Keep Calm and Carry On [America and Spain]

[England]

Though it was storming outside, lightning flashing and thunder rolling in the clouds, England couldn't help but let himself be absorbed by the book he was reading. It was a very old classic from one of his own favourites, titled Brave New World. At the time it came out, it was too controversial for England to consider reading, but a century and a half later, England was prompted to remember it when he gazed across America's ravaged cities and mumbled "You're brave for you still stand, o New World".

The author's take on the future was intriguing, predicting a future where everything would be automatized and where children would be created inside bottles and educated from their childhood on to occupy a certain position in life. Robots. Ignorant. Never knowing anything else than what was fed to them. Never unhappy for the concept of happiness included what they were given. Mindless.

England shivered, finding it all too easy to relate their current situation with the one in the book. It didn't help when a particularly loud crack of thunder caused the lights to flicker, prompting England to whip his head around and look up, seeing the heavy rainfall slap against the windows lining the wall. He pitied the chaps on guard duty on the roof. Though they could never be careful enough, he wondered if it was really necessary to have them there.

Oh well. He'd take a guard shift next time it rained to make up for it. For the moment, he shifted to lay with his stomach on the mattress and continued reading while the lightning flashed outside.

[America]

America considered himself lucky that he was relieved of guard duty before the storm hit. Standing out and getting drenched by the rain with lightning flashing around him and thunder booming overhead was definitely not his idea of a fun way to spend the evening. Instead, he had turned on the television and popped in some old comedy movie before realizing that with the rain beating down so much and the light suddenly flickering, he hadn't exactly been paying attention.

With a sigh, he turned it off and promised himself that he would hopefully be able to finish it before too long. Not that he didn't know how it ended, of course. Hell, he had probably already watched all the movies they had to offer at the warehouse. He'd have to remind England to ask for a new batch when the supplies came in.

He made his way up to the bunks, wondering if he'd be able to sleep through the racket outside. Probably not, but there wasn't much else to do. Besides, he was pretty tired, what with the workload suddenly becoming much greater. He thought he'd be glad to see the end of winter, but with the snow gone, the zombies now had very little obstacles to block their path to the warehouse. On top of all that, he was very much worried about the future of North America. He wanted to get his government back together simply to ensure that everything would be alright after the zombies were disposed of. He'd have to ask England how to go about doing that, too.

Luckily, once he made his way to his and England's shared bunk, he noticed the very person he was thinking of reading a book. Well, now he wouldn't have to wait until tomorrow. "Hey, England!" he greeted, smiling and glancing down at the book the older country was currently reading. "It's raining cats and dogs out there, isn't it?"

[England]

And England was getting to the good part, too. Images of the future inhabitants of that dystopian London ebbed away in his mind as he turned to glance up at America, raising his brow, unimpressed by his interruption.

"I guess you could say so." he then twisted his neck to get a glimpse of the rain whipping the windows and turned back to America. "Actually, I'd be more inclined to say it's storming chimpanzees and alligators, but whatever floats your boat is fine." he shrugged. "Did you need anything? I'm reading a very interesting book, so unless you're here to discuss it, and I doubt you've even read it, I'd rather you take your boredom elsewhere. Relieve the poor chaps on guard duty, if your boredom takes you that far."

He did register that he was in a sour mood, a lot colder than before. Probably because he was finally getting some time to himself and was interrupted. That, or, even more the fact that the storm outside made him feel oddly nostalgic and unwilling to do anything else than curl up in a ball. It reminded him of his homeland, and soothed him despite how violent it was. They'd probably have to check the fence once the storm calmed down, if it hadn't toppled over already. Still, those worries were the last thing on his mind. All he knew was that it was raining, and England suddenly felt physically ill as homesickness washed over him. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that he was back in his bed in London...

[America]

America raised his eyebrows. Well, England seemed more than a bit crabby today. America was attributing it to the weather outside, though. Surely this dark and rainy night would put anyone in a bad mood. Besides that, England was reading a book. America knew people hated to be interrupted while reading.

Just because he knew didn't mean he'd stop, however.

