Just by looking at the peaceful landscape one would never be able to tell of the horrors mankind had been dealing with over the past few years. Everything was green and peaceful just as spring should be; it had been a pleasant enough day, wasn't a cloud in the sky. Just as one would expect from a small town such as the one Alfred approached. If one had not known better they would have thought this town was lucky enough to have been untouched by the terror Mother Nature had thrust upon the people of the land, but Alfred knew better.
Tony and he were on a scouting mission trying to find food for their dwindling supply at camp the high walls that surrounded camp kept them safe enough, but the threat of starvation forced the few that were brave enough to venture beyond the safety of those walls in search of much needed supplies. Alfred sighed as he glanced down at the pistol in his harness it had belonged to Tony, but his friend wouldn't be needing it anymore now that he was dead. Alfred had to be the one to pull the trigger Tony had panicked and wasn't able to do it himself. It was supposed to be an easy scouting mission there had been no reports of those creatures in this area from previous scouting missions, but they weren't so lucky this time and Tony was bitten.
No one was quiet sure where the strange virus had come from or what it was doing to the planet's population, but they did know it was very contagious and from Alfred's experience it made those infected act like the zombies of the video games he used to so love before the world had gone to hell. Alfred shook the thoughts from his mind and looked up to see a relatively still in tack market shop, hopefully it had some canned food that could be salvaged and brought back to camp so Alfred wouldn't come back a total failure.
Alfred kept his hand on the pistol as he slowly opened the store door wincing as he heard the chime of a bell announcing his presence. After waiting a few moments Alfred felt the coast was clear enough for him to venture further into the store, he slowly made his way around feeling more jumpy than he had since he had returned from the wars in Europe. Everyone had always said there would never be a third world war due to how heavily the countries relied upon each other now. Oh how wrong they were. The memories still haunted him worse than the image of him having to put down his own mother as she tried to kill him due to the infection.
Alfred was jarred out of his thoughts by the sound of some cans knocking over increasing his guard tenfold. He pulled his rifle off his shoulder and removed the safety; slowly he made his way to the source of the noise, his heart pounding in his chest. He relaxed ever so slightly as he heard the sound of near silent cursing emanating from the next aisle over, at least it wasn't one of the infected they lost their ability to speak along with any semblance of sanity they once held. Still Alfred kept his guard up it could very well be one of the raiders that always stole food from the runners of different camps making people more desperate than they already were for the quickly depleting food sources.
Alfred took a deep steadying breath before jumping in front of the aisle gun pointed at the person before him. Alfred nearly balked when he saw the petite blonde in front of him. Who in their right mind would send out someone so small for a scouting mission? His guard was soon back up when the other figure held a gun pointed right back at him, a defiant glare stuck on his, admittedly handsome, face.
"Drop the weapon." Alfred commanded firmly but gentle enough not to cause the other blonde to feel threatened. "Drop the weapon and I'll drop mind. Deal?"
Arthur, furtively crouched in front of the bottom shelf, rummaged through the canned goods. In his teeth a penlight illuminated the labels in the otherwise pitch black building. Twilight had descended over the barren land, and Arthur had to move fast. Those creatures were especially active at night.
On the floor next to him was a backpack lying completely unzipped and opened. Arthur made swift work of packing the food stuffs in a precise, militaristic standard that optimized the bag's full storage use. Already tucked in and ready to go were some soda cans the raiders and other scavengers overlooked in the storage freezer.
When the chime rang as loud as bombs throughout the small co-op, Arthur froze. He was hidden from the front door, but whoever this newcomer was, he had to prepare for the worst.
He had never been in this situation alone before. In all his life, having been protected by his brothers since the outbreak, Arthur had never had to take another human's life. His brothers, distrusting of his untested aptitude, holed him up at base where he facilitated most of the domestic affairs. While his brothers kept their base secure, going on scouting missions and running for supplies, Arthur farmed the vegetables and made sure the medical supplies his brothers came back to were stocked up and sterile.
