Work Text
January 8th – 12:15 – 20██
– — — — –
The tension could be felt even through the footage, the camera appearing to be set on a dirty carpet, dust clearly having built up on it for quite some time, despite the camera having pristine footage. The only light in the room was coming from the camera, but it couldn’t catch anything other than empty space and old carpeting. A voice spoke up, sounding quiet and cautious, as if scared. “Do you have a flashlight?” The voice was masculine, but not overly so. It was soft. Young. A small hum of affirmation came from another voice. A click was heard, a flashlight coming on, and the first voice spoke again. “I’m gonna look around.” Another voice, distinctly deeper than the one who hummed, with a thick Southern accent piped in, despite meeting the first one’s volume. “You be safe, now. Don’t get too far. Check if everything’s locked up tight, too, would’ja?” “I will.” The camera was then picked up, a blurred figure seen as it moved by, yet was quickly forgotten. The house the group (presumably of three) was in appeared to be old and left behind, with little to no furniture other than a few pictures on the walls. Most had broken frames or had fallen. The man who held the camera glanced around, leaving the room and cautiously shutting the door with a loud squeak behind him. He was quick to come across a cabinet, filled with long forgotten china. A reflection was caught in the dusty glass of the cabinet for a few moments as the cameraman looked everything over, but nothing could be made out other than him being a few inches shorter than the cabinet. He sighed before turning and continuing on, finding a window and looking it over. He checked to see if it could be opened, finding it heavily resisting his attempt and letting out a grunt of effort as it squeaked, opening wide and revealing no screen. With another sigh, he shoved his weight against it to shut it again, looking for any type of locking mechanism. He could find none, letting out a worried sound, a hum from deep in his throat, before sighing yet again. It gave him quite a bit of issues, so, maybe, he assumed it would be fine. Or, maybe, he was looking around for something to block it with. He looked around more, walking through a doorway and into what looked like a kitchen, immediately looking at the window over the sink. This one had a screen and a lock, which he quickly made sure to lock, and he tried the window to see if the lock held water. When he couldn’t make it budge, his blurred reflection was seen nodding, but it was still hard to make out any of his features. Maybe he was blonde, and his hands revealed nothing, being covered by what looked like black gloves, complete with rubber nubs acting as grips on the underside. He turned his gaze, and his camera, down to the sink, deciding to try his luck and seeing if the water was running. Upon touching the handle, it let out a loud squeaking sound as he turned it, his grunt of effort showing that it wasn’t moving easily. Water poured from the faucet, a gasp coming from the cameraman as he turned it off again, opening a cabinet nearby in search of a cup of some kind. As soon as he found one, he placed it in the sink, turning on the sink again and filling the cup up halfway. A soft giggle came from behind the camera as he watched the cup fill, sounding hopeful and eager. He turned it off and picked up the clear glass, soon making a sound of frustration and disappointment once getting a better look at the water, which seemed to have a greyish tint to it. It certainly wasn’t clean, and he poured it out to show how he didn’t seem to want to give it a chance, either. Well, maybe the water was darker due to how he didn’t even bother in checking if the glass was clean, or if it was probably tinted itself, but he didn’t seem to want to risk anything. Maybe he had enough rations of his own, but his excitement seemed to be prying curiosity to think otherwise. He glanced around the room, finding another doorway and window, and first approached the window, which wasn’t far from where he was standing. He didn’t bother looking through any of the other cabinets, but perhaps he was going to do that later. Once more, he looked for a lock, locked it, and tried the window to see how strong said lock was. He let out a choked sound when the lock snapped and opened the window, seeming to freeze in place before slowly closing the window and stepping away. The Southern voice called out, a bit louder than before. “What’re you doin’ out there?” Another voice rushed to shush the one that shouted, a whispered argument heard soon after. The cameraman cleared his throat before answering, “N-nothing! Just tripped!” The hush-er was quick to hiss at him to quiet down, too, a soft noise of sadness heard from behind the camera. The cameraman seemed