Chapter Text
In another life, it would have been beautiful; the light that haloed against the darkness of space. Holy in every aspect of the word. Fire crashing down through the heavens as the great city of July reached up with its arms open, welcoming the burning star home. The city, a shadow of the roots it once was, traveling through the cosmos. Cradled the falling star’s ethereal light, until it vanished, smothered among gilded buildings and neon lights.
And all was still.
Wolfwood felt the pull to run back; it coiled tightly in his body, raring to do something. His limbs hung heavy and useless at his sides. Feet planted on the ground beside Meryl, unable to tear his eyes away. July still stood as if nothing had happened, gaudy displays of water churned, flaunting their liquid wealth like shining molten metal under it’s glow. Ads still blaring in their bright colors atop spires. With a blinding flash, a new light ruptured. Swelling high into the midnight air as sand and smoke encapsulated the city in an instant.
A punched out sound came from Meryl beside him. Chills crawled down his spine at the violent sight, warming the world like the noon-day suns. Yet it was silent. He only saw a ripple of dust as it rolled towards them. Wolfwood barely had enough time to think before he made a mad grab for Meryl. With a yank, he dragged her closer, forcing her to the ground. His back turned on the impending wave, blood pounding in his ears. The Punisher pressed down on his wrist and shoulders. Bracing himself as he kept Meryl under him. Roaring thunder crashed in his skull, as the wave collided, forcing the air from his lungs, and the world went dark.
___
When Wolfwood came to, he couldn’t make sense of what was up or what was down. His chest all but burned. It was in that moment, he realized, that he could not, in fact, breathe. Lungs aching from being winded, Wolfwood floundered. He opened his mouth, only for sand fall in. Fuck. In a desperate scramble, he sat up and spit out the mouthful of grit. Half buried, Wolfwood gaped, trying to remember how to— Breathe, damn it! Breathe!
The lungfuls of air make him dizzy. All that smoking hadn’t done him any good. As his panic subsided, pain began to ebb through, nagging for his attention. Get your bearings, Wolfwood.
While he caught his breath, he took stock. Nothing seemed broken. Besides the fact that his whole body felt like it had been crushed by a Grand Worm. Fingers and legs were working. His ears were ringing. Everything ached, breathing was still a bitch, but adrenaline can be one hell of a drug when it needs to be. So at least he had some time before he would really start to feel it. He made an attempt to spit out the rest of the sand his mouth, but it was too dry. Because of fucking course it was. Wolfwood sat up, squinting through the settling cloud of sand to orient himself.
He couldn’t find it. No light flashing lights, no sound. Not even the distant wail of alarms or gunshots. The silence was unnerving. The stars blinked back at him, and some of the moons rays pushed through the haze, softly shedding it’s light against the dunes, and beaten down roads.
Nicholas, were you able to lay down your cross?
With a groan he pulled himself to his feet. How far had he been flung? Was it all over? The cloud of dust around him was quickly settling. Wolfwood spun around, trying to pinpoint any landmarks. The darkness that sat a few iles away, however, froze him in his tracks. A bitter nausea gnawed at his insides and knotted in his throat.
July was gone.
No it couldn’t be. There had been an explosion, sure, but it couldn’t have done this. A whole city can’t just vanish. Wolfwood was no stranger to the rumors and tales spun about towns being leveled because of a certain Humanoid Typhoon. A handful of buildings turned to rubble in a wild goose chase, maybe, but an entire city wiped clean off the face of the planet? Spikey certainly couldn’t have- but there it was, right in front of him. No matter how many times he blinked, the maw of the crater where July once sat, stared back at him, unfeeling. It had been right there just a few iles off. He’d been standing right next to-
Meryl.
Shit. “Shortie!?” He called, his voice was rough as his lungs strained in protest. Swiveling this way and that, eyes darting over dunes.
“...Little lady, I swear to god!” The wheeze of his crackling voice was his only reply.
“Damnnit-!”
“Undertaker!” Just a few yarz behind him, Meryl’s voice sounded.
