Full Sumary: Zombie Apocalypse AU loosely based on The Walking Dead TV series. Story follows the many characters of Hetalia as they navigate the dead and each other. There will be various levels of angst, violence and gore and, while I hate myself for it, character deaths (it is loosely based on TWD after all). The main points of view are Arthur, Alfred, Francis, Antonio, Lovino, Feliciano, Gilbert, Matthew, Kiku and Ludwig though many other characters will be included.

There will be romantic pairings but the depth of the relationships will vary depending on the couple and what happens to the characters. Couples I like and may be included are: FrUK, USUK, GerIta, Spamano, PruCan, SuFin, LietPol, SwissLiech, AusHun, Ameripan, DenNor, HongIce, EngPort, TurGre, RoChu, RoBul.

Warning: Chapter has suicidal themes.

The Dead Days

Thread One: Part One
Arthur

Arthur Kirkland sat beside the window, forehead pressed against the cold glass and his injured leg propped up on the opposite chair. His stomach growled, sounding horrifically loud in the silent room but Arthur no longer winced at the volume. A gun weighed heavy in his right hand.

Outside the dead wandered aimlessly under a cloudless blue sky.

There was no grace to the abominations stumbling down the street, no direction, no thought. They moved one foot in front of the other, travelling always onwards until prey flitted across their path or the scent of blood filled their nostrils.

He rubbed fingers against the blood crusted on his jeans. Arthur had worried that they would sniff him out in the pharmacy and come clambering through the windows but so far he had escaped their attention unnoticed, instead leaving him free to spy on them. Initially he thought the chance of observation might lead to discoveries on their nature or process but he learnt nothing more than his previous knowledge; the undead were mindless droves with a never-ending craving for human flesh.

He didn't know whether that made him feel better or worse. He didn't know if he cared either way.

Arthur's thumb ran up and down the ridged grip of the gun. He'd never held one until the apocalypse, never even seen one before that. He hadn't realised it would be so heavy. Or so loud.

That's what had surprised him the most the first time he'd pulled the trigger. Not the hole it had put through that girl's face or the sight of her crumbling wordlessly to the ground, no it was the sharp bang, loud enough to hurt his ears and let the gun fall from trembling fingers to clatter against the pavement. Loud enough to stun him for a moment, a moment in which one of those dead things tore into his brother's neck.

That had been two days ago, back when the Kirkland siblings fought tooth and nail to escape the city, and failed. Arthur couldn't say he was surprised; they'd always been much better at fighting each other than teaming up. Really, they were doomed from the start.

Still though, he hoped against hope that they were alive and safe and together, especially Peter. His siblings were strong and determined but as much as Peter puffed his chest and wore an air of bravado, he was still a child. A child lost in a new, cruel world.

Arthur's stomach grumbled again. He took a tiny sip from his half empty bottle of water but it did nothing to quench the gnawing hunger that had grown painful. He remembered reading somewhere that a human could live without food for up to three weeks, but Arthur had no wish to find out if that was true. Of course the wound in his leg could catch an infection and kill him off before that, assuming one of the dead didn't find him first.

Such choice: starvation, infection or cannibalism.

Or there was a fourth option.

He had five bullets in the gun and he only needed one.

Arthur glanced down at the weapon. It would be the preferable option – instant and painless. There's wouldn't be weeks of agony as his body shut down and devoured itself or the struggle against those things as they attacked and tore him to pieces. All it took was one pull of the trigger and it would be over. No more struggling or useless worrying over things he had no control over. Just a simple ending.

Or so the logical side of himself said. The romantic side that only revealed itself in Arthur's writing spoke of hope and family and future. Because what if, right now, his brothers and sister were waiting for him, or that a cure had been discovered, or that soldiers were on their way to rescue him? What if he could find food or an escape? What if, this time next week, it would all be over and remembered only as a terrible time in history akin to the Black Death?

What if, what if, what if...

Who was he kidding? Before the world had descended into silence Arthur had read about the dead ravaging schools and hospitals in the papers, watched as neighbours turned on each other on the telly and listened to first-hand accounts of traumatised survivors on the radio.

Overnight – it seemed – the world had fallen to hell and Arthur was crawling through the cold ashes.

Arthur barked a laugh. Here he was, painfully hungry, his leg torn with a horde of the undead on the other side of the window and he wanted a pen to note his end of the world romanticisms. How bloody typical of himse-

A scuff of rubber against linoleum ripped Arthur from his thoughts. His body tensed as his right hand gripped tight hold of the gun. Holding his breath, he strained his ears for any sound in the pharmacy.

For a long few seconds there was nothing, and then footsteps.

Arthur inhaled and glanced at the gun, at the window and at the end of the counter. Panicked thoughts sped through his head but his body remained frozen in place. His injured leg would slow him down and moving it might tear the wound and fresh blood would draw the thing in. Staying would be pointless because any moment it would come around the corner and find him. The gun would kill it but attract the dead outside, as would escaping through the window. He had no knife or means of killing the thing silently. There were no places to hide.

And then all too soon it came into view. The man, wearing what was once a nice suit, locked Arthur in its sights and lurched forward with renewed vigour.

Arthur lifted the gun and aimed for the head.

Five bullets. One for the dead thing in front of him. He still had four left to make an escape and find a new hideout. After all he had got this far by himself with the wound in his leg and no food, he could do it again.

He could still survive. He still had a chance.

Arthur held the dead man in his sights. Then he turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger.

A/N: I know there's tons of zombie stories for Hetalia and whilst mine is probably nothing new I wanted to write something darker and more serious than the two fics I currently have up. I hope you guys liked this short opening even if the ending was not so happy.

Also, the setting is a semi-fictional America where (due to my lack of American knowledge) states will not be named, places will be made up (or based on TWD) and English terms will most likely be used (being English and all). Finally I doubt any explanation will be given as to why all the characters are different nationalities unless it fits into the plot.

I think that makes sense but if not feel free to ask any questions. You should also feel free to leave a review if the mood strikes you :)