It had been nearly a week. Fine, five days, technically, but to Axl it felt like a year. Two years. Hell, it might as well have been a century. Every day the room seemed to grow smaller, the food seemed to grow blander, the air seemed to grow staler. He was certain, in his heightened melodramatic state, that this was what life was like for animals at the zoo. He was trapped in a cage that mimicked his natural habitat just enough to fool him into thinking that it was worth it to wake up in the morning.
Of course, instead of children and gawking adults come to see him, he had a hallway full of thumping, moaning zombies that wanted to tear the flesh off his bones with their disgusting tombstone teeth. He clambered up onto the barricade to look at them whenever Izzy wasn�t paying attention, peering out the peephole in morbid fascination. Each day more showed up, thronging out in the hall to bump into each other and scratch pointlessly at the door.
Izzy had enforced a two day silence to see if the zombies would be fooled into wandering off. They hadn�t cooked anything, hadn�t run any water, hadn�t even spoken to each other. Those had been the worst two days of Axl�s life and, when Izzy had finally called an unsuccessful halt to the ban, he�d hung his head out the window and screamed himself hoarse.
It wasn�t any easier on the other guys, he knew. Slash in particular was miserable most of the time. Part of Axl was inclined to pity him for that, and part felt that he was only getting what he deserved. Uncharitable, yes, but Axl had been smart enough to only dabble in drugs. Addiction was an ugly thing and he had no sympathy for those who were snared by it.
He did feel sorry for Duff. Poor bastard was up at all hours, first holding back Slash�s hair while he puked, then holding Slash himself as he sweated through the junkie tremors. His withdrawals had peaked last night; none of them had been able to sleep through his paranoid ravings, and Izzy had flown into what looked like a rage, but which Axl knew to be pure frustration. There were dents in the walls this morning from where Izzy had thrown pots and pans, and bloody smears from where he�d pounded his fist into the expensive wallpaper.
He was asleep now, a sprawl of thin limbs and dark hair, his chest rising and falling steadily. Axl watched him, fascinated by the way Izzy�s stomach hollowed with each exhale, leaving his ribcage jutting up in an unnatural mound. He couldn�t decide if it was simply the way Izzy was lying that made it look that way, or if Izzy was getting too thin. Sighing, he prodded his own ribs. The flesh around them, not plentiful under normal circumstances, was getting downright spare, and he had an awful craving for oranges.
Axl cast a wistful look at the window, toes curling in the thick carpet. Oranges or maybe some pineapple. Or slices of mango. God he missed mango! Hell, he missed fresh food in general. His mind drifted away from Izzy�s disturbing scrawniness and into the realm of torturous fantasy. He could practically taste the fresh turkey, sandwiched between two hot slices of buttermilk bread. Oh god, and topped with lettuce and tomatoes and onions and spicy mustard and maybe some pickles, and then a fucking huge hunk of newly baked chocolate cake for dessert. Ooh, and with raspberries on the cake�
Whining, Axl fell onto his back and stared at the ceiling hopelessly. He�d probably never taste a fresh sandwich again, much less raspberry chocolate cake. His life was doomed. So doomed, in fact, that he couldn�t even bring himself to be pissed off about it. No more good food, no more pussy, no more drinking, no more fucking music.
With a little growl, he dragged himself over to the window. Izzy insisted that it stay closed, which Axl was still bitter about. What were the zombies gonna do, fly? They were on the sixth fucking floor, and every goddamn monster in town knew it, so why bother to keep the window closed, right? Especially on a gorgeous day like this. It seemed obscene, but the view outside was glorious. Axl could practically feel the gentle breeze stirring his hair. And why shouldn�t he? With a quick glance back to make sure Izzy still slept, he reached up and flicked back the locks on the window, then carefully pushed it open.
The hotel was nice and the window didn�t even squeak a little bit. Grinning hugely, Axl reached up to fumble the screen off. He�d taken it down once already, but Izzy�d insisted that he put it back after his screaming fit. Izzy apparently believed that there were crazed killer zombie flies out there, which was obviously ridiculous. If the zombies managed to make it up to a sixth floor window, one fucking bug screen wasn�t going to stop them.
