Morning comes lazily, slipping into the valley with a practiced ease. The sun is bright yet distant—the air is crisp and light. Camp is quiet until the late hours of the morning.

You awaken gently from your soft dreams when Connor sticks his head in your tent, grin brighter than Apollo himself. “Want some coffee, champ?” He offers benevolently, and you nod groggily, sitting up as he hands you a steaming mug of amber ichor. You wrap your fingers around the chipped ceramic Scooby Doo face and revel in its warmth.

Eventually emerging from your tent, you bask in the sun, carrying your drink to the firepit. Dave and Con are nowhere to be seen but the others are all present, enjoying the cool touch of morning.

Gio is tending the fire with a charred stick, whistling blithely as he pokes the logs. You’d be annoyed if you didn’t feel so damn well-rested. Today feels good in the marrow of your bones, and you’d rather not let Gio ruin it if you can help it.

It’s a smart move. He’s not really even doing anything, anyway.

Harley and Sana are tending to each other’s tangled locks as Captain watches with a strangely vested interest, laser focused on the twisting strands of hair. It admittedly alarming to see them so enraptured with something as simple as a French braid but you suppose it could be worse. They could be staring at the doctor, which is uncomfortable for everyone, especially Connor.

Speaking of Connor, you can hear him chatting with a half-asleep Dave up the hill, the pair likely on its way to the firepit. The latter is grumbling more than responding, as he is wont to do in the mornings. Their voices are fond and familiar. You roll your shoulders and endeavor to start breakfast.

In the back of the lean-to you easily find the box of Bisquick you squirrelled away when you organized your reserves. Now seems like as good a time as any to whip out the pancakes; it’s definitely one of those kinds of mornings.

“Are you making fucking pancakes?” Gio asks incredulously when he lays eyes on the box you’re holding.

You raise an eyebrow—it’s pretty damn obvious you’re making pancakes. Does he think you’re holding a box of pancake mix for your health? He whistles appreciatively, blithely ignoring your judgmental stare, “Fucking A, dude.”

Everyone perks up at the prospect of pancakes, and you try not to be too proud of yourself. After all, there are, in fact, pancakes to be made.

You, of course, end up quite smug about your pancakes nonetheless.

The cast iron pan takes a long time to heat up but you distract yourself with idle chit-chat. Part of you remembers hating small talk but now, after everything, it’s one of the few things that makes you feel alive.

There’s no maple syrup—something you admittedly should’ve considered before deciding to make pancakes—but you spread peanut butter on those bad boys and have a grand old time. You feel like some sort of culinary wizard.

Connor eats his plain, you note. You wonder why.

After breakfast, Gio, Dave, and Connor all huddle around their half-finished AC unit, intent on finally getting the tricky bastard to work. Summer is coming to an end if the cool nights and frequent gusts are anything to go by, and you think everyone would appreciate a working heater.

Sana has a rather sizable mound of clothes to mend, or so she says, and she squirrels herself away in her tent. You wonder how much there really is.

This leaves you, Captain, and Harley to your own devices. You’re not sure what to do. You’d like to be useful, but beyond your cooking skills you really have nothing to offer, you don’t think. Since you woke up, you’ve been getting regular directions from Dave and Connor. Autonomy is new and you’re not sure how much you like it.

Captain stalks off with a determined glint in their eye, and you decide to leave them be. You deem it best to not get involved in whatever they have planned. You are curious, though.

Uncertain, you spend your morning bathing. Clean hair is a luxury you refuse to forgo, the apocalypse be damned, and it’s about time you scrubbed the shit out of it. The east river is cold and clear and damn refreshing, the gentle current ridding your long mop of dirt and dried sweat, taking the grime downstream. You lather your hair in shampoo and pile it on top of your head, inordinately pleased when it stays up there.

You float on your back for some time, letting the water flow into your ears. It makes you squirm but it’s familiar in a way you can’t begin to describe. The sun says nothing but caresses your face nonetheless.

When you’re pruney and sun tired and hopefully clean, you towel off and dress, intent on sitting in the shade with your Nixon book.

You read in peace for a long while. Time pools around your ankles.

Harley approaches you near lunch, nervously twirling a braid in her hand, eyes not quite meeting yours. You’re not sure what you did to make her seem so afraid of you, but you berate yourself anyway. How dare you strike the fear of G-d into an angel.

