Author's Note: I should absolutely be doing homework for any one of the four classes I have projects due in. But I'm not. Klonnie comes first because my priorities are in order.
After much encouragement from Anastasia-G though, I'm trying my hand at chaptered fic. This remix on klonnie and the zombie apocalypse has been on my mind for a little while and I've finally put pen to paper. God only knows when I'll actually update it again. Don't assume I know what I'm doing, but enjoy!
No one can really say how it all began anymore. Those who were present at the start are dead—or dying—not interested in talking about it or unfit for human interaction. The majority of the population seems to fit into the third category. Something about it being the zombie apocalypse seems to just erode everybody's social graces.
It has eroded other things too.
When Klaus comes upon what's left of Bonnie Bennett, the loss is more evident. She is alive. She breathes. She moves. She survives, but there are parts missing. Bits and pieces worn away by loss and fear and failure to protect. A soldier whose nation has collapsed while they were away at war. Nowhere to go. Nothing to protect. Enemies on all sides.
He could ask what's become of her friends, but he doesn't. He doesn't because he's been eroded too. Ground down to a sharp, precise point that never misses and always leaves a fatal wound. He doesn't have any need of friends. Competition for his food source, nothing more. The world before required him to pass himself off as human and normal. The world now requires him to be an apex predator.
Two sets of fangs that never retract. Skin that mends itself when broken. Senses that detect fresh blood a literal mile away. Superhuman strength he doesn't have to temper. Venom that flows from his bite. He had to jettison all the human parts and make way for the killing machine.
It is too easy for one zombie to turn into thirty, and thirty to a hundred. They are slow and stupid, but they are many and he is one. They cannot bite through his skin, but they still try. To be swarmed and weighed down by already rotting bodies is. . . unpleasant. And somewhat time consuming.
Rot is all he can ever smell. Everything is rotting. People, places, things, thoughts, feelings, beliefs. All of it in a state of decomposition. Bonnie would join them if he left her there, but he never considers it. She is there, she is alive, and he is to keep her that way. Once he might have said that it was insurance. He couldn't let the Bennett line go extinct. The two of them are the last of their kind. And when the world rights itself, he'll be in need of a witch.
The world isn't interested in righting itself. It hasn't been for a long time.