So he set it aside carefully, checking again to make sure Izzy was still asleep. He suspected that if he�d gone over and kicked Izzy in the side, it still would have taken him about ten minutes to actually wake the fuck up. Axl wasn�t in the mood to test that theory, so instead, he leaned out the window.
He�d been right; it was a fucking glorious day outside. He�d almost expected it to smell like death, but the air was curiously fragrant and� quiet. Jesus H. Christ, it was quiet out. It took Axl a moment to realize the full implication of this, but when he did, his arms trembled and he nearly fell out the window. It wasn�t just that it was quiet outside, it was that it was totally silent. No people calling to each other, no stereos playing, no dogs barking or birds singing. And weirdest of all, no traffic. The aural void made his ears ring a little, and he shuddered.
Axl was nothing if not adaptive, and after the initial shock he forced himself back into his usual cocky state. Fuck it, it was just a little silence. That meant more city for him, more time alone with his thoughts. Biting his lower lip, he looked down into the hotel�s courtyard. There were no zombies shuffling around in his immediate line of sight, but that didn�t mean jack and he knew it. There was, though, a nice wide ledge about two feet down from the windowsill�
Grinning, Axl hoisted a leg up and carefully clambered out the window. The breeze ruffled his hair, lank and greasy from lack of washing, and for the first time since he�d fled to Izzy�s room that morning, he felt refreshed. So what if the silence was a little bit eerie? The air was fresh and he was out in the motherfucking sunshine again! Sighing happily, Axl scooted out away from the window, legs dangling like a kid in a high chair, and fumbled out a pack of cigarettes.
Izzy had been giving him a ration of shit about smoking, which Axl had chosen to ignore. He didn�t chain smoke them the way Slash did, and he�d been limiting himself anyway. One cigarette a day, maybe two if he was feeling particularly stressed. He still had half of this pack and another in his back pocket, and his daily smoke had quickly become the only thing to look forward to in what was becoming a series of increasingly miserable days. He�d already had today�s cigarette, but he figured it wouldn�t hurt to fire up another in honor of his new dubious freedom.
He savored each drag, closing his eyes and letting the soft whistle of the wind soothe his overactive mind. He�d never really been able to listen to the wind before; too many people or not enough motivation to sit still had pretty much rendered him incapable of appreciating nature. Not that what he was doing now was technically appreciating nature, but it was close enough. A dead city was a little like a concrete forest and besides, he�d have plenty of time for that once they found Steven and cleared the fuck out.
He�d finished the cigarette, tossing the butt down into the abandoned courtyard, and was contemplating lighting another, when he heard a frantic scrabbling from inside the room. It was either Izzy or they had mice, and he laughed a little at the thought. Really big fucking mice. There was a low call from inside the room, and Axl was sure it was Izzy. Billy!? Where the fuck are you, Billy? He hated Izzy for calling him that still, hated him and loved him.
There was a fervent curse, and Axl gripped the edge of his little ledge, turning to face the window. Two seconds later Izzy�s head popped out, hair all disheveled and eyes wild with terror. �Billy! Christ, what the fuck are you doing out here!? You�ll fall and kill yourself!�
�Calm down, man,� Axl groused gently, scooting back towards the window. Izzy grasped his shoulder and yanked him back inside so forcefully that they both toppled over in a heap on the ground. Laughing, Axl disentangled himself. He was in too good a mood now for Izzy�s mother hen routine to phase him much. �I was just getting some fresh air.�
�Are you insane?� Izzy demanded, but he sounded more relieved than worried, and his arms circled Axl�s thin shoulders, yanking him into a tight hug. �Fuck, man, I woke up and you weren�t there and��
�And you thought I�d done something really stupid,� Axl supplied ruefully. It was sweet of Izzy to worry, and perfectly natural, but it grated a little anyway.