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut against the burning tears. He hated his brothers. They treating him like a liability, another mouth to feed, even if it was he who grew the food that was on the table. He hated them, but they didn't deserve what happened to them. An organized faction of raiders staged a coup on the nunnery they lived in. They were completely unprepared, and it only took a few hours for them to usurp the building from Arthur and his brothers. Arthur managed to run away. His brothers weren't so lucky. They stayed, refusing to back down and fighting to the last.
But the raiders didn't kill them. They took his brothers out to the streets in the daytime, chained and crippled them, and then they left them for the night when the undead came out.
Arthur felt like such a coward. He couldn't even save his own family. Besides your own blood, little else was sacred in this world. Even his brothers, who despised him, never forsake him.
The man was too caught up in his grief to notice the man come around the corner until he was staring up from the crosshairs of the man's rifle. Arthur took his handgun out too late, but the other didn't seem intent on firing without reason. Still, it irked him when he played negotiator, telling him to drop the gun while his was still pointed between his eyes.
"...very well," he croaked, having not used his voice in days. He cleared his throat and slowly lowered the gun with measured intent, watching the other with hawkish eyes as he did the same.
"What's someone like you doing out here anyways? Don't you have some camp you should be at?" Alfred looked the man over in the near dark building as he slung his gun back on his shoulder, before placing a hand on his pistol in case the man before him tried to pull any stunts. "I haven't seen a civilian outside the safety of camps since the start of the outbreak." Alfred took a glance at the handgun by the man's side and raised an eyebrow in mild interest; it was hardly protection enough against anything but better than nothing Alfred supposed. Weapons had been hard to come by in the last few years and ammunition was quickly running out leaving guns as more of threats than real useful weapons as most didn't want to waste what little they had left.
"Not my choice." Arthur frowned warily at the gun by Alfred's hand. "I'm taking my pistol back," the Briton warned as he picked it up again and put it away in the back of his pants. Hawkish eyes never wavering from Alfred's pistol hand, Arthur watched the older man unsnap the strap securing the sidearm to the holster and tighten his fingers around the handle, ready to unholster it. Arthur snorted, finding Alfred's caution both absurd and irritating.
"And what about you? An army man?" He intentionally looked away, going back to his scavenging. He couldn't show fear or weakness to this person, whoever it was. Fearlessness was all Arthur had to show, even if it was a front. This man was obviously more experienced and skilled than he was, and Arthur had no chance in defending himself should the man decide to take all the belongings he had in the world and abandon him. "Nevermind. Poke your nose in the manager's office until I leave."
One glance outside told Alfred he would be rooming there for the night, and, if he had any say in it, so would this civilian. It was far too dangerous to travel at night, not even the raiders dare risk their lives against the cover of darkness far too many foul creatures now lurked there. "I don't think you'll be leaving at all. Or have you not noticed that it's going to be night in about half an hour? Don't be stupid we'll stay hidden in the manager's office till morning then go our separate ways. Deal?"
Arthur froze as he zipped up his bag. The idea of staying made his heart lurch, but he realized this man was right. As dangerous as strangers were-and this soldier was definitely shady- it was better to camp out and make themselves scarce than return to his hideout and risk those creatures finding him. Arthur trusted the soldier more than the zombies, but only because the soldier had a /choice/ to kill him or not.
Arthur stood, grunting as he shouldered his heavy pack. "I'm not sharing my food with you," he grumbled as he passed by the man on the way to the manager's office.
"Damn it." He rattled the knob. "It's locked."
"Honestly kid nothing is every truly locked." Alfred huffed as he pulled out a small packed from one of the pockets on his cargo pants. "You just have to have the key." He opened up the packet revealing a lock pick set; he quickly picked out the tools and bent down in from of the door knob. "Watch my back," He muttered off handedly as he began to fiddle with the lock. After a few moments the soft click of the door unlocking could be heard, Alfred stood up and put his tools away before taking his rifle back into his hands. "Open the door and quickly get back on the count of three kid." Alfred ordered as he readied himself for any possible situation that may occur.