sensitive. Child-like. The cameraman huffed before looking through the window, taking note of how this one also had a screen. This raised a few questions. Why did the first not have one? Why didn’t it have a lock, either? Wouldn’t the lack of a screen be a good reason to have a lock? Then again, where the locks were on both of these other windows, that one had a bit of a jagged bump. Maybe it was also broken off, and the screen kicked out. Maybe someone used it to escape. The cameraman had already begun moving down to the doorway to what looked to be a hall, glancing over the photos hung up on the walls. It looked like an older couple lived here before, what with how there were photos from a younger couple and their kids, and then two people with greying hair and some adults in graduation gowns. Then again, this might be the home of the adults that graduated. He looked into one of the rooms, the first door he came across appearing as though it was kicked open, hanging off of one of its hinges and into a dark bedroom. His camera’s light glinted off of something in the dark, making his breathing hitch in fear, before the light fully revealed what looked like a doll on a rocking chair. He stared at the doll for a few tense seconds before whispering to himself, or, rather, to the camera. “Nope.” He quickly shut the door as best he could with how it was missing one of its anchor-points, and hurriedly shuffled back down the hall and towards the kitchen. He glanced out each window as he went by, but, at the one with a missing lock and no screen, he didn’t seem to notice how his light caught how there was a thick scratch going down the outside of the glass, as though something was clawing at it while he wasn’t paying attention. The door to the room he began in creaked as it opened, and he quickly shut it and slid back into the room, sitting down with his back facing the door and setting his camera back down. A new voice spoke up this time, though nothing other than someone’s feet, shoes looking like worn old sneakers with reflective decorative tape on them catching the light of the camera. “Did you find anything?” “Only a creepy doll in some bedroom before I dipped out.” the cameraman said, his voice sounding less innocent and more ‘adult’ now. The voice that spoke prior, being slightly squeaky and having a crack in it, sighed. “I’ll check it out.” a new voice said, having a slight Russian tinge to it. “You three stay here.” Unlike the cameraman, the Russian didn’t grab the camera, instead just letting the microphone pick up the click of what was easily assumed to be a flashlight turning on, some light footsteps, and the door opening and closing yet again. The voice that addressed the cameraman earlier, the one without any accent, huffed and said, “It’s not like we have anywhere else to go.” The camera cut out, revealing a new timestamp of a while later.– — — — –
January 8th – 2:22 – 20██
– — — — –
“Listen, he’s just a kid–” the Southerner said hurriedly, but was interrupted by the Russian voice from earlier, the Russian sounding aggressive and annoyed. “He’s twenty-five! He needs to act his age!” A soft sniffle and a choked sob was heard, the camera now simply facing the wall. The Southerner sighed, growling slightly at the Russian. The other voice decided to speak up now, trying to keep his voice quiet and calm to contrast with how the Southerner was worried and frustrated and the Russian was upset and angry, “Listen, just calm down. We don’t have time to be arguing anymore. Chester, go night-night, okay? Everyone’ll be better when you wake up.” The one who was crying, the cameraman, ‘Chester’, sniffled again, but murmured a shaky croak of ‘okay’. Some rustling was heard, presumably of blankets, and the camera was dragged aside. The face of Chester was seen clearer now, showing puffy eyes filled with tears, both colored a soft baby blue, pale skin, and pale blonde hair pushed up into a ‘swoof’ of a quiff. He cleared his throat and sniffled again before messing with the camera, the light turning off and showing that there were more lights on nearby, the room still vaguely lit up with the shadows of the others appearing on the wall behind Chester as he tugged a blanket up towards his face, tugging the camera closer and making all its view turn dark. He was cuddling it, despite knowing that it was recording. Did he want to save this conversation? If so, why? The voices were quieter now, but still were talking, however muffled it was from Chester’s tired embrace. The calming voice from before decided to break the silence. “You guys know he’s sensitive, right? So why are you being so mean to him? He doesn’t know any better when his mind is like this.” “It’s pathetic is what it is,” the Russian stated in a very matter-of-fact fashion, “Chester is an adult and should act like