Snapping his head toward the sound, he sees her running toward him, tripping on her stupid white shoes. At the sight of her, the world blurred, and black licked at the corners of his vision. Must’ve been more winded than he thought. God fucking dammit. Too many things had gone sideways today, he didn’t need more of it. Wolfwood wanted to feel something that wasn’t whatever the hell was going on in his chest. That wasn’t so hard to ask.
Meryl collided against him. Still trying to get air back into his lungs, Wolfwood stumbled, wincing at the sharp pain that flared in his side. What confused him was she wasn’t trying to rip him a new one. There was no punching at his chest, or yelling her throat raw. No stray kicks to his shins. Just the pressure of Meryl’s arms wrapped around him; tighter than they had any right to be. She was crying.
He’d hurt before. The kind of hurt where he’d power through the burn of bullets that ripped into his flesh. Clench his teeth as the sting of the meds pulled each sinew back together. Suture bones back in place. The kind of hurt where he’d battle with his own consciousness to keep fighting. This wasn’t any different, really. It shouldn’t be any different. It was probably shock. Overwrought with everything that had happened in the last day, Wolfwood’s legs gave out.
Meryl fell with him. Why was she...? She’d been fuming at him just before the twins...
It all screamed wrong, wrong, wrong, and still she wept against him. Pressed close like he hadn’t betrayed everyone mere hours ago.
Wolfwood couldn’t lose focus. Couldn’t let the questions and feelings consume him. There were things to do. One wrong move and it’s over. Deal with it later. You can deal with it later. So, he focused on the body curled close to him. Meryl’s heartbeat raced under Wolfwood’s hand as he tentatively pressed it against her back. When she didn’t pull away, he pulled her in closer, and carded trembling fingers through her short hair. Distantly he noticed she was missing her hat. Not that it mattered. So he focused on the task in front of him. Her hair was greasy, and covered in sand. His blunt nails scraped gently against her scalp. An old habit that crawled back to him, the starving thing that it was. With each unsure gesture of comfort, Wolfwood barely heard his own hoarse voice muttering words of comfort over and over,“I know, I know… shhhh-shh-shh.”
The world still turned. Time kept moving. And it didn’t feel real.
For the first time in far too long, he felt small. Like someone had caught a glimpse past the snarling hound, and seen a little boy who just wanted to go home. Seeing something he could never be again, but he couldn’t help but hold on to. Young and reliable Nico. Who would get up to stupid shit, like trying his hand at carving with a dull knife he’d stolen from the kitchen. Nico, who would distract the youngins during a sandstorm… Nico, who would never admit that he missed hearing Miss Melanie’s exasperated tone that never seemed to hide just how much she cared. He just wished he could remember what it felt like to be in her arms again.
But he wasn’t small, and he wasn’t soft. Not anymore. Stuffed into a body that had grown too fast, his hands were no longer fit to comfort. Gun worn, calloused and bloody, a killers hands, that could only be his own. Those very same hands that held a woman he barely knew as she wept. The crater that was once July, branded itself into Wolfwood’s mind. A reminder of the choices he made, and the ugly truth that he would do it all again if he had to. If he closed his eyes and willed himself back to the orphanage all those years ago, maybe then he’d wake up.
He didn’t.
___
The moons hung low in the sky by the time Meryl’s tears had come to a slow halt. Quiet sniffles and steadying breaths were the only thing filling the silence. With red, and puffy eyes, she wipes her face on her sleeve. Shuffling out of Wolfwood’s arms, she sat in front of him staring blankly at the sand between their knees. Both of them pointedly looking away from the shadow that lurked in the distance. Wolfwood took a deep breath. Regroup. Assess damages. Adjust. Plan.
“You hurtin’ anywhere?” Wolfwood asked.
“Just – uhm,” She sniffled, “just some bruises, I think. Have any water?”
“A little.” Wolfwood pulled out a small flask from his pocket and handing it over.
