I
Eren Jaeger was only a boy, sixteen years of age, when hell had taken over the world. It was mid-morning that day, the sunlight creeping in through the drapes over the window. His mother, Carla, was washing the dishes in the kitchen. By her side was Eren's sister, Mikasa, helping their mother with cleaning the used plates. His father, a doctor by the name of Grisha, had went off earlier to see one of his patients.
He had been a boy, full of dreams and hopes, half-asleep as he sat by the sofa in the living room. Outside, he could hear the bustle of suburban life: hear the low purr of the car engines as one passed by his house; the chatter of two women as they walked by the road, heard the faint greeting of his neighbour; a distant thump against the door signalled the newspaper boy delivering a new set from his bicycle.
He was to meet his friend, Armin, later that day, most probably to visit the arcade two blocks down his street or something along that line.
Indeed, it had been a beautiful, sunny day.
As his eyes began to droop, feeling content and full, that was when the world went mad.
It had been a quiet morning, the faint noise of water against china and the low conversation between his mother and Mikasa rumbling in his ears, when something big and heavy hit their door.
Instantly, Eren was up, eyes on the door. To his side, his mother and Mikasa were also looking towards the entrance, dishes forgotten. There was an odd, uneasy silence then—
Eren jumped, feeling a chill run up his spine. He knew that sound, and it was terrifying as it echoed in his ears.
A human scream of help.
The door trembled, wood quivering against the panels. Eren slowly stood from his seat, blanket falling off his shoulders as he silently walked forward, eyes wide and tense.
"E—Eren, don't." His mother's whisper was feeble against the pounding in his ears, his heart racing.
The door continued rocking as he got nearer, hand reaching to grasp the knob. It rattled loudly upon his touch and Eren froze, wanting to jump back. It took him a moment to realize that it was his hand that was shaking the knob. Breathing deeply, trying to calm himself, Eren cautiously turned the knob and opened the door a sliver, barely two inches wide.
The metallic scent of blood reached his nose before his eyes took in the dark red caking the doorway. He recoiled, his free hand reaching to cover his nose, when a bloodied arm came into view.
He bit back a gasp as the fingers twitched, moving towards the door. He faintly heard his mother hissing at him to close the door but he stood still, transfixed at the sight.
"P—please..." A spirant, foreign whisper made Eren open the door wider, eyes still fixated at the spill of so much red when he took sight of a man by the side, blond hair covered in dirt and blood.
It was his neighbour.
"Hannes, w-what—?"
Eren's words were cut short as Hannes angled his head towards the boy, gasping out a seedy "Run!"
Then, his eyes looked out to the world outside his doorstep.
It was only later, when his mother had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the door, eyes wide and horrified that he realized he had been screaming the entire time.
"Eren, you have to be quiet or they'll hear us." Mikasa said, her voice a feather above a whisper, hands tight around a kitchen knife.
The sound of footsteps against wooden floors below kept Eren's mouth shut, his form trembling slightly as he heard a quiet groan. Light seeped in through a hole near them, and he crawled towards it, making sure not to create noise. To his right, his mother dialled someone on her phone, fingers trembling too much to press the right buttons.
Slowly, Eren lowered his head, right eye positioned over the hole.
What met his sight was Hannes, or what was left of Hannes.
The man's blond hair was now painted a dark red with blood, but it was his face that shocked Eren. It had been torn off, the skin ripped as if someone had taken a bite. Muscle and veins still oozed with blood and Eren had to force himself not to vomit as the intense smell reached his nostrils.
As the body moved further into sight, Eren cringed back, stopping just in time from letting out a scream of terror.
Everything from Hannes' waist and down was gone, leaking a steady flow of blood from what seemed to be his intestines.
Eren sat back, unbelieving. That should have killed his neighbour. No one would have been able to survive something like that.
Then, he remembered the scene outside his house.
A man with his entire right leg torn off, running after the newspaper boy with blood gushing out of his mouth, a crazed, hungry look in his eyes.
A girl, Eren recognized her from school, her name was Sasha, and she was covered in blood all over, a knife sticking out of her chest as she ran after Connie, another friend of Eren's.
They had all been dead. Should have been dead.
How can they still move?
Below him, what was left of Hannes dragged itself towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms, blood covering the path in his wake.
"We need to get out of here." He forced out, panic settling deep in his stomach. They were going to get killed if they stayed here. They were going to get murdered, eaten and they'd become like that man with his right leg torn off, like Sasha, like Hannes.
"Mikasa, we need to get out of here." He turned to her, saw her nod as she held the knife tight in her hands.
"Mom, we need to go. We have—" Eren turned to his mother, words dying, as the wood beneath Carla gave away.
