Finding another living, breathing human being in the post-apocalyptic world was not just an difficult task, but an impossible one. Kate Beckett never expected to find anyone, let alone Richard Castle. After saving him from certain death, they form an alliance, which soon leads to the realization from both of them that they finally found a reason to keep living. Caskett AU/Zombie Apocalypse
A/N: I've been trying to write a zombie apocalypse fic for a while and i finally found a premise that worked. Hope you enjoy. There will be 14 chapters :)
ONE
Kate Beckett sighed as she gazed out the small circular window looking out across the seemingly never-ending forest of identical trees. A crow swooped down into her line of vision and alighted onto the branch of a nearby tree, its feathers ruffling in the breeze. Kate watched it as it was the closest thing she had to visual entertainment that afternoon; another day in paradise.
Born and raised in Manhattan, Kate never expected to wake up to the sounds of chirping birds not honking vehicles, to smell the morning dew on leaves and not the rotting garbage from the streets, to see leaves and twigs and not a spec of concrete in sight. Sure, for short periods of time when she was on vacation it had happened, but for over one hundred days straight? The treehouse was beginning to feel like home, or as much as a home as she could have or might ever have again.
Seven months earlier—before the virus—she had been living her life in the city. Getting up, going to work, spending her days seeking justice for those whose lives had been stolen from them. She honestly never thought there would be a time when she wasn't a detective, when she wasn't living in the greatest city in the world.
Evidently, the world had other plans.
A groan and scraping noise called Kate's attention away from her absentminded observation of the crow. She moved from the porthole-style window to the opposite side of the treehouse where a glass French door led out to a small balcony seated twelve feet above the ground. Cautiously, Kate wrapped her fingers around the handle and swung the door open slow enough that a squeak could not be heard from its hinges. One step out onto the deck and she saw it.
Shuffling its way along the leaf and moss covered ground several hundred feet from her treetop haven was a mangled figure. Male judging by the large frame and short hair—well, the hair on what was left of the scalp, anyway. The figure's clothes were ragged and torn, as though he were homeless or playing a hobo in one of Manhattan's many stage productions, but this man was no actor. He wasn't even a man; not anymore.
Kate would never forget the moment she saw her first reanimated corpse. It was burned permanently in her mind's eye just as plain as the other life-altering events were. Sure, she had heard the rumors, but they sounded like sheer lunacy. People coming back from the dead? Wasn't possible. There had to be an explanation—an actual, legitimate, medical explanation. Like, for instance, the victims weren't actually completely dead, therefore they were not alive again but alive still. Besides, all those rumors were filtering in from the west coast and who knew how altered the stories could become after traveling three thousand miles.
Seven months earlier, standing in the New York City Medical Examiner's office, Kate spoke with her colleague and friend, ME Lanie Parish, about a victim found in Central Park. The man possessed no outward signs of trauma or wounds of any kind, yet he was dead. As they mulled over the possibilities, the body began to elicit sounds and move its limbs. Both women were stunned and remained frozen for thirty seconds before Lanie began lamenting that she was certain the victim had been dead. As they watched, the man began to writhe and move on the examination table and Lanie reached out to calm him down. With sheer horror, Kate watched as the man grabbed Lanie's hand with incredible strength and sunk his teeth into the flesh of her forearm. The bloodcurdling scream from her friend as the victim gnawed on her muscle and bone would haunt Kate until her dying day.
Even after Lanie succumbed to her wounds forty-eight hours later, Kate still could hardly fathom it. A strain of the flu, the doctors had called it, made worse by an extra cold, extra damp winter. Kate's gut told her it was something else right from the start and, come March, once the snow had melted and the population had been cut down by nearly a third, the altered state of the world told her that her gut was, most unfortunately, right.
