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One Breakfast After the End of the World
Something weird is happening. They haven’t been home for ages and Frodo has only had one can of wet food since yesterday, which is frankly a crime. But now Frodo has seen a rat, so he’ll chase that for a while and then worry about what else is going on.
There are lots of people running around and lots of feet that he has to weave between. He almost gets stepped on a dozen times, and by the time he’s dealt with that, he’s lost the rat. This is a terrible day.
Sam is three blocks behind him, but just as he’s thinking that he should head back to her, he hears a weird noise from around the corner. The monsters that everyone is running away from make a click-click noise, but this is a splash noise, which probably means it’s okay to investigate.
Maybe the rat is trying to swim away. If it is, good luck to it; Frodo has no plans to get wet.
He pads quickly around the corner towards the splashing noise and finds a really big rat. Wait, that’s not a rat, that’s a human. It’s a man, gasping silently for breath, and it’s swimming in a flooded subway entrance. Humans are so weird. Not Sam, but all other humans.
Curious, Frodo hops up onto the railings to get a closer look.
The man looks cold and sad and he’s wearing a suit like people wear when they go to work. Frodo still isn’t sure what’s happening, but he doesn’t think anyone is going to work today.
As Frodo watches, the man’s frantic arm motions slow down then stop and Frodo thinks for a moment that the man is going to let himself sink. That won’t do. Frodo stands up straight, prepared to do something heroic (not get wet himself, of course, but something), except before he can, the man’s eyes land on him.
Frodo widens his eyes and tips his head a little, saying hello.
“Hello?” the man mouths and starts to swim towards him.
Frodo has no idea what you’re meant to do with dripping men in the middle of New York, but Sam will know, Sam knows everything except for how many meals Frodo should be allowed to have in a day.
Frodo jumps down from the wall, landing silently on the ground, and looks back over his shoulder. The man takes a stumbling step after him, so Frodo walks forward a little more. He keeps checking over his shoulder, because he’s not sure that humans are all that smart, but the man seems to have gotten the point. He keeps following Frodo down the empty street, skirting around some dead people and upside down cars that Frodo just climbs over, until they find the right alleyway.
Sam looks relieved when she sees Frodo and confused when she sees the dripping man, but that’s okay; Frodo knows she’s going to let them keep him.
Two Breakfasts After the End of the World
Frodo is wet. Frodo is very, very annoyed about being wet. Before Sam brought him back to New York, Frodo had been wet exactly no times, but in the last two days, he’s been rained on and then he had to swim through a subway and then Eric made him jump in the water.
Frodo is going to learn how to hold a pen and then he’s going to write a letter of complaint.
He’s not sure who he’ll give it to though. Sam has stayed behind to fight the monsters, so maybe he’ll save it for when she comes back. She’ll understand that Frodo isn’t meant to swim this much.
He snuggles deeper into the blanket that he’s been wrapped up in. A little boy took him when they first climbed up onto the boat and snuggled him, which is nice. No one is snuggling Eric, although he does also have a blanket, so Frodo will have to wiggle free and fix that soon.
Not right now though. Right now, he’s warm and can press his face into the little boy’s neck and maybe consider purring.
“Sorry, man, do you want your cat back?” someone asks and then two big hands land on Frodo’s sides. Frodo takes evasive action, letting all his bones turn to liquid so he’s impossible to pick up.
“No, that’s okay, your son can hold him for a bit,” says Eric, which makes the hands remove themselves from Frodo’s person. Good.
There’s a wet noise and a flop noise and a squelch noise and then Eric sits down next to the little boy, who’s holding Frodo. The man who helped them onto the boat sits down on the little boy’s other side.
The little boy looks up and puts his chin on top of Frodo’s head. It’s a little pointy, but Frodo decides to allow it. “What’s his name?” he whispers, in a rusty voice that even Frodo can barely hear.
“That’s Frodo,” says Eric. “I’m Eric. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Jack,” the little boy whispers.
Next to him, his dad has gone stiff. Frodo looks over, curious. After a second, so does Eric.
“He hasn’t said anything since the night before last,” his dad says, shaking his head. “Not even when we got on the boat and I told him it was safe. Not since… well, I had to do something that I’m not proud of, and he saw me do it.”
Jack’s fingers sink into Frodo’s fur. Frodo lets them.
