It didn't happen like everyone thought it would. There was no sudden ambush, and there most certainly was no hero jumping around trying to find a "cure". It was actually pretty calm and orderly for a short while, at least where Matthew was.
Matthew was a student, only 17 at the time of the outbreak. He was on a school trip during the summer to Switzerland, something he saved up the money for himself for two whole years. While they were in Bern, just walking among the streets like regular, American tourists (despite the fact that Matthew was, in fact, Canadian. He just lived in America), there was an alarm. And a calm voice said over a loudspeaker that everyone could hear that they should find cover. They didn't explain anything, but everyone was more than eager to comply. Matthew's group was boarded up in some family's house. They were kind enough to accommodate all of them in this time of need, they had a huge house but the last of their kids had moved out, so they were more than happy to help a group of 30 kids.
Matthew remembered hearing the girls near the windows screaming about two days later. Matthew hadn't seen anything, but the windows and doors were all boarded up. They ran out of food five days later. Some of the athletic kids went with the male teachers to go search for food. Matthew was perfectly okay with staying with the group. He kept hearing rumors about zombies and he just hoped it wasn't true. The group didn't come back.
Three days later, they sent out a search group with the best runners that they had. Sadly, Matthew was one of them. The street was incredibly bare, though there was no huge traffic jam that all of Alfred's movies said there would be. It was perfectly quiet, no lights on anywhere, though he was sure the power plant was still working. Matthew jogged along with the others, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to see.
It only took a few minutes for them to see the first one. Matthew had the image perfectly ingrained in his brain. It would have looked like a man, if it weren't for the mass amounts of blood soaked into nearly every part of his clothing. Part of his skull was missing and another part was hanging off and flopped around. His eyes were glossed over, but the worst part was his teeth. Skin, flesh, blood. The second it made eye contact with the small group of five people, it ran towards them, letting out the worst, most blood curdling screech Matthew had ever heard. Nothing like the moves or the video games or the books Matthew had read for Alfred's sake.
Everyone ran off in different directions and Matthew was relieved when the zombie didn't chase after him. But Matthew didn't stop running. He heard another screech behind him after too long and he didn't dare look back. He just kept running. And running. And running.
He was running out of juice after some time and he was sure whatever was chasing him was gone, but he kept going. He was in some bad part of town and he saw a little house with the door ajar. He checked inside quickly. It looked like it only had a few rooms and an upstairs. He closed the door quietly before checking upstairs. Someone left here, but not by choice, as evident by the blood stains everywhere. It smelled so bad Matthew had to puke in the toilet. He then moved to barricade the door as best he could with everything he found. There were already thick boards on the windows. He hoped that would be enough to hold off the zombies.
There was actually a lot of non-perishable food and Matthew was sure he could handle himself in there, alone, for quite some time. He would probably be better off on his own anyway, he reasoned. After testing the faucets, he gauged that he still had water and quickly filled up any container he could find with water, just in case it turned off in the future.
And he waited there. He didn't leave. He didn't open the door. No matter how many human screams he heard and no matter who banged at the door, Matthew didn't budge. He stayed alone in the house as long as he could, rationing everything out to the point where he forgot what it felt like to be full and well-nourished. Six months.
That was when he had to move. Six months. He had made sure he was still good at running while he stayed inside of that house. And then he moved on to another one. And another one after that. He wasn't some hero that could shoot through a horde of zombies, he knew that. He would just hide and avoid all contact with them. He could live that way. Besides, it seemed like there was no possible way for him to get back home anyway.
That was three and a half years ago. Matthew kept track of the seasons, not the days. He was alone for about two of them, by principle, mostly. He had eventually moved his way to Germany, making contact with no one. His voice was quiet from lack of use, but he didn't mind. It wasn't like he would need it anytime soon. And then he saw his first zombie in two years…and he had no way to defend himself except for run.
