Of rotting hearts and degenerate minds
Chapter 1 – broken prosperity .
"No! Mom! Mikasa, help me!" Eren cried in desperation, yanking at the fallen beam that trapped his mother's leg. Tears leaked down his face, streaking paths in the layer of grime and dust that had settled there, his eyes darting all over the place. He pulled at the splintering beam that had collapsed when the hoard of monsters had struck, pinning his mom's leg under it; but he was weak and small, and he couldn't lift it. Mikasa watched, chanting the same negativity again and again in her head, glancing in a panic between Eren and her adoptive-mother. Hannes had left the room, claiming he would kill the monsters – break their salivating jaws and mindless eyes. Mikasa didn't know what to do, this couldn't be happening again. The monsters were scrabbling and scraping at the walls and wooden doors, yowling and screaming in frustration and famish, keening for flesh and beating hearts. Theirs weren't beating anymore, and they needed another, they need to bite something!
"Hannes! Mikasa!" Eren choked on his own breath, his small hands chewed up by the immovable wood.
"Eren! Run, with Mikasa – get out of here!" Eren's mom said, her voice high, as she reached out her one free hand to push Eren's away. Mikasa didn't want to run, didn't want to leave; neither did Eren, not at all. They could hear the yelping and screeching outside growing louder and angrier and hungrier. Hannes came skidding back into the room, white as a ghost and his face screwed into disgust. He was such a coward, such a coward. He couldn't face those beasts out there. Carla, Eren's mom, couldn't be saved now.
"Hannes! Take them, please!" The sound was as retched as the situation, but Hannes blindly obliged to Carla's request. He lifted the young children up and away, just as the back door splintered open and bodies came piling inside. The growling and snarling of what was once human lengthened the shadows from every corner, and Eren only had time to scream 'NO!' before they were on his mother like a pack of wolves on carrion.
Eren Yaeger bolted upright in his military-issued bunk, panic caught in his throat, breath short, tight and fast. A cold sweat shivered down his spine, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair.
Why is it always the same dream?
The same nightmare, really more of a memory, often replayed itself to its owner during his slumber. Sometimes it was more obscure – shaky and static, like a broken TV, other times it was queasily clear and loud. Of course, he had other dreams he couldn't remember, and some he could hardly decipher at all, but that memory was insistently the most common. Pushing his hand through his hair again, he shifted back the covers of his bed and swung his legs over the side. He tried to slow his breathing, tired eyes roving around the dark barrack room. He could assume that his cadet mates were sound asleep, for the most part. Maybe some were suffering from night terrors too, keeping themselves to themselves.
Five years ago, humanity had been reminded that they were just as fragile as the bones that supported them – easily snapped, brittle and broken. In a town called Shiganshina, several cities away from where Eren now resided, a virus broke out among the lower classes. It was similar, in many ways, to the already-existing disease Rabies, although quite considerably more violent and lethal. It overtakes the body and invades the mind and senses, causing its victims to succumb to loss of rationality, human compassion and any kind of emotion and behaviour that is particularly associated with intelligent life forms. The victim becomes completely feral, insane, heartless, merciless, craving flesh and obtaining the violent urge to bite something. The disease, dubbed Maria Virus, was passed by way of mouth and saliva, and it spread like ravenous wildfire through the human population in little less than a month.
Eren, and the other members of the 104th trainee squad, are often considered some of the very lucky couple thousand humans to have survived the infection spread. They, somehow and probably by way of sheer dumb luck, managed to reach the two underground bunkers that had been built in anticipation of the virus. Simply thinking of the fact that the government (Eren could only assume that it was this force that had built the huge, underground cities) were able to anticipate the wildfire infection, yet they didn't do anything to prevent its happening. Eren's mother hadn't made it to the bunkers, she had succumbed to the ravenous abominations that were the result of the virus and would have never made it out of that hellhole of a town. It seemed by a miracle that Eren and his two best friends had made it out of Shiganshina, their hometown, and to the bunkers.
