Clay found the sound of his water-soaked hair dripping into the empty bucket soothing. It was far from the sort of therapy he'd likely need after all this, but he was willing to take anything at this point. A puddle was forming, enough that he could already see something like a reflection in it.
He'd been sequestered to a bedroom to give him enough privacy to bathe. It was bare except for a bed and a mountain of boxes that Alan told him not to touch or risk being taken to a little place called Pound Town.
One comb-through at a time, he removed what remained of the maggots in his hair and watched them fall into the water with growing relief. It sickened him to know that they were there in the first place, but the gradual purification of his body became another soothing sensation.
The rat was watching Clay from on top of his discarded clothes while he wet a rag. Rag and soap both were rubbed hard against his body, clad only in the pair of boxers that remained as something from his old world. He would have been more proactive about keeping the rat from looking at him, but at this point he'd just wanted to be clean.
It took a lot of doing, and even by the end he didn't feel perfectly clean, but Clay was just too tired of scrubbing himself while also remaining wary of getting his bandages wet. He toweled off and put on the extra set of clothes provided to him, a pair of pajama pants and a shirt; both were a little too small to fit perfectly, but they got the job done.
"Since you and I are in this together now, I can't just keep thinking of you as 'the rat,'" Clay said to the rat. "I should probably think up a name for you."
It looked up at him without making any noises.
He leaned in and gestured towards its face with his index finger, "What about Bitey?"
The rat proceeded to bite his index finger, which Clay saw coming. He snatched it up in his other hand and brought it towards a second bucket that he'd requested just for this.
"You're absolutely right. Bitey is way too obvious," he stated calmly while using the last half of water in the second bottle to fill up the bucket as much as possible. "Maybe something a little more ironic? I'm thinking…Kissy."
The vermin started biting his hand rapidly now, but Clay's preparations were finished once he dropped the soap bar into the water.
"It's Kissy's bath time now!" Clay proclaimed with a saccharine smile.
Kissy screeched as it was lowered into its bath.
Despite the vibe Clay built up, he wasn't going to hurt this rat—even if he definitely did think it deserved a little punishment for biting him so much. He'd never washed an animal before, so he was being extra careful and sometimes whispering directions to it in order to make things easier.
Kissy flopped around and caused trouble at first but seemed to settle down once it was directed to keep its eyes closed against the soap it was now dripping with.
"I think I might have underestimated how dirty you are, Kissy," Clay tsked. "Should have saved more water for you."
Even with the handicap, Clay was more or less satisfied with how clean he'd gotten Kissy by the time he was finished. He also took that opportunity to quickly check its sex and dully noted that Kissy was a girl. A bit of a shame, considering that his demeaning pet name for it would have been a lot more effective on a boy rat.
He'd been in the middle of rubbing Kissy with a towel when he heard a knock at the door.
"You decent in there, genius?" Came Alan's voice.
Clay tried to think of something clever to say in response, but settled on a quick, "Yeah!"
Alan opened the door and walked into the room, holding another water bottle and a handful of what Clay could only guess were cereal bars.
"Got you a few things to eat and something to wash it down with." Alan handed the haul off to Clay, who gently placed everything on the bed.
"Ah, thanks."
"You also shouldn't be moving that thing around too much or it won't heal as good," Alan said, eyeing his injured arm.
"It might be good to put it in a sling or something to keep it from wobbling around too much," Clay answered while anxiously rubbing at the edge of his wrappings.
"That's tomorrow business! I just wanted to make sure you got something to eat before bed." Alan started back towards the door.
"Wait," Clay called, then immediately started rubbing the back of his neck once Alan actually stopped to look back at him with raised eyebrows.
He felt a little weird about the sudden windfall. Usually he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth by asking unnecessary questions, but he had the thought that these people were being too nice to him. It didn't make sense.
"Why are you helping me out so much? Is it just because of my powers?" Clay couldn't meet the other man's eyes while he spoke, "I mean, I wouldn't mind if it was just because of that. It'd make sense. It's just…does it outweigh the danger of bringing a stranger into your home where your wife and daughter live? Feeding him and letting him bathe and stuff?"
Alan's eyebrows raised a little bit more, as if he hadn't really considered a lot of the ideas Clay was throwing at him. His gaze turned up towards the ceiling in thought and stayed there when he finally responded.
"Hmmm…Well, I guess I was just thinking I could take a pipe cleaner like you down before it became a problem, especially as fucked up as you were!"
Clay grimaced.