�Billy, you did do something stupid.� A little flare of irritation rose up in Axl, and he growled softly. So much for his good mood. Izzy ruined everything lately.
�I just wanted to breathe something that didn�t smell like fucking armpits and vomit, okay? Is that a fucking crime?�
�You could have fallen!�
�But I didn�t, Jeff!� He stood, annoyed and guilty, which only served to fan the flames of his irritation. What right did Izzy have to make him feel bad for trying to escape for a few minutes? Fuck it! They weren�t kids anymore, stealing smokes behind a warehouse and sniffing each other�s clothes before heading home. �You need to fucking chill out. We�re safe in here, man! They can�t open doors!�
As if they�d heard his words and determined to prove him wrong, the clot of zombies in the hall began to thump against the door, harder than they had ever done before. Axl shot the barricade a worried look and tried to shake off the sudden crippling fear that rose up in him. What were they gonna do? Moan their way in? A quick glance at Izzy showed that he, too, was having doubts about their safety, which just made Axl�s half-hearted dismissals ring more false.
�Billy�� Izzy never got to finish that thought. With a sound like kindling snapping, the hinges cracked free of the doorframe and Axl leapt back with a shriek of alarm. So it wasn�t the manliest thing he could have done under the circumstances. He didn�t think Izzy would hold it against him.
�Fuck! Billy, they�re breaking in!� At any other time, Axl would have mocked Izzy for stating the obvious. Now was no time for sarcasm, though. The zombies were indeed breaking in; the sheer inexorable weight of them against the door was too much for what seemed suddenly to be a flimsy, pathetic barrier.
�I know! I know!� His voice bordered dangerously on full-blown panic, although he was amazed to find that inwardly he was calm. Or perhaps calm was a bad word for it. He was blank, like a smooth white wall, totally aware of what was happening but unable or unwilling to process the information. He turned to Izzy, as he�d done so often over the last few days, all previous irritation forgotten. There was something intensely capable, and therefore comforting, about Izzy. He would make things all right. �What do we do?�
Izzy only hesitated for a second, then gestured sharply to the bedroom. �Get Slash and Duff. We�re going out the window.�
Axl didn�t question the wisdom of Izzy�s order until he burst into the bedroom. It seemed like a totally reasonable course of action, after all. The ledge was plenty wide enough to walk on, provided they were careful, and if one of the other windows wasn�t unlocked they could always break it. It wasn�t likely that the zombies were bright enough to track their progress, and they certainly weren�t coordinated enough to follow.
Unfortunately, the same could be said of Slash. Axl hadn�t seen him since they�d hauled the mattress in; Izzy had insisted on carrying all the food in, and on the rare occasions when Duff emerged, he only opened the door a crack. Axl had kind of anticipated Slash looking like hell, but he wasn�t prepared for the waxen scarecrow leaning up against the wall, awake and yet not awake, a horrible, weird mockery of consciousness. Duff�s head lay in his lap, and he picked at the bassist�s blonde hair with fingers like curved claws. If Axl didn�t know better, he would have though Slash a zombie.
�Jesus H. Christ,� he murmured. There was a moment when he contemplated running back to Izzy, telling him that Slash would never make it. Then Slash opened his eyes and fixed them on Axl�s face, and all thoughts of abandonment flew out of Axl�s head. He could no more leave Slash to the zombies than he could give up himself. �Come on, guys, we gotta go. They�re breaking in.�
Duff was on his feet in a second, brown eyes reflecting the same mindless panic that Axl had experienced. It smoothed away at Slash�s little groan, and he stooped, hands sliding under Slash�s arms to lift him bodily from the mattress. Axl almost wished he had someone to take care of, someone weaker than him to defend the way Duff did. Purpose seemed to push the fear back more effectively than mere bravado.
�How are we getting out?� Duff asked, looping one of Slash�s thin arms around his neck and hauling him into the main room. Izzy glanced up from the bag of food and grimaced. Axl could tell exactly what he was thinking. Slash is never gonna make it.