“Um…” She begins softly, exhaling deeply before continuing, “I was thinking maybe we could go out and see what kinds of plants are around here. Maybe we could start a garden.”

You smile widely at her, determined to prove she has nothing to fear, “That sounds great! We can’t rely on boxed food forever. Let’s see what Dave knows before we head out, he might be able to tell us what to look for.”

“Okay cool!” She squeaks, relief oozing from her pores.

Dave is still huddled over the AC unit with Gio and Connor, hunched over with his back to you, mouth moving a mile a minute was the other two fiddle with the machine. You trod over and clear your throat, prompting Dave to turn and meet your eyes.

“Hey, Flash,” He greets you warmly, “What can I do for ya?”

“What kind of edible plants grow around here?” You ask, Harley hovering nervously behind you.

“Ah,” Dave grimaces as he stands, cracks his back, and brushes off his pants, “We… Don’t really know. We’ve found blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries, but other than those we’re havin’ a hard time figurin’ out what’s safe to eat and what ain’t. I wish we knew but we just can’t risk anybody gettin’ sick. Rowdy’s been talkin’ about a farm but we can’t start it if we don’t know what’s edible.”

You nod and wonder if you might be able to recognize anything, but you highly doubt it. You’re pretty sure you’re not from around here. Plus, you don’t think culinary school has a “Can You Eat This Weed?” class.

A soft noise erupts from Harley and you and Dave both look at her, mildly startled. “I, um… I think I can help.”

“Oh?” Dave replies, eyebrows raised and interested piqued. “Do you know a lot about plants?”

She turns beet red, “Yeah, um, plants are kind of… my thing. I can probably tell you the scientific name of every single plant we’ve seen so far. I, um… like plants.”

Dave grins, asking if there are in fact any plants nearby that we can use to bolster our food supply. He is laser focused on Harley and it makes her squirm.

“Yeah, I think so,” She mumbles, “I need a closer look to be sure but there seem to be a lot of fruit and nut trees around here. Plenty of them are edible.” Dave is beyond overjoyed when he hears this. He claps Harley on the shoulder and turns to grin at Connor, who is grinning that chipped grin right back.

It’s not particularly surprising that he was listening in. He’s a nosy bastard.

Dave and Connor exchange a few words before Dave rounds on you and Harley, “So, is that what y’all wanna do today? Winter’s just around the corner so Con needs to help Gio with the heater but y’all are more than welcome to go out lookin’ for plants.”

“It might be a good use of our time,” You agree, nodding at Dave and smiling softly at Harley. “You comin’ with us, Dave?”

He shrugs and schleps over to Connor, kissing him on the cheek and bidding him good bye before heading up the hill to nab a few items.

You think about the kiss just long enough to dismiss it—Dave’s Latino, and they all kiss each other’s cheeks in greetings and farewells. You’ve known a lot a Latinos in your life, so it doesn’t strike you as out of the ordinary.

One manly shoulder clap from Con later and you and Harley are on your way, trudging into the forest with naught but an empty backpack and a canteen of water. This is just an exploratory mission after all—a journey into the final frontier. You’re not climbing Mount Everest here, so you don’t need much in the way of supplies.

Dave lags behind, speaking lowly to Gio and Connor, before eventually catching up.

Say what you will about hiking and nature, but you can’t deny your enjoyment of this excursion. Harley is clearly in her element, rattling off the scientific names of every plant she sees, collecting bits of ones she deems edible and storing them in the backpack you’re wearing. It’s admittedly fun watching her get excited about every tree and fern.

It also gives you something to distract you from your sweaty, cumbersome body.

You tune everything out for a while as you stumble through the trees. The sun is overbearing, hanging high in the sky as she is. The air is thick and muggy and you’re not sure what to do with your hands. You wipe them on your shorts but it does nothing to rid them of the sweat.

“…and I think we have some good options, lots of edible…”

Insects whizz by your head and you swat at them, but never seem to make contact.

“…allergies? That’s my concern because…”

Bird calls echo more than they should. Water trickles somewhere nearby, but you’re not sure it’s real.

“…worry because it’s uncommon, but I guess it’s…”

Your toe hits a rock and you faceplant, arms reacting too slowly to stop your fall. Dave and Harley are at your side in seconds.

“You good, man?” Dave asks, eyes scanning your body for injury, in full doctor mode.

You laugh and rise to your feet, “I’m fine, Dave. I just wasn’t looking where I was going.” His concern warms you, and you once again feel so lucky to have met him.