As defensive as he was about his inexperience and Alfred's dubious faith in him, he was relieved to know he was with someone who knew what he was doing. He stood on the far side of the doorknob with his back facing the wall. Hand poised on the doorknob, he chanted a quick prayer as Alfred counted down. Right on the mark, Arthur turned the handle and pushed the door back with his forearm. As soon as he opened the door he sidestepped away, giving Alfred clear breadth of the doorway. As Alfred rushed in, Arthur followed behind with his gun at the ready.
Alfred breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the office was, thankfully, empty if one did not count the skeleton in the corner of the room. The only major concern Alfred held about the room was the large square window that shone what little light there was left outside. "Okay we need to work quickly go round up some nails and a hammer I saw some down aisle three I'll collect as much wood planks as I can find we need to get that window covered up. The undead unfortunately don't mind glass shards tearing up their hands."
Alfred first headed towards the front door of the store locking it which may not be very helpful against the coming creatures but it would give at least a small bit of comfort to know raiders would be less likely to try anything against them come early morning. He was then able to find some plywood to first fully cover the window and he found some sturdier wood planks the brace the window better. He brought a few extra in order to barricade the door in case the creatures managed to get past the lock. Paranoid maybe but Alfred knew simple things like this kept him alive and he wasn't about to risk the lives of both the civilian and himself.
Arthur bit his tongue and did what he was told. Vaguely, he wondered if he would ever be taken seriously, if he would ever be seen beyond a pair of extra hands assisting the invaluable leaders. He was expendable. He knew that.
After turning in the hammer and nails, Arthur pulled down the chain-link shutters over the full-length display windows. Unlike shutters, they did shit for hiding but offered them more protection nothing at all. Not for the first time, Arthur considered how the old world's safety precautions depended on humans' limitations. Chain link fences caved easily against the mass force of a zombie hoard, and the undead cared nothing for the barbed wire that tore their unfeeling flesh. Arthur stared at the treacherous sinking sun for a long time before returning to the office.
Alfred had finished bracing the window by the time Arthur had come back into the office; he turned toward the door and swiftly locked it. "Hold up one of those beams for me kid." He ordered as he grabbed some more nails to secure the wood in place.
"Extra pair of hands indeed," he muttered to himself as he secured the planks while Alfred hammered. Through the cracks between the planks, Arthur could judge that night was descending just in time. Arthur tossed his stuffs into the corner and rummaged through it, procuring a can of peaches and a fork. He popped the top and made himself comfortable huddling against the corner of the office. Besides the obvious advantage of preempting an attack from behind, somehow the pressure felt safe, like a hug from a person. Arthur drank the syrupy juice first, quenching his dying thirst before hurriedly shoveling the food in his mouth, eating as fast as he could in the event of an attack. Every moment, ever single action was in precaution to an attack.
Alfred looked down at his solar powered watch less than ten minutes before total darkness hit at least. They were secure enough in the room for Alfred to finally think of his empty stomach it grumbled back loudly at him. Offhandedly he realized that he should have grabbed some of the food from the store before locking them in. He sighed before taking off his pack and weapons setting them against a wall in the far corner away from the civilian in the corner. "I'm going to get some shut eye for a bit wake me in half an hour." Alfred told Arthur as he lay down using his body to guard his weapons in case the kid tried to pull something.
Arthur lowered the can after catching the very last drop of syrupy water. Putting it aside he sighed pleasantly, feeling more or less contented with his hunger and thirst levels. He didn't look at the ex-soldier when he replied. "Hm. Sure." That meant Arthur was on watch for the while. The young man had not slept for 20-odd hours, but he was so pumped with restless fear and adrenaline that he couldn't sleep even if he tried. It wasn't lost on him that the ex-soldier was sheltering his firearm away from him. His own pistol was at his side, safety off and ready to go. Arthur watched the man while he slept, idly wondering why he was alone and if his faction was still alive. Arthur learned early on that there was safety in numbers. Without exception, every member was integral to the group, but every member's weakness was the group's weakness.