“I don’t think any of us were our best selves the last few days,” Eric says.
The man sighs. “That’s the truth. This cat was there then, too. Him and… Samira?” He says it like a question.
Frodo watches as Eric shakes his head, eyes growing damp. Frodo wants to tell him that it’s okay, he doesn’t have to worry about Sam fighting the monsters; she can do anything.
The boat drifts quietly onwards and Jack’s fingers start to relax in Frodo’s fur. After a while, he tips sideways into his dad’s side. His dad wraps his arm around Jack’s back, and Eric reaches out and strokes the place between Frodo’s ears.
Frodo tips his head up into the touch, and closes his eyes.
106 Breakfasts After the End of the World
They live on an island now and Frodo is allowed to meow again, so probably that means that Sam has killed all the monsters and saved the world. Although, maybe not, because then she would have come to find them. There must still be other people and other cats who need saving first.
They’ve moved into a house with Jack and his dad, Henri. Well, Eric says that it’s Henri and Jack’s house and Eric and Frodo are just staying in the guest room, so they have to be polite and tidy. Frodo, personally, is always polite and tidy, so he thinks that Eric must have been reminding himself about that.
It isn’t as good here as Sam’s apartment and doesn’t have as many people to demand pets from as there were in the hospice, but at least it’s warm and dry and there’s always food.
(In fact, there’s always more food than there should be, because Jack sneaks him scraps under the table. Shh, don’t tell Sam, when she gets back.)
Eric and Frodo are taking a walk around the island, Frodo up on Eric’s shoulders so he can see further, when there’s a commotion down by the shore.
“New arrivals!” someone says, jogging past them.
Eric stops walking, hand coming up to touch Frodo’s back. Frodo knows that Eric doesn’t like change or unexpected things, so he cranes his head around and licks Eric’s fingers. Eric laughs and starts walking again.
A yellow boat has been dragged up onto the sand. It looks like it’s made of rubber or plastic or something else that would be fun for Frodo to sink his teeth into. A man, two ladies, and a dog are sitting on the beach, looking up at Henri, their expressions shell-shocked.
“They made it here in that?” Eric murmurs to the lady standing next to them.
“All the way from Jersey, apparently,” she whispers back.
“How?”
She shrugs. “Hope?”
“You’re very welcome here, of course,” Henri says, then waves Eric over. Because Eric goes, so does Frodo. “Eric will show you to our house for now, so you can shower and change, and then we’ll find somewhere for you all to sleep.”
The humans all look exhausted as they stumble up to their feet, but the dog does not. As soon as the man starts moving, he takes off in an excited run, looping around in a big circle, before stopping at the man’s feet and panting up at him.
The man reaches down and pats his head. “Not now, boy, yeah? We’ll find a ball or something later.”
The dog does another jump around at the word ball. Frodo puts on his most judgemental face, even though no one is actually looking in his direction.
“We, uh, we have balls,” Eric says, as they start their walk up towards the house.
The man looks sideways at Eric then smiles. “Good to know.”
Eric makes a noise and goes bright red, the back of his neck turning so hot that Frodo has to stick a claw into it.
“Ow,” says Eric, but it’s his own fault. Why is he blushing because a man wants to play with his dog? He’s a constant puzzle to Frodo.
“Cute cat,” says the man next. “What’s his name?” When Eric tells him, the man barks out a laugh. Rude. Frodo’s name isn’t funny. “You’re joking?”
“No?” Eric says. “Why?”
The man smiles. Frodo supposes he has a nice face, if you like human faces. He has brown eyes and brown hair and little bits of sparkly silver in his bangs. “Because my dog’s called Gandalf.”
The dog barks at that.
Eric laughs. “Oh my god, that’s amazing. They’ll have to be friends then.”
Absolutely not! thinks Frodo.
But the man, Gandalf’s human, looks at Eric again and says, “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’m Stephan, by the way.”
147 Breakfasts After the End of the World
Frodo has not made friends with Gandalf, but he thinks that Gandalf might think that he has. The new people are staying with various families around the island, but Gandalf and his human are here a lot, because Eric has made friends with Gandalf’s dad.
