Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia. Obviously.
Warnings: Blood and swearing, but more so in later chapters. And angst.
Italics - Flashbacks
Enjoy!
"Arthur."
"We're going to be going away for a while."
"Arthur."
"Take only the most important things."
"…Arthur?"
"Hurry! They're coming!"
"Arthur!"
He woke up with a gasp. Peter stared at him from his seat in front of the campfire, with a slight frown on his otherwise emotionless face.
"Your turn to keep watch."
Arthur got up slowly, wriggling out of his tattered sleeping bag.
"Right. Thanks for waking me up."
Peter shrugged, crawling into his own sleeping bag.
"Watch out for zombies."
Arthur shivered as a gust of wind swept through his hair. A crow's call echoed through the night forest that surrounded them.
It's been two weeks since the first infections. 10 days since the first zombie and the beginning of the panic. 6 days since the TV reports turned into repeated recordings and the government collapsed. 5 days since the phones and Internet went down. 4 days since they had to leave.
3 days since he last spoke to anyone except for Peter.
2 days since Peter stopped asking if Tino and Berwald were okay. Years since Peter last shed a tear in front of Arthur.
The last time Arthur saw a live report on television, they said that 25% of the world's population was gone. Arthur assumed it was probably about double that now. 50% of the world, gone in less than a month.
It was like a countdown to insanity.
An apocalypse, they said. The end of the world. Arthur didn't know what to call it. When was it the end? Could you still say it was the end when there were people still alive? People were still fighting; whether that was brave or stupid Arthur did not know.
Arthur never believed in zombies. Everyone talked about them, but Arthur had no interest in it. It was a trend, and nothing more.
Just weeks later he was escaping his home with the younger micronation, heading on one of the last boats heading towards central Europe. People were going insane. The air smelled of sickness and everyone spoke only in hushed whispers. Some people cried. Some just sat and observed the world crumble around them. Some held tight onto ripped bibles and prayed for someone to hear them. Belongings were stolen. People were dying on a daily basis, whether they were bitten or murdered or it was something simple such as hunger. Cars all ran out of gas, and people had nothing else to do but wander the streets or go someplace else by foot. Humans were fragile.
Nations weren't affected as badly. Some stayed in their home countries, trying to keep their people safe and playing the job of their whole government. Some abandoned their land and went to see other nations, whether to work on a cure, which was almost hopeless because the government was gone, or just to survive with the company of a friend. Some, like Peter, were abandoned by their citizens and were forced to stay with another nation. Whether they were also affected by this disease was yet unknown.
Arthur poked at the slowly dying embers in the campfire. Three nights of this and he was already tired. He'd seen countless people die. He'd shot countless people who were already dead. It had only been a week and he was already numb.
He heard a crack in the bushes and his hand shot to the gun beside him. They hadn't run into too many zombies yet, but he'd seen enough to know he already had to be ready. Not just for himself, but for Peter as well. In fact, more for Peter than for himself. Peter was fragile. It was Arthur's responsibility to take care of him, despite the fact that they never were close.
Arthur wouldn't deny it, he wished things were different. He wished they were closer, he wished he actually had the heart to be a proper older brother from the start. Peter's silence told him it was too late.
"Peter. Wake up."
Arthur shook the smaller figure lightly, wincing as the thin line of sunlight shone through the trees. Ash scattered the ground. Arthur picked up his bag, which was already packed, and shook the younger one again.
"Peter. We need to leave soon."
Peter groaned as his eyes fluttered open. He slowly crawled out of his sleeping bag, and packed it up silently.
"Are you ready?"
He nodded.
"Alright. Let's head off."
They didn't have time to change the clothes they'd been wearing for the last four days, or eat, or do anything they would've done on a normal morning. They walked in silence, an occasional bird call filling the air. Arthur stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Peter, what day was it?"
"It's the 24th."
He spoke blankly. Arthur glanced over, and the young boy's face was blank as well.
"Right."
He ran through the map in his head. After so many centuries, he knew the world by heart.
"Paris shouldn't be too far."
"That's where we're meeting Francis, right? On the outskirts of Paris?"
"Exactly. Away from the city, so hopefully the zombies won't be so bad." Arthur scratched his head.
"Arthur."
Arthur stopped, turning around to see Peter frozen, staring at something in the distance. A lumbering figure, growling softly and slowly crossing their path.
"Peter, stay back. I'll handle this." Arthur approached, hands on his weapons. One knife, one shotgun.
