A/N: This is likely the last chapter of our story. It's been one hell of a journey, one filled with loss, pain, quirky banter, awkward romance, gore, red bull, headaches and a whole bunch of sad songs. Please keep a look out for other stories by me, either for this fandom or any others I'm into. I also have a side account with a friend called sweetserendipity55. I hope you've enjoyed, and will tell your friends about this.

Ps, big thanks to all of my friends and reviewers for supporting me through my first internet-posted story, and for all the ideas and help you've given. You keep me sane to some degree.

Let's do this thing. BT

Chapter 18: We Start Again

(Tweek's POV)

We march stiffly down the damp, empty corridors of the pentagon, eventually flanked to the right by the late afternoon light that came pouring in from the windows as we neared the exit. Craig was still too stiff to move on his own, so Token and I support him as we proceed. It's a slow going, but we all have somewhat renewed energy from the simple flare of hope and relief that we were going to make it, that the nightmare was finally playing itself out. That was enough.

Cartman had mentioned flying to Europe, so we looked for his plane as we made it outside, turns out it was seated on a small abandoned runway just a couple blocks away.

"This is all well and good," Kenny began, studying the nose of the small aircraft "but, ah, how are we gonna get this baby off the ground?"

Once again, we all turn to Kyle, our genius on hand.

"I know how to fly a plane" He started sheepishly, then quickly backpedaled before we could sigh in relief "well—in theory—I mean, I've read books—"

And then we were back to square one.

Finally, Clyde took the initiative. "I was planning to go into the air force, my uncle's flown with me dozens of times, and I can do the simulator blindfolded. Think I'm qualified enough?" there was a slight bite in his tone, probably because we should've known this and should've turned to him before Kyle.

"Finally you have a use to us," Craig groans out, and he still manages to sound sarcastic though his voice is groggy. Clyde purses his lips in response.

The sun was fast falling by the time Clyde had finished all the tests. It was a rather nice plane, small but comfortable, which meant my plane anxiety and Craig's claustrophobia wouldn't be as bothered with this arrangement. We loaded our minute remaining rations of food and water, weapons, ammo, blankets and the rest of the antidotes into the back, and then took up our seats.

Kyle would be Clyde's copilot because he was the next least incompetent of us in the ways of maneuvering a flying hunk of metal and human beings.

Finally, as the cityscape rolled by, I find myself sigh. The pentagon becomes just a tiny shape below us, and I toss the bad memories behind me, while secretly relishing in the idea of having a therapist soon.

Craig is finally conscious enough to ask for a little water and some canned ravioli, the remainder of which

I eat. He leans on me in our seats, and I can feel the light warmth of his breath and his eyelids as he blinks against my shoulder. Neither of us find the need to speak, because we know everything the other could possibly say. Besides, it's the most comfortable silence we've had in months. Both of us are dwelling on the small silent details of the other rather than finding comfort in empty words and of constantly reassuring one another. Those things tended to weigh on us more than comfort us anyway. And who the hell says we had to talk to enjoy company anyway?

Around us, everyone's in varying states of tranquil silence, leaving the compartment in the steady hum of the engine. For once, I know how it feels to be on those fancy meds my parents spared me from, and it felt pretty nice. Quiet, calm, and I daresay comfortable.

I muse when I have time to indulge in myself.

The plane ride was smooth, and it led me to thinking about what Clyde said about wanting to be a pilot. Now I could see it easily. Kyle, who's always been so logical and authoritive, would have made a great college professor. Stan, our star quarterback, a wonderful football player, Kenny a brilliant singer, Token a surgeon. That lead me to thinking, wow, how different would our lives be if the apocalypse hadn't come?

Would we be happier?

Well, we'd certainly be less fucked up, we'd definitely have more family, and we'd probably have less severe worries in our lives to boot.

But would we be truly happier?

I mean, of course we've lost too much to think about, and we've been put through hell at a psycho bastard's expense, but when you think about all the good that's happened during this, would the outcomes of an alternate timeline really produce a better outcome?

I'm an optimist. Fight me.

We flew for hours, and I eventually lost track of how long it ended up taking. All I really know is that when we got to Canada, it was morning.

I'm not sure if it was the knowledge that we were out of the united states of zombieland, but I swear it was the most beautiful sunrise I'd ever seen.

I hadn't slept in a grand total of five days straight and counting, Craig having long-since given up with telling me to go to sleep, God damn it.

We arrived at an airport in Ottawa shortly after the sun reached its afternoon perch in the sky. We had obviously attracted some attention, and after Stan and Kyle sweet-talked the officials that came to meet us, we were able to meet with the prime minister.

Canada had taken notice of the situation in America, and wanted any intel we could supply them with about it. Of course it was an obvious issue to their security, so they were eager to help us out. After an international meeting between America's allies was organized, things became fast and furious. Over the course of several weeks alone, the antidote was mass produced across our European allies, and supplied to the troops that were sent in a short while after. Speed was very important in the scheme of things.

Zombies beyond help were executed and disposed of, buildings were repaired, the infrastructure was rebuilt, and survivors were immunized. This cost billions.

Out of a country of millions rose a new nation of thousands.

No one was the same, nor were they expected to be.

I still have those pulse pounding nightmares, those random episodes of fear and crippling anxiety, and I still desperately cling to Craig for no reason when we're in public. I'm still not ready to go back to Colorado to say goodbye to my old life and start over, even though I know I can't until I do. Right now I don't want to start over, I just want to let out the breath I've been holding and try to sort out a plan.

The last week we stayed in Ottawa, we all gathered on the roof of our hotel in a style the cast of the hangover would've admired. Of course, we didn't have roofies and vodka, but we did have a large city to lay waste to when we left this spot. We sat on the cement lip, our legs dangling over the ledge. None of us said a word, because we all knew what this meant. We'd made it, and though our bond wouldn't be severed, we would lead separate lives, and probably scatter across the country. This was really the last time we'd all be together.

The sky was a darkening shade of smoky shade of navy blue, only a robin's egg blue at the fringe of the setting sun's halo. All our eyes trained solely on that half circle of light, and it felt like the first time I was fine.

I let myself settle against Craig, eyes at half-mast. This was our second comfortable silence, and really the first moment we had to breathe in after having traveled to England for the debriefing last week.

Maybe now I could finally sleep.

A/N: There you go! Well, if you have any questions left, any at all, please feel free to PM me and I'd be happy to answer. If not, then I hope you enjoyed the story and that the ending was to your liking. Until a new story,

SatoriKatana uvu