"I just got off of guard duty, like, an hour or two ago. I was about to just call it a night." He left the unspoken sentence of 'but I wanna annoy you' in his mind. He was sure England could figure it out soon enough. "What sort of book is that you're reading?" he asked, trying to seem interested. Of course, knowing England, it was probably something like boring, old Shakespeare or whoever else wrote lame-o books with lots of uses of 'thy' and 'thou' and stuff like that.

Sometimes, he didn't know why he bothered asking.

[England]

"Then please do call it a night, unless the thunder outside is bothering you. I don't tend to keep track of who is afraid of what, though judging from the number of times you've clung to me during thunderstorms, I'd be inclined to conclude that you were, or still are afraid of storms, which is most probably why you are stalling to get to bed." he rolled everything off his tongue in a flash, never opening his eyes. When he did, he looked up at America for a second and then sighed, rolling onto his back and dog-earing the page before shutting the book. There would be no further reading for the night. "But I guess I will humour you."

Because to be honest, the sound of America's voice was a lot more comforing than any book, and when he spoke, England didn't feel so lonely or homesick anymore.

"It's a fiction work that details life in a dystopian, futuristic London, where all inhabitants have a set hierarchy, and cannot become what has not been assigned to them as a social duty. It's the story of people that struggle to understand emotions that HAVEN'T been spoon-fed to them, and a Savage, an outsider, that arrives in a society so restricted and is appalled at how many lies the government feeds the people to keep them in what they judge is happiness." he knew that what he was saying was mostly just words to America, but he did want to stress one point.

"I was just thinking that maybe we are also becoming robots, slaves to a higher authority and fooling ourselves into thinking we are free." It was a very depressing subject to think about, and not one that a person as bright as America should have to endure, no matter how interesting. "Anyways, it's a headache. Don't concern yourself with any of it. Instead, why don't you say something you judge more interesting than some crummy old 20th century book?"

[America]

Listening to the summary of England's book was a tad bit depressing. Thinking about himself as a robot, a mindless slave who simply followed orders, didn't exactly suit well with him. But England did make a rather good point. Were they free? Were they allowed to make their own choices? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that perhaps England was right. Perhaps that was all they were.

"No, I think that book's actually kinda interesting," he mumbled. "I mean...are we making our own choices? We're countries, not humans. Humans have freedoms, but we're kinda tied down to their freedoms." Ugh, he hated the idea. Even if it made sense, even if it was probably right, he hated that hopelessness that was now weighing down on him. He couldn't be pessimistic like that, either. Especially in these conditions. "But I think we're fine," he quickly added. "Being a country means we gotta put our people before ourselves. So we're not really mindless slaves. We're more like willing servants."

And then he smiled brightly, bringing much relief to himself in saying that. However, upon getting back into the 'real' world, he furrowed his brows and sighed, glancing up at the top bunk. "And I'm not scared of thunderstorms. I just don't wanna...crawl up there right now." Never mind the fact that lightning flashed and he remembered there was a window right by his bed. Where the sound would be the loudest. Oh, man, this would be fun. "Can I sleep with you?" he asked. "It's too far of a climb up to my bed."

[England]

"Willing servants." England mumbled unclearly, toying with the idea before deciding to leave it to another day. There were more pressing things to deal with right now, such as the gorgeous anthropomorphism of the once-so-great United States of America standing right next to him and asking to sleep with him. Now that couldn't wait, and he couldn't afford to have philosophical debates on that, either. It was as easy as 1, 2, 3.

"I'd love to let you in, but I'm not sure we'd fit. See, if you take in consideration all the pudge you have gathered over the centuries..." he reached over and affectionately pinched the skin (no pudge here, to be honest) of America's waist through his clothes. "...I'm not so sure we'd both fit in a bed like this. Either we move, either you can take my bed for tonight, and I'll sleep up top, next to the window." oh, all those countless nights of having to hold America as he shook like a leaf were finally paying off. "I don't mind, as long as you don't make a ruckus. That, and climbing up with me during the night would be out of the question because these things aren't exactly made to carry two people."