Frodo supposes that that’s nice for him or whatever, he just wishes that that meant less time where Jack tries to play fetch with Gandalf and Frodo. If Frodo wanted to play fetch, he could, but why on earth would he want to? He much prefers to lie in a sunbeam while the other two do all the running around.
It’s after one of those days, everyone outside having a barbeque until it’s grown dark, that Frodo looks around and realises that Eric isn’t there.
He doesn’t panic. He absolutely doesn’t. He just trots into the house a little bit faster than usual and takes the stairs to the second floor two at a time.
The light is on in his and Eric’s bedroom and he can hear the shower running. His heart stops beating quite so fast.
He supposes that he could go downstairs again, but it’s getting chilly out there, so instead he jumps up onto the bed. And finds someone already in here. Someone who isn’t Eric.
Frodo maybe forgets his manners and says, “Hiss,” instead of “Meow.” In his defence, that’s his side of the bed and no one’s ever been there before.
“Oh, hey, buddy, sorry,” says Gandalf’s dad, Stephan. He holds out his hand for Frodo to sniff. Frodo thinks about it, but he’s too busy being a startled, puffed up ball to do any sniffing, right now. “Sorry.”
There’s a laugh from the doorway and then, “That’s his side of the bed,” Eric says.
Exactly! thinks Frodo.
He waits for Stephan to apologise and get out of the bed, but instead he just says, “Oh that’s a shame. Guess I’ll have to share your side, then.”
“I guess,” says Eric, which is not at all what he’s supposed to say.
His hair is still wet from his shower and he’s only wearing a towel around his waist. He climbs up onto the bed and puts his mouth on Stephan’s mouth. Gross.
Appalled, Frodo sits down and licks his own butt about it.
“Frodo,” Eric says gently. “Frodo, my sweet, you’re ruining the mood.”
Frodo isn’t sure what mood, but he lifts his head, glares at Eric, and goes back to what he was doing.
Stephan presses his face into Eric’s bare shoulder, laughter muffled. “It’s okay, I guess maybe three times in one evening was kind of ambitious.”
Eric shifts around, sitting so his knees are on either side of Stephan’s thighs. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”
One of Stephan’s hands slides up under Eric’s towel. “Not absolutely sure,” he says. He turns his head and looks Frodo in the eyes. “Twenty minutes?” he asks, like he’s taking Frodo’s opinion seriously. Frodo likes that.
Fine, he can give them twenty minutes. He jumps down off the bed and pads down the corridor to Jack’s room. Jack is still outside at the barbeque, but Frodo can smell Gandalf in here somewhere. He finds him curled up under Jack’s bed, so Frodo crawls under there too, to join him.
Not because they’re friends or anything, but because if nothing else, Gandalf is very warm.
“Woof,” says Gandalf and lays a heavy paw over Frodo’s side. Frodo decides to allow it.
When he wakes up, it’s fully dark and he can hear Jack breathing softly in the bed above. He nudges Gandalf with a paw, then bites his fur a little, when that doesn’t get him moving.
Gandalf makes a sleepy, enquiring whine, so Frodo decides just to show him. He stands up, stretches, and heads to the doorway. Immediately, he can hear Gandalf following behind him.
Eric’s bedroom is dark and quiet now too, and there’s still a Stephan on Frodo’s side of the bed. Frodo jumps up onto the pillow and curls up on Eric’s head. A second later, the bed dips as Gandalf jumps up too, wiggling his big body up the mattress until he’s shoved himself in between Eric and Stephan.
Better, Frodo decides, and goes to sleep.
477 Breakfasts After the End of the World
Frodo didn’t realise that dramatic things were allowed to happen on the Island. But one minute, he’s having a post lunch nap, and the next, people are screaming and Eric is scooping him up and pushing him into a closet where they find Jack already hiding.
A minute later, Gandalf gets shoved in with them.
It’s a tight fit and Frodo yowls his disapproval when Gandalf stands on his tail.
“Shh,” Eric whispers. “Shh.”
Frodo is about to yowl louder because he doesn’t like being told to shh, when he hears a very familiar click-click sound. Frodo knows that click-click. That’s the sound that the monsters make.
Jack grabs Eric’s arm before he can close the door on them again. “What’s happening?”
Eric looks like he doesn’t want to answer, but then he takes a deep breath. “A Death Angel washed up on the shore. It’s just one. Don’t panic, your dad is dealing with it.”
