A/N

My first complete fic. Started for myself, finished for a friend. It was suppose to be a simple one chapter warm-up story but it stretched out longer than I had anticipated.

I would really appreciate critiques. By which I mean, if you see anything you think is awkwardly placed, excessive, not enough, inconsistent, or just straight-up bad writing, tell me. I need opinions outside of close friends.

I don't like portraying the infected like they have any sense of humanity left but I really love the idea of the Hunter and the Smoker having a kind of Spongebob-Squidward relationship after they turn. But...on a more feral level, I guess.

From a small alleyway, a tall, shadowed figure cautiously shifted towards the street. The figure, a man, kept as close to the wall as his lanky frame would allow. He had eyed the alleyway up and down, desperately, for anything, but, aside from broken beer bottles and soiled couch cushions, came up empty. He had no weapons, no form of defense other than his own two hands that, even if they weren't violently shaking, probably wouldn't have proven much use anyway. He groaned and continued his pathetic shifting forward.

The closer he got, the more apparent the full repercussions of his plan were becoming - his plan being: find an opening and run like hell.

Still suctioning himself to the wall, he peered out into the dimly lit street. For as far out as he could see it was clear, save for two infected mindlessly pummeling each other a few yards away. They were obviously preoccupied and would pay him no mind. Hopefully.

As the man looked for a general direction to run in, the full weight of his situation was becoming more and more apparent, making his stomach tighten. He leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed and half-listened to the slap fight raging in the background.

"Fuck, this is a terrible idea..."

He waited a few more seconds, then, with a deep breath and a sudden rush of adrenaline, he sprinted out of the alley and into the open. He weaved his way through the abandoned cars and small body piles with minimal trouble, tripping only once over some woman's barely attached arm. He still had no idea where he was going and was desperately hoping for some sign of a hold-out or other survivors. He had been with a small group from his apartment for a while but, only a few hours in, they were overtaken. The fact that he had survived by the skin of his teeth was nothing short of a gross oversight by whatever celestial force humanity had managed to piss off. He had seen no sign of survivors since.

He was starting to feel the rush fade as his breathing gave out. The large intakes of cold air and the overbearing scent of rotting...everything were only making it worse. He stumbled forward a few more steps and rested his hands on his knees. He really hadn't made it very far.

"Goddamn it this is a terrible time to be out of shape" He managed to huff out between labored breaths.

He started to regain himself and walk forward when everything suddenly became...fuzzy. He staggered to the side as a hot pain shot up his left arm. It moved onto the left side of his face and practically sizzled in his mouth. He suppressed every urge in his wrecked body not to scream out in pure agony, but the effort turned out to be useless as he blindly stumbled forward – the world spinning in a million different directions – and ran smack into a car. There was a split second of absolute stillness as his mind tried to focus on what was happening when the high pitched squeal of Satan himself suddenly began reverberating from the car.

"No! Fuck, NO!" His vision still swimming, the man tried to run but he hit the car again. The screams of the thousands of infected spread throughout the city cried out in unison and the ground started to rumble.

"NO!"

He managed himself around the car and painfully trudged towards the nearest building, the burning sensation coming back for more. After tripping twice, he fumbled around until he found a door that wasn't boarded up and slipped inside. The roar of the infected was deafening now and he knew he needed to get out of there fast. With his limited vision slowly coming back, he scanned his surroundings. It looked like the stairwell of a hotel – a hotel that was probably already run-down before all this shit even started. The horde outside was mercilessly clawing and banging on the door so he begrudgingly began his trek up the metal stairs. 'Maybe...if I can just get to the roof..'

There was a sickening crack as the door was ripped apart and he looked back in horror to see the zombies pouring into the building. Ignoring every sensation in his body, he fell into a dead sprint.

"nonONO!NO!NO!NO!NONONONONONONO!"

They began crawling through windows as he stepped onto the second floor. He slid around a corner and practically hobbled up more stairs. The pain was unbearable now and he had completely lost sight in his left eye. The tripping over dead bodies and running into walls wasn't helping. He was only on the third floor and his endurance was all but gone. They were practically on top of him now; he couldn't keep this up any longer. 'I can't die...not now... please...'

He started to slow down

when afigure dropped down in front of him from the floor above.

He felt claws and teeth digging into back as the blurry figure grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. The only details the man could tell as he drifted between consciousness was that the figure was wearing a hood and was not letting go of his arm.