it. Adults don’t start crying and pretending they’re a child when things get too stressful. They stand strong and deal with it.” “And what about those who can’t deal with it, huh? Ya think they should jus’ curl up and up’n die? Ya think they ain’t deservin’ of livin’ if they have feelings? Not everyone is a soulless li’l husk, ya know!” the Southerner whisper-shouted angrily, the Russian preparing to speak but quickly being cut off. “Folk like ya’ll are heartless.” “Hey, now that’s a little too far.” the voice who seemed to be the leader of the group piped in, “You know the situation the world is in. We can’t just be racist.” “For once, the slut is right.” the Russian said, his tone of voice being clear that he was sneering at the Southerner. “Listen, it ain’t racist, it’s fact that this li’l brat’s entire family is nothin’ but trouble. It ain’t racist against all’a ya’ll in the North, it’s racist against all’a ya’ll with that damned last name.” “What? And you’re any better? You’re nothing more than a rednecked hillbilly.” Despite how everyone spoke in hushed tones, the tensions were high. “Listen, at least I do work. You just sit ‘round and whine. Act like you’re all high-and-mighty ‘cause ya know how to work a flashlight. News flash, princess: Ya ain’t special. You’re just as useless as you’ve always been!” The Southerner was getting louder as his temper rose, volume eager to match that, but the leader cut in yet again. “Floyd, quiet. Why can’t you two just get along?” Both parties were quiet, the leader sighing. “Just… get some sleep. Who knows what fucking time it is anymore. We’re all tired and need some rest.” A few soft sighs were heard, along with more cloth rustling, and several flashlights clicked off, presumably plunging the room into darkness. The leader spoke up after a few minutes of silence. “Goodnight. I love all of you.” No response was given, and the camera was running until the battery died a few hours later. A new timestamp popped up.– — — — –
January 8th – 8:51 – 20██
– — — — –
“–ised we have any batteries left with how many you’ve been going through.” The camera seemed to flick on in the middle of the leader’s sentence, the Southerner, Floyd, snorting sarcastically. “Hey, my li’l guy’s got a lot’a resourcefulness. He knows how t’ make this all work!” If Chester was only twenty-five, it seemed odd that someone sounding so young as Floyd could be his father, but maybe they were brothers? They didn’t share an accent, though… Maybe it was just platonic. Despite the time stamp saying it was eight in the morning, none of the windows had any light going through them, but the camera was once more placed to the side, flashlight shining into the middle of the room. No one was very visible, other than maybe some torn up hiking boots towards the left barely being in frame. The sound of metal tapping against metal was heard repeatedly, making it a safe assumption to assume the group of four was eating. Possibly straight from the cans of whatever food they had. “Y’know,” Floyd said through a mouthful, heard swallowing before his voice came out clearer, “I think we all got a kinda lucky break.” The Russian scoffed. “How? The world is ending and we’re sitting here on rations of fruit in cans while being hunted like deer in the woods.” There was a slight whimper, the Russian sighing. “Sorry.” “Well, we’re alive, ain’t we? And we got eachother.” Floyd’s tone seemed significantly more friendly than that night, though it was safe to assume no one had gotten much sleep. Whatever kind of danger they were in, Floyd seemed determined to ignore it in favor of being optimistic in front of the now-awake Chester, who was probably the one to make such a sad sound earlier. “We’re tough. Can hold eachother up when we need it.” The leader spoke up by saying, “Floyd’s right. We mainly need eachother. We’re all here, and safe, and that’s what matters. We have enough food to last us as long as it’ll take to find another store, and we’re all healthy.” “For now.” “Ivan.” the leader said, sounding frustrated with the Russian’s attitude already. Chester let out another soft whine, the Russian, now recognized as Ivan, huffing and most likely rolling his eyes. “Just be optimistic and find the good things for a day, okay?” “Happiness never saved anyone.” “But it could. You need to stop being so pessimistic. You’re scaring Chester.” It was quiet for a few moments, the boots suddenly moving so the person wearing them was in a kneeling position, scooting closer to where Chester’s voice was coming from. “I’m sorry.” Ivan said, presumably being the one wearing the boots, and now revealing to also be wearing camouflage-patterned pants, as well. They seemed baggy on him, as though his frame was too slight, or they were hand-me-downs from an older relative. “We’ll get through this