Hovering near the edge of the deck, Kate watched the zombie migrate across her de facto back yard. When a rock in the ground altered his path, she could see the exposed bone of his lower jaw; most of his teeth appeared to be jagged and broken off. She wondered if he'd done it on his own by biting down on clothing or metal not meant to be eaten, or if someone had done it to him by trying to fight him off. Either way with limited teeth he was a limited threat—especially from up in her treehouse.
With a slow exhale, Kate turned to enter the shelter again. As the breeze was atypically cool for midsummer, she decided to leave the French door open to air out the stifling atmosphere inside the treehouse. The moment the electricity had turned off for good four months earlier Kate knew it would undoubtedly be the thing she missed most. The week prior, when the temperature had been a sweltering ninety-three for four days in a row, she knew she would have given her life's worth for air conditioning. Unfortunately, that was a wish that would remain unfulfilled so she could only hope she adapted quickly to her new version of normal.
For the next ten minutes, she wandered aimlessly around her space, straightening a few things that had fallen into disorder, brushing some dust off a bookshelf with a dry cloth. She was just about to settle down with a book when she heard another undead grunt. That time, however, it was accompanied by a voice that was most certainly still human.
"No! Shit! Shit!"
In an instant, Kate hopped into action. She grabbed her gun from the centrally located table and charged out onto the balcony to observe the scene taking place in the clearing. Several yards away a man stood with his back to her as he faced his two undead assailants. One, a woman, dressed in what were once lavender pajamas but now were marked with filth every few inches, was clearly an adult, but either the man was very tall or she was very small (or some combination thereof) because the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. He was able to keep her at bay by continually shoving at her stomach with his raised foot.
The man's central focus was on his other attacker. As the man's head blocked her view, Kate could not determine the gender of the second zombie, but she guessed male due to stature. She could hear the snapping of that zombie's teeth and watched as his arms clawed out towards his would-be victim. Though Kate readied her pistol, she could see the man had a large knife in his right hand and was attempting to stab the larger of the two zombies through its eye socket. He missed several times but ultimately hit his mark and the zombie crumpled to the ground, now silent. Turning towards the smaller attacker, the man repeated the process with the woman until she too no longer growled or writhed.
Kate observed the man now safe from imminent danger as he turned so that he was side-on to her. She could see a straggly beard that appeared to be several shades lighter than the hair on his head. This led her to presume it was peppered with white or gray hair. He wore a red and blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled at the cuffs and jeans that appeared torn at the knee. Slung over one shoulder was a khaki colored backpack that hung quite limp against his back. He took one step and then two towards the tree that held her house and then, much to her shock, he dropped to his knees in the moss. A moment later, his knife hit the ground and he began to sob.
In the beginning, Kate had seen many varied reactions to the need to damage the brain of a zombie so it was no longer a threat. Emotional reactions like crying or physical reactions like vomiting were common, but this nightmare had been going on for over six months; these could hardly be the first two undead he'd taken out.
Kate remembered her first; a colleague of hers at the twelfth precinct she found moaning and groaning in a bathroom. Granted, at that time, the cop in her chose a gun to be the weapon of choice. Guns were detached; guns were easier. Unfortunately, guns were also loud, and, as time went on, ammunition was limited. Thus, she had to switch to a knife as well, and the first time she'd pierced a skull it had made her stomach flip, but she'd gotten over it. The only time she'd truly been upset was when she had to take out a child zombie she estimated to be around twelve. The child was biting at her without prejudice, so she had no choice. Still, it had made her curse the world for what it had become, so in that respect she could understand the man's emotional response.
Several moments after he began to cry, Kate could hear what sounded like him speaking or praying. He was still about a hundred feet from her, so it was hard to make out clearly, but the gist quickly became plain.
"Please. I can't take this anymore. I can't. I just want it to stop."
His begging caused the hairs on the back of Kate's neck to stand up. What had this man seen or been through to make him think that way? Had he lost a wife and children? Had he been a victim of some sort of robbery or attack? Kate had heard the stories and witnessed cruelty on several occasions, which was the main reason she kept to herself in her treehouse; it was yet another reason to hate the degraded state of the planet.