Frodo feels a little burst of excitement. Death Angel is what people call the monsters now, and if one of the monsters is here then maybe Sam is too. Except. Except if she was, she’d be right here, protecting them.
Eric gives them all a shaky little smile then closes the door. Then there’s the very quiet click of the bedroom door shutting behind him.
Frodo stands up tall. He’s the oldest one left in here now, and if Sam isn’t coming, then he has to protect everyone else.
It takes ages and ages and ages. When Eric and Stephan come back for them, Stephan is pale and Eric’s eyes are all red like they get when he’s sad. That’s not allowed. Frodo decides it’s worth leaving his post to scale up Eric’s leg then his chest and into his arms.
Eric hugs him tight.
“Jack,” Stephan says and kneels down in front of the open closet door, while Eric hides his face in Frodo’s fur.
“Is it my dad?” Jack asks softly.
“I’m so sorry, buddy,” Stephan says.
Gandalf whines and Frodo meows softly into Eric’s ear. Jack doesn’t say anything at all.
Stephan clears his throat. “Your dad went with those people who arrived yesterday. The man and the girl? They have a way to kill the Death Angels, but… but he didn’t make it.”
Jack still doesn’t say anything. Carefully, Eric kneels down too, keeping Frodo tight in his arms. “When Frodo and I got on the boat, back in New York, your dad was the first one who told me we were safe. I don’t have a way to repay him for that, but I think he’d want me to make sure that you’re safe now that he…”
He trails off. Stephan reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.
Jack nods slowly then sniffs.
Frodo tries to squirm out of Eric’s arms, giving him a nip on the shoulder, when he doesn’t let go quick enough. Only a small nip. Barely anything. He doesn’t break the skin.
Eric lets go, so Frodo drops down onto Jack’s lap. He doesn’t know how to comfort small humans the same way that he knows how to comfort the grown up versions, but people seem to like it when he sits on their laps, so he does that.
Jack doesn’t react, so Frodo curls into a smaller ball. People really seem to like that.
Nothing.
Frodo rolls onto his back and shows Jack his belly. He won’t even scratch, if Jack wants to pet it, he promises.
There’s a flurry of air and fur as Gandolf drags himself up onto his big feet. He pads in a circle around Jack and Frodo once, then twice, then puts both front paws on Jack’s knees and leans in and licks a big, wet stripe up Jack’s face.
Jack gives a hoarse, shaky laugh.
Stupid dog! Frodo thinks. But also maybe, just this once, Well done.
One Hundred and Fifty-Three Breakfasts After the World Starts Again
Stephan and Eric have built a house. Some people left the island after the Death Angels went away, but most people stayed and other people have moved in.
The girl who saved the world and her family are living in what used to be Henri’s house now. They all lived together for a while, but Eric said it was too crowded for all of them, so: house building.
Frodo helped out a lot - he walked on all the plans and fell asleep on several piles of bricks. All Gandalf did was get in the way.
Now the house is finished and it’s time for them to move in. There’s a bedroom for Eric and Stephan (apparently he’s always going to be on Frodo’s side of the bed from now on. Frodo is going to start sleeping on his face) and a bedroom for Jack.
There’s also another bedroom, which Frodo follows Eric into while everyone else is busy downstairs. He jumps up onto the windowsill and watches while Eric makes the bed, puts a bunch of yellow flowers in a vase on the table by the bed. Then he pulls a pack of cards out of his back pocket and sets it next to the vase.
Are they having guests? Frodo wonders. This is all very weird.
Eric nods, looking satisfied. Then he takes off the big yellow cardigan that he always wears, the one that really belongs to Sam. He walks over to the empty closet, takes out a hanger and hangs it up on the rack. It’s the only thing in there.
Oh! Frodo realises. This bedroom is for Sam.
Eric catches him watching and smiles, shaking his head at himself. “Do you think she’d like it?”
Frodo jumps from the windowsill to the bed to the chair. The chair is padded, soft to land on. Sam’s bones hurt when she sits down, so she likes to be comfortable.
There’s sunlight pouring in through the window and Frodo can hear the swish of the sea against the rocks and the sounds of birds calling. Sam will definitely like it here; it sounds like music.
“Well?” Eric asks, sounding nervous.
Frodo looks up at him and purrs.