They’d need to get moving soon. Dawn was just a few hours away, and the cool wouldn’t last forever. They could figure out what their plan was once they got somewhere they could hunker down for a few days. Get their feet properly under them. Wolfwood would make sure Meryl got where she needed to go in one piece and he’d go from there. Though, that was assuming she’d go with him. If she wanted to go anywhere with him or not was her choice. Who would he be to blame her for not trusting him?
Meryl shoved his flask into his hands as she pushed herself up onto her feet. That familiar, determination surged back into her eyes as she faced that distant shadow.
“Where do ya think yer goin’, little lady?” Without saying anything, she storms off to the craters edge, bringing her fiery stubbornness with her. Wolfwood sighed and stood to follow her, ignoring the bone deep feeling that told him not to get any closer. Not that those types of gut warnings were any good at warding him off. Besides, someone had to make sure a certain woman wouldn’t get herself hurt doing something stupid. He owed uncle downer that much.
Finding where his gun had flown off to didn’t take long. The thing was hard to miss. Leaning down, Wolfwood hoisted the Punisher up from the sand. The grounding weight settled in his grip. He could see freshly shifted sand. Collapsed dunes and fresh bedrock darker than the dusted, sun-bleached stones he’d often see scattered throughout the desert. Beaten paths had been buried or destroyed.
Nearing the crater, the sight be came more and more grim. Dark smoke rose from smoldering fires. Large pieces of metal ticked and groaned as he passed by. The air smelt strongly of ozone, and damp air clung to his skin as the air became thicker, warmer. Meryl tensed, not far in front of him as a distant wail broke the silence around them. Turning back to look at Wolfwood with a harrowed look. Eyes misting up again. He looks back at her, his brow furrowed as she turns to look in the direction the sound had come from. Closer and closer, the more they’d hear. Before long, voices of the few survivors left, called out for help, names of strangers, cries of pain, all echoing around them. Some closer than others. Warping as the disturbed sounds drift over the empty space just a few yarz ahead of them. The feeling in his gut twisted. Wolfwood clenched his jaw, as he rifled around in his pockets for the old mans smokes, pursing one between his lips to light it. It barely helped.
“Vash!! Where are you?!” Meryls voice startled him from his thoughts. She stumbled over her own feet as they neared the crater edge. Wolfwood felt his heart drop, but she quickly righted herself. It was deep. Far deeper than he was expecting. Curving down steep slopes and rough cliffsides.
“Vaash!!!”
“Shortie..” Wolfwood tries, keeping a safe distance from the edge.
“Vaaaash!!” Meryl’s voice breaks. Sucking in, hitching, she stared down into the darkness before swiveling her head looking around, her eyes searching, thinking.
“Whatever yer thinkin’, don’t.”
“We have to check.”
“For what?” Wolfwood gestured to the empty space in front of them, cooling debris littered in the sand. Frustration bubbled in his chest. Even with the light of the moons, it strained to reach into the dark depths below. Like the light itself did not want to face the tragedy before it.
“There ain’t much left.” he grit out around the filter.
Voice trembling she snipped back, “We can’t know that for sure.”
“You blind, shorty? Goin’ down there could be a death sentence. The city is gone.” Spikey is gone, he wanted to say. It caught in his chest, “So either ya throw yerself off that edge and waste all of that bullshit we went through. Or I’ll haul yer ass away before ya do.”
“If there’s even a chance that he’s out there- he could be hurt! Er- bleeding out or stuck somewhere!! I-, I’m not just going to abandon him!! I wont abandon him. Not like you did.”
Wolfwood couldn’t argue with that. Sure as hell stung to hear, all the same. Taking a long drag of a cigarette that wasn’t his, he held his tongue, watching her hard glare falter ever so slightly. For a while they just stood there, beside the ghosts of what once was, surrounded by chilling cries of those who had lost everything.