together, alright?” Chester probably nodded, sniffling and clearing his throat. “As long as we have eachother, we’ll be okay, right? As long as we… get along.” Guilt was suddenly sensed through the film, most likely coming from Floyd and Ivan as they recalled their argument the night before. “‘Course. Long as we got eachother, and we all are smilin’ and havin’ a good time, despite what’s goin’ on, we’ll be fine. And you’re a real big help, kid!” Floyd said, cheering up near the end, and Chester let out a soft giggle. The leader jumped on the bandwagon immediately, the smile he most likely wore evident in his voice as he happily said, “I mean, what’s better than remembering we have such a handsome little guy to take care of? It’s great motivation! Right, Ivan?” The leader’s tone changed to be a bit forced, Ivan huffing with annoyance. Despite how much of a bother this seemed to be, he still joined in with the praises they all were singing towards Chester, adding in with a quick, be it rather bland and emotionless sounding, “Of course it is.” The aura seemed to fade a little at Ivan’s uncaring contribution, but they all seemed to be done eating nonetheless. This was proven when a can was tossed into view of the camera, the leader hissing. “Floyd, don’t litter!” The leader’s voice was hushed, more of a whisper-shout than anything, but it still held a demanding air despite its quietness. Floyd simply snorted, most likely rolling his eyes. “Well, it’ll cause noise t’ carry ‘round all day. We know this all too well, don’t we?” Ivan piped in, “He does have a point. It’s safest to–” Ivan was cut off when glass breaking was heard, Chester immediately letting out a scream. This was proven to be a large mistake as there was the sound of something slamming against the door before the camera was swiped up, showing several figures hurriedly grabbing their backpacks and turning out their lights, the camera’s flashlight going out soon after the front door was opened. The door behind them was heard crashing open, a flashing white light illuminating the group’s way and showing their shadows on asphalt as they ran into what looked like a road, street lights also visible all around them. Hissing was following the flashing light as it chased them. Chester spun around to catch whatever was chasing them on camera, but his arm seemed to be grabbed by someone with how the camera’s view was suddenly yanked downwards, four pairs of shoes were heard hitting against the ground, but the streetlights faded from blurred, shaking view, and grass replaced the sounds of rubber soles on asphalt soon. Grass turned to crunching leaves, which turned to crunching sticks, which turned to the camera being shut off, and the tape ending there.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
December 24th – 22:13 – 20██
– — — — –
The camera flicked to a scene of what looked like a roaring fire, but was quickly zoomed out to show that it was simply a small stick with the tip ablaze. The twig was shaken, the tiny fire going out. Chester’s voice, easily recognized from before, was quick to giggle, revealing that he was behind the camera as he turned it around to face himself.
He stuck out his tongue, appearing rather cheerful and in a good mood, and there were trees visible behind him. Was he in the forest? He certainly wasn’t alone, proven when Ivan spoke up nearby, saying, “You shouldn’t play with fire.”
Chester pouted, turning the camera to face forward again and revealing the face of Ivan, who seemed to be a few inches shorter than Chester with tanned skin, blue eyes, and golden blonde hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail, with a completely flat bottom as though it was simply chopped off. “You’re a real buzzkill.” Chester said, breaking into giggles. “Get it? ‘Buzz’? Because your hair was in a buzzcut when we first met? Get it? Get it?”
Ivan sighed, rolling his eyes and turning away from Chester, who let out an ‘aww’ of disappointment that the other wasn’t finding his ‘clever’ wordplay very funny. Chester zoomed in on the back of Ivan’s head, beginning to talk with a childish tone and forced, poorly-played Russian accent.
“My name is Ivahn, and I ahm Roossian and evvel, and I hackve no seense of humoor.”
Ivan turned to face the camera, his eyes narrowing. “That’s
not
what I sound like.”
Chester’s smile was heard through his voice as he said, “That ist
NAHT
vaht I soond laik.” Ivan opened his mouth to say something else, but a hand covered the lens of the camera, Chester shouting out, “Hey!”
The camera turned to face Chester from a higher vantage point, showing that Chester was wearing a white, puffy Winter jacket and black pants, giving a wide grin despite his camera being taken away from him. “Nah, you’re comin’ off more as German, kid.” Floyd’s voice was heard from behind the camera.