Her scream of surprise was cut short as the tell-tale groans reached Eren's ears.
"H-Hannes! Oh, o—oh, my God!" Carla was screaming and sobbing and it took a second for Eren to move, to do something.
"Mom! MOM!" Eren screamed, crawling towards the broken wood. Mikasa appeared beside him, calling out to Carla.
His mother was pressed against the wall, her phone clutched tightly in one hand and a vase in the other. Hannes had crawled all the way towards, bloodied arms reaching out grasp her.
"Mom, wait, I'm coming to get you!"
"No, go! Eren, Mikasa, run! Get away from here! Get up the roof and find help!" His mother shouted at them, urging them to run as she jumped away to avoid Hannes' searching hands.
"Not without you!"
"No, go, please. Mikasa, take Eren and go! Find your father!"
Mikasa was shaking her head, tears glistening in her eyes as Eren refused. He didn't want to leave his mother, not to whatever had become of Hannes.
"For once, listen to me and run!" Carla screamed, throwing the vase against Hannes head. The body gave out a low groan before continuing towards her.
She looked up to him, clear brown eyes wide with fear. "Please."
Then, Eren was being pulled back and he fought against Mikasa's grasp on his shirt.
"No, I'm not leaving. Mikasa, let me go!" He struggled, he really did, but—damn—Mikasa was really strong and he was slipping away from the hole, from his mother.
"Mom, I'm not leaving you!"
Carla Jaeger wiped her tears, despite the tremble of her body. She smiled, eyes never leaving the opening where Eren and Mikasa's face had been.
They'll survive, she knew. She had to believe that. Eren and Mikasa were strong, where she was not. They'll live.
A hand grasped her leg and she screamed as Hannes pushed forward and he bared his teeth.
A slap against his face forced Eren to wake up. Blurry shadows and light met his gaze, and he felt the cool breeze against his skin. Taking a moment to rub away the sleep from his eyes, Eren blinked until the images straightened and he was looking up at Levi's frowning face.
"You were screaming." The older man said, his eyes fixed on Eren. Despite the chill, he felt an inexplicable warmth rise up as Levi's hand steadied on his shoulder, fingers lightly kneading the muscle.
"'ightmare." Eren mumbled, still half-asleep with his mother's screams reverberating inside his head.
"Obviously."
As Levi turned away and moved towards the motorcycle parked a few feet from them, Eren took the time stand and stretch, pushing away the nightmare from his mind. His mother died five years ago but the memory was still as vivid and horrifying as it was back then, like it just had happened yesterday.
Turning around, Eren surveyed the expanse of the rubble around them. It had been a risk, venturing out to the ruins of Shiganshina to find refuge. The district had been one of the first to fall, the dead overtaking the town in a matter of hours. They had no idea where they came from, or how they were made, but one thing was obvious: an insatiable hunger for humanity.
When they had arrived last night, Eren and Levi had expected to meet a horde of the dead. It unnerved them, especially Eren, when the whole town seemed abandoned. There were no bodies, no blood or fires, nothing but debris and dead dreams and ghosts. Staking out at what seemed to be the former town hall, Eren and Levi had taken turns to keep guard as the other slept.
His eyes focused on the older, yet unusually shorter, man's figure as Eren walked towards him. The last five years had been nothing but darkness for Eren. Following their mother's last command, he had fled with Mikasa. They had managed to ride a truck escaping the city, along with forty other people, people who had lost husbands, wives and children to whatever creatures were preying on them.
They had arrived at Trost in a day, and found the city under siege. All communication across the country was down. The armed forces had been setting up blockades and gates, and they managed to slip in before the trade routes were closed and the city gates shut.
Eren had thought that he and Mikasa were safe, despite having no news of their father's whereabouts. They stayed at the evacuation center, leaning against one another as the sound of gunfire and artillery reached their ears. A month later, Trost had fallen.
The dead had overrun the gates, breaking into the undefended inner city. Eren and Mikasa fled in the chaos and horror, and it was there that he first learned how to use a gun. With the need for survival powering their bodies, they had managed to survive the first onslaught. When the second wave arrived, and Eren had thought they would never live to see another day, a military jeep appeared and a man named Levi called for them to jump in.
It was the three of them for past few years.
Had been, Eren thought miserably as he brought the red scarf up his face, inhaling the faint smell of lilies. Mikasa.
The thought of her still pained him.
It was a year ago, when the three of them had sought shelter in the blockaded city of Stohess. For four months, they had lived there in peace. The military had taken extra measures to ensure that the blockades remained strong, and they even brought in heavy artillery to support the troops. Despite the ceaseless echoes of gunfire and cannons and screams of death, the three of them managed to cultivate some semblance of normalcy back into their lives. Mikasa volunteered to help provide food for the evacuees and the soldiers, while Eren worked at the factories, manufacturing ammunition and weaponry to supplement the city defenders. Levi, who used to be a Colonel serving with the forces stationed in the fallen city of Karanese, had volunteered for military duty at the perimeter.