But there were more zombies. He had no idea what "kind" of zombies these were, Alfred forced him to be well-versed in any and all zombie types, or how they behaved, what their weaknesses were. But it appeared as though they liked to hunt in packs. Matthew had been more than willing to give up his life right there. He just had to hope and pray he didn't become a zombie. That was easy enough, he could do that.
He was, however, caught off guard by a flash of white. That was all he had seen of the man at first. White. And the zombies fell as he passed them, a massive slash in their heads.
"You're either the stupidest kid I've ever seen," the man said, another thing permanently ingrained in Matthew's memory. He stopped moving when all of the zombies had fallen, showing off his bloody machete as he stood a few feet from Matthew, gauging whether or not he was safe to be around. He looked a hell of a lot cleaner than Matthew, who hadn't even though about changing his clothes in the past two years, "or your fucking awesome. So, which is it? Your answer makes or breaks the decision on whether or not I'll take you with me." He was an albino, which was rather odd as well.
Matthew admitted to being stupid and the man laughed, saying that he was awesome and told Matthew to follow him. Matthew only did it out of gratitude for the man. But a stay at his little shack for just a few nights turned into much, much longer than that. Gilbert, the name of the albino, hunted. He created tools to help him keep his machete sharp, to work as a makeshift bow, to help with wounds. He was incredibly practical and, by no means, a hero. He ran when he knew it was too much to handle, he expected Matthew to be able to handle himself. And he was smarter than Matthew knew Alfred would be. He never carried a gun. He may have been loud when they were alone, but he knew how to sneak and be quiet so they could both be safe.
That…their first meeting…was about six months ago.
It was winter. Matthew shivered as he made his way through the forest. He had managed to get a thick jacket from the house of someone who was probably dead a few months back and it was the best decision he had ever made. He also got boots from that person, which were much better than the sneakers he had with holes in them. Yes, they had been comfortable walking shoes during his international visit, but now they were useless pieces of shit, to put it bluntly. Finally, he managed to make it to the tiny townhouse that he and Gilbert had decided to be their camp out. It was a townhouse among many in what used to be Berlin.
Gilbert was German, Matthew figured out after a few days of knowing him. Naturally, the accent gave him away, but they were among many German speaking countries at the time. He had spoken to Matthew in English mostly because he didn't know where he had come from, so it was just a blind guess, but a good one at that. They were the same age and Gilbert had lost his family as well. That was a subject neither of them wanted to get onto at all. So, according to both of them, they never had a family to begin with. It wasn't even a part of their pasts anymore.
"Gilbert?" Matthew asked quietly into the house as he shut the door tightly and quietly. He glanced around the place, but there were no signs of Gilbert. He loved to make himself at home anywhere he wound up staying, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Matthew quickly went up the stairs, ignoring the broken one that must have happened when the people tried to move the armoire that was crashed at the bottom of the staircase.
Matthew checked all of the rooms, but there was no sign of Gilbert.
"You better not have gotten into trouble, idiot," Matthew muttered under his breath as he pulled out his backpack. He balled his hands into fists several times to get the blood flowing once again. He had lost his gloves about a week ago and, thankfully, it had only been just above freezing the whole time. There was still snow on the ground, though.
Matthew started out this new life of zombies expecting to not grow attached to anyone, that was one of the better ways to survive, if anything Alfred taught him was true…And yet…Gilbert happened…They started out pretty good friends and then there was one day just before winter really set in where they got a little closer. Matthew blushed just at the thought of it. He didn't mind it, though. Neither of them stood any chance of dying any time soon, as the last six months had shown Matthew. So everything was going to be okay.
He had learned from Gilbert that these zombies came from a virus, something that could only be spread through bodily fluids, so Matthew only risked turning if he got a bite. And, if that was the case, if they could immediately cut off the limb, then he could still live. The zombies were, by all means, dead, no remains of human thought, just an instinctual drive to eat. It wasn't exactly a creative zombie, which was a little sad, in Matthew's opinion. Books had always come out with some new kind of zombie and yet they get the most basic one possible…
"Why the fuck does it have to snow?" Gilbert groaned loudly as he slammed the door open and closed. There were obviously no zombies nearby. There was snow sprinkled on his jacket as he shook his head to get the snow Matthew couldn't see off of his head. "Got ya gloves," he said as he tossed two, thick, black gloves to Matthew. "Found 'em in a drawer, don't worry."