Cautiously, Kate took a step further out onto the balcony to get a better look. Her eyes fell on his knapsack, now hanging from the crook of his elbow, and how it crumpled against the ground. If he had any food or water in it, there certainly wasn't much. She considered helping him—tossing a few water bottles and a box of protein bars off the balcony edge—but wondered if he'd see them. The treehouse was incredibly difficult to see from the ground level—which, as it happened, was one of the main reasons she liked it so much—so she would probably be able to help him without revealing her location, but would he find the goods or would her attempt be fruitless?
Just as she was contemplating her options, more groaning caught her attention. She moved to the far corner of the balcony to be able to see around the edge of the treehouse and spotted a sight that made a cold sweat break out on her forehead. A herd of at least a dozen undead were moving through the forest and headed directly towards the kneeling man.
"Get up." She coached under her breath. "Get up and move; you can still get away."
But the man was a statue. The zombies were quickly closing in on him and he remained in his kneeling position, his arms limp at his sides.
"Damn it—get up! What are you doing?!" She spoke a little louder that time, though not nearly loud enough for the man to hear her.
The growls and grumblings grew louder as the zombies drew nearer. Surely the man had to have heard them. Surely he must have known what was about to happen. Was he truly giving up? Would he just let them destroy him?
Kate weighed her decision for half a second, but decided she couldn't simply watch the man be torn apart. With skill she flipped the safety off on her weapon, braced her forearms against the railing of the balcony, and fired two quick shots. Both met their target and shattered the skulls of the two zombies at the front of the pack.
The echoing gunfire in the clearing evidently terrified the man back to reality. He yelped, leapt to his feet, and took off running, leaving behind both his knife and knapsack. He sprinted while looking behind him not forward and thus only ran for a few hundred feet before his right shoulder clipped a tree branch and he was sent sprawling to the forest floor.
"Shit." Kate cursed under her breath. She ran back into the treehouse, stuffing her gun into the back of her shorts as she went, and flipped open the trap door in the floor a few feet away. She heaved out the rope ladder and waited for it to hang straight before beginning her decent, still not entirely sure what compelled her to save this man.
The moment her feet landed on the ground, Kate fought the urge to clamp her hands over her mouth and nose. The pile of corpses she'd lined up at the base of her tree did wonders for keeping most of the zombies away—not to mention any humans that might happen to pass by. The smell wasn't even that bad up in the treehouse, but every time she had to descend to ground level especially in the summer heat it was an exercise in strengthening her gag reflex.
Knowing she had to focus, Kate took a quick breath in through her mouth and hopped the zombie protective line before sprinting off towards the man. She shot two more approaching zombies before finding the man pushing himself up from the ground with shaky arms. "C'mon! Get up!" she commanded of him.
Presumably startled, the man fell flat again, rolled onto his right shoulder and gazed up at her as though she were the Ghost of Christmas Future. When Kate's gaze met his ice blue eyes she was struck with an odd sense of familiarity, yet she in no other way recognized this man.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
She ignored his question; this was no time for introductions. "Just get up; c'mon!" Annoyed at his lack of movement, she reached down, grabbed his arm, and pulled as hard as she could to aid him in getting to his feet. By that point, the zombie line was closing in, but with two additional well aimed shots she gave them enough clearance to race back to the rope ladder.
"Go; I'll hold them back."
The man tentatively placed a hand on the ladder rung and asked, "Is this a tree house?"
Good lord! What was with the questions!? Did this man have no concern for his personal safety? Annoyed she grunted, "Jesus just get inside!" while holding her weapon at the ready. Fortunately, he did as instructed and after picking off one too close for comfort zombie, she jumped up on the ladder and scurried her way to safety.
