most windows broken and nailed up so that the daylight was almost blocked out. When Zeke opened the door, low muttering voices, fighting, and yelling greeted them.
Casey always felt jumpy when they entered a place like this; one could never know what would happen, though Zeke was brilliant and always acted cautiously.
Unlike him, Casey grew up in a good but strict home, and he knew well enough without Zeke, his plan to find 'Thunder Mountain' would probably have failed within a week or two. He had left the Merriot Hotel with nothing than a small backpack, sometimes he wondered how far he would have been willing to go when his small ration of food, candles and other stuff would had been used up within some days. He had seen a lot during the last weeks, people took what they needed with brute force, others did sell all, their soul and their body. The thought always made him shudder that he probably would have ended like one of them if not Zeke had decided to come with him.
His parents had left him alone when he was barely thirteen years old. He had learned to live on his own and to fight for what he wanted. When he had left Herrington to follow Casey, he had taken a lot of helpful stuff with him: batteries, tobacco, booze, and he used it wisely to trade in all they needed. Put one or two batteries and some cigarettes on a table, and you could be sure to get all the attention you wanted. But it was also a risk. In a world without laws and rules, you could always end up with the wrong guys.
Zeke knew this as well as Casey and had tried to keep him out of it. But Casey had insisted on going with him. Not knowing what was happening and if Zeke would return to him in one piece was more scary than facing the danger. Zeke had given in but told him to stay in the background. Which was totally okay for him. Zeke might be good when it came to dealings, but Casey knew how to start talking with people and getting help in formations. Of course, he always asked about Thunder Mountain, too, but all tips he had gotten until now had led them to a blind alley.
This time, though, he had a good feeling. What the guy in the bar told him made more sense than all he had heard before.
„Thunder Mountain? I wouldn't get my hopes too high. Many people are already looking for this place, but no one I know ever came back.“
„But you've heard about it,“ Casey had asked excitedly. „So it is existing!“
„Just rumors,“ the man had answered. „The guy was only passing through. He got drunk, started to rumble. Talked about a restricted military base, built into a mountain somewhere in Oregon, where he had been working before the Big Death.“
He had paused and shrugged. „Some people cling to the thought that the huge complex he had been talking about, separated from the world, with its own power supply, water treatment, and all, still exists. They call it a sanctuary. Some even talk about laboratories where scientists are working on an antitoxin against the Big Death.“
„And what are you thinking,“ Zeke had asked him.
„The world has turned into a mad-house.“ He had smirked. „I wish I could still have some hope for a better one, but I've seen too much to follow some stupid rumors. This place is not the worst, you know, much better than to be alone out there.“
Casey knew Zeke secretly agreed with him. Oregon was a long way off, and going there could be a waste of time and gas. Even if this military base had ever existed and still did, it seemed rather unlikely that they could find it without any clue. But before Casey could say a word, Zeke had grinned.
„So, let's get our stuff together, Oregon sounds good for me.“
:::
Casey did awake rudely from a light sleep when the car stopped abruptly. Zeke groaned briefly.
"What's wrong,“ Casey asked, expecting the worst, a collusion with a fallen tree or a failure of the engine, they were alone out here, the storm was still ragging ...
Then he noticed Zeke's face, pale and exhausted. Guilt rushed through him; suddenly, he felt selfish; all he had thought about was to reach the mountains in Oregon and start searching again. Someone would know more about this military base, about Thunder Mountain, and would be willing to tell him how to get there. He had pushed the thought aside that he actually didn't even know what to do when he finally reached his destination. And Zeke was with him all the time, without complaining. He had struggled with the storm for hours, not caring about his exhaustion.
"Zeke, you need a break," he almost whispered. „We should look for a place where we can stay overnight.“
No reaction. Zeke had closed his eyes now, leaning back his head. Sweat on his forehead. Alarmed Casey reached out for his arm, he could feel the heat of his body even through the thick fabric of his old jacket. Despite that, he was trembling all over. A wave of panic caught Casey; he started to shake him desperately. He could laugh and call him an 'overreacting drama-queen' or yell at him: 'Hey, what are you doing?'
Everything would be okay for him, everything. But a slight groaning was the only reaction he got; it was evident that Zeke had lost consciousness.
:::
Hard to say how long Casey was just sitting there, staring at Zeke. He seemed to regain consciousness after some minutes, but this was not a relief for long. Soon enough, he was tossing and turning fitfully; he was coughing and choking, and worst of all, he didn't seem to recognize his surroundings anymore. Or Casey.
It was frightening to see him in that bad state, Zeke was the one who always kept a level head even in the most tricky situations. Casey usually just followed his instincts, and often, he was right. But at the moment, he couldn't feel anything but panic. Pictures crossed his mind, the first days after the alien incident, when the old world was falling apart, when people collapsed just everywhere, in the houses, at work, on the streets. He hid under the porch of his home, closed his eyes, and covered his ears to block out all the horror. Until Zeke did find him, bringing him back to life.
