Not Shaun of the Dead
A Word: I am easily influenced by cracky ideas. So if you talk to me, and ideas come up during said talk? There's a good probability I'm going to write it. That's all I have to say about this. There is not other reason. Just that I like the fact that a zombie apocalypse would be just business as usual for them.
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It might be Shaun's fault.
His blasted doubts and misgivings turning him back at the last moment, because why the hell were they trusting the words of a race of beings that looked on humanity as cattle at the best and slaves at worst? Turning back might have been the worst or best decision he's ever made in his life though. That's including the decision he made to pursue Abstergo's activities online when he was a pimply faced teen.
He thinks it's the right choice because it was very clear when he went back, Rebecca an unprotesting presence on his heels, that Juno had lied about the process being painless. Nothing on Desmond's agonized face could be called easy. Pulling the man away from the sphere had probably been a stupid decision, but it wasn't one he'd made alone as Rebecca actually reacted quicker than him.
All three of them had felt the last shocking pulse of the sphere, and that had probably been the thing that saved them all. Saved them for what is a question they're still trying to figure out even now, months later as the world rots around them. Their interference dooming the world beyond what they thought, or Juno's lies extending further than they thought.
"It makes no sense!" Shaun exclaims as Rebecca drags him back into the building they're occupying.
"What's to get?" Desmond's exasperated voice floats down from the second floor as he kicks the rope ladder down for them to climb up. Dull thumps have already started on the door that Rebecca pulled shut behind them, the sound of nails scratching down the wood sending shivers up Shaun's spine no matter how often he hears the sound. "They're zombies and they want to eat your dumb ass. Stop trying to study them."
"That's no way to fix this," Shaun protests and climbs up ahead of Rebecca because she doesn't trust him. The rope sways under his weight but he doesn't try to slow down. The door has held up for a good while, but one thing they've learned is that all it takes to destroy a perfectly good barrier is a sufficient number of bodies piled up on the other side. Paranoia definitely helped in this. "If I can't figure out how they work then how are we going to stop this all?"
Because this thing, this virus or whatever it was is spreading. Taking over the pockets of humanity that they know have survived slowly in a process that Shaun's sure can be reversed. He was the one who had stayed with William for so long, he had seen how it changed him, and he's sure that something can be done. He just needs to get a good look at what the majority of the population has become, and neither Rebecca nor Desmond are letting him.
"With a bullet through the head," Rebecca snarks, and the ladder shakes as he nears the top. She's not waiting for him to pull himself over the ruined lip of floor where a staircase used to be.
Desmond crouches to the side and doesn't offer a hand. Pistol held awkwardly in his left hand and the right still wrapped in bandages, useless and making it dangerous for him to step out of their safe area. He's staring hard at the door and boarded windows as Shaun rolls forward to clear the area.
"Yes, well," Shaun gets to his feet and moves into the main room of the floor they now occupy. There's a series of rooms with actual doors that offer privacy, but none of them have the guts to actually use it. Not yet, being able to see the others and see they're alive is still too much a blessing for them to try. "That's all Hollywood tripe, how do we know that is the only solution without trying? Hm?"
"I shoots them in the head, and they stop moving," Rebecca grunts as she pulls herself up and nods at Desmond. He retreats to lay the gun on a table where Shaun's unloading his bag. She turns and begins to haul the ladder up. Rolling it so that it can be deployed quickly if needed. "That's good enough for me, Shaun."
"Well, what about when we can't shoot them in the head anymore?" Because Shaun's seen enough movies and literature. He's listened to far too many arguments that made sense but he dismissed because who the hell thought zombies could ever actually be a thing? "Or if there are too many? What is so wrong with wanting to understand more about them, with wanting to be able to take them out in mass quantities instead of a handful at a time?"
"I could make some bombs," Desmond offers and looks at the pile of medical supplies Shaun had insisted they needed. Desmond's right hand is burnt from Juno's little nasty trick, and the last thing he wants is to allow it to get an infection. He doesn't seem to appreciate the thoughtfulness Shaun's showing though and grimaces at the sight of a needle. Like he hasn't had bigger needles in his arm from the Animus.
"Oh, fuck no," Rebecca drops her own bag on the table and glares at the man before Shaun can properly lambast that idea. "You are not using some half-assed recipe from Yusuf anywhere around me. Ezio was never that good at making them himself and I don't trust you to make the proper conversions with modern materials."
"Or the Anarchist's Cook Book," Shaun shunts in as Desmond opens his mouth again to protest. "That thing isn't even accurate. The government put just enough information into it to be dangerous, and released it into the wild to see who they could catch in their little trap."
Desmond snorts and kicks out one of the chairs to sit down and sulk properly. He's been getting antsy lately. Not liking the inaction that they've forced on him since his last brilliant idea had almost led to him dropping into a ravenous group of zombies because his left hand couldn't hold his weight when he slipped.
Rebecca pulls out a variety of bandages, because they've been going through them at ridiculous rates. Shaun isn't the only one afraid of an infection taking Desmond down.
Groans rise up from the streets outside, but Shaun ignores them with practiced ease. The sounds aren't all that different from living in a large city after all. As long as you didn't think about it overly much. Shaun shoves most of the medical supplies aside for storage and later use. He keeps some of Rebecca's gauze, a lotion thing that seems to be geared towards burns from what he can understand, and a bottle of antibiotics. "Alright, Miles, lets see the gimp hand now."