With a grunt, Richard Castle hoisted himself up off the rope ladder and onto the wooden floorboards of the treehouse. He rolled onto his back on the floor to give his mysterious saviors room to ascend. Then, gasping, he rested his palm flat against his chest and attempted to calm his heart rate. He honestly could not remember the last time he climbed a rope ladder; he probably hadn't since he was a child, but he definitely did not remember them being that tricky. Then again, perhaps it was not as much the difficulty of the ladder as it was the fact that he hadn't eaten in several days.
When he heard the ladder rattling against the trap door opening, Rick lifted his head just enough to see over the edge to see that the woman was ascending and, thankfully, there were no zombies on her tail. Exhaling with relief, he rested his head back against the floor, shut his eyes and took a few more deep breaths to reflect on the prior ten minutes of his life.
Traipsing through the wilderness of Northern New Jersey, his needs had been basic: food, water, and a place to rest that night. He had no idea if he was traveling in a straight trajectory or simply wandering around in the same circle over and over again, but he knew he had to keep moving or he'd die. Ironically, by that morning, placing one foot in front of the other had seriously begun to feel as though it were killing him.
His fifth attack from the undead in as many days was enough to break him. He was hot, tired, and starved. He had no idea how many days had passed since the last time he'd been robbed of his belongings, but he guessed it had been around a week. The days ran together, particularly as his level of consciousness diminished. Fortunately, he had found the knapsack containing a water bottle and two unbelievably stale candy bars. Without it, he surely would have been dead. Still, he was barely living.
Wandering around like he had been, there was no guarantee of finding any of the three things he desired most and with the exertion he needed to stave off his latest attackers, Rick's tank had been drained well past the "E" line and so he'd collapsed and broken down. He was ready; he was done.
This world—the one that had once been so full of positivity and hope—was no longer one he wanted to live in. Even after the worst had happened, he never considered giving up, but at that point he had no idea how much worse the "worst case scenario" could become. He truly didn't know if he had the energy to fight another day. Besides, even if he had all the internal motivation in the world (which at that point, he did not) he knew that soon his lack of nutrition would do him in.
When he'd heard the zombies in the distance, Rick had faced a moment of calm. He didn't know how many there were—clearly, more than one, and that was all he needed to know. Perhaps, that was the moment he would choose; it would take away the wonder; it would be on his terms. He wouldn't have to face the knife or gun of another human trying to steal what was left of his meager possessions in the world. He wouldn't wake up to the feeling of one of them gnawing on his flesh. It could just be over and, in that moment, over felt like the best alternative. Then, she'd happened.
It had all happened so quickly. The gunshot he felt certain was targeted at him. His flight response, crashing into that damned tree and then, suddenly, like an angel sent from the heavens she had appeared. She had saved him and—dare he think it—given him a second chance.
When the woman's head appeared above the trap door, Rick sat up and pushed himself out of the way, giving her clearance to climb into the treehouse. She did so with a hundred times more ease than he, and then turned quickly to hoist the rope ladder back up into their haven. Rick reached out a hand to help her, but with his energy depleted he feared he was making it worse, so he merely moved across from her so he could slam the trap door shut once the ladder was clear. With this task complete he looked up at her and asked, "Who are you?"
"Shh!" She hissed over his last word. Then, in a whisper she said, "We need to stay quiet until they pass."
Rick nodded and sat back on his haunches, using their moments of quiet to observe both his savior and his surroundings.
The interior of the treehouse was unlike one he had ever seen before. While it was wooden and rustic as he would have expected, it was also expansive with a seating area consisting of a loveseat and two chairs and adjoining dining area, which contained a four seater table. If he was not mistaken, in the opposite corner there was also a kitchenette. Though he sat on the floor, he believed he could see a sink, which made him instantly curious as to where the water came from.
When his eyes landed on the woman across from him, Rick was almost left breathless from her beauty. Her brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail near the top of her head. Her makeup-free skin was dotted with freckles, which made her seem young and carefree. He estimated her to be around thirty years old, maybe a few years younger. Though her prominent cheek bones and pink lips were stunning, her hazel eyes were what attracted him. She was strong, determined and, if he was not mistaken, sad. He certainly could relate to that final emotion—one hundred percent.