[America]

Well, at least he wouldn't have to sleep up near the windows. That was good. He did hate the fact that they wouldn't be able to actually sleep in a bed together, though. Sure, they could cuddle every so often, but even that was crowded. "We need bigger beds," he grumbled, glancing up at his own bunk. Should he make England move to better accommodate himself? That seemed like a slightly selfish thing to do, if he had to be honest. Maybe he should suggest that they both go sleep on the couch. There was more room and America would be able to cuddle someone without kicking said someone out of the bed.

And they could finish that movie while they were at it.

But when thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed, America bit his lip. "Y-Yeah, might be best if we switch beds tonight!" he quickly exclaimed, forcing a smile on his face. "You know, ju-just in case I, um...have to pee really bad. It's faster access to the bathroom this way!" He stepped over, waiting anxiously for England to move so he could bury his face in his pillow (or, rather, England's pillow), go to sleep, and wake up to a lovely morning with no storms around.

[England]

England watched him jump ever so slightly at the crash of thunder and tried very hard not to chuckle at how endearing he was. It probably wasn't very nice of him, to laugh at someone else's misery, but England had never been nice to begin with. So instead, he just got into a sitting position, stretched, and then slid off the bed, patting America's head as he rose to full height.

"Alright, alright. Bathroom, right." he didn't sound convinced in the least. "Just remember that the bathroom is on the lower floor, close to the common area, and not up here in my bed. So know where you're going if you decide to move during the night." if he did somehow end up in bed with England, though... England was ready to openly laugh. Laugh, and then hold him close like he always would, and pray so that they neither broke the bed with their weight or choked to death, all clingy like that.

"Right, well, if you have no further use for me, I guess I will be heading to bed. If I'm not mistaken, lights out will be announced in less than an hour, so I'll get started on that sleep already." Hopefully, he'd be asleep, or at least semi-asleep when the lights went off. England hated the night. Sometimes, he wondered how he even slept. He'd never been good with dealing with the dark, not since those fateful days, when the dark only meant more pain and more death. "Whatever." he mumbled without realizing he'd said it out loud, and gripped the border of the upper bunk, swinging himself up and falling flat on the bed, squeaking of wood accompanying the ruffling of his sheets as he slid under the covers. "Get some sleep, America."

[America]

America rolled his eyes with England's teasing, knowing all too well that England was quite aware of his fear of storms. Hey, at least he was now mature enough not to just jump under the covers and cry loudly. And at least he was smart enough not to have watched a scary movie beforehand.

Well, the zombies kind of made up for the scary movies, anyway.

He waited until England was fully up on the top bunk before crawling in the now-empty bed. No need to let England see how tightly America curled into himself. Just to get warmth, his mind as assuring him as he lay in the fetal position, blankets being pulled above his head. He knew he couldn't hide under a blanket whenever something scary happened. That was such a childish thing to do. He just needed the extra warmth. Despite spring appearing, it was still rather cold, so these covers were very helpful.

"Night, England," he softly called up, voice only slightly smothered. "Love you." And he loved how England had practically welcomed him to sleep up on the top bunk. Not that America would take that offer. It would be too crowded up there, for one, and he wanted England to get a proper amount of sleep. So long as the storm didn't get any louder and start shaking the building, he was perfectly fine.

Of course, if he did crawl up with England, the only reason would be for the cuddling. Not out of fear. Which he had none of.

[[x] Spain]

[JUST IN TIME FOR ME.]

Curses swarmed a certain brunette's mind as he sprinted down the catwalk towards a specific bunk. His breath came in ragged gasps from too much running and the echoes of his pounding footsteps on the metal resounded through the entire upper level. His trained green eyes scanned the blur of passing bunks until he reached one in particular.

"INGLATERRA! Inglaterra, tenemos un gran problema!" England! England, we have a big problem! He skidded to a stop by England's bunk, drops of water from the storm outside (as he was on guard duty) flying off when he suddenly stopped short while quickly repeating what he said in English and taking a deep breath, shaking the island nation a little (in case he was sleeping). "The scouts spotted a Class 3 outbreak headed our way. I'm on my way to turn off the lights, but I can't contact everyone quick enough. And you're the supervisor anyway, so you needed to be informed which is the only reason why I'm stopping here I swear it especially since you're the only one who can authorize the blackout maneuver." Oh, how he prayed that through his fast speech and his accent England could understand what he was saying. But right now, he really needed to get this maneuver going. "If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."