�Window,� Axl answered, biting his lips, and the same look of despair flashed across Duff�s face. There was no fucking way Slash would survive out on the ledge. He could barely stand on his own, for fuck�s sake. If they tried to take him, he�d just haul them down too. It was fundamentally unfair, but it was the hand they�d been dealt.
Duff hauled Slash over to the window and peered out, shivering a little. His arm tightened around Slash�s waist, and Axl knew that if Slash couldn�t make it, neither would Duff. He would stay and fight and they�d die together. It was a total fucking waste, and Axl wasn�t about to let it happen. This was his band and he would keep it together, and to hell with the fucking zombies.
�Okay, I�m gonna go out first,� he said, striding over to the window and swinging a leg out. �Slash, you come after me, and Duff, you follow him and make sure he doesn�t fall.� Izzy paused his packing long enough to shoot him a puzzled look, and Duff looked like he wanted to argue, but the door splintered again and grasping fingers edged in around the small gap between door and frame.
�It�s fine,� Slash said, patting Duff weakly on the arm and pulling away. He stumbled a little, knees wobbling, and Axl was sure he would pitch over and never get up again. But he stood steady and made his way over to the window. �Just catch me if I fall, huh?� He tossed a grin back over his shoulder, lips as white as his face, then turned back to Axl. �Let�s do this before I lose my fucking nerve.�
�You�re the boss,� Axl answered, clambering the rest of the way out the window. The wind tickled the strands of hair around his face, and he bit his lower lip as he edged out onto the ledge. Suddenly, six floors up and running for his life, the ledge didn�t seem quite so wide anymore. He almost thought to call it off, to duck back inside and take his chances with the zombies, but then Slash was out on the ledge with him and there was nothing for it but to go on.
He twisted so that his back was pressed against the cool stone wall and began shuffling out, eyes fixed on the ledge before him. If he looked down it was all over, he knew that well enough. Just so long as he kept focused, so long as he kept moving, he�d be fine. Stay focused. Don�t look back. Almost before the thought had formed, there was a soft cry from behind him, and his head whipped around.
Slash stood, arms splayed back against the wall, eyes tightly shut. He looked even worse out here in the sun, sallow and far too thin, hair hanging in limp curls around his drawn, exhausted face. His chest heaved, though Axl couldn�t tell if it was from exertion or just plain terror. Whatever the case, he wasn�t moving and Duff was stuck at the window, with Izzy still inside.
�Slash, man,� he called as softly as he could manage and still be heard. Slash�s head turned slowly and one eye peeled open, round with terror. �Come on, you gotta keep moving. Izzy�s still in there�� Slash whined like a dog but edged out a few more steps, fingers stretching towards Axl. �Come on, you can do it. Grab my hand if you need to, man, I can keep my balance.�
Slash�s fingers scrabbled across the stone wall and curled tight around Axl�s hand. Axl almost recoiled in shock; Slash�s skin was weirdly clammy and there was a distinct tremble in his fingers that disturbed Axl far more than his ghastly appearance. If he didn�t know better, he might have thought Slash was turning into a zombie. Shivering, he glanced past Slash and breathed out slowly as Izzy climbed free, the bag of food slung down in front of him. He pressed back against the wall and clutched it like a pregnant woman clutches her stomach, and Axl repressed the urge to laugh hysterically. Now was not the time.
�Hey, want me to tell you a story?� he asked conversationally, feet shuffling along the ledge, tugging Slash after him. It was a fucking stupid thing to say, but it would keep Slash�s mind off of how fucked up he felt, and how far the drop was. For that matter, it would keep Axl�s mind off the drop. He didn�t wait for an answer.
�This one time when we were out in Chicago, me and Steven had connecting rooms. Well, we�d all been drinking, I don�t know if you remember, but he came into my fucking room at, like, four in the fucking morning. You know how Steven is, crazy motherfucker, right? Well, he comes over to the bed and he says to me, �Aaaaaaxl!�� The impression of Steven�s lilting drunken voice was better than accurate, and Slash gave a wheezing little laugh.