For the better part of ten minutes they sat on the floor until the woman began to move. She climbed slowly to her feet and walked over to the glass door and opened it carefully. It was only then that Rick realized the treehouse must have had a deck or balcony. Clambering to his feet, he followed her and hovered at the edge of the doorway as she gazed over the deck's railing.
"There's two hanging around by your bag; they'll probably wander off soon."
Rick nodded. "Okay."
"Would you like some water?"
He fought the urge to drop to his knees and plead with her. Instead, his throat feeling as dry as ever, he croaked, "Please. If you have some to spare."
When the woman nodded and walked towards the kitchen area, Rick wandered out onto the balcony to take in the view. Though his attention had clearly been elsewhere as he approached, Rick would have liked to think that a treehouse the size of this one would have been noticeable to him. It was only outside that he realized why it hadn't been. Instead of having a normal wooden or siding exterior, the exterior of that treehouse was camouflaged with branches and leaves. Thus, someone not paying attention on the ground would have had a difficult time noticing it amongst the other foliage in the forest.
"Here you go."
Castle turned and accepted the small water bottle she held out graciously however, the moment his hands closed around the bottle's neck he gasped and nearly dropped it from shock. "It's cold!" he observed aloud. Strange as it was to think, he had not felt anything cold in months—not since the electricity went out. Seeing as they were in the middle of summer, he doubted he would feel anything cold again until the winter months set in.
She pointed upwards and explained. "Solar panels on the roof means a little bit of electricity on a sunny day like today. The fridge seems kind of like a waste, but I'm no electrician. I don't know how to redirect the power, plus I'm not sure what I'd direct it to, so cold water on a hot day seems just as good a use of any."
"It's amazing!" Rick proclaimed before guzzling down half the bottle in just two gulps. Though he still wanted food, the chilled water was an amazing lift to his spirits. He finished the remainder of the bottle in three swallows before asking the woman once again, "Who are you?"
"Ah," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair back up towards her ponytail. "I'm Kate."
"Rick," he said, holding out his hand to shake hers. She grasped his for a moment before turning and walking back into the treehouse.
Kate. So his savoir had a name—a beautiful name. His interest in her really was expanding by the second. Ducking back inside, he found her reaching up into the cabinets over the counter.
"You're not allergic to peanuts are you?"
"No. Why?" he responded. Without words, she tossed him a single serve packet of the nuts which he grabbed from the air with delight. After thanking her, he ripped open the pack and dumped a third of it into his mouth, chewing them as fast as his jaw could work. Even though they were plain and barely salted, he'd never tasted anything so delicious!
"So, um," he began after chewing through his first handful of nuts, "are you here by yourself?"
"Yes."
"You're not traveling with a group?"
"Not anymore. You?"
"Same." He confirmed with a nod. After throwing another batch of peanuts into his mouth, Rick considered the woman before him. She was a female alone in their post-apocalyptic society. Given what he'd seen, he felt concern for her safety. Then again, the way she'd taken out those zombies made it clear she could take care of herself. Still, her body language told him she was guarded and he couldn't blame her being that he was a total stranger, so he decided to explain his situation further in the hopes of putting her at ease.
"I was… I left Manhattan with my mother and daughter after it all went south, but they were both killed."
Kate winced and shook her head. "I'm very sorry to hear that. Was it recent?"
He dumped a few more peanuts into his hand and rolled them against his palm absentmindedly. "Ah, no. The days kind of blur together and I haven't been keeping track but I'm guessing at least a few months." With that, he threw the nuts into his mouth and turned away, hoping for a change of subject. The day he lost the two women he loved most—the one he easily regarded as the worst day of his life—was not one he wanted to talk about in any great detail.