He nods but doesn’t stop checking you, hands gently poking and prodding, Harley watching owlishly but saying nothing.

Soon enough he’s shaking his head, “You’re fine, I concede. Just be more careful, huh?” He’s not exactly chiding you but you feel chided all the same. Your cheeks flush and you studiously avoid his eyes, dusting off your shorts with jerky movements.

You pay attention after that, listening to the two bond over Science Shit and watching your feet very closely. The ground is firm and littered with leaves and small patches of grass, which you admire in a strangely nostalgic way—it reminds you of the weeds pushing through the cracks of concrete sidewalks, the little ones that always made your heart melt a little.

A strange indent in the dirt distracts you from your reverie and you stoop down to take a closer look. It’s a hoof print. You rear back to your full height and realize there’s a trail of them. Glancing back to the others, you see them crouched over a bush, and decide you can get away with indulging your curiosity.

The trail is winding but ultimately easy to follow, and the farther you follow it, the louder the sound of rushing water becomes. It must be another stream, you figure.

When you reach the stream, you freeze in awe, mouth hanging open. A large buck is drinking calmly with its eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to your presence. You slouch and stare at the creature.

You want to approach it, to stroke its glistening chestnut fur, but you remain still. If you move, if that buck sees you, this moment will be shattered.

As it turns out, the moment is shattered by no effort or movement of your own. One second, the buck is peacefully hydrating, and the next, it is collapsed on the bank. You wonder what happened just long enough for the animal’s blood to seep into the water.

You probably should’ve noticed the spear sticking out of its neck before you noticed the blood but hey, nobody’s perfect.

The spear is short and dark brown, with the blade secured to the shaft with dried vines. Who made it? How long did it take? What’s it made out of? How hard do you have to throw it for it to kill such a large buck in one hit?

More importantly, who the hell threw it?

That question is answered when a man emerges from the trees. He is shirtless and covered in mud, but his clear blue eyes are piercing even from a distance thanks to the dark smudging surrounding them. He looks at you and you almost pee yourself right in front of him.

Behind you, Dave and Harley arrive, but you don’t turn to face them. Your eyes remain locked on the wild man.

“Buck!” Dave greets warmly, waving at the mud-caked man, “Looks like you snagged a big one huh?”

The man—Buck, you guess—smiles the tiniest little smile you’ve ever seen at Dave, “Yeah, should keep us fed for a few weeks. Gotta skin it and shit, so we probably won’t be back until late tonight.” You wonder why he said “we”.

“Okay, sounds good. Are Electra and Jian gettin’ along? I know those two can butt heads.”

“It’s goin’ about as well as ya think, but they ain’t much trouble.”

Dave grins and shakes his head fondly, “As long as they’re not at each other’s throats then I’m happy. I’m sure you can handle ‘em. Anyway, this is Flash and Harley, we found ‘em not too long ago. Guys, this is Buck. He handles our huntin’ and all that woodsy, macho shit.”

“Woodsy, macho shit?” You echo, raising an eyebrow at Buck.

He holds his hands up in surrender, “Apparently.” He appears completely slave to Dave’s whims, and you can’t really judge him for that.

“Straight guys like that all that shit,” Dave says dismissively, already turning to walk back the way you came, “So we’ll see ya later, Buck, we got plants to look at.” Harley waves happily at Buck before following after Dave like a dutiful puppy.

You hang back to share a long, intense look with Buck. You blush. He nods at you before kneeling to deal with his kill. You leave.

Catching up with Dave is easy, and he laughs when you approach. You grin at the back of his head and continue to follow through the thickets. He and Harley easily fall back into their scientific expedition but your mind drifts back to Buck.

He looked so… powerful, like that. Pale skin caked in mud and spare spear in his hand, eyes piercing, he looked almost feral—a true caveman if you ever did see one. Honestly, seeing him so raw was kind of hot.

Yikes. That might make life at camp a little difficult if you get hot under the collar over a man covered in mud.

You suddenly feel like an ancient, surviving off the fat of the land despite how little Mother Gaia wants you there. All things considered, you really are living as the ancients once did—what’s changed? The fact that you have books instead of cave paintings? The fact that you eat deer meat with hamburger helper instead of just charred meat on a stick?

It’s all the same. It’s all always been the same. This realization should feel liberating but it’s suffocating more than anything else. What meaning did life have then?