�I know, man!� Axl smiled and kept shuffling along, marveling at how easy it seemed now. Fuck this! This was nothing! He was a fucking rockstar, and so were all the other guys. They could make it down this fucking ledge and into another room, no problem. Grinning, he continued. �Fucking Steven! Anyway, he comes up to me and goes, �Axl! Dude, you�ve gotta see this fucking hooker I found!�. Yeah right, right? But he wouldn�t leave me the fuck alone about it, so I ask him, what�s so fucking special about this one whore?�
Just as he was getting into the story, his foot slipped a little on a patch of loose rocks, and he yelped softly as his ankle twisted to the side. For a brief, sickening moment he knew he was going to fall, he fucking knew it. He could see all the way down to the courtyard, could see the spot where he would land and burst like a ripe watermelon. In that moment, things seemed clearer than they ever had before, and he marveled over what an idiot he�d been, what a fucking waste his life had been.
Then Slash�s hand clamped down hard on his and his wrist wrenched so hard he swore he heard something pop. He howled with pain, shoulders slamming back against the wall, green eyes squeezed shut so tight that they watered. The epiphanies fled his mind like water through a sieve; all he could think was oh god, oh Jesus, I�m alive, I�m fucking alive. He wanted to hug Slash, couldn�t believe that Slash even possessed the strength to stand much less haul him back from the brink of death.
�You saved my fucking life,� he breathed, turning back to look at his friend. He noted with a detached sort of interest that Duff had his hand firmly clamped over Izzy�s mouth, and that Izzy was moaning and sobbing like a wounded animal. �Jeff, man�� He hazarded a shaky smile. �Babe, it�s okay. I�m alive, see?�
Slash gave him a little nudge and a weak smile. It had obviously taken a lot out of him to perform his little heroic feat, and Axl was seized by a surge of guilt. Here he was stalling, and they ought to have been finding a damn place to stay�
�Keep telling the story,� Slash ordered hoarsely, and Axl nodded, feet picking along the ledge more carefully now.
�Yeah, the story� Um, where was I?� He paused a minute to gather his thoughts, then launched back into his tale. �Right, the whore. So I asked him what was so special about this whore, and he goes, �Man, you won�t believe this shit, but she gives the best fucking blow jobs I�ve ever had and sings Amazing fucking Grace like an angel while she does it�. So of course I�m interested-�
�I don�t get it,� Duff declared, and Axl shot him an irritated look. Or tried to. The severe glare he met from Slash when he turned his head was enough to abort the look. Slash was right, he shouldn�t be turning around to snap at Duff. Even if Duff was a big fucking meathead sometimes. �How can you sing and suck dick at the same time?�
�Would you just shut the fuck up and listen to the story?� Axl muttered. There was a brief, wounded silence, then a murmur of assent. �Christ. You guys are a tough fucking audience.� It seemed surreal to be balancing six stories above a stone courtyard telling raunchy stories, but then again, life had been incredibly fucking surreal over the past few days. It was ceasing to phase Axl.
�Anyway. He tells me about this whore, and I was intrigued. So I told him to send her in and I�d just see about that. She comes in and we, you know, agree about the price, and then I turn off the lights and she starts going at it. Oh my fucking god, it was amazing!� He groaned and rolled his eyes back for dramatic effect, and was a little surprised to feel his cock twitch against his leg. He hadn�t gotten laid since before all this shit started, but god. He wasn�t fucking thirteen years old anymore, either!
�Best head I�ve ever had in my life. It was so fucking tight I almost shot my load right after she fucking started. And then she starts singing Amazing Grace and holy god. It was like a choir of motherfucking angels had settled down in my hotel room and were singing me to sleep. It was fucking gorgeous, like you wouldn�t even believe. Best fucking orgasm of my life, seriously. It was like a religious experience.�
He glanced back to judge how far they were from their old room and was pleasantly surprised. They�d be able to stop soon, get Slash lying down again. He looked like he needed it. Every step drained a little more color out of his haggard face. Biting his lower lip, Axl forged ahead, chattering cheerfully, though he felt considerably less than happy.