"What took you so long?" Matthew didn't waste any time in shoving his hands into the gloves, trying to get any friction possible to warm his fingers up. It would suck to get frostbite. He hadn't gotten it the last two years, by some miracle.
"That, Birdie, is a surprise," Gilbert smirked triumphantly, his complaints about the weather gone. He happily sat down beside him. "You've got no idea how fucking hard this was with all of the fucking technology we have out there, but I'm awesome, so of course I could do it. He pulled his hand from behind his back and showed Matthew, with as much pride as he could muster, a small Tupperware box. Matthew blinked at him before carefully taking it.
There were a few dark brown balls inside of it that rolled around. Matthew opened the box and was greeted by a smell he never even thought about for years. He blinked in surprise and looked up at Gilbert, who gave a wicked smile.
"You found chocolate?" Matthew asked. "And it's not stale?"
"Didn't find it," Gilbert said happily. "Made it!"
"How?" Matthew asked in wonder.
"Found some cocoa powder at this store, someone shoved it in a freezer that hadn't been opened in years and had some ice stuck in it from the last storm, so it was still good, after I thawed it out, of course. And I found a cow, because I'm awesome. Didn't really expect to find one, but it was in some guy's house trying to keep warm and it had fucking milk in it! I'm a fucking genius. And I was just out at a stupid fire for a really fucking long time trying to put it together and then I used this mold thing I found at the store, though I know it's not very good. And I tried it and it's not perfect but it's fucking chocolate. As far as I remember, that's exactly what it tastes like, so you can praise me now."
"Why would you do this?" Matthew asked, carefully picking up one of the deformed chocolates. The tentatively took a small bite. It was fantastic, though undoubtedly bitter, but Matthew didn't taste that at all.
"I've been keeping track of the days," Gilbert said proudly. "Wanna guess what today is?"
"Well, it's certainly not my birthday," Matthew muttered. "That's in summer."
"Come on," Gilbert groaned, rolling his eyes. "It's the fourteenth of February! That's gotta ring a bell!"
"Valentine's Day?" Matthew blinked at him. He'd nearly forgotten about that holiday. Sure, Christmas was something Matthew never forgot…but Valentine's Day?
"You give chocolate to your special someone on Valentine's Day, right?" Gilbert smirked proudly. Matthew quickly placed the chocolate back in the Tupperware before swiftly pulling Gilbert into a tight hug.
"You fucking made chocolate for me for a holiday that doesn't even exist anymore," Matthew muttered. "Thank you, you stupid idiot."
"I know, I'm awesome," Gilbert said happily. "The way I see it, a holiday's gonna keep existing as long as you celebrate it, right?"
"You said the same cheesy line during Christmas," Matthew shook his head and pulled back, stopping just once to give Gilbert a swift peck on his lips. Matthew picked up the Tupperware quickly, tossing Gilbert one of the chocolates.
"And I'm going to say it again for the next one," Gilbert smirked happily. Matthew chuckled, picking up the piece he'd already eaten from. "To not dying yet?" Gilbert asked, holding up his chocolate.
"To not dying yet," Matthew smiled, tapping his chocolate against Gilbert's.
Matthew had never been so happy he decided not to be alone anymore.
Thought this up on, like, the 12th, because it was only then that I realized I should put something up for Valentine's Day. I'm celebrating the fact I don't work today with this FanFic so I hope you all enjoyed it. I haven't done anything zombie themed yet, so I thought I'd stretch my creative muscles a bit in that aspect. Anywho, I think that's all I've gotta say, except for the fact that I know that's not how you make chocolate. Gilbert did his best and they can't even remember what it tastes like, so it's fine.
So please review!
And I do not and never will own Hetalia!