It had terrified Eren and Mikasa, as Levi had become an integral part in their lives, teaching them how to fight, use guns and survive. When the blockade had fallen, Levi was the first to reach them. He grabbed whatever supplies and weapons they had stashed away and, once more, ran for their lives.
"Oi, Eren." Levi's sharp call broke Eren out of his dark musings, striking the boy with a heated glare. Eren looked down, a bit ashamed. Levi knew he was getting held up on his memories again.
"How many times have I told you to stay alert?"
Eren clenched his jaw, angry at himself. "Many times. I'm sorry."
Levi approached him, hand grasping him by the scarf and pulling him close. "What would Mikasa think if you get killed because you were being an idiot?"
The younger male swallowed. Mikasa had died when they escaped Stohess. Somewhere along the way, the military jeep they were using had broken down.
The engine wires had been chewed off. As Levi hurried to power an abandoned motorcycle, Eren and Mikasa had fought to push back the coming dead. They had been relentless, incessant, and no matter how many fell, more had appeared. When Levi had powered the motorcycle, Eren and Mikasa ran back. Eren had just sat down when a hand grabbed him by the side. It was one of the dead, and its hold on him was strong. As Eren struggled to pull away, the others inched their way closer. Mikasa had sacrificed herself so that Levi and Eren could escape. She had pushed herself against the one grabbing Eren and ordered Levi to drive.
With great strength, she had pushed one off her as another grabbed her leg. Instead of fighting it, as he had expected, she grabbed the scarf around her neck—her favourite, a gift from him—and threw it to Eren.
"Take it with you, Eren. You know I'll never leave your side." She had said that softly, eyes sad with resignation.
Eren had refused, reliving the nightmare of his mother's death, except this time it was Mikasa. He knew, deep inside, that there was nothing he could do as Mikasa was pulled into an alley, the dead pooling in. He knew that neither he nor Levi could have saved her, but as the older man sped away, Eren couldn't stop himself from hitting Levi until he exhausted himself, sobbing against the expanse of the man's back. Mikasa had not screamed, not even once.
As Eren looked into Levi's eyes, he knew he didn't hate the man. It had taken a while, but he knew that Levi had made a hard choice. It was either to stay and fight and all three of them could die or sacrifice Mikasa so he and Eren could escape. He had chosen Eren, and it had been the two of them for the past year.
"We'll need to refuel in a while. I don't like how quiet it is." Levi spoke, pulling Eren back to the present as the man tapped the motorcycle's handle. Eren nodded, feeling the same. It was very unlikely for a fallen city to be so devoid of the dead. It was like there was something else going on.
Waiting. Bating for a chance to strike. Eren hated the feeling.
"Do we still have food left? I don't think there's much here." He asked, rummaging in the bag of supplies they carried.
"Enough to last us a week at most, if we quarter it properly." Levi answered, checking the bullets left in the gun strapped across his right thigh. "Water's running out, though."
Eren searched through the supplies, pushing away rations, flashlights and batteries and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Opening the map, his eyes sought for Shiganshina, a red circle around the name. "There's a river, half a mile to the east from here."
"We'll head for there, then." Levi replied, holstering the gun back to its strap. Eren looked up and took in the man's pale face, saw exhaustion written all over it. He knew he looked no better.
It was tiring—struggling to survive each day amidst the death and famine that reeked across the entire country. Eren had lost count of the times he wanted to end it, lost count of how many times he stared at the gun by his waist and imagined pushing it against his temple and just putting an end to whatever horror his life had become. He wanted to—so much, to be honest—but he remembered his mother's words and Mikasa's sacrifice. They had died, believing in the idea that he would live, surviving them and carrying on their legacy, their memory. Eren wasn't going to disappoint them by chickening out, no. He was going to escape this hell and live for them.
"Not until we've had breakfast. You need to eat, Levi." Eren chided softly, closing the map and placing it back in the bag. He opened another bag, pulling out two cans and a knife. Handing one out to the man, Eren plunged the knife into the metal and opened the can, the smell of preserved food reaching his nostrils.
Giving the knife to Levi, Eren grimaced as he tipped his head back as the food sloshed down his throat. It was nowhere near a feast, but it was enough to sustain them. Beside him, Levi made a noise of disgust.
"Never getting used to this crap." He said after, throwing the empty can to the side. Eren nodded in agreement as he emptied the entire can. The taste of pork and beans remained in his throat, even after he had washed it down with water.
At least I'm full. He thought, approaching the pile of blankets he had slept on an hour ago. Folding it and stowing it away in the supply bag, Eren turned to Levi, a questioning glance thrown towards the older man.
"I'm going to look for a gasoline station, here. I'm not keeping my hopes up, but I'd rather exhaust all possibilities than set off and praying that we don't lose gas in the middle of a horde attack."
Eren nodded, agreeing with him despite the fear that throbbed for a second in his chest. He knew that there were no guarantees, they both did. He knew that the possibility of being attacked in the next twenty seconds, or in the next twenty hours was high. He knew that things, especially now, did not always go the way they expected them to, and Eren had resigned to the idea that one of them could die soon.
Still, he felt frightened whenever one of them had to venture out and look for supplies while the other stayed behind and kept guard. If he could, he'd never let Levi out of his sight. The man was all he had left. Eren honestly didn't think he could go on if the man died.
As if he could read the younger's thoughts, Levi patted Eren's arms. "Hey, I won't go too far and I'm bringing a flare gun with me. If I see just even one of them, I'm firing it. I'll need you to bring the bike to me, alright?"
Eren nodded, feeling a bit relieved. Levi simply smirked, and without warning, pulled the younger man close. They had done this a hundred times, but it still made all the blood in Eren pool in his groin and across his face.
When Levi had released his lips, Eren blinked before turning away to force down the blush on his cheeks. Behind, Levi gave a low chuckle before handing a flare gun to Eren. "Here's another. If you see one of them, fire that first before taking them on. If you can't, fight and find a safe place before you fire the flare gun. Understand?"
In spite of whatever they shared, times like these made Eren remember that Levi had been a soldier. The urge to reply with a "Yes, sir" almost came to his lips, but Eren simply nodded.
He watched as Levi sheathed the flare gun to its holder by his chest before giving Eren one last glance and running off. He followed the man's retreating figure as Levi climbed over a topple column before turning a corner and disappearing.
Eren sighed as he climbed up the bike, feet resting over the pedals. He checked to see if the key was already inserted, in the case of a quick getaway. Turning around to ascertain if the bags were secured, Eren began his vigil.
Levi glanced behind him, sharp eyes surveying the ruins of the suburbs of Shiganshina.
"So far, so good," he whispered to himself as his fingers tightened around the trigger of the gun in his right hand. A sudden movement on the left made Levi turn fast, gun aimed. A ripped shirt swayed in the wind, hanging from the end of a steel wire.
Taking a few seconds to take note of the surroundings, Levi shook his head before relaxing his posture. The silence that met his ears was a fickle comfort. While it meant that Eren was still alright, it also heightened Levi's restlessness. Back in his days as a soldier, silence had always meant that something big, something bad was about to happen. It usually meant a trap, like a sudden ambush.
Fuckers probably not smart enough to make one, the more rational side of his mind reasoned out that the dead were most likely unable to plan something as complex as an ambush. Normally—as normal as circumstances like these get—the dead simply plod forward, relentless in spite of heavy gun fire. He had never met one of them that was smart enough to hide in the dark and wait for its prey to surrender to a false sense of security before striking. That was animal—human—instinct.
Then again, Levi reminded himself that the dead weren't the only ones they were up against. In times of chaos and—well, total shit—people lose sight of what was right and wrong and simply fought to survive. How many times had Levi been forced to put down men and women who had gone mad as their instinct for self-preservation put harm in others' way? A man who was willing to kill his own friends so that he could escape was more dangerous than a swarm of the walking dead.
Turning to another corner, Levi brought his gun up, eyes roaming over the buildings. There was no gasoline station in sight.
Levi was sure that there was still some left in the bike, but he had doubts about whether or not it was enough for them to drive off to wherever they were going. That was another matter that he wanted to bring up later with Eren. They only had risked entering Shiganshina because it was less dangerous to rest in a city than in the open fields. At least, in Shiganshina, if shit really hits the fan, they could barricade themselves in. An open field meant an easy death for the two of them. The dead were known to amass by the hundreds in wide expanses of land.
His lips formed a cruel smirk as a thought popped up in his head. Even the dead found safety in numbers, or was it predation? Lions hunted in packs; guess the dead followed the same route of thinking.
Still, whether or not Levi could find gas around here, it would be folly to stick around for more than a day. Two days meant suicide; for some odd reason or other, the dead had the uncanny ability to track down groups of people. Even if it were just Eren and him, Levi was not willing to risk waking up to a swarm of the dead because he liked sleeping under a broken roof. He was not risking Eren's life for that, no.
Kicking away a branch with his boot, Levi wondered when the younger started mattering to him so much. He wasn't sure if it started when he first saved him and Mikasa—Levi breathed against the painful throb in his chest at the name—or when it was just the two of them now. He wasn't sure if what he was feeling for Eren was genuine or just some need of comfort in the midst of pandemonium but he knew, without a doubt, that the boy was the only thing that kept him going.
It had killed him to leave Mikasa behind, but he knew that no matter how good he was, had he stayed to fight, they would have never survived. Mikasa knew, Levi had seen it in the fierce glare of determination in her eyes. Mikasa had known the odds, and she made a choice. She chose Eren.
Levi gritted his teeth, remembering the look of knowing in Mikasa's eyes even when she was being pulled into that dark alley. She had known that Levi would choose to save Eren, and she was alright with it. Still, Levi wondered about how much Mikasa knew because there was something else in that look, some sort of understanding, like she knew how important Eren was to the man.
"Fuck this," Levi muttered as he picked up a rock not larger than his fist and threw it across the rubble. It hit the doorframe of a run-down house, breaking into smaller pieces, dust flying. The sound of stone against wood resounded in the silence, echoing distantly.
Immediately, Levi raised the gun and struck the butt across his temple.
"What the hell am I doing?"
He should have never thrown that rock. The noise was loud enough that if there any of the dead nearby, they would be swarming in no time. Eyeing the area he had struck, Levi watched the shadows of the dilapidated house, expecting a gruesome, decaying parody of the living jumping at him.
Silence resumed, and Levi allowed himself to breathe. Running his free hand through his hair, Levi tried to calm himself down and think straight. He had to find a gasoline station, and if he couldn't, he would double back and talk to Eren about getting out of here. They can't stay in a God-forsaken place like this.
He almost missed it, but as he turned, his eyes caught movement in the house. Immediately raising his gun, index finger on the trigger, Levi eyed the house once more. He was sure something just moved.
His eyes focused on the broken windows, trying to glimpse into the darkness. A single pane remained, and Levi could see himself reflected. It gave him some measure of comfort. At least, he could see if something moved behind him.
Flickering his eyes away from the window but making sure to keep his senses alert, Levi looked towards the door. There was a large, vertical hole on the door, like someone rammed a pole and pulled it down.
Or like someone pushed a pole to keep something out.
When his eyes took note of the lower part, he spied a journal or notebook of sorts. Its cover was dark, bathed in dust and dirt but it looked readable. A part of him wanted to ignore it and continue on, but another was curious. It could be nothing, he told himself. It could be a mother's planner, or a shop owner's ledger. It could be some schoolgirl's diary, or a dying man's final wishes.
It could be pointless and unimportant.
But it could be something else, the curious part whispered.
Levi knew, in his time as a soldier, that while guns and cannons and hand-to-hand combat meant strength, wielding knowledge was just as much an indicator of power. When used well, knowledge could save more lives than a semi-automatic gun.
There was a big chance that the journal had nothing of importance, but he felt that it was too rare an opportunity to pass up.
Torn, Levi quietly growled. He hated these kinds of things.
Heaving a sigh, Levi slowly inched forward, making sure to put one foot after the other in complete silence. As he approached the door, he made sure to keep his eyes open and his other senses alert. There was no telling what lay inside the house, or behind him.
As the distance between him and the journal closed, he paused. He made a quick look to where he was before, surveying the surroundings for anything that was moving. When he found nothing, he quickly turned back to the open door, gun drawn forward.
Quietly, and as quickly as he can, Levi raised his foot from asphalt to the wooden floors of what used to be the living room. Making sure that it wouldn't creak, Levi placed all his weight on the other foot, crouching to reach his left hand out. When his fingers took hold of the journal's spine, Levi grasped it tightly before pulling his hand back. Journal to his chest, Levi recoiled back against the wall, eyes wide. He waited silently, expecting something to jump at him. When half a minute had passed and the silence remained, Levi took one last look at the house before moving away, gun still drawn.
Resuming his earlier position, Levi glanced down at the journal before flicking his eyes toward the rubble in front of him. He wanted to read what was inside, but this wasn't the place for it. It was not safe to be distracted in somewhere like this.
Deciding to read it later when he was back at camp with Eren, Levi placed the journal inside the small bag locked to his belt. It fit snugly amidst the first-aid kit as he zipped it shut, eyes not leaving his surroundings.
With that matter done and over, Levi resumed his search for a gasoline station, slowly climbing up a flight of steps before making a turn. As he slipped past the wall, he failed to notice a figure looking out from the broken window of the run-down house.
It had been an hour since Levi had left to look for gas and Eren had been uneasy since then. At first, he had thought it was just himself being emotional but he realized that it wasn't about Levi being gone that worried him, it was the quiet.