�So I finish up and she goes into the bathroom to get all cleaned up, and I decide that I want a smoke, right? Pretty reasonable, huh? Except I can�t find my fucking cigarettes anywhere! Not in my pocket, not on the floor, not under the fucking bed. Nowhere! So I�m starting to get kinda annoyed, and I turn on the light�� He stopped for a moment, both the story and the balancing act. There was a likely window right there next to him, far enough away from the old room that the zombies probably wouldn�t find it, but close enough that they could go back for shit that they might need.
He glanced over his shoulder at Izzy and quirked an eyebrow. Izzy craned his neck around Duff and Slash and nodded slowly. It was the best they�d do under these circumstances, and a hell of a lot better than he�d expected. He had to hurry, though; Slash�s trembling was getting worse by the minute and he himself was starting to get a little wobbly in the knees.
�So I turn on the light,� he continued, bending a little and tugging at the screen. There was a tap on his shoulder, and Slash gravely offered a pocketknife. �Thanks, man.� The knife made quick work of the screen, and Axl started trying to jimmy the lock. He didn�t want to break the glass unless he absolutely had to; the nights were getting cooler and there weren�t near enough blankets to go around.
�I turn on the light and start looking for my cigarettes, and I�ll be damned if they weren�t sitting right there on the bedside table next to her glass eye!� There was a gratifying burst of laughter and groaning from behind him, and he grinned, shifting so that his chest was pressed to the window. �I�m gonna have to kick this shit in, okay? I�ll crawl into the room and knock the rest of the glass out, then help you bastards in. Sound good?�
A general murmur of agreement was all Axl needed, and once it had died out, he braced his hands on either side of the window hollow. Drawing a deep breath, he swung his foot out and brought it hard against the pane of glass. A few cracks appeared in it but it didn�t break, and he scowled. He�d had a dim image of himself kicking through the window like an action star and swinging in to find the room full of nubile blondes, but obviously that was just wishful thinking.
It took two more hard kicks and a series of short, sharp ones before the glass gave way enough that he could climb through. Legs first, and his shirt caught on the shards, scraping the hell out of his back as he slithered in through the little hole he�d made. He could feel the blood trickling hot down his back, and when he turned to face the window again, there were bright red stains on the glass. Grimacing, he took off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand.
It was hard to balance between getting the glass out fast and being careful not to cut himself again, but with the use of Slash�s knife as a bashing implement, it only took about five minutes to open a hole large enough to squeeze everyone through. Slash came first, groaning and sweating and shaking like a baby, and right after him, Duff. Practically before his feet touched the floor, Duff had Slash in his arms, cooing to him and rocking him like a baby. Any other time, Axl would have turned away from the display in disgust. There was something about it, though, that touched him this time, and he almost wished that he had someone to hold him the way Duff held Slash.
Then the food swung in, followed close by Izzy, and Axl smiled a little. �Did okay, didn�t we?� he asked, and then Izzy�s arms were tight around him, nearly crushing the air out of him. �Ack! Jeff! Dude, Jeff!� Something hot rolled down Axl�s neck and it took him a second to realize that it was a tear.
�I thought we�d lost you, you little fucker,� Izzy murmured, leaning back and laughing shakily. He looked embarrassed by the outburst, which made Axl smile. After all of his hard-ass fascist rules-mongering over the past few days, Izzy�d started to seem like a total different person. It was good to know that he was still the same emotionally damaged idiot that Axl knew and loved.
�No such luck, man,� he answered, reaching out and squeezing Izzy�s shoulder. A thousand words were passed in that one gesture, and Izzy relaxed into a smile, eyes still a bit watery but under control now. �C�mon, let�s see what kinda shit we�ve got in here, huh?�
