AN: Okay, so I kinda took a 2 week hiatus, and for that I apologize. It was not planned at all. But it did give me time to sort out my ideas about this fic, and In Fear in Faith. So my next few chapters I write should be at their prime.
Please, leave any positive/negative feedback.

Degrassi-tomorrow! Woo!

Disclaimer: The title is from the famous AC/DC song, and I do not own Degrassi, but I do own a zombie-he lives in my basement.

Summary: Eli is 22 years old, Clare is 21. The two have been together for 6 years, loving each other more than zombies love brains...Well. Degrassi/Zombie fic! Read, Review, Dance?

Chapter 1:

Her expressions are crippling as she grabs my hands, pulling me into a haunting embrace. Staring into her bright blue eyes, I almost want to stay here with her. Her broken down fragile state before me isn't the least bit dissuading. With my eyes roaming over her appearance, worry washes over me. I never thought I'd see Clare like this-with her blood stained dress, disheveled hair, and the puffy red eyes of sleep deprivation.

The tiny pitter patter of newly formed raindrops splash on the sidewalks and onto our shoes-her flats, and my converse. The rain is only a drizzle, a pathetic attempt to extinguish the blazing fires of the many broken and abandoned buildings along the streets in the town of Toronto.

We are interrupted by the too familiar sound of a hungry, guttural moan.

Turning around I meet the English Department Head of Degrassi High-where I once attended and taught-coming towards us from across the street. Clare lets out a slight hoarse scream, as her eyes lay upon the spy. Mr. Combs' eyes are a mixture of bloodshot and yellow which correspond with the rest of his face. His expression-or lack of one, blood soaked clothes, deathly odor, pale complexion, and decomposing skin lead me to conclude what I couldn't come to terms with before. After ensuring Clare's safety, by placing myself directly in front of her, my right hand equivocally grips the .45 Automatic Colt Pistol resting near my rib cage, in it's shoulder holster . My gaze drops to the disarray of what used to be his right arm , and I am reminded of yesterday when he tried to bite me.

He called me into his office after lunch to discuss my "teaching methods". To quote my all time favorite author, Chuck Palahniuk, I was Jack's complete lack of surprise-extra sarcasm. I had it coming, and I knew it was a warning, and was prepared for a, "You know you can't call your students, narrow minded brats, Goldsworthy. One more strike, and you're out!" …or something of that nature. What I wasn't prepared for, was the way he turned so quickly. One minute he was looking through my lesson plans and scrambling for the right words to say, then his body was over mine-his hands gripping tightly to my casual, but "professional educator" get up, and his new carnivorous, zombie teeth baring at me. My brain took a couple of seconds to click into motion, and realize what was happening, but once it did, my boss was on the floor, and I was backed against the wall. Self defense, Eli….Think. As he charged at me a second time, I used the chair I was sitting on to push him up against his desk and briskly exit the room. To my dismay, his arm found its way out of the door, clawing and thrashing to get a hold of me. His zombie strength was unimaginable. Regular Mr. Combs, looked as if he could barely hurt a fly, with his side part office haircut, out of style aviator reader's lens, protruding disproportional ears, and the same blue hued ties to match his olive green v-neck sweater vests. I had to slam the door shut a couple of times to close it, ultimately breaking his limb, causing a muffled, screeching cry from the other side of Mr. Combs' office. Backing away from the door slowly, I watched as his right hand fell to the floor with a loud thud, awestruck. What surprised me even more, was the way the fingers twitched after the dismemberment. I remember, the way I felt as my body stopped working, and I started hyperventilating. I was panicking, trying to force myself to wake up from this nightmare, but in that moment the surreal became real, the movies became true, and the zombie apocalypse had begun. Luckily the noises we caused weren't enough to stir any unneeded commotion in the Degrassi hallways. Needless to say I was in such a panic, I missed the rest of my afternoon classes, and ran home to my apartment.

Clare has always been my first priority, so when I found her sitting safely on our loveseat watching reruns of House on the Sleuth channel, and eating left over Chinese takeout, I was more than ecstatic. She had just gotten out of her college classes and was taking a lunch break.

"Eli?" she asked as I ran to her in a hurried embrace. "Eli…what's wrong?" she was surprised. Not wanting to scare her, I lied, "I uhm… I'm taking the rest of the day off." Skepticism leaked out of her pores, and an arched eyebrow appeared as she asked "How did you manage to get the rest of the day off? Did they call a substitute for you? Was this supposed to be a surprise?"

By then, I wasn't paying attention, peaking out the window blinds and locking the front door. "What?" I asked. Her eyebrow raised even further. Catching on, I replied, "Yes, yes, everything's fine". Lying to her was not easy, but again, I didn't want to startle her, or make myself sound crazy.

Of course, after everything we had been through she could see right through me, "Then why are your clothes all ruffled? Is that yoga instructor hitting on you again? Did he make a move on you?"

I laughed at her eccentric response to disprove her theory, but she still wanted an explanation. I couldn't just tell Clare that I was attacked by a zombie, she wouldn't believe me. There was a far better chance of her believing that the yoga instructor made the moves on me….

