Kenny stares at her wrist, frowning.

"Crap," she mutters, but then shrugs and takes her arm back, "I'll be fine."

"But you'll turn and try to eat us all!" I point out as she sits back beside butters, "that's not fine."

"Craig, relax. Kenny is immune," Wendyl tells me, "for some reason her white blood cells are crazy and just annihilate the infection within minutes."

I feel like that's information I should've been told a long time ago, but I don't mention that.
Instead, I head to the back of the bus, gently lift Tweek's legs and sit on the chair, then rest his legs on top of mine.

Stan gets back into the minibus after refilling the gas tank and sits back at the driver's seat.

"Is everyone ready because I ain't stopping once I'm started. I need a shit."

"Just go, Stan." Butters rolls his eyes.

Stan starts driving and after around half an hour we pass the bungalow. I feel a pang if guilt in my heart when I realise in a way I killed my friends.

It was my idea for us to go check out the new place as a group. If I hadn't have suggested that, maybe they would still be alive.

As if sensing my pain, Tweek takes my hand in his and runs his thumb over my pinkie comfortingly.

"Hey," he says softly, reaching over and wiping a tear from my cheek, "don't c-cry."

I didn't even realise I'd started crying. I turn my head away and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. God, trying to stop crying is difficult.
Now I know how Clyde feels.

And there's that feeling of guilt again. I mocked him constantly for his crying when it obviously wasn't his fault. He's just an emotional person, he can't help that.

"We're almost home." Tweek reminds me.

"I just want to lie down and sleep," I tell him, "have you even got a room for me and Tricia? I never asked."

"Tricia can stay with Karen and, if it's fine with you, you c-can share with me," Tweek's eyes widen and he quickly adds, "in your own bed, of c-course!"

I give a small laugh.

"I knew what you meant. Don't worry."

Stan parks the minibus around the back of the police station, where I assume the police cars were parked back in the day. He's the first out of the vehicle, yelling something about going to the nearest toilet.

I help Tweek to his feet and then pick him up the same way I lifted him earlier. He's not gotten any lighter.

Somehow, I carry him out of the minibus and into the building through a back entrance without dropping him.

There are still zombie bodies all over the floor since we never got a chance to move them. Butters, Kenny and Kyle start grabbing them by whatever limbs they have left and drag them outside into a large circular pit.

"Where's your room?" I ask Tweek.

"Remember that closet we were in when I kissed you the first time? It's the d-door after that."

It doesn't take long to find the room since the back entrance is quite close to Tweek's zone. I wonder why he has his own zone and why nobody is allowed in it.

"What's the deal with your zone?" I ask since the question is already in my mind.

"We keep live zombies back here for when Wendyl needs to t-test them. If someone decides to be an idiot and come down here they might accidentally release them, so the whole area is off limits to everyone b-but me and Stan... and maybe you since you're a decent fighter."

I laugh and bend my knees slightly so he can reach his bedroom's door handle. I walk into the room, noticing immediately how messy and small it is.
One of the walls is taken up by a large window, however the view doesn't look too pleasing. It's the zombie body pit, which Kyle and Wendyl are lighting with what appears to be a Molotov.

There's a bunk bed against the wall, one of those pullout ones that has a double bed at the bottom and a single at the top. The bedsheets are stained and crumpled, but they don't seem dirty. The blankets have been strewn across the floor and the pillows are shoved into a small gap between the bed and the wall. This guy cannot make the bed.

A small desk is pressed against the other wall, squashed into the corner since there isn't a lot of room in here. The chair is a crappy plastic one that doesn't look comfortable at all.

The walls are covered in patterns that have been drawn on with crayon, paint and... blood?

I take Tweek over to the bed and gently place him onto the lower bunk.

"What time is it?" I ask him, suddenly realising how tired I am.

Tweek looks over at the wall clock above the door, which is somehow still running. The batteries must have been replaced not long before the apocalypse started.

"It's almost eight pm," he replies, "are you n-not hungry? I'm sure Karen will be preparing dinner soon."

"Not really. I just wanna get straight to sleep."

Tweek nods in understanding.

"Me too."

I kick off my shoes and leave them by the door, then climb up the bed's ladder to reach the top bunk. It doesn't have a sheet, but it does have a pillow and a blanket so it's better than nothing.
I run a hand over the mattress. It doesn't feel itchy.

I lie down carefully, instantly feeling my muscles relax. I pull the blankets over myself and shut my eyes, deciding I can't be bothered changing into anything else right now.

"Hey Craig?" Tweek interrupts the silence.

"Mhm?"

"C-Can you come sleep with me?" He asks, "not sexually! I mean, sleep."

I laugh.

"I get what you mean."

I climb out of bed and drop onto the bottom bunk where Tweek is lying with one leg out of the blanket to get that perfect temperature. I get under the blanket and wrap an arm around his waist.

He flinches, but soon relaxes into me.

"Night." I mumble, feeling so tired I could fall asleep and second.

"Night Craig. Love you." He mumbles back.