A/N- Hello everyone to my first (finished) fan-fic ever! So I've been in a pretty dark mood this month as I've been battling some of my own demons. Halloweens coming up and hey, why not use this to my advantage? So for them warnings, some yaoi, character death, gore, and maybe smut later on (depends if I can weave smut in this plot xD) Anyways, enjoy! Also, reviews will seriously help me, so please leave on if you have a suggestion or constructive criticism! Hope you all like it!

I own nothing!

"Stupid bastard." Alfred Jones, a former college student wiped his forehead from sticky, dirty sweat. It wasn't easy to bury his father, especially when he found his corpse half-eaten and half-rotton. Little white maggots hungrily ate through black fabric and greyish flesh. Alfred was never fond of his abusive father and couldn't help but feel relief as he dumped the body and loose limbs in a shallow hole. He grinned as he saw a frown twisted on the rotten face. The bullet wound to the head was filled with more crawling critters and mixed with the greyish goo Alfred assumed was the remains of his brain. He finished burying the body along with memories of leather belts and sharp slaps and looked at the setting sky and the scorching sun.

It has been a half a year since the End of the World. It was inevitable at the rate the human race was destroying and polluting the Earth, but no one predicted it would happen so soon. It was said it has been the Flares that started the End, but it was really the New Plague that tore the world apart. The Flare has burned half of the Earth into a stenching crisp. Those who survived were mutated and infected by the New Plague. There was only a 10% immunity rate of those who survived. ALfred F. Jones was unfortunately immune.

The American sighed as he gathered his belongings and headed towards his safe haven. As he wandered in New York, Alfred noticed that most of the buildings have been burnt to the ground. A few remained, but they were mostly occupied by corpses and Infected.

Alfred was a 19 year old American who went to Columbia University with many of his friends. His father was a teacher and had high expectations for his son. Alfred chuckled as he slung the long rifle behind his back. He should've felt sad when burying his own father, but how could he? The monster that tried to raise him was finally dead with his own stupid doing. He wondered how his father survived for nearly a year with Infected and then just shot himself. Maybe he found a room where it was always bright. Infected were very sensitive to the sun.

Alfred froze as he heard a small rustling noise. It was almost deafening in the complete silence. As a new reflect, the boy reached for his gun immediately, and aimed at the corner of the ruined skyscraper. He kept his aim until the rustling stopped. "Who's there?" As an immediate response, Alfred heard a loud gunshot then a sharp pain in his left arm. The boy looked behind him to see another blonde boy with messy hair, large eyebrows that furrowed together and a shotgun. The boy first glared at Alfred, then a look of horror washed across his face. "A-Al?"

Alfred grinned as he dropped his rifle and clutched his arm. A small shadow from behind the building appeared. The shadow turned into a young boy no older than 12. He had rusted knife, dirtied clothes, and a gaping mouth. Alfred smiled, but winced. His left arm was only grazed, but blood was slowly seeping out through his fingers.

The elder of the two figures shoved his gun in his back pocket and rushed in a hug. "I-I thought you were dead. What happened to you after the End?" Alfred could feel salty tears fall on his shoulder. He grinned and attempted to hug back. "I missed you Arthur. But this really hurts. You kind of just shot me." The smaller boy sighed behind them and tugged on Arthur's shirt. "Hey mates, quit your snogging! It's almost dark and if you haven't noticed, your boyfriend is bleeding. Let's get back before we become someone's dinner."

Arthur and Peter Kirkland were brothers. Peter was more of a half brother to the elder 20 year old, but a sibling no less.

Arthur let go and flashed Alfred a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Peter's right though. Let's get back to our place and we can patch you up. Good thing the bullet didn't get lodged in there."

"Yeah! Thank goodness you suck, big brother!"

"Shut up you! I could have left you in that dumpster you know! I saved your life!"

Alfred laughed as the two brother's argued. He missed it. He missed his boyfriend who always seemed to have a stick shoved up his ass and even his annoying, little brother.

Peter glanced back and pointed at Alfred. "Bollocks, we're going to have to take care of this big baby too, huh?" Alfred took it back. He didn't miss Peter.

Arthur sighed. "It is getting dark. We need to go. Luckily we're not too far away."

After half an hour of complaining and arguing (Arthur felt like he was taking care of two babies), they finally reached a large moving truck. Alfred scoffed. "This is your place? Dude, what the hell? I thought you had a building or something. Even infested building have better protection than this!"

"Or stop complaining, you git. Be glad I didn't leave you to rot. Now get in." He opened the back of the truck to reveal two sofas, a carpet, and a corner filled with ammo, knives, and useful trinkets. Alfred had to admit that his friend did have a nice set up. He looked at the sofa and carpet and opened his mouth. "We found it here. It is a moving truck, Alfred. Peter, help Alfred with his arm. I think we have some bandages laying around. I'll prepare us our dinner." Arthur carefuly closed the truck door as the sun slowly made it's way down to the rest of the Earth.

Peter helped tend to Alfred's wound (the American complained that it was too tight) and Arthur made a terrible meal with stale cereal, crumbled crackers, some sort of unknown substance and bottle of water that Alfred found.

Alfred and Arthur have been good friends in high school and were roommate at the same university. In their sophomore year in high school, they decided to date and continued as they both wanted to go to Columbia University. At least until the End. All hell broke loose by then.

After the Flares erupted, most of the Immune have scattered themselves throughout the city and eventually the country. The Immune that remained in the school were devoured or murdered brutally. However, ALfred made a discovery that some never left and survived. Until they themselves went crazy. Some even though they were Infected.

Arthur told Alfred that after he left the school, he went to search for his brother at the nearby boarding school, praying that he too was immune. After two weeks, he saw his brother seeking refuge in a dumpster, eating molding food. Like Alfred, they were able to survive by scavenging throughout the city. They found the truck a week later.

Alfred then told them on how after he left New York, he went to Canada to look for his brother, hoping that somehow he's find him. He got lost and ran into Nests, cults and thieves. He came back to New York to find his father dead. It was the best luck he had in months.

The American yawned as he finished his meal. "You still suck at cooking, Atry."

"You still suck at geography."

Peter yawned as he settled on a musty sofa at the back of the truck. "I'm beat. You two better not be loud dor the flesh-eaters will hear us."

Arthur rolled his eyes as the boy drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow. "Annoying little prat. Thank God I found him. So no luck with Matthiew, huh?"

Alfred nodded sadly as he gingerly put his body on the dusty couch, letting Arthur to snuggle on top of him. "Yeah. I mean, if immunity has anything to do with genetics or blood type, he must be like us. I just hope he's not dead. Or worse."

Arthur nodded solemnly and wrapped his arm around the taller. "I'm sure he's alive, Al. That reminds me, Peter and I were thinking of heading west, tomorrow. I heard there's a city in California that is dedicated to Immunes. I think we should all go." Alfred nodded then jumped as he heard a loud thump on the side of the truck. There were more thumps, moans, then even some unknown mumbles. Peter just yawned and rubbed his eyes. "There's a lot tonight. You big oaf, your blood attracted 'em all."

Alfred swallowed, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. "Arthur..."

"Don't worry. Their strong, but not that strong. They won't turn the truck over. There's only ten of them at best. They'll get bored then move on."

The American nodded and shivered. Arthur was already asleep on him. More thumps. More groans of pain. It was going to be a long night.