"And I guess I just…sorta got the feeling you weren't that kinda guy? I dunno. I already felt bad for bumping your nose after I realized you were just a dumb kid, then it turned out you avenged my brother…'Course, the fact that you have superpowers goes a long way in me investing a few water bottles in you, too!"
Alan planted a hand on Clay's shoulder, surprising him with the strength of his grip. They were roughly the same height, but the surety of Alan's movements and his general vibe made it clear which of them was stronger.
"And you ain't got no people! Who doesn't have people? Makes me think 'no wonder this guy is so weird if he don't have anyone looking out for him,' you know?" Alan said in such an overly exuberant tone that it was hard for Clay to parse how backhanded he was being, "As long as you don't cause my family any trouble, I'm thinking this could be a really good arrangement. I'll help you level up them V-Man powers of yours, and you help during my supply runs! Shit, we can be doing both at the same time!"
It hadn't hit him until just then, when Alan brought up the fact that he didn't have any people, but Clay thought he was being awfully cheerful for someone who just found out his brother was dead. That hadn't been a consistent thing, though. The chilling anger in his voice when he found the revolver and the way he talked up his death as being not so bad since he didn’t die to a ‘stupid’ Jumper.
This was his way of adapting, Clay realized. From the perspective of someone who has had to put up with this world, a weakling like Clay that would dwell on those things would definitely be a weird sight.
"Okay, yeah." Clay nodded, finally making eye contact with Alan, "That sounds good to me. I'll try to do my part."
"Heh, that's the attitude I like to see! Gonna have to wait until that arm heals up before you can come out on one of my morning runs with me, though! Probably you can help Milly with Angie and other stuff 'till then, I think." He took his hand off of Clay's shoulder and picked up the water bucket that was now wriggling with drowning maggots.
Ugh, anything but that! If I ever have to interact with that kid again, it'll be too soon!
Wait, hold on.
"A morning run?" Clay suddenly asked. "Why don't you just go out at night? The zombies have such sucky vision that it's way easier to get around when it's dark."
Alan scoffed. "Seriously, how the hell have you lasted this long, genius?"
Clay tilted his head.
"C'mon, if you travel at night a lot, you can't tell me you've never seen a Spooker before! You know, the ones with the glowin' red eyes!"
Clay's head straightened. That's right, everything had gone to hell the moment he saw that Spooker, and he'd already suspected that it had something to do with it.
"Yeah, I did see something like that once."
"Once? Damn, you might not be much, but you've gotta be lucky! Spookers are all over the place at night, and they've got the sort of vision that can spot your ass a bajillion miles away if they want to, even in the dark."
Clay sat down on the bed and started opening one of the breakfast bars, which attracted Kissy's attention and had her jumping up next to him. He allowed her to have the first few bites while he discussed things with Alan. "You only see them at night?"
"Yeah, guy I talked to a while ago thinks that their eyes being so good makes it so they can't handle the sunlight. I told him 'brother, are you aware moonlight is also sunlight' and he started getting all smart with me."
"He probably meant direct sunlight."
"Yeah, take his side! I guess geniuses gotta stick together, right?" Alan complained while stealing the water bottle he brought for Clay and taking a few swigs from it.
Ignoring the petty display, Clay leaned forward to press an elbow against his knee. "I have a feeling I know what the answer is, but why is getting seen by a Spooker such a big deal? Beyond, you know, the usual trouble that usually comes from getting seen by a zombie?"
"Because once you get seen by one, all the Crowders in the area always know exactly where you are. It's never happened to me, but I hear it's pretty awful when you can't hide or anything! The worst part is that it doesn't even need to keep its eyes on you for them to be able to find you! Get spotted and you're just fucked!"
Clay started to sweat now. "Is there a way to get rid of the effect once you get spotted?"
"Short of killing the Spooker? Nothing I know of."
So if Clay hadn't killed that Spooker in the café explosion, he'd still have to deal with the horde? Not even hiding in a dumpster would have helped him?
Maybe he really was luckier than he thought.
"Anyways, we can talk more about this stuff later. I gotta hit the hay," Alan yawned while throwing a lazy, waving hand over his shoulder towards Clay as he exited the room. "Night, genius."
Then Clay was left alone.
Well, not completely alone. Kissy had been gnawing on his breakfast bar through that little talk and had burned through half of it.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
"Wha--? How did you eat so much already!?" Clay reeled his arm away from her, leaving Kissy squeaking in dismay. Ultimately, Clay decided to break off half of the remaining bar for her and eat the rest himself. He also poured a bit of water into the cap from the bottle and left it out for her to drink from.