As for the bunkers themselves, each was huge and completely sealed from above ground, unless you knew where to find an entrance. The exits and entrances, reinforced skylights and other above ground equipment were guarded on the verge of paranoia. The bunkers were low slung and dark, and it was nigh on impossible to tell whether it was day or night inside them without a satellite clock. The larger bunker, Rose, had been open to all those who could reach it in time, and that weren't contaminated with Maria virus. The slightly smaller, cleaner, newer bunker, Sina, had only been accessible by the absolute wealthy, those who had been considered valuable to the human race and its continuance. The area of dry land that lay upon the ceilings of the underground bunkers was surrounding by a perimeter of reinforced, electrified and chain-linked fencing. So far, it had not been breached.
Above ground, desolate cities still stood against the elements, the Infected lurking between shadows and hiding behind dust clouds. With no human life to look after the cities and towns, they soon began to resemble the classic abandoned look that was so often witnessed in post-apocalyptic films and thrillers. How ironic, the fact that humanity's sources of entertainment and games had become their own fate. The Infected didn't seem to die so easily, unless killed in the bloody scuffles that occurred between them in the absence of fresh human life, so there were a maintained and populous number of them above the bunkers and the rest of the world's surface.
In a bid for freedom and desperation to retake their former territory and return to their egotistical glory, the remaining human population created three military-style organisations. They were the protectors, the maintainers, the saviours and the hope. But, they were also considered dead weight by many, paid with taxes and shipped off above ground to fall victim to the Maria Virus. The first of these organisations, the easiest to obtain a position in, always accepting new recruits from training graduation, was the Garrison. They lie in wait, in case of a breach, guardians of the exits and entrances and the ceilings of the bunkers. The second group, the Military Police, were maintainers of peace and had control over the citizens of the bunkers. Regrettably, the Police had already begun to abuse their positions of power, many of them lazy and moronically unaware of the dire situation the human race had dug itself into. The last, and smallest, of the organizations, were the Scouting Legion. They sent their chess-piece soldiers above ground in feeble attempts to regain land and eradicate the Infected. People were incredibly reluctant to join the aforementioned legion, it was made entirely of the stupidly brave, exceptionally talented and the brutally passionate. Or, perhaps, it was entirely built upon the damaged.
The rolecall bell rang shrilly through Eren's head, ricocheting off the sides of his skull. He bolted upright in his bunk, smacking the top of his head on the wooden bars that supported the bunk above him. Cursing under his breath, he scrambled from under the covers and snatched up his uniform from where it was tucked away underneath his bed. Stumbling to the barrack bathrooms, he raced to get ready for the role-call, along with all the other boys in his squad. It was a tight fit, with everyone sleep-ridden and tripping over their own feet. Eren had a split second to glance at the digital clock fixed above the barrack's door, before he trotted in line from the dorms. Role-call was early today. He wondered why.
The boy soldiers made their way swiftly to the Registry – a central room, where all cadets met to be given their training orders each day, and also where they graduated into the three divisions – the Military Police, the Garrison, and the Scouting Legion. The air was stiff, and if Eren had better senses than the average human, he would've sworn that something was wrong. The cadets from all four recruit-barracks (Two male, two female) piled into the Registry room, standing in their ranks and awaiting orders from the Commanders.
"What is up with this? Why is rolecall so early?" Eren heard Jean whisper quickly to another soldier, whom returned with a shrug. The reply they would've voiced was silenced in surprise as the ground rumbled, and dust fell from the ceiling over their head. Suddenly, sirens began to wail – piercing and panic-inducing. Five years of peace would, no doubt, be broken.
A/N - Okay, so I have already made an attempt at creating a zombie-apocalyptic style fanfiction for this fandom, but I didn't particularly like its set up, and it wasn't going anywhere. This one here is more carefully planned, and I don't intend for it to be all happy endings and smiles. I hope you enjoy – this is really my first, slightly planned attempt at creating a multi-chapter fanfiction. Thanks for reading! I'm sorry this chapter is very plain, it simply explains the situation.