Meryl’s expression pinched, tears welling up in her eyes again. She didn’t deserve to be a part of this mess. Watching the fight leave someone like her was painful. Even for Wolfwood. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to try, though. A part of him wanted to see if that blonde idiot was gone for sure. Find a body. A sign... but who was he kidding? With a blast like that, it was more likely atoms now. There would be no body to bury, no grave to mark the lives lost aside from the one that would take more than a lifetime to fill right before them. A soft breeze greeted him as it danced with the curling smoke, dispersing it into nothing.
“What now..?” Meryl asked after minutes of silence.
Wolfwood looked at her. Tears carved down her cheeks as more silent drops escaped her eyes, washing away a thin layer of grime. There was so much packed into that question, Wolfwood didn’t really know where to start, but he tried anyway.
“Dunno,” He gave a half-hearted shrug, tapping the ashes off the end of his cigarette, “Wind’s pickin’ up. Best we find some place to hunker down for a little bit. Figure things out. Take it one day at a time. That sort of thing.” As if it was the most normal thing in the entire fucking world. Watch a city get vaporized, taking god knows how many with it. Alright, great! Time to dust yourself off and go on about your day like it’s just another Sunday morning. But what else could they do?
“I’m sure ya have places to get to right? Being a reporter an’ all. I’m sure we could find something in a town near here. Catch a ride to the closest terminal. Our best bet, we start headin’ to December.”
Her brow furrowed, pensive, “How far away is the next town?”
Wolfwood adjusted the weight of the Punisher in his grip, “Far ‘nough that walking is gonna be a pain in the ass. The sooner we get outta here, the better.”
He turned to leave. Meryl was quick to follow in his footsteps, glancing over her shoulder one last time.
The hollow darkness behind them never stopped staring.
__________
Walking to the next town took them two days. After barely any sleep for three days in a row, Wolfwood was gnawing on his cheek to stay sane. Already on his last four cigarettes, he really didn’t want to risk running out before he could restock. He’d been able to see the town on the horizon for a while. Now, it was only a matter of watching as it they got closer.
Playing a balancing game with the dead weight on his back and the Punisher under his arm, Wolfwood sighed and came to a stop. Meryl had been slowly sliding off his back for the past thirty minutes. Doing his best not to jostle her awake as he hiked her back up to a more comfortable position. Leaning forward, he slid his arm from under her legs to shake out a tingling cramp that had started going numb in the last few hours he’d been carrying her. It was dark out, the suns having just set not too long ago. Just a few more iles. He tucked his arm back under her legs and kept walking. Christ, what he’d give for a bed right about now.
‘Wams Fall’ was one of the larger towns east of July. Few lights were on, aside from the bar and a handful of porch lights of overnight establishments. Meryl’s breath puffed gently against his ear as he trudged down packed dirt streets, her arms hanging over his shoulders. The deeper into town they got, the more Wolfwood saw a folks huddled in alleyways, leaning against buildings to soak in any warmth left in the stonework from the sun, that was probably long gone by now. From the state of them, most on the streets seemed to be survivors.
All around No Man's Land, it wasn't uncommon to find whole towns displaced. Though, it tended to happen with small populations ranging from a handful of families to a couple thousand. This was a whole other can of worms in comparison.
Kids were always the hardest to see during times like this. For some, they had their parents huddled close to them, half awake, still in work clothes. The looks in their eyes were empty, staring into nothing. Others, well, weren’t quite so lucky. The soft buzz of night chatter filtered through Wolfwood’s ears. Anxious muttering, an infant crying, sniffles and coughs. Snoring and soft breathing as some slept.
Unsurprisingly, the two motels and the only inn in town were all booked. He’d been too tired to remember to ask when the next bus would arrive in town. So, resigned and exhausted with a sleeping Meryl choking him from time to time, Wolfwood searched for a spot to settle for the night. Far from the first time in the last few days, he’d wished they still had Meryl's news truck. At least the seats didn’t jab him in the ass when he tried to get comfortable.
Tucked away in a narrow alleyway, Wolfwood leaned the Punisher against the side of one of the buildings before carefully extracting his sleeping cargo off his back with a sigh.