By the time things were properly winding down, Kissy returned to Clay's clothes pile on the floor and fell asleep.
Clay spent a bit of time staring at his status window.
---------------------------------------------------------
You are Clay
HEALTH: 0/0 | STAMINA: 0/4
---
LEVEL: 1/11 | EXP: 515/1000 | SKILLS: 2/3
---
STAT POINTS: 0/5 | SKILL POINTS: 0/5
---
BODY -
Strength: 2 | Speed: 0 | Resilience: 0 | Endurance: 2
MIND -
🔒 | 🔒 | 🔒 | 🔒
HEART -
🔒 | 🔒 | 🔒 | CIDURAC
---
-SKILLS-
[IMMUNITY - LV 2] | [SOUND OF SILENCE - LV 1]
---
-ACHIEVEMENTS-
(+1 Max Level | +1 Skill Slot)
---
CURRENT WORLD: Dead and Dying
OBJECTIVE: Survive
TIME REMAINING: ???
---------------------------------------------------------
He wondered if the reason why he’d been able to make it back to Alan's base was thanks to the two points he put into Endurance. It hadn't been a comfortable trek by any means, but the fact that an out-of-shape slacker like him could do it at all after burning through his Stamina and suffering an injury felt like a miracle in his (not so professional) opinion.
If that were true, then that means there was a sense in putting Stat Points into Endurance beyond making his Stamina more plentiful. Clay also remembered that his Stamina hadn't fully returned when he woke up that day, which he could only chalk up to the quality of rest and the fact that he hadn't eaten before going to sleep. Now that he was about to sleep on a proper bed after being given food and water, it would be a good way to confirm how Stamina recovery actually works.
However, Clay was turning his attention more towards Health than Stamina right now. If he had something like a video game health pool, would it have been possible for him to just tank the Jumper's bite?
He rubbed his eyes.
Jeez, why was he even thinking about this stuff when he should be trying to sleep?
Eventually, despite the light chafing of bandages around his arms and neck, he did just that.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next two weeks were spent healing and helping Milly with a few of the tasks she and Angie would get done while Alan was out searching for supplies. This usually consisted of washing clothes, checking the building's fortifications for notable damage, tending to a rooftop garden, and handing out rations to the few people who also still lived in the other apartments. Clay found it strange how the building was not even at half capacity and even asked Milly about it.
"A few people died from the obvious stuff," she told him, "but most of them just left after some bigshot came through looking for people to join his group. He was making all sorts of outlandish promises and even offered to take in entire families. I never actually got to meet him, but the things Alan told me don't paint a pretty picture."
That explained why a lot of the people left were either too sick or old to be of much help to Alan. All of the younger, healthier people saw in the mysterious stranger a better opportunity. The only question for Clay was why Alan hadn't also decided to go along with it. Had he felt for the people left behind that much?
Alan became quiet when the subject had been brought up. He'd told Clay politely, but firmly, not to bring it up again. He had no reason not to oblige.
A lot of the remaining occupants were very accepting of the newcomer, graciously taking the rations that Milly prepared for them and offering Clay small gifts to welcome him to the 'family.' They would also take advantage of the meetings to talk his ear off about whatever was on their mind or tell him old stories. It was honestly pretty annoying, but Clay figured that some of the older folks were alone now without someone to regularly converse with, so he lent them an ear.
"You're too damn quiet," one of them grumpily said, a borderline geriatric man named Calvin. Twenty minutes of ranting later, he'd given Clay a box of old comic books his grandson left behind.
He learned quite a bit about the infection and its history from Alan as well. The Plague itself hit them four years ago, but it was probably creeping its way into civilization for a little while before that. Concerning Clay, the reason why things had gotten so comfortable between them on his first day had been because Alan started to believe his claims of immunity after a few hours had passed and Clay showed no signs of change.
Apparently, when one is infected, the first thing to happen is they become cold no matter how wrapped up they are. This tends to happen within the first three hours.
Then they vomit up the contents of their stomach an hour after that.
Their eyes become unfocused an hour after that, then they become delirious and speak nonsensically. Once they reach this point, they'll become a full-on zombie in differing timespans, but it never takes longer than twelve hours. If infected, you can rely on that person being a zombie when you check in on them twenty-four hours later.
Milly had proposed the idea of taking a sample of Clay's blood, just in case it could be useful in the making of a cure. Clay pointed out that without a way to store his blood that would keep it from 'going bad,' there'd be little point in drawing his blood ahead of time. If they could find someone with the expertise, Clay would just have to stick around long enough for them to draw his blood on their own.
