Where Is Your Rider (OFFICIAL WATTPAD UPLOAD)

Chapter 4

He was back in the medical cabin again.

"AAAH!" Tommy shrieked, jolting awake violently, prepared to punch anything that got in his way.

He was alone in the room, except for... oh.

"Chill," Tubbo remarked, sprawled across one of the chairs with a mouthful of what appeared to be blueberry cobbler, the rest of it sitting on a plate in his lap. "You feelin' better? I mean, I get it. Running off into the wilderness and just screaming your throat sore for a few hours is therapeutic. Just try and tell us where you're going next time because Wilbur was gonna presume you dead."

Tommy blinked slowly, eyeing the cobbler.

"Uh," he mumbled, gesturing loosely at it, "do you mind if I have some of that?"

A huge grin appeared on Tubbo's face.

"That's the spirit!" He remarked, jumping up and shoving the plate at him. "Listen, yesterday? That kind of thing barely ever happens. I think it was just some bad luck. But trust me, everything's gonna go uphill from here for you! Wanna come out with me and Ranboo?"

Tommy hesitated, taking a slow bite of the cobbler (which was delicious, by the way).

"Doing what?" He asked.

"Oh, just scout around the mountains," Tubbo replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "It's nothing too terrible, and you could use some experience. Hell, maybe we could go to the range and teach you how to shoot!"

Tommy frowned.

On one hand, he had no idea how to use a gun, given that he'd only ever fired them in video games. On the other, that bitchy cynical part of him knew that he'd have to learn someday, given that... well, this was his life now.

It wasn't a dream. He couldn't go back.

He sighed.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll go out with you and your freaky Slenderman buddy."

Tubbo whooped, pumping his fist with glee. "Great! I have no clue what a Slender-fuckin' whatever is, but I'll get Ranboo! We'll leave in half an hour; get your stuff on and meet me at the sheds near the walls!"

"Why near the sheds?" Tommy asked helplessly.

Tubbo grinned, a weird crazy gleam—that Tommy really didn't like—appearing in his eyes. "You'll see."

Then he got up and left, leaving Tommy staring at the clothes that had been left on the other chair for him, sitting in a neat stack next to his borrowed raincoat.

Tommy bit his lip, unfolding them and dressing.

There was a red and white tee with a soft long-sleeved white undershirt to go under it, and some old cargo pants which were covered in patches that he guessed were hand-me-downs. There were wool socks—which were probably handmade judging from the lack of seams—and a pair of heavy leather boots that came up almost to Tommy's knees, along with some worn gloves. Finally there was a green bandanna, plus a battered gas mask and goggles, and a black military-looking vest that was strangely heavy when Tommy picked it up.

He shrugged and put it on anyway, and then glanced at himself in the mirror.

He scowled.

He looked like all the other L'Manbergians now.

Tommy bit his lip, reminding himself that this, this was his life now, and there was no going back.

Everything he knew was gone.