He stumbled as he was forcibly yanked up the stairs behind this stranger. He winced as the claws and teeth extracted from his back, the teeth taking bits of his outer shirt with them. They came up to a door on the next landing with a security lock and the hooded man wasted no time kicking it off its hinges and into the hallway. (Okay, he wasted a little time since he had to kick it a few times, swearing profusely, before it finally fell through, but that's not important. )

As far as tripable objects went, the hallways were a death trap compared to the stairwell. Even more bodies piled in a tightly condensed area, abandoned service carts, toppled vending machines, suitcases, more walls: all things the hooded main dodged without a second thought while the taller man he forcibly dragged behind him was praying for the horde to catch up before he fell face first over another service cart. He still couldn't see but in heavy red blurs and the pain in his face had subsided to an intense throbbing. He could, however, still hear the very adamant infected trailing uncomfortably close behind. They veered into a large meeting room and closed the door to give them more headway. The taller man leaned against a wall to catch his breath but was once again being pulled into more running. There was another door at the other side of the room that connected to a separate part of the hotel and they continued through there. The hooded man could feel the other guy literally dragging behind him and groaned, "Shit, come on, man! I'm risking my ass saving you. Don't make me regret this more than I already do."

The taller man shot him a glare and opened his mouth to say he never asked for his goddamn help in the first place but, instead, a horrendous series of coughs crawled up out of his throat and all the pain came rushing back. And it brought friends. Both of his arms, all up and down his torso, and his face felt like they were being stabbed repeatedly with a branding iron. He felt so disgusting and so sick; he couldn't go any farther. He dropped to his knees, throwing the hooded man way off balance as he was pulled back. The hooded man threw his hands up in exasperation, "Okay, I know you're not in the greatest shape here but we CAN'T STOP NOW! GET UP, GET UP!" The taller man made a weak effort but ultimately ended up even closer to the floor. There was a loud succession of bangs as the infected began pushing themselves against the meeting room door. The hooded man looked anxiously back and forth between the direction of the horde and the lump, face planted and groaning pathetically, in front of him. He could see he only had one option at this point.

He contemplated putting the guy on his back so running would be slightly easier, though heavily weighed down, but the guy was almost two heads taller than him and he couldn't see that ending well. So he did possibly the most inconvenient thing for him at the moment: quickly putting the guy's arm around his shoulder, he lifted him up and led him on through the hallway. He had some kind of awkward jogging thing going for a while but, without the team effort, he realized he was just wasting energy. He glanced at the lifeless bundle he had slung around his arm and sighed, "And now you pass out on me. That's great. Thanks, man. You're lucky I'm apparently a fucking saint today. Seriously. You're going to owe me some eternal servitude or something if we survive this"

The resounding crack of the large meeting room door falling through sounded in the distance and he tried, unsuccessfully, to quicken his pace. After a few run-throughs of the hotel on scavenging missions he knew its layout semi-well by this point. One thing he knew for sure was that there was a convenience store directly connected to the hotel on the North side and they were almost there. If they could just jump from a window to the store's roof, they might lose the horde. The ground shook as the tidal wave of infected began closing the distance. The hooded man tried his weird jogging thing again, "Come on, come ooon! We're almost there!" He anxiously read the numbers of the rooms they passed. 320...321...322...325...

"327!" A small sense of relief sparked inside him. They might actually make it out of here! But it disappeared quickly when, for only a second, he looked at the doorknob and...didn't...know...what...to do with it. He just stared at it blankly for a moment, completely at a loss.

It snapped back to him quickly and, after mentally cussing himself out, he turned it

only to find it locked.

"GODDAMN IT!" He kicked at it twice and it swung open.

The horde rounded the corner and was on top of them quicker than he had expected. He ducked into the hotel room and shut the door; though, with no working doorknob now, he had to hold himself against it so it wouldn't swing back open. The other guy, who the hooded man had just kind of dropped in the middle of the room, began to stir. He slowly sat up and looked around with an expression of indifference as he tried to figure out what the hell kind of party he was at last night. Then he remembered he never went to parties and became more concerned than confused. It wasn't until he heard the charming call of, "HEY! DUMBASS!" that everything suddenly came back to him. He turned to the same man from earlier holding himself against a door as something banged into it violently, "Get a desk or something. I don't care. Get SOMETHING! They're about to freaking claw through this door and, by extension, me!"

The guy on the floor hesitated as he assessed his surroundings,

"No, it's cool. Take your time, man. Not like it's the goddamn apocalypse or anything"

He was just glad that he could see again, kind of. He still couldn't see out his left eye but his right seemed to be cooperating. There was this... weird feeling in his mouth though...

"DUDE!"

Oh, right. That guy. He scrambled to his feet and immediately felt a little dizzy. He brushed it off and started pushing the huge deal the TV was sitting on towards the door. The hooded man jumped away from the door as the wooden...TV...holder...thing...was moved into place. They pushed everything they could manage to move against the door.

After everything was piled, the two stood next to each other and observed their handiwork. The taller guy sighed, "So, what now? Are we waiting until they get bored or..." He turned to look at the other guy but, just as he did, he heard the shatter of glass behind him. The hooded man had moved to the back of the room. The other guy turned to see him standing in front of a broken window, a wide grin spread across his face, "We get the hell out of here."

"...What"