Years of running for his life had left Eren with wounds that couldn't be seen but still bled, but it also left him with a honed instinct of self-preservation. After seeing friends and people die, to only resurrect back to life as one of the dead, had trained Eren to know the threats of many situations.
Back then, when everything was still normal, silence meant peace. Now, silence meant something unusual going on.
He was not sure if it was his paranoia rearing its ugly head at him, or if it was because he was used to hearing gunfire and screams but Eren knew, deep down, that when everything was quiet, it meant that something was amiss.
Taking the gun out of its holster by his hip, Eren pulled the safety switch and evened his breathing out.
A chilly breeze swept by, tickling his cheeks. He brought the lapel of his coat over the other, cocooning him in a bundle of warmth. Winter was still a few months away, but he could already feel the cold. The tall, uncut grass by the side swayed with the wind, a faint crinkling noise breaking the silence. Leaves flew from the ground, twirling across the air like fireflies before flying off to God knows where.
Everything was silent again.
Eren looked back to where Levi had ran off, eyes taking in the toppled column nicked with what seemed to bullet rounds. Allowing his eyes to venture down, he took in the sight of rubble across a pavement, leading to the standing remains of a wall. Turning around, Eren eyed the decrepit buildings—most likely houses—that turned towards a corner, a broken door swaying limply.
"Chill down, Jaeger. Stop jumping at ghosts." He told himself, burying his nose into the scarf. He took a deep whiff, inhaling what little remained of Mikasa's scent on the red cloth. She had loved wearing this scarf, always had. Eren had given it to her during Christmas, when he was eleven and she was nine.
"I like it," she would always say. Even when their mother told her that wearing a scarf in the middle of summer was unfitting, Mikasa always insisted.
As he breathed in her scent, Eren knew Mikasa's last words were right. She'd always be with him.
A crunching noise—like foot over stone—broke Eren out of his musings, gun brought up. Immediately, he turned around, eyes appraising his surroundings. The sound had come from where Levi had ran off earlier, but there was no movement. Well, not where could see. The toppled column covered most of what lay behind it.
Could be a stray animal? Unlikely, he thought back. When legions of the dead started appearing, people weren't the only ones they preyed on. Anything that moved, that had life, was a target. Dogs, cats, even birds, became food for their insatiable hunger.
People weren't also the only ones that became part of the dead. There had been a lot of times when Eren and Levi would encounter rabid dogs, jaws snapping as blood dripped from their teeth. They would bark and howl like mad before jumping at them. It was only pure luck and honed senses that allowed them to take those down.
Compared to the human dead, animals were much more dangerous. They were fast and had senses far greater than humans. A resurrected dog could sniff out living people from a great distance, and it could bring others in its wake.
Usually, the appearance of animal dead meant that human dead were nearby. It was almost unnerving when Eren thought about it—how the animals scouted first, the humans following after. It reminded him of how the police would sniff out meth-producing factories masquerading as houses, letting the dogs in first before they followed through.
The way the dead acted sometimes reminded Eren of intelligence, as if they were...sentient.
Shaking the thought, scary as it is, from his mind, he looked back to the row of houses behind him. So far, nothing had moved or was unusual. As much as it seemed calm, Eren didn't want to be lulled into a false sense of security. It was usually in times like those that the predators make their move.
Another crunching noise and Eren's head flashed to the toppled column so fast that his neck hurt. Ignoring the tension, Eren raised his gun, pointing towards the column. It was good distance from him and the bike, around thirty or so paces. If it was an animal dead, even if it was a dog, it was far enough to give Eren ample time to start the bike and drive off. Only by vehicles could he escape them.
Still, Levi hasn't arrived and he'd rather wait for the man than run off without him. Remembering the flare gun Levi had given him; he took it out of its holster and curled his finger around the trigger, the gun pointing upwards. The moment he knew what it was behind the column, he would fire.
There was the chance that it was Levi, but if it was the man, he would have made himself known by now. No, whatever was behind the column wasn't Levi. The time interval between those two crunching noises was too far off to be footsteps. In fact, it gave Eren the idea that whatever was behind the column was sneaking, like it was testing something.
That wasn't right.
In the five years he had faced the dead, he had never met an intelligent one. There were times that some of the dead would act abnormally, like one of them would suddenly start running while the rest continue to prod slowly. He had met a couple of those deviants. Most of the human dead he could avoid by outrunning them, but encountering those deviants meant battle.
Back when they were still together, the three of them had agreed that if they ever encountered normal human dead, it would be prudent to save ammunition and just avoid them. Encountering deviants and animal dead meant that they had to fight or else they ended up dead.