[England]

England was confused. Hell, that was an understatement. One second, he'd been listening to America whine, and the other, Spain was shaking him and trying to tell him something, but it was going way too fast for his tired brain to comprehend, especially with the Spaniard's accent. It didn't help that thunder boomed outside in the middle of his rapid speech, and England lost pretty much over half of what he'd been saying. All he registered was the use of the words "scouts", "outbreak", and "authorize". He was still processing the rest by the time Spain had put some distance between them, looking as if he was ready to run.

And he realized that he was waiting (or... not so much) for a cue from him. And he had no idea what had been asked of him, but it had to do with zombies, and England trusted Spain to know what he was doing, so blindly, without even asking for clarification (Spain didn't look like he was willing to explain again, anyways), he nodded.

"Yeah, go on." he told him, wondering what that was all about. Nonetheless, it obviously wasn't anything good, judging by the urgency in the other European's eyes, and England was suddenly on high alert, pushing himself up on his elbow, and then sitting up, looking around. Nothing looked out of place, and the only problem, asides from what he'd heard from Spain's explanation, was the raging storm outside. Zombies and a storm. That didn't sound too good. He just hoped he hadn't given Spain the authorization to take a squad outside to dispatch some zombies. Fighting in this weather wouldn't do.

Lightning flashed through the windows, momentarily blinding him, and England suddenly wondered what in hell it was that he'd told Spain to do.

[America]

America had just closed his eyes and was more than ready to get a good night's rest, when someone's footsteps suddenly barged toward them, speaking loudly in a Spanish accent. Upon hearing it, America shot up quickly, managing to hit his head on the bottom of England's bunk. "Shit!" he hissed, rubbing his forehead angrily. He listened to what it was Spain had to say, mind moving a mile a minute to catch everything.

And people said he talked fast.

"Wait!" he exclaimed once England had given Spain permission to do whatever it was Spain was about to do. America swung his feet over the side of the bed, wincing at the sudden movements he was making, a headache already pounding. Even the storm seemed less important now as he continued processing what it was Spain said. "Zombies? H-How much of them would be a Class 3? Isn't that...over 100?" Or around that area. Whatever the case, it seemed like a pretty daunting number.

[[x] Spain]

With a quick half-salute of recognition, Spain jumped down from the bunk and landed, ready to sprint and complete his tasks when America cut him off, inquiring about the zombies.

In response, he solemnly nodded. "The scouts couldn't be too precise, but the last report I got was... 130 zombies, give or take a few. That's why we need to go dark. Now."

Not sparing another thought to the two nations, he ran to the breakers where the controls for the lights were, careful not to slip on anything from his sopping wet clothes.

[England]

England was too busy thinking, his eyes turned to the windowpane and his gaze lost in the rain. It was pitter-pattering noisily against the glass, and apprehension was rising inside of England with every drop. He'd gathered that there were zombies outside, but he wondered if it was a large enough mob to call blackout or not. Probably not, since if it were really urgent, Spain wouldn't even have asked. So if it wasn't blackout, Spain was probably planning to grab a few minutemen and send them out to dispatch the menace. But why in this weather? Had the zombies noticed them and a fight was inevitable? Would the risks of attracting other zombies be as high with a weather like this, covering their moans? England was confused.

But wait a minute... if he was gathering minutemen... Why didn't he take him!? He was right here, ready to jump down, put his gear on and get out there to kick some undead arse. It was a part of his duty as minuteman and commander, so why had Spain skipped over him!?

Whipping around to question him (and quite coldly at that, too), his question died on his tongue when he realized Spain had left already. Wow, if he was in such a rush, then it must've been bad. It was already dark outside, so England debated on the efficiency of a battle right now, but... he trusted Spain to have made the right choice. And for him, too, though he had no idea what decision he'd ended up making. That was definitely the last time he was blindly putting his trust in someone, though. As much as he found Spain reliable, he still did not trust anyone more than himself.

Still, apprehension was clogging up his throat, as if he knew that something bad was coming.