"Remember, it's the brain you need to hit." Peter whispered softly behind him.
"I know."
The zombie, who hadn't noticed Arthur yet, dragged his rotting feet across the dirt. A man, in his late 20's. Bits of blonde hair managed to stay on his head, and the scraps of clothing that remained seemed of what the latest fashion was, back when everyone still cared. He reminded him slightly of Alfred. Arthur felt a pang in his chest and he drew a sharp breath. The corpse turned around, growling.
Arthur hesitated, but only for a second. Drawing his blade, he stabbed it through the dead man's head. Blood spattered on Arthur's face, and he cringed. The body fell swiftly to the ground.
He knew it wasn't Alfred. He could tell, even with the man's mostly decomposed face, that he was a stranger. Not Alfred. His hands shook as he got down on his knees to rummage through the pockets for anything of value. All he found was an unused cigarette and a candy wrapper.
"Why did you hesitate?"
Arthur gasped and dropped the things in his hands.
"Peter! Please, don't scare me like that."
"Sorry." The micronation shrugged. "But really, why did you hesitate?"
Arthur paused.
"He…"
"For god's sake Iggy, I'm the United States of America! I'll be fine, I promise."
"He looked a bit like Alfred."
"Oh." The micronation opened his mouth, but closed it once again. "We should get going."
Arthur glanced at the corpse once more, and followed Peter into the woods.
"Alfred? It's me, Arthur."
"Artie? Hey! How're things going?"
"Okay, I suppose."
"Artie."
The voice on the other side chuckled lightly.
"You don't have to lie."
Arthur paused.
"All of Peter's citizen's have left."
He bit his lip.
"I'm assuming he's with you, then?'
"He's sleeping now."
Arthur could almost see Alfred smiling sadly on the other side.
"Tell him I said hello."
Arthur looked over at the sleeping boy on the other side of his room.
"Will do."
They both went quiet.
"…How bad is it over there?"
Arthur peeked out the window.
"There's a lot more out at night, but it's still not too bad since I live farther out in the country. It's most likely a lot worse in central London."
"Most likely? You haven't checked?"
"No. Peter and I haven't stepped outside in two days."
He stopped.
"I think we're going to have to leave soon though."
"I'm at one of Mattie's resorts in the Rockies in Alberta. Figured we wouldn't be in as much danger in the mountains, and Canada doesn't have a very big population in the first place."
"I see. How's Matthew? I meant to call him next, but if he's with you I might as well talk to him now. Is he there?"
"He's asleep. We spent the whole day trying to contact everyone we can, and I think it tired him out. He's never had as much energy as me."
"And were you able to contact anyone?"
"Not much luck. We got a few words in with Ludwig, but we were cut off. I think I heard Feli in the back though."
He could hear Alfred chuckling.
"Oh, and Artie?"
"Yes."
"You know Mattie and I are gonna fly over there."
"Alfred, don't be ridiculous. That's too dangerous."
"I'm not kidding. I've got a few spare planes back in the States, and Mattie's got a few too. Mattie's worried sick about Francis, he wasn't able to get in contact with him since this all started."
Arthur sighed.
"There's no stopping you, is there?"
"Nope." Arthur could picture Alfred grinning.
"Tell Matthew Francis is okay. I talked to him a couple of days ago and his phone reception was pretty bad. I think it's completely dead now, but he said he's going to stay around where his second house is on the outskirts of Paris, and we're hoping to see him there. Fly there if you're going to come see us."
"Will do. And if we're not there in a week, well…"
He didn't need to say anymore for Arthur to understand.
"Same goes for us. A week from now, if we're not there, head back. You're most likely safer back in North America."
"Alright. Talk to you late-"
"Alfred?"
He paused.
"Be careful. You and Matthew both." His voice cracked. Alfred paused, then chuckled softly.
"For god's sake Iggy, I'm the United States of America! I'll be fine, I promise. I'll take care of Mattie."
Arthur smiled.
"Alright. See you soon."
"Bye, Artie. You be careful too."
Arthur put the phone down. He let out a shaky breath, and sunk to his knees. Tears streamed down his face, and he covered his mouth to keep himself from sobbing.
He couldn't lose them. Any one of them. Alfred and Matthew could take care of themselves now. Francis may be an airhead, but he was serious when he had to be. Peter would find Tino and Berwald, and they'd see all the other nations and everything would be fine.
They were strong. They would all get through this.
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