(Zombieland fic time! The original idea for this story came when I watched the movie the second time. My OC? He's looking for life on other continents.)

(Disclaimer: I don't own Zombieland or any of its characters. I only own Scott.)

Heartless-Chapter One

I stand atop the building, watching the carnage below me, the misery that follows me, the pain that has become life.

Another survivor is down there. He used to travel with me, but I don't even know his name. I don't care. Best not to get attached. I ignore his screams for help, turning away.

Its his own fault. He should have kept up with me. I would try to save him, but its useless. Thousands of zombies are coming at him now, and I have no choice but to run.

I shiver to the core when I hear him yell, "Damn you! You'll suffer in hell for this!". He breaks off into screams. Screams of the dying.

I know. I know I won't go to heaven. I've done millions of horrible things in my life.

But that's necessary here in Zombieland.

I tip my face to the sky, noting the sun setting. Time to move on.

For the past few months, weeks, years, I don't know-impossible to keep time here-I've been searching in vain for the coast. I'm trying to find a boat of some sort to cross the ocean. I'm looking for a way to get to Scotland, where my family lives-maybe lived. I think that America was the only place to be hit, though I'm not sure.

I wish with all my heart that I'm not the only human left on Earth who doesn't have blood dripping from their teeth.

But how much better is one who leaves another to die?

I don't know that either. I don't know anything anymore. I only know how to survive. I pull my black cloak over my shoulders, brush some dark brown hair out of my eyes, and leap off the opposite side of the building.

Cool air rushes in my face, and I land in a pose, one leg out to the side, both arms steadying me. I look up, and almost fall in surprise, but not because I see a zombie.

Someone's standing there, staring wide-eyed at me. He's a teen of scrawny build with bushy brown hair framing his face.

"Hi.", he gasps.

I attempt to dart past him, but another man, tall, thickly built Southerner, grabs me by the shirt. I punch him in the nose, desperate to get away. He grabs my fist, then barks at the kid, "Who's he?"

"D-dunno, he just…fell.", the kid stutters. The Southerner grunts in response, releasing his grip on my shirt. I dust myself off, then glare at them, taking in their appearances, looking for weak spots in case they want to fight.

"I'm-"

"No names in Z-Land, kid.", the buff guy says. I blink, and he groans.

"Do I have to explain everything? Just call yerself the name of where your going!"

"Well, I guess I'm Scotland. And you two?", I ask, aware of my flashing eyes.

"I'm Tallahassee. He's Columbus. I'm guessing your Scott. Ya know, you're the first Brit we've ever traveled with."

I think about retorting against him, then freeze.

I can hear the zombies coming through the house, groaning and wailing.

"Run if you want to live!", I roar, dashing wildly down the streets.

Tallahassee calls out two names, and two girls kick the door of a nearby house down. They're both heavily armed, and ready for action. The younger one sees me, and blinks in surprise.

"RUN!", Columbus screams, chasing after me. He's pretty damn fast. Must have good cardio.

The other three exchange glances, then race after us-right on time. The zombies break through the house, blood staining the faces of the ones who had gotten to my fallen comrade.

I race down the streets, the bushy kid always beside me. At first he annoys me, but then I start to feel protective of him, pulling him away from corners before he slams into them. He's terrified out of his mind, and I'm no better.

Perhaps I'll actually help someone, and not leave them to die.

Perhaps I do have a shrivel of what I once knew of as my heart.

(Okay, that was a pretty good start, right?)