“Undertaker..?” Meryl asked, groggy. So much for trying not to wake her.
“Sorry, shortstack,” Wolfwood kept his voice low and rough, “wasn’t able to snag ya a place to sleep. Gonna hafta make due.”
“Where..?”
“Wams Fall. Worry ‘bout the rest come mornin’.”
Meryl grumbled, already on her way to falling back asleep. Tapping out one of the four cigarettes left, Wolfwood tucked it between his lips sitting on the ground beside her. He takes the first deep drag leaning his head back to watch the stars flicker. Rubbing the pad of his thumb over the case of his lighter, absently. The nicotine barely calms the crawling itch beneath his skin. Lacking some of that bitterness he got from his preferred brand. Damn that old man with his mild ass cigarettes. Sweet, even. Stingy ass geezer.
No matter how heavy the weight of the shadows under his eyes sat, and how fatigue buzzed like incessant worm wings between his ears and behind his eyes, Wolfwood felt wired. All he wanted to do was sleep. Put an end to what seemed like a never ending day. Even when he’d find himself nodding off, he’d startle back awake. He had little reason to be. Nothing to immediately protect or chase after. What he’d been hired to do was done. His knees and back ached with a tingling numbness that never seemed to completely leave him these days. So why was he still so restless?
Wolfwood wished tonight, just maybe, he’d be able to rest a few hours. Get him to a place where he was mostly functional for another walk, or bartering with a driver for a bus fare. Meryl might have some cash he could wheedle off of her somehow. That was for tomorrow Wolfwood to deal with, however. He stubbed out the dog end of his cigarette and flicked it away. Doing one last look around barely awake, he slipped off his jacket, folded it to tuck under Meryl’s head, and tried to get some sleep. Just for a moment.
___
“Undertaker.”
Wolfwood grumbled, and turned away from the noise.
Can’t a man get any sleep?
“C’mon. We need to talk about how we’re going to get out of here.”
“Nrhg..”
“You-,” Meryl tempered, “Look, I would give anything to not be here right now. But this is important.”
Finally, Wolfwood cracked his eyes open, seeing sunlight bleeding into the alleyway. Meryl was crouched next to him. His jacket had been laid over his arms and chest. Sitting up he dragged a palm over his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Christ, he felt like shit.
“I got you breakfast.” She tossed something warm on his lap as she sat down beside him. Quickly, he unwrapped it, finding a hearty breakfast sandwich, stuffed with worm meat and scrambled thoma eggs. He groaned at the first bite. Fuuck, it was good.
“So, while you were sleeping the day away, asked around about bus services.”
“Yeah?” Wolfwood asked around his mouthful, “Wa’si’ loo’in’ li’e?”
Seemingly unbothered by the lack of Wolfwood’s manners, Meryl went on, “Not great, I’ll be honest. The city requested aid from December and Augusta as soon as refugees started showing up. Problem is, so is every other settlement remotely close to July. I heard they’ve started taking names to set up queues for seats.”
Wolfwood swallowed another bite, “Lemmie guess, it’s a long list.”
Meryl nodded, pursing her lips.
“Okay, bus is a no-go then, what about renting a thomas?” Wolfwood asked. He loathed the idea, but they were running out of options.
“All rented out.”
“So either we wait for an open seat, or walk.” Wolfwood sighed, “Any other bright ideas, little missy?”
She picked at the sand under her nails. Her blue nail polish had started to flake off.
“Not really? I tried calling headquarters, but wasn’t able to get through. Can’t really say I’m surprised. If I had the company radio, maybe, but it uh, it's back in the trailer. With the truck.”
“Where’d that thing end up anyway?” Wolfwood scarfed down the rest of his breakfast, checking the parchment for any stray pieces of food.
Meryl her brow furrowed before she whirled on Wolfwood, and gave his shoulder a smack, “That’s it!”
“Huh?”
She was grinning as she scrambled up to her feet.
“We need to find Ship 3.”