Zeke! Casey sniffed and bit his lip until he tasted blood. Was it possible that the Big Death was back? Only adults seemed affected back then, while the children and teenagers could survive. But Zeke always warned not to be too careless because every virus could mutate.
Suddenly, Zeke started to tremble all over and tore Casey out of his numbness. His mind started to work again. The storm had calmed down a bit, but the rain was still pouring down. Impossible to set up the small tent, not to mention to light a fire. But he needed to keep Zeke warm. He somehow managed to adjust the back of Zeke's seat, and then he grabbed for a cushion and one of the sleeping bags they stored on the back seat. Zeke groaned when he carefully lifted his head; the skin felt hot and sweat-soaked.
“Don't you dare it,” Casey murmured, fighting his tears. “Don't you dare it to leave me alone in this mess!”
He needed to bring the fever down. Desperately, he tried to remember what his mom had done when he got sick. Hot tea with honey and cold compresses, bed-rest in a darkened room. Compresses sounded good. Zeke had always insisted on some cans with boiled water; now Casey was thankful for that. He tore one of his older T-shirts in stripes, wet them, and put them around Zeke's ankles and on his forehead. The boy tried to fight him.
“Cold,” he groaned.
Casey pulled the sleeping bag back around him. “I know,” he whispered. “But it will get better soon.”
Though he was not sure, there was not much he could do. Water. Zeke needed to drink plenty of fluids but it seemed to be a hopeless try to make him swallow. He coughed and put up a fight when Casey hold a glass onto his dry lips, spilled most of the liquid. With shaking hands, he was sitting beside him, and he wished he could turn back the time and there would be doctors and hospitals. But this was a pipe-dream, no one would come to help Zeke, it was all up to him. He needed to figure something out.
Suddenly, a small box with a printed black logo caught his eye. They had discovered it some weeks ago in the basement of an abandoned drugstore. Not much, just some bandages, band-aids and antiseptic, some expired meds … and one-way syringes. Maybe, if he could fill one of them with water and feed Zeke drop by drop?
He lost track of time, changed the wet clothes, refilled the syringe again and again, and finally, after long hours, Zeke seemed to calm down and fall into a quieter sleep. Casey wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad sign, but his exhaustion gained the upper hand over his urge to take care of Zeke. He curled up on the co-driver seat, one hand at Zeke's chest, and drifted off.
:::
Zeke opened his eyes and felt a dull pain in his head. He needed a moment to take in his surroundings; he was in the Chevrolet; darkness around him, only the moon gave a dim light. He frowned. It was quiet outside. Too quiet. The storm, when did it calm down? He was driving … driving, endless, empty roads ... Oregon, he wanted to go to Oregon, the Calapooyas, where they wanted to start their search for the Mountain.
He licked his dry lips and slowly sat up. A dark figure was crouching beside him. Casey. Casey? He reached out and touched him. With an outcry, the boy jumped up.
“Sorry,” Zeke murmured. “Didn't mean to wake you up.”
“Zeke?” Casey's sleepy voice turned into panic. “Oh no, I was asleep.”
“That's okay, I guess.” Zeke was still not sure what had happened. “It's in the middle of the night. But where are we? The storm … the last I can remember. We were driving.”
“Until you got sick.” Casey sniffed. “A high fever and all. And I didn't know what to do.”
“Shit!” Zeke dropped his head back into the cushion. “Can't remember anything.”
“You suddenly broke down and didn't even recognize me.” Casey's voice was still shaking. “I was all alone and didn't know what to do."
Zeke closed his eyes again, slowly the pieces started to fall back into their place. The exhausting drive, his eyes had started to hurt, his head hammered wildly. Then nothing. He had lost hours, good god.
“Here. Drink some water! I've managed to get some in you with a syringe, but..."
It was quite an effort to re-open his eyes. "You did what?"
Casey shrugged. "There was much I could do. Some water, cold compresses. I felt so helpless. And I was so scared. Thought that it might be... the virus."
"Oh God!" Zeke stretched out his hands, placing them around Casey's face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be silly." Casey sniffed slightly. "This was not your fault. I've pushed you too much. You were driving for hours without pause and ignored any signs of exhaustion. Only because I couldn't wait to come to Oregon."
A weak smile turned up on Zeke's face. "Stop that, Case. Not all of what happens in the world is your fault. I am old enough to make my own decisions."
“But without me, you would never have gotten into this situation. You would still be in Herrington, which is a much better deal than being on the road for weeks until you break down. Looking for a place you don't even believe it exists.”
“Case, it does matter if I believe in the existence of the Mountain,” Zeke said gently. "I believe in you. Together with you, I will go to hell and back.
Come here!” He reached out for Casey, pulling him closer. “You are shaking like a leaf! Let me take care of you now."
"But..."
"Shhh." Zeke pulled the thick sleeping bag around the two of them and placed his lips on Casey's. "Don't worry. We will be okay again. All we need it some rest."