As he finished off his peanuts, Rick heard a peculiar howling sound. It did not entirely sound like one of the undead, but it was definitely animalistic. Confused, he gazed out the glass door only to hear, "It's not out there," from Kate. Turning around he asked. "What?"
"That noise—it's Tux."
"What's a tux?" he responded.
She smiled and walked to the opposite corner of the room where there was a doorway he'd presumed led to a closet. Instead, she opened it, bent down, and stood up holding a black and white cat in her arms. "This is Tux." On cue, the cat let out a yowl that was surprisingly loud for a creature so small.
Rick's brow wrinkled. "Did you, um, bring your cat with you when you left home?"
"No." The woman let out a breathy chuckle before setting the struggling feline onto the ground. His tail flicked back and forth a few times before he crossed the room and began to sniff Rick's shoes and the cuffs of his pants with great interest. "I found him shut up in a house screaming his head off. His owners had left him five bowls of water and food. Not exactly sure what they were thinking, but he was almost out when I found him. And, I dunno." She shrugged and gave a fond glance towards the cat, which was now inching its way towards the balcony. "I probably shouldn't be wasting water on him, but he doesn't drink that much and it's not like I'm going to eat his cat food. Besides, he's funny."
"Good at jokes, is he?" Rick asked.
She shook her head. "No, he likes to play with his tail; it's amusing."
Rick watched the cat give up on his quest outdoors and instead prop himself against a wall and lick his hind legs. He'd never owned a pet, but given the horrors of what was transpiring around them, he couldn't say he faulted Kate for wanting a source of amusement, no matter how small. "Tux…short for Tuxedo?" he guessed upon taking note of the cat's white chest and black shoulders and back.
Kate hummed. "He didn't have a collar when I found him so I don't know what his name was before, but he responds to it now."
Again, Rick gazed around the treehouse. She had food, water, and even a pet. Clearly, Kate had been in this treehouse for more than just a few weeks, though from the way she spoke he presumed she was not its original owner. Curious as to her backstory, he asked, "About how long have you been here?"
"Sixty nine days."
Rick's brow rose at her specific answer. "You're keeping track?"
She walked over to the seating area and picked up a booklet from the table beside the couch. When she held it up, he realized it was a calendar. The prospect of being able to find the exact date was both exciting and terrifying to Rick. In a way, living with little concept of time almost made it more bearable, but in the end, he wanted to know what day it was, so he asked.
"July sixth." She told him.
Rick nodded. Okay, the date wasn't as shocking as he anticipated. He'd ball parked the day around midsummer so he had not been that far off at all. It was truly terrifying how short a period of time it took for the world to fall apart.
"Well, um, thanks for the food and water; you have no idea how much I appreciate it. If you wouldn't mind helping with the rope ladder I'll-"
"Actually," she cut him off, taking a step towards him. "You could stay if you wanted. On the couch—tonight."
Rick opened his mouth to respond, but nothing but unintelligible stammering exited. Was she…serious? They had barely met half an hour prior and knew almost nothing about one another yet she was willing to give him the unbelievably precious gift of shelter for the night. Maybe the world wasn't a completely terrible place after all.
"Kate, I…I'd appreciate that very much—you have no idea—but are you sure?"
She flashed him a rather wry smile. "You kind of look like you need a good nights sleep, Rick."
He all but laughed. "Desperately. But I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
She shrugged. "It's not a problem. Besides, ah." She paused and walked back into the kitchenette area, pulled open one of the cabinets and stepped back to allow him to view the stacks of packaged items. "I have plenty of food if you're still hungry."
Rick could feel the saliva forming in his mouth and prayed he wouldn't end up drooling in front of the beautiful woman. He'd never seen a sight more glorious than a cabinet full of food. "Yeah, uh, I could definitely eat a bit more but I…I have nothing to give you in return." His voice dropped as he spoke, certain the woman would turn him away if he could not offer anything insofar as a trade, but she surprised him once again by shaking her head and offering a smile.
"Don't worry about it; I'm just glad I can help."