"Fuck off," Desmond says without any heat and holds his hand out to Rebecca. The bandages come off easily until the bottom layer which is slimy and dirty looking from the last salve they used.
The skin is red and horrible looking, but the pus filled blisters are getting better. The fluid is mostly drained and there's shiny patches of healed skin coming through the crusty layers that've formed over it. Clumps come up under Shaun's hands as he carefully cleans it. Desmond hisses at a few spots but doesn't flinch back.
"That doesn't look so bad," Rebecca mutters from where she's propped her head up on a hand and is watching fascinated. "Going to be some badass scars."
"Sure," Shaun can see dark lines running through the cleared spots and he hopes they're bruises and not something else. There's no sign of infection and the skin above the wound isn't hot to the touch. "Now all he has to do is make sure he doesn't let the scars tighten up so much the hand turns into a useless claw."
There's a faint sound of something cracking and Shaun freezes, he feels Desmond tense under his hand. Rebecca slides out of her chair and walks carefully to the opening. Shaun shifts enough to watch her as she peers down below. Shaun works fast, getting the salve on Desmond's hand, and wrapping new bandages back around it. There's a faint sound of glass raining down and the sound of unearthly groans gets a little louder.
"Crap, the back door," Desmond mutters, and he's probably right. They'd run out of solid, trustworthy board by the time they reached it. A bad thing because that door was mostly glass for some reason.
"Well, it was past time to move anyway," Rebecca untucks the blanket she'd nailed over the opening sometime last week. It doesn't do much to muffle the sound of the door slowly breaking under the pressure of zombies. It at least means they won't have to look at the rotting, moving corpses when they make their way into the bottom floor.
"I say we should go to Walmart nex- Ow, fuck, Shaun!" Desmond yanks his arm away when Shaun digs his thumb into the upper edge. "I'm just saying, it's a good idea."
"I am not spending the last of my days bunking down in the remains of an evil corporation just because you read some stupid plan on the internet once," the medical supplies go right back in the bag, and most of the rest of their supplies are still packed. "I'm already eating cold beans out of a can and refuse to live in a department store. I have some self respect left for myself."
"No you don't," Rebecca disagrees as she check his bandage work. More for her peace of mind than anything else because of the three of them, Shaun's the best at it. "You eat the beans on crackers. Your self respect died a sad death when the internet died."
"Like you didn't cry right with me," Shaun snaps back and winces as there's a loud, groaning crash from below. The moans increase almost immediately, and Shaun almost swears he can hear the sound of shuffling feet below. "You're the one who insisted we have a memorial service for it."
"But you're the one who sobbed the loudest," Desmond drops a few duffel bags near the window that leads out onto the next roof and an easy exit. It's rather laughably easy to get away from large hoards of zombies. Just a little exhausting with all the supplies they have.
"I was watching the collapse of an uncountable number of databases! Do you know how much knowledge we lost with the internet? Even if we were able to get it back up, we wouldn't be able to recover it all," Shaun sticks his head out and watches as a steadily growing stream of shuffling undead crowd around to the back door. "You can't blame me for mourning the loss of intelligence in our race, and that's not something we needed help with. Now there's just- Good lord!"
"What, oh," Rebecca throws one of the duffels over to the roof and snorts out a sharp laugh that makes the zombies mill around in confusion as they look for the sound on ground level. "Hey, not everyone sleeps with those nice jammies you have, Shaun. Some people just have to let it hang."
"Are you looking at zombie dick?" Desmond sounds appropriately horrified, but shoves in between them to look too. "Oh, fuck it's green."
"That should not be possible!" Shaun exclaims again, because nothing -not one thing about it all- makes any sort of sense. "It's an exposed extremity with no bone. Just soft tissue. That should have rotted right off! Why is it still there?"
"Do you really want to find that out?" Rebecca asks and another duffel clears the alley, brushing dangerously close to the top of Shaun's head. "Is that why you're so interested in getting one to study? Didn't know that you were into necrophilia, Shaun."
"I am not! That's not," Shaun shuts his mouth and takes a large step back away from the window. Ignoring the way Desmond really isn't hiding his snickering and giving Rebecca a hard look as he readjusts his glasses. "Let's save the discussion on kinks for after we've found a new place, I'm sure Miles would be absolutely fascinated to hear all about your defunct porn collection."
"Fuck no!" Desmond says immediately and climbs half out of the window, crouching down and balancing easily on the balls of his feet as he adjusts one of the bags with the more fragile supplies. "She go me to watch that shit with her once. My mental health is fragile, I don't think I could stand it again."
"Wimp," Rebecca aims a kick at the man, but Desmond jumps and easily makes the next roof. It's an easy jump though, and they won't have any problems until further down the block when having two hands becomes more necessary. Rebecca casts a critical eye around the room, but the only things left are not really needed. "Walmart might not actually be that bad of an idea you know."
"No!" Shaun calls out the window after her. Rebecca only waves as she helps drag the duffels to the other side of the roof though. Shaun steps up onto the window sill and can hear the slam of bodies below him. "We're not in a bloody Romero film."
The seething mass below groan almost in unison, and Shaun curses their timing. Real life shouldn't resemble movies so much. It's just wrong on more levels than he really feels comfortable with.
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