Chester stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry, but a person stepped up behind Chester and placed a hand on his shoulder. This man seemed significantly shorter, with light brown skin and black hair, though his hair had a dark color dyed into it that was hard to see in the dark. Perhaps a shade of blue? It was styled in curtains, bangs swept to either side and out of his eyes, which were a light blue. He seemed to be wearing a blue sweatshirt, with a purple heart on the front, and blue jeans.
“Okay, I think that’s enough.” the new person said, “We should really quiet down. I know that this is a coldspot, but you never know what could be sneaking around.” ‘Coldspot’? What exactly did that mean? He didn’t offer any explanation, so it appeared to be common knowledge within the group. Either way, it was quickly deduced that this person was most likely the leader of the group.
Floyd passed the camera back to Chester, Chester zooming in on Floyd’s face, which shown light brown skin and neon pink hair that appeared to be slicked back, yet still fluffy, in the front, and was growing longer in the back and was barely reaching his shoulders in length. His eyes, however, were covered with black aviator glasses that reflected an even bigger fire in front of him and behind Chester.
This interaction merely lasted a handful of seconds before Ivan brought attention to himself, instead. “We’ve been running on empty for months. I need to agree with the fact that it’s always dangerous, but you need to understand that a new danger is coming up. We need
rest
.”
The camera turned to face the man from before, the leader if you compared his voice to the first tape, who now had crouched next to a small campfire. Ivan became visible as he walked over to sit on the ground across from the leader, who sighed and somberly said, “You act like I don’t know this. But we’ll die if we stop moving much longer. If we keep the fire, we attract the bugs, but if we lose it we attract hypothermia. There’s no winning unless we find a better place to stay.”
Ivan was the one to sigh this time, shaking his head and giving the leader an oddly sympathetic look. Despite his expression, he didn’t say anything, even as Chester zoomed out and revealed Ivan’s entire body.
He was wearing a camo-printed shirt to match his pants, buttoned up, and a silver chain with matching dogtags seemed to be hanging from his neck. Was he a soldier? Was he on some kind of leave? Either way, his body appeared to fight that idea, with how it was slim. He could almost be considered malnourished, with how his clothes hung off of his frame and left many gaps behind. This didn’t seem to be the case when one looked into his eyes; he seemed healthy despite his form.
Floyd walked towards the fire, Chester following as they both sat down. The camera glanced over at Floyd for a moment, revealing that he was wearing a light blue button-up, the sleeves wrinkled from the elbows down as though they were usually rolled up, but it was too cold to do such now. What was also visible there was a rainbow-striped handkerchief tied around his right hand, covering the palm. There seemed to be darker spots on it, as well, like liquid was melding through. Another noticeable detail was the string around his neck, holding up a cowboy hat behind him.
“Hate t’ admit it, but Kay is right on somethin’ for once.” It was unclear as to whom Floyd was referring to at first, but with Ivan’s annoyed look and what he was referencing, it was quickly clear that ‘Kay’ was some kind of unwanted nickname for the Russian. “I ain’t gonna say too much ‘bout it, but we’re all sittin’ ducks for good reason. That reason is that we can’t swim too much longer.”
Chester let out a worried sound, all attention suddenly turning towards the man behind the camera. Ivan had a flash of annoyance cross his features for a moment, but spoke with a softer tune as he gently asked, “Are you alright, Chester?”
“…I wanna take a nap.” Those words seemed like code with how the leader and Ivan shared a look, then glancing to the right of the camera and at Floyd. The leader cleared his throat, giving a smile as his face disappeared from view as the camera was gently lowered, now solely focusing on the tiny fire.
“Then take one. What time even is it, anyways?” the leader asked, “You probably should have taken one hours ago!” The leader’s voice was friendly, as though talking to a child, and Chester’s own tone appeared to be soft with the innocence of childhood. This strange shift seemed worrying, if only by a little bit.
“Uhm…” Chester mumbled, clearly looking at the timestamp on his camera. He seemed to focus on it for a little bit, as if confused, and Floyd spoke up.