Arthur huddled closer to the wall and rested his forehead against it. He was alone. He knew what happened to loners in this urban wasteland. It meant no one was at your back, but zombies were the least of Arthur's concerns. Loners were looted, set up as bait, and assaulted. Sometimes murdered for their meat, Arthur heard, in the scarcer regions where food was hard to come by.
If this ex-soldier was one of those depraved scavengers who preyed on the weak, Arthur wasn't going down without a fight. "Oi. Wake the fuck up. It's been an hour." Arthur tossed the empty aluminum can, and when it crashed to the ground next to the soldier it started him awake.
Alfred jumped awake and grabbed, armed, and pointed his pistol at the source that had so rudely awoke him. As he slowly woke up he realized the kid across from him posed as much threat as a scared cat and he lowered his gun. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands he spoke, "Christ kid. Hasn't anyone taught you not to wake an armed man like that?" He looked up at the shocked and rather spooked young man in front of him. "You're gonna get yourself shot one day if you keep doing that. Seriously if I didn't know any better I'd say you've been without human contact for a couple of years, but if that were the case you'd probably be dead instead of here."
Once he recovered from the shock of having a gun pointed to his head, the familiar anger and frustration that had been surfacing for years returned. He was grateful for it. Anger was something to focus on and it gave him courage even when everything seemed hopeless.
"I'm not a kid, asshole. I'm nearly your age." It wasn't his fault he had no field experience. "Wankers like you would be dead if it weren't for people like me."
"And who exactly are people like you?" Alfred found this kid's reactions amusing to say the least. Everything was so clearly displayed on his face or perhaps that was his eyebrows over accentuating every facial movement. "And on the other point act like a kid get treated like a kid. Simple logic."
"By whose criterion? Yours?" Arthur scoffed incredulously. "I hate people like you. Think you're better than everyone else because you can point a gun in the right direction. What about the people who feed you? Fix your clothes? Dress your wounds?" Arthur could have spit in his face if he knew he could make it across the room. Alfred's condescension was painting a picture too reminisce of his brothers' contempt for him. "Just shut your trap and let me sleep." Arthur ripped his blanket from his bag and roughly tucked it around himself. He curled up in a ball against the wall to conserve warmth, deliberately facing away from Alfred as if to say he wasn't intimidated by whatever Alfred was thinking of doing. And he figured whatever it was, was something he'd doubtlessly suffer from.
Alfred watched as the man in the corner "slept" he tried to hold back a laugh when it became obvious after twenty minutes of fidgeting that the poor guy couldn't sleep. "So how's that sleeping business going for ya?" he chuckled. "Need a bedtime story? Or maybe a lullaby?" He lightly teased a soft smile on his face.
"Is this how you cope with PTSD?" he growled while glaring at the wall. He didn't see the smile softening the mockery. When the soldier laughed he just shook his head and tucked his blanket farther up his shoulder. "Just leave me alone, would you? I have a lot of ground to cover in the morning, and I plan to make it to Middleton hospital in three days." Arthur heard over radio transmission that they were still taking in refugees. That was last month. There had been no word from them since, but there was nowhere else to Arthur's knowledge that still took in people.
"Just there last week kid. I lost my best friend to the hospital director. It's probably not the safest place for a loner like you." Alfred informed acting much too cool for someone who just lost a dear friend. "Anyways the best place for you to try is a major shelter. There's three here in the States, the nearest one is a two week walk away. That's where I'm headed if you wanna join me. I'd appreciate the company."
Arthur took in the news quietly. He wasn't surprised; in fact, he didn't feel very much at all. The young man was vaguely curious as to why he wasn't as upset as he thought he should be.
He shifted fitfully, torn on Alfred's offer. His pride screamed at him to tell him to fuck off. On the other hand, he reasoned that it was only two weeks, and how much was two weeks to the rest of his life? Assuming he'd live to a decent age. There was one thing that bothered him, though. "You're rather unconcerned about your friend." He said it offhandedly, but it gave away far more to his true thoughts: how much did Alfred care about his companions? Did he leave them the moment they became a liability, or did he go through whatever lengths he could to help them?
