I Hope the Worst Isn't Over ✔️

Chapter Five

Virgil paced around the room, taking brisk steps and turning on his heel each time he reached the other side. The longer he spent inside, the smaller the area began to feel, as if the walls were closing in-- so slow that one would hardly notice. Like a frog dropped into a vat of water gradually being brought to a boil, cozy and oblivious until it was already burning alive.

The deranged banging and scratching on the door was yet to cease, and the nonstop havoc made it nearly impossible to sleep, let alone relax. Virgil had tried both, over and over throughout the days they'd been shut away, but failed miserably each time. He was desperate to calm down, and although he knew they wouldn't work right away, starting the new meds he'd found hadn't helped in the slightest. If anything, he now understood why they came with a black box warning, because he was beginning to consider downing enough of those stupid pills to just shut everything up for good. God damn these side effects, he didn't need this.

The next time he reached the end of the room, he lowered himself to the ground in defeat and tugged his hoodie taut around his form. He rested his head on his knees and tried to take deep breaths, hugging himself closer, closer, closer.

"Virgil?" Patton asked, turning away from Logan who he'd finally convinced to begin a regimen of the antibiotics they'd found. Logan had been adamant on saving them for something, quote, 'more important.' But the gashes in his legs were only growing worse through his denial-- becoming increasingly discoloured and swollen. They were infected, and that was an indisputable fact. Most likely due to the foul water left in the bottom of the vases that had caused his wounds.

Virgil looked up at his friend, shaking on the ground as the man before him stood warily. Patton stepped over and sat beside him, pulling him into a fatherly hug with one arm. "Hey, it's okay. We'll get out of here soon."

"Will we..?" he asked, "It's been days, they should have started to disband by now. But if anything, it sounds like there's more out there…"

"I'm sure you're just on edge, and it's making it sound like there's more of them than there really are. But that can happen, and you can't help it. I know you're doing your best. I also know it can be hard to talk while we're like this, but please remember that it's best to try and keep our spirits up."

"Right, sure…" Virgil returned his head to his knees, pulling at a loose string attached to his jacket. "I just hope we have enough supplies in Roman's bag."

Patton nodded, glancing over to the once full bag of emergency stock in the corner. It had served them well, providing the team with enough food and water to get through the days, but it was running dangerously low. He knew it wouldn't last them much longer, so he had to have faith that it wouldn't need to. They'd get out, and reach the safety of their home once more.

"We can't even do anything else about it," Virgil added, "That might be the worst part…. Okay, well, the zombies are definitely the worst, but our helplessness is also up there."

Patton cracked a sad smile, "I know it's hard. But we've done what we can, and that's a good thing. We have our sign just in case, so our only job now is to wait it out a little longer."

He was referring to the note they'd taped over the window. Half of it, at least, so that sunlight still had a chance to shine through the unblocked portion. There had been paper and scotch tape in one of the drawers, and a tin of pens left on the counter. Apparently everyone before them had deemed such things useless, but they'd managed to fashion a sign out of them, and hang it up where someone might just have a chance to see it. HELP. LIVING TRAPPED INSIDE. It read, simple and straight to the point.

When they first decided to hang it up, Virgil was worried it would attract the wrong kind of company, and that the only people likely to act on the sign's plea would be those with less than noble intentions. The others tried to convince him it would be alright, and that no humans wanted to hurt them, but that did nothing to quell his anxieties. It wasn't until Logan phrased things realistically that the words made any difference. "Even if someone with, let's say 'ulterior motives', arrived here… isn't it likely that the outcome would still be favourable in compassion to being devoured?" he'd said curtly. And at that, Virgil was finally inclined to agree. So they all conceded to hanging the sign, and not so patiently waiting for assistance.