If it was a deviant, Eren had to put it down first before firing. He knew Levi wanted him to alert the man first, but if it really was a deviant, the time it would take for Eren to fire the flare gun would be enough for the deviant to get close to him.
Not only were deviants unusually fast, they were strong as well. He remembered a deviant running off to grab a child and bite the entire head off.
Unsure and equally uneasy, Eren raised his gun and—
He gasped, turning around as something grabbed his other hand and—
"Move, we have to go." Levi spoke, not responding to Eren's obvious surprise. The younger moved back, eyes returning to the column as the pounding in his chest intensified, his gun still drawn and pointing.
"Something moved over there." He said as Levi climbed up in front of him. Without having to be told, Eren holstered the flare gun back to its holder and wrapped his free hand around Levi's waist, feeling the clench of strong muscle beneath the man's shirt.
"Well, whatever it is, it'll have to catch up to us first." And, without warning, Levi turned on the engine and drove. The suddenness almost made Eren lose hold of the gun, but he managed to grasp it tight just in time as Levi brought the motorcycle to the street and drove down.
Instead of the path near the row of houses that Eren had been checking out earlier, Levi turned and rode down a new path. Eren was about to question him when he looked back and saw a swarm of dead approaching from the corner. Some of them were exiting from the houses, the faint sound of hungry groaning reaching his ears.
Then, from the toppled column, something jumped and ran after them. Eren cursed, eyes taking in the sight of a deviant chasing them. It was a man, half his head torn off but his mouth was wide as blood gushed from it. It was still far-off from the bike, but when Eren turned back to the road and saw a corner where Levi would turn, he knew the deviant would catch up.
Making sure to keep his other arm secured around Levi's waist, Eren angled his body backwards, gun pointed towards the deviant. He pulled the trigger and shot, narrowly missing his target. Cursing, Eren shot again, hitting it across the chest. It stumbled, hands flailing, before resuming its fast pace.
"Stop shooting like a pussy, Eren, and shoot it." Levi barked, eyes still on the road. Eren gritted his teeth.
"I'm trying." He shot again, and the bullet went straight into the eye socket. The deviant halted, a groan leaving its throat, before stumbling down across the asphalt.
As Levi drove through the corner, Eren turned back and placed his gun hand over his other across Levi's waist. The streets were empty, save for the debris littering the sides. There was an overturned car by a house that seemed to have been on fire, and when they passed it, Eren's eyes took in the sight of a human dead crawling out the doorway.
"Where the hell did they come from? They weren't here last night." He shouted over the noise of the bike's engine.
Below him, Levi turned his head a bit to answer, and a chill swept down Eren's spine. "Something brought them here."
The sun was high up in the air, slightly covered by thick overcast clouds, when Eren watched Shiganshina fade into the distance. The open fields met his gaze as he turned back in his seat, slightly squinting as the wind struck at them in full force. Behind him, the tail of the red scarf flapped raggedly. Towards the open fields, the grass danced along. A couple of flowers stood out from the green, amidst the falling leaves of nearby trees and unmoving boulders.
As he looked down on the man under him, Eren noticed that Levi had neither slowed down nor relaxed the immensely tight grip on the bike's handles. Quietly, he holstered the gun back to its strap.
It was okay, for now. They were on the move, and save for deviants, no one could catch up to them, not at the speed Levi was driving.
Slowly, he placed his palms across the surface of Levi's chest. Feeling the muscle slightly quivering under his touch, Eren smiled despite of what had transpired hours ago. Carefully, he pressed on the muscle there, allowing his fingers to knead softly. He wasn't sure if Levi made a sound or reacted in any way but Eren continued on, splaying his hands downward. He massaged the tight clenching of Levi's abdominal muscles.
As he did so, Eren pressed himself across Levi's back, delicately placing his chin over the man's shoulder. Lips to the shell of an ear, Eren spoke calmly. "It's okay now. You can slow down."
Eren sat back up, hand still gently rubbing Levi's sides, thumb grazing over tense muscle. Slowly, he let himself a small smile of victory as he felt the bike slow down until it retained a calm pace. The wind was no longer slapping across his face, instead it was slithering past his skin like smoky tendrils.
Levi drove towards the side, stopping once they've gotten off the road. Turning the engine off and cocking up the stand with his boot, Levi let go of the handles before heaving out a tired sigh.
"I lost control," the man said, voice a hair above a whisper. "I—I panicked."
Eren rolled his eyes. Leave it to Levi to overreact to such things. "It's understandable. We didn't know they were there, and we were unprepared. Given that situation, it wasn't wrong to get out there as fast as possible."
Levi did not reply, and Eren knew that the man was probably beating himself up for losing his calm like that.