Just as Alfred was about to reply, the crashing sound of metal splintered in their ears. A zombie had thrown itself against the security gate barring the windows and began rattling it. Enticed by the noise, and perhaps a lingering notion of fellowship from their past life, the zombies in the area turned towards the store and mindlessly shuffled towards it. They clustered together and began to shake the bars in imitation. The rest that could not reach smothered against the ones in the front. Arthur could hear them crowding together and pressing against the bars that groaned under the force of their weight. The bars began to give way, and it wouldn't be long under the bars snapped and the glass behind it shattered.
"Well it seems that we have two choices." Alfred began as he stood up and began to put his gear on again. "We can either go out with a bang, or we can wait here until they manage to break through and kill us. At least the first option as a partial chance of survival." He added with a wink. He checked his watch once more, 6 more hours until sunrise. He sighed and shook his head; he had lived through worse with more than just a civilian to drag him down. "How good are you at climbing trees?"
Arthur was already scrambling to pack his things. He spared half an ear to the soldier, but the last part gave him pause. "Trees?" He whipped his head back and looked at him like he was half mad. "Well, I can. I guess." He did basic maintenance to the building's structure, and that included climbing to get to the places he needed to be. He shucked his backpack on evenly to balance the weight on his back. "Let's go."
"I really hope you have a strong stomach kid." Alfred said as he walked up to the boarded up window. He reached back pulling a crow bar out of his pack and used it to pry the protective covering off the window. "Cause you're gonna need it." With a few swift pops the wood came off leaving a thin sheet of glass between them and the creatures outside.
"Stay close if you want to live and don't question anything I say until you see the sun come up over the horizon and the dead slowly return to their hiding spots." Alfred reached into his cargo pants pocket and produced a grenade. He silently grumbled about using his second to last explosive before he slammed a piece of wood that still had nails in it against the glass shattering it. The loud noise and suddenly obvious smell of human quickly attracted the attention of the creatures. Alfred pulled the pin on the grenade and held it for a moment before tossing it at the slowly advancing hoard. Limbs flew everywhere and Alfred quickly shouted for the other to follow him. He took off down the street his rifle at the ready for whatever came his way.
Arthur held his pistol at the ready with its muzzle pointed towards the ground. Adrenaline spiked his nerves, and when the ex-soldier smashed out the window the civilian almost bolted. The grueling faces of the undead in all states of decay crept into the window view, and just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, the man pulled out a grenade. As Alfred tossed it outside, Arthur immediately fell to his knees and held the back of his neck and head in his hands. The blast was deafening. The walls rumbled, and asbestos blanketed the room with white powder. It overwhelmed his vision, and he barely caught the ex-soldier vault the window and take off the down the street.
Arthur staggered to his feet and clumsily walked to the window. No choice but to brave the glass shards on the windowsill. Arthur used his left hand to brace himself as he hopped over the waist-high window. He almost tripped over the limbs and gore leftover from the grenade bomb, and just as he was about to clear the blast zone, a wretched hand reached out and clutched his ankle.
Arthur fell heavily, and the zombie used its leverage on the man to pull itself up his body. Arthur choked back a scream and wrestled it back. "God- damn-" Splinters of glass crushed into his skin as he desperately forced the zombie's head away. It was relentless. After raging the zombie back for what felt like eternity, fear of death gave way to exhaustion. "I won't die," he sobbed bitterly, but his struggling began to slow and weaken.
A gunshot sounded and the zombie fell limp away from Arthur. "Jesus kid, I just told you to stay close! Get your ass in gear and let's go!" Alfred grabbed hold of Arthur's hand and pulled him along ignoring the choked sobs coming from behind him in favor of survival. They were lucky that most of the infected had seemed to gather around the store rather than disperse throughout town. Alfred quickly made his way towards the forest on the edges of town even going as far as to take a longer route if it meant avoiding an infected. It was difficult to maneuver safely with only the light of the moon to guide them, but soon they made it to the forest.