What meaning does life have now?

G-d, you really need to stop philosophizing, you’re gonna make yourself sick. That is, if you haven’t already.

Shaking your head, you tune back in to Harley and Dave’s babbling, and realize you still have absolutely no clue what they’re on about. At least that hasn’t changed.

Ultimately, you return to camp with a backpack full of plant bits and brain full of no more knowledge than you left with. Y’know, besides the crushing knowledge that you’re attracted to wild white boys covered in mud. That’s something that you promise to keep to yourself.

Dinner rolls around and you make more rice, limited as you are until Buck comes back with more meat. Despite the fact that you spent most of the day hunting for edible plants, you still end up with nothing but rice and canned green beans to cook with. Captain loudly complains but you ignore them.

It’s Connor who slaps you on the back and thanks you for dinner, making you turn pink and stammer like a middle schooler who just talked to their crush for the first time. Connor is just… incredible, and you feel so lucky to know him, to share your life with him. Dave follows his partner’s lead and thanks you as well, and you feel the same emotion run over you—these two men saved your life, and here they are thanking you for just not burning the rice and opening three cans of green beans. It all seems kind of backwards to you, but you won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

After dinner, you retire to the strangely flat log. The others join you, sitting around the firepit as Gio gets the fire roaring, in comfortable silence.

“So, Dave, Connor,” Harley breaks the silence gently, conversationally, “How’d you two meet? Seems lucky that you two are such good friends, if you were the first ones to wake up.”

Sana huffs a laugh, “You mean you haven’t told them? Typical.” She somehow manages to adjust her hijab in a haughty manner, leaving you to marvel at how a simple movement could be so judgmental.

“Ignore her,” Dave says dismissively with an eyeroll. He must’ve noticed her not-so-subtle jab and cockiness.

“We met entirely by accident two years ago,” Connor starts, cutting off Sana’s chance to defend herself, “And it was incredibly lucky. Even now I thank Allah that it happened, that I was found by the most incredible man I’ve ever met.” The look he shoots at Dave makes you melt. “I woke up alone in a bunker many miles north of here. I wasn’t shaken or yelled at, like the rest of you were, I just simply woke up, as if from a long nap. It took hours for me to be able to walk, but I eventually did it, and I wandered outside. I explored the surrounding area and realized I was alone in the wilderness, so I did what made the most sense to me, and made camp.

“I scavenged parts from the bunker and built the best camp I could. My memories were few and far between, so it was difficult for me to even remember what kinds of food I liked. I accidentally ate peanuts and almost died because I couldn’t remember I was allergic to them!

“For weeks I was alone, wondering if it was just me out there. I started getting cabin fever even though I was free to go and do whatever I wanted, and I feared that I would die a madman, alone in the wilderness. I figured that since no one else in my bunker woke up, or even could be woken up, that I would never see another human as long as I lived. What was the likelihood of someone else randomly waking up? And if someone else did wake up, what was the likelihood that they would be anywhere near me? Allah, however, had plans for me. I should’ve figured.

“One day, I heard rustling on the outskirts of my camp. Until that point, I hadn’t seen even a single animal larger than a squirrel, and whatever was lumbering its way toward my camp was definitely bigger than a damn squirrel. I panic and yell out for the intruder to stay away. Now, you can imagine the fear I felt when a buck naked person burst out of the trees and tried to hug me.

“After giving Dave a bloody nose, we eventually start talking and introduced ourselves, and we’ve been together ever since,” Connor concludes with a goofy grin on his face. He looks absolutely smitten and you hope you can be like him one day, so incredibly happy to be alive.

Dave laughs, “Well, that’s when we started traveling together. We figured that we were probably the only two people awake, and thought, hey, why be alone when we could be together. It was his idea to head south for its warmer climate, and my idea to wake people up along the way. We had been traveling together for about a year when we finally managed to wake anybody up. It was Rowdy, alone in a bunker in Massachusetts.”

Huh. Fancy that.

You stand to grab a drink when the rustling of nearby trees snags your attention, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and you notice Connor tense up as well.

He makes a shushing gesture and the firepit is shrouded in silence. The rustling grows louder, seemingly closer, and you watch as he stands warily in front of Dave. Whatever’s making that noise, Connor is ready to protect his partner from it. That makes you smile, despite the tension.

“Wait…” Dave says, comically elbowing Connor out of the way, “I know those footsteps!”