Choosing to ignore that, since he knew that Levi would get over it soon, Eren stretched out the kinks in his back as he looked around. Opening one of the bags, Eren managed to pull out the map.
"Where did we exit Shiganshina?" He asked, eyes tracing over the city's district.
Levi half-turned, eyes locked on the map. "South."
After a moment, Eren spoke. "We're at least half a mile away from the city now. So, where do we go now?"
Levi turned back, eyes on the road before them. The stretch of open fields seemed endless and daunting.
Eren raised a brow. "Well, we can't stay on the road forever. Speaking of, did you find gas?"
Levi shook his head. Eren sighed. Not only were they in the middle of nowhere, there was no gas.
Remembering what Levi said earlier, Eren perked up. "Hey, what did you mean when 'something brought them here'?"
Eren knew, the moment he felt Levi's body stiffen, that something was wrong. The man did not speak for a while, his hand clenching one of the handles tight. The younger waited, knowing that Levi would not keep something important like that from him. After what seemed like ages, Levi answered.
"We weren't the only ones in Shiganshina."
Eren froze as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. "What?"
"There were others, living people, in Shiganshina. They had a jeep, had weapons but they brought the dead with them."
People in Shiganshina? Were they looking for refuge like Eren and Levi?
Eren ventured a question. "How many were they, the ones alive?"
Levi took a moment before answering. "A dozen, I think."
No wonder the dead swarmed the city. A group of twelve living people was enough to bring all nearby dead close. That was what made the dead terrifying, their uncanny ability to search out grouped people. Like a cat smelling fish, the dead poured in and feasted on people. That was why barricaded cities had so much defences installed, despite the safety provided by the walls, it also called out to the dead like a beacon in the darkness.
"A—and the dead?"
Levi shrugged. "I couldn't keep count. They were everywhere, from the houses, the sewers, the wreckage. Everywhere. There were so many deviants, they just kept on coming and coming. I didn't even try to fight. If I had, they would have noticed me and I would have never been able to get to you."
Eren turned away, recalling the one that had hidden behind the column. He whispered to himself. "What were they doing there in the first place?"
"I think they were looking for something." Levi spoke, bringing Eren's attention back to him. Silently, Levi turned to the bag strapped to his belt and opened it, bringing a black journal out. He turned, and without word, held it out to Eren.
The younger picked it up, confused. The journal was covered in dirt, but it seemed readable. Without waiting for instruction, Eren opened the cover.
"Property of Erwin Smith, Commander of the forty-ninth division." Eren spoke along quietly as he read. There was a big chance that Levi knew this man, seeing as he was a former soldier but he would have time for questions later.
As he continued to skim past the pages, eyes taking in the words written, Eren felt the blood drain from his face and the pounding in his ears intensify.
This is...what the hell. Eren was torn between hope and doubt and the manic desire to really verify if what he was reading was true. He looked up, saw Levi looking at him with a deadpan expression.
"Is this true?" he asked, breathless.
"I don't know, Eren. It seems too far-fetched." Levi replied, his words cool. Eren frowned, the hope in him dying slowly. His gaze fell back to the pages of the journal when Levi raised his hand and turned the pages over until it reached one with a hastily drawn map. The word "Shiganshina" were written over an expanse of land, an arrow tracing a path due west.
"What about it?" Eren asked, confused. Levi pointed to the left page, fingernail over what seemed to be a splatter of blood.
"Touch it." Levi said. With a curious glance towards the man, Eren pressed his thumb over the dark red blot. He was about to question the purpose of it when his words died in his throat.
"It's warm."
Levi nodded, his expression going dark. "Yes and whoever was holding that just recently died."
"What does that mean, Levi?" Eren asked, eyes looking back and forth between the blood splatter and the drawn map.
"It means whoever was holding that journal was on his way to somewhere."
Eren focused on the map, Shiganshina, and his eyes traced the arrow going towards the west. There was a name of a city there, written in capital letters and encircled a lot of times, as if the author wanted to emphasize its importance. "Praceos? The capital city?"
Levi nodded. Eren frowned. "So, this place—this ship of sorts—is at the capital?"
Again, Levi shrugged. "I don't know, Eren, but it makes sense. The seat of government is at the capital, and I'm sure they'd rather be the first to escape this hell than us."
Eren kept silent, unsure of what to say. His eyes fell back to the journal in his hands, at the diagrams, photos, notes, everything.
"Eren, what are we going to do?"
He looked up, and Levi was watching him again, but his expression had softened despite the lines of worry clouding his face. Eren looked down at the notes, the words underlined by this Commander Erwin.
ESCAPE TO SEA
FREEDOM
END TO THIS NIGHTMARE
He looked up, determination powering his body. "Praceos it is, then."