He also learned that his Stamina recovery did in fact depend on the quality of his sustenance and sleep. On nights where he chose not to eat or didn't sleep for long, he only ever recovered half of his Stamina. Otherwise, it all came back just fine. Whether or not it would be harder to recover completely once he had more Stamina was difficult to say at this point, so the thought was tabled.
Most fortunately, he didn't have to interact with Angie as much as he'd first thought. Clay didn't eat breakfast or dinner with the three of them and only interacted with Angie during their shared responsibility of doling out rations to the rest of the complex.
When he had free time, Clay would sit on his bed and read through the comics Calvin gave him. There were a few issues of the V-Men Alan was always talking about, but the bulk of it concerned a rival comic company's universe where a character named Giga-Guy was the premiere character.
Giga-Guy was an alien from the future who was sent back in time as a baby to protect Earth, which was destroyed in a mysterious event that caused a chain reaction that eventually destroyed Giga-Guy's home planet later on down the line. The experiments that brought about the technology that sent Giga-Guy back in time were invented by his own father but were looked down upon by the upper echelon. In the end, he only made enough progress to send something small back: his newborn son.
Sending him back to 21st-century Earth was the safest option for a baby and also the least likely to cause problems in the timeline that would adversely affect the history of his home planet.
Cool concept, but the character of Giga-Guy himself was sort of bland to him. True to its roots as a Superman expy, he was too much of a goody two shoes and was always portrayed as being correct in every situation by the writers. He couldn't judge it too harshly; he would have been all about Giga-Guy as a kid.
In the same universe was a character that really caught his interest.
Mystery Man, the Hero Who Had it All!
(Emphasis on HAD, folks!)
It was the story of Walter Levets, a playboy billionaire from a well-connected family of politicians who scorned that life and lived carefreely thanks to his wealth. One day he's visiting a scientist friend of his during an important project Walter's family is financing. An accident occurs where a portal to another dimension is suddenly ripped open and Walter's friend dies. If that weren't bad enough, the eldritch culprit also steals Walter's face to use his connections and extend its reach.
Walter, now faceless, gains the ability to take on the appearance of anyone he's ever touched and must use this new ability to somehow defeat the villainous secret invasion and, more importantly, get his face and life back.
Walter is severely underpowered compared to his enemies and has to come up with clever tricks to come out on top. The few issues of Mystery Man in the box were engrossing reads for Clay, who always had a penchant for these kinds of characters back in his old world. There had even been a crossover comic between Mystery Man and Giga-Guy at one point, too.
More than anything, Clay was fascinated by the sheer depth of this world's fiction. They had stand-ins for the things from his world, but they were different enough that he could engage with them beyond being '[character] but slightly different.' If it weren't for the zombie apocalypses, he would have really loved to read as many of these comics as he could, then see what other media was out there.
He stayed up late the night before he was meant to go out on a supply run with Alan, who believed his arm healed up enough that he could start really helping out. As usual, he took whatever rations had been set aside for him and returned to his room without sitting at the table like the rest of the family did.
In the dark of the night, Clay held up a flashlight to read the current issue of Mystery Man he was on. Kissy was sleeping in that same pile of his clothes. As he'd come to understand, Kissy was happy as long as he gave her enough to eat and drink and didn't disturb her while she slept.
Mystery Man, after easily dispatching a mook known only as Toe Sucker, meets his match against a servant of the force that stole his identity. This servant was Dogpuncher, a creature that takes human shape with the ability to shoot spectral dogs out of his fists towards his opponents. The story ended on a cliffhanger and, more disappointingly, the one who assembled this box hadn't continued following up on Mystery Man's adventures.
This sucks…
Clay turned off his flashlight and flopped his head against the pillow with a dejected sigh.
Maybe there'd be more issues of Mystery Man out there if he looked hard enough? With that in mind, braving the apocalypse after living two weeks on easy street seemed a little more appealing. It likely also had a lot to do with the fact that he wouldn't be alone this time.
Getting to sleep had been hard during those first few nights. Clay was so accustomed to distractions like his phone or noisemakers like the consistent flow of air from an air conditioner that the dead quiet became like a constant reminder that he was no longer anywhere close to home. Sometimes, if he listened closely, he could hear Kissy's quiet snoring. Honing in on it usually helped him get to sleep quickly enough.
It did the same for him tonight as well.
Tomorrow, he thought before his thinking became jumbled by sleep, maybe I’ll find some Mystery Man comics.