“About eleven-thirty. ‘s bedtime for this little guy, for sure.” Chester let out a little giggle, the sound of a backpack unzipping heard. “You want a bedtime story, li’l buddy?” Floyd asked with the happy tone that could only be shared through a parent and their child. It was a confusing relationship between these two, seeming to lead up to more questions than answered.
The camera flicked off mere seconds after Floyd asked that question, as if only used for focusing rather than actually wanting to record all of these memories. It was as though filming was nothing more than a coping method. A new timestamp appeared.
– — — — –
December 25th – 00:58 – 20██
– — — — –
The camera suddenly turned on again, no more light seen around other than pitch blackness. Whoever was holding the camera, presumably Chester, was breathing heavily, as though scared. The idea of Chester being the cameraman was proven when a now-familiar whimper was heard, night-vision flicking on and showing the forest tinted grey.
He looked around, showing nothing more than trees, and suddenly spun the camera to look in another direction as the sound of a twig being snapped was heard, Chester’s breath suddenly stopping. After a few seconds, he huffed out a quick, quiet breath, returning to silently observing, and repeated after another break of time, all throughout a full three minutes, slowly scanning the trees.
After continuing to not see anything, he sighed, moving the camera to look near the empty firepit of this makeshift, sloppily executed camp. Gently panning around, he zoomed in on several figures, each tightly wrapped up in blankets on the forest floor. It was safe to assume that these were his group members.
He zoomed out, doing another quick scan over the trees around him, letting out a soft breath of air and messing with his camera for a moment. Right before it cut out and was replaced by a new stamp, Chester whispered something to himself, though it broke into a sob right as it cut out.
“Merry Christmas, Chester.”
– — — — –
December 25th – 07:45 – 20██
– — — — –
The camera was blurred at first, but soon became focused again, looking around the group. It wasn’t held by Chester, who was seen eating fruit from a can with a scratched off label, nor was it Ivan, who was poking through the ashes of their prior fire with a stick, nor was it Floyd, who was readjusting whatever it was that was inside of his backpack. It was noticeable that there were several flashlights around, lighting up the area, and the camera’s built-in one was turned on and shining brightly, as well.
Instead, it was most likely, and most easily presumed to be, the leader, still unnamed. It was unclear as to why he might have an interest in the camera, but attention was brought away from that question as he gave a quick whistle, zooming in on Chester. Chester looked up, fork still in his mouth as his eyebrows raised questioningly.
“Y’know what day it says on this thing?” the leader asked from behind the camera, Chester’s brows furrowing. “It’s Christmas.” Chester immediately lit up with childish joy despite being so much older, but it was quick to fizzle out.
“But Santa can’t fly in the dark…” he said sadly, looking down at his can. “And we don’t have a chimney, so we can’t get any presents, anyways…”
“No way, then what’s…” the leader started, gathering Chester’s attention and gaze yet again. Chester gasped sharply as the camera panned down, showing what looked like a stuffed animal, albeit crudely fashioned out of old cloth and hanging rather limply, probably filled with even more torn rags. “…this?”
“Is that from Santa?!” Chester asked with a borderline squeal tinging his voice, heard standing and rushing over as the camera looked up again to see his excited face. The gift was clearly handmade, but Chester didn’t seem to realize nor care. He reached out for the gift, being handed it immediately and swiping it into a hug.
“Mhm!” the leader hummed, “I sent him a letter last night and everything! He had Rudolph light his way and he flew over all of the bugs so they couldn’t get to him!” Chester giggled, doing a quick twirl, and his happiness seemed contagious. The camera flicked over to the other two, showing a bright, cheerful grin on Floyd’s face and a soft, gentle smile on Ivan’s. It seemed that those two rivals had a similar weak point, a piece to bond over, that took shape in the form of a twenty-year-old named ‘Chester’ with a knack for acting childishly.
Still, however, it was hard to figure out how anyone could be so happy in what was clearly a dangerous situation. Whatever these ‘bugs’ were, they didn’t seem friendly, and tensions were flaring between Ivan and Floyd rather viciously. The leader appeared to be the only one keeping everyone together, sometimes even using Chester as a failsafe.
The footage continued to show these four packing up, Chester playing with his little rag-and-bones teddy-bear eagerly, before the camera flicked off about half of an hour later. The tape ended there.