"Uh…yes! Yes that is exactly what happened!" I nervously lied. Clare looked furious, and she paced around the couch. "Well what happened?" She pressed on.

"Well… we kind of had a row" I continued to play the charade.

"And he tried to bite me!" That wasn't particularly a lie, "so I left" I added. "You know, honey," I continued to get my story straight "I am so tired of the lack of seriousness in sexual harassment, and until the school district corrects it, I will not be going back!"

She believed me, and soon concern washed over her face as she searched my body for any wounds. I reiterated about a million times that everything was fine, but by the time evening rolled around, the whole town became the walking dead-everything but fine.

Clare brings me back to the present as feel her body heat rise in terror close to me. As the infected corpse of Mr. Combs makes its way closer to us, I pull the handgun out of the leather strap with a new found confidence, and I aim at the zombie. I feel Clare's arms wrap around my waist in attempt to comfort herself. Mr. Combs moves closer taking what could be considered a step, in zombie standards, and I rise at the opportunity.

"By the way Tom, I quit" I say with my finger pulling the trigger. With the starting sound of a click, gunshot fills the air. Blood drips from the new bullet wound between the two eyes of what used to be Mr. Combs' head, seeps into the asphalt, and eerily satisfies me. Putting the gun securely in it's place, I turn my full attention back to Clare. Her arms still haven't found their way off of me, and her body is closer than ever. Trying to console her, my fingers run through her now, damp hair. Her presence is disarming, but I know we must part soon.

In my arms, the girl is stone, but I can sense her imagination running a marathon of what we have, and have not yet experienced, and contemplating on which idea is worse.. We stood there for what felt like minutes until she began to shiver. "Go back inside, Clare" I warn, motioning to the entrance of the Dot "You're going to catch a cold " She doesn't care as much as she should. It's obvious as she pulls me into a despairing, yet enticing kiss. Her lips quiver as they meet mine, goading me into staying. Her tongue contributes and allures me even further, but I pull away.

"Clare" My voice is rational, as I urge her to stop, my hands rest on her waist as she continues to try to kiss me.

"-Come back with me." She offers, whispering in my ear, but I can't give in. "The others can make their way back here." Her fingers lace behind my neck, but my face is blank, and I am a solid rock-her rock. I can't put her in any more danger. She has to stay, Eli, I tell myself. But parting is such sweet sorrow.

"Eli…Please." She looks me in the eye, and a solid tear-or maybe it was just another raindrop, falls down her cheek as she persists.

"Go inside." I reply raising my hand to her face. With my thumb, I attempt to wipe the teardrops and stray hair strands away, cupping her cheek.

"I have to go," I explain. "Mr. Simpson and the others are waiting"

"..L-Let me go with you" She is demanding, irrational, crying, and shivering.

I merely shake my head and mentally note that she's now in the third stage of grief: bargaining-at this rate she'll never smile again. We already established that it was much more safe for me to go and for her to stay, but I want to breakdown with her. I must be strong.

"I love you," I interject through a trembling bottom lip. My words are honest and final. She holds on tight, for this may be our last moment together.

She looks up into my eyes, once again, and I'm a student at Degrassi all over again:

I hand her the broken glasses I just ran over, and tell her she has pretty eyes.

I'm her English partner in Mrs. Dawes' class, rolling my eyes at the thought of us "replacing" Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath.

I'm on the park bench kissing her like Romeo kissed Juliet-for the first time.

I'm hunched over Morty trying to fix him in the parking lot, denying my obvious feelings for her.

I'm sitting next to her in my hearse, telling her about Julia.

I'm taking my French exam, unable to concentrate, replaying the library kiss in my head.

I'm on her doorstep with a bottle of Ipecac, asking her an unthinkable favor.

I'm in the dark hallway staring down a knife with her safely away from me, prepared for death.

We're on our first date, sitting at a table after Palahniuk's reading, my ear is throbbing with pain, but her smile is all that counts.

I catch up to her and tell her I'm not going anywhere, and reassure her that she's not losing everyone she loves- and she believes me.

It's funny how a zombie apocalypse can change everything.

I take her hands and remove them from behind my neck and set them down at her sides.

"Alli is hysterical back there-She needs you" I lead the conversation down a different route.

Grabbing my hands back, she rebuttals, and continues her course, "Not as much as I need you, we need you" She brings our hands to her stomach, and I refuse to have this conversation.

"Clare… We have to think rationally right now, remember? Your safety is the most important thing right now. This is the perfect hide out. Adam can protect you, you guys have food, water and shelter. Besides I wont be gone for long" After retracting my hands, I send her a smirk, I kiss her one last time-it's quick, like ripping off a band aid.

Walking her back to the two glass doors was by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I don't regret it at all. "I'll be back, soon. I promise". Her saddened face etches it's way into my memory as I turn and leave.

Taking in a deep breath, I inhale the smell of rotting corpses, along with stale smoke rising from the ashes as the rainwater finally douses the fires, and am reminded of my duty.