Alfred stopped in front of a large tree and let go of Arthur's hand quickly jumping up into the branches. Once he steadied himself on the lowest branch he reached down to extend a hand to the Brit behind him. The poor guy was traumatized that much was obvious but he was going to have to stay tough for awhile longer until daybreak finally hit.
It was all Arthur could do to keep up. The ex-soldier's body was conditioned far greater than Arthur's could hope to be, and it was by pure adrenaline alone that the Briton made it through the long stretch to the clearing of trees. When Alfred let go of his hand the Brit immediate clutched the stitch in his side, keeling over in pain against the trunk of the tree. As Alfred's beseeching hand came back into view, Arthur looked at it with dread but didn't hesitate to grab it. Despite his efforts, it took the ex-soldier a great deal of elbow grease to pull him up in the branches.
Alfred continued to encourage Arthur to move up the branches quickly for greater protection against the zombies. They could use the distance a great deal to their advantage as the infected seemed only capable of eating and mindless wondering. Once they were far enough up the tree for Alfred's liking he decided to see how badly their little stunt had affected the other guy. "You okay kid?" He asked looking up at Arthur who sat on a branch higher up the tree than Alfred.
"It's Arthur," he replied wearily, fed up with the pejorative and too exhausted to argue over it. He slumped against the tree and used it as a pillar to hold his weight up. Tremors wracked his muscles; his body was over-exerted and finally showing the effects of it. He consciously willed away the moans collecting underfoot as the zombies that had been lagging behind caught up to them and stood underneath the tree looking up. "How are you?"
"Pretty sure I twisted my ankle back there, but otherwise good. Also it's nice to finally know your name. Mine's Alfred by the way." Alfred reached up and tugged a pinecone off the tree, "Wanna play a game?" Alfred asked as he tossed the cone up in the air a few times. "Whoever hits the most zombies down there doesn't have to carry the heavy packs for a week. That is assuming you do plan on coming with me to the base camp. Well are you?"
"No choice." He smacked the pine cone away when Alfred tossed it up at him. "I'm not playing dodge ball. They were humans once." He wasn't that depraved of humanity.
...Yet, Arthur wondered if he'd end up like Alfred, dispassionate about his dead partner's fate and deindividualized from the morals society shared once upon a time. Before all hell broke loose on earth, no one would even think to chuck pine cones at a corpse, even if it was something as abstract as a zombie.
"I just want to sleep." And forget. Arthur held his arms around himself against the cold and to provide some amount of comfort. The civilian had noticed his developing habit of self-soothing, and he would have forced himself to stop if he wasn't positive it was one of the few things keeping him sane being alone.
Alfred looked up at him concerned, "I wouldn't fall asleep there if I was you, and I'm not jumping into that hoard to pull you out if you fall out of this tree." Alfred glanced down at the crowd gathered below them some trying and failing miserably to climb up the tree to reach them. Looking back at Arthur, Alfred could tell the poor guy hadn't slept well at all in a long time. He sighed before unhooking the rope from his pack. "Here you should get some shut eye, just make sure to tie yourself to the tree first. At least that way you won't fall out."
Alfred startled Arthur out of his light doze. He wordlessly took the rope and after a short deliberation secured it around his waist and then tied the leftover slack around the trunk. If he lost his balance Arthur would still be screwed, but the extra precaution gave him a better chance of recovering. "Thanks," he yawned and huddled closer to the trunk. If he concentrated hard enough, he could drone out the moans with a song he used to listen to from an old iPod he dug up among the wreckage a few years back. Arthur was positive whoever the previous owner was had zero taste in music, but one song stuck with him. It was a classical piece, and Arthur recreated it from his mind now to drone out the sounds of the undead below.
Alfred leaned his back against the trunk and kept an eye on the infected surrounding them. He smiled slightly when he heard gentle snores intermix with the groans and snarls below. At least Arthur was able to get some sleep it would help tomorrow when they would make a good portion of their journey towards the camp. Alfred had heard the camp they were heading towards was making progress towards a cure for those infected, but that was to be expected when they had literally built the base within the confine of large protective walls. It was the safest and largest of all the bases and, if he is still alive, where his brother would most likely be.