Zombie!fic. Because zombies are the shit, I guess. Anything is better then vamps at this point. So yeah, Dragon and Adamaris running from brain-chewing beasties and demented Zoids. Funfunfun.

Short chapter but it gets better later on! This is a sort of introduction to the story, I guess? Also trying out with new writing styles, so this is a bit different from my other one's.

Fair warning, guys. Zombies and stuff means there will be mass amount of blood, guts, gore, swearing, and general mayhem goodness. Nothing serious enough for an M rating but.....okay, the worst of it will come with another warning before the chapter starts. Seem fair? Awesome.

More Zoids show up, I promise. Can't have a Zombie fic with ZOMBIE ZOIDS, AHHHH.

'Joy :3

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At first, the news reports said to just be careful, stay inside, and lock your doors. Ration your food. Shut down any Zoids, Organoids. Carry weapons. Don't get a paper cut, because this disease is still traveling through the air. And we can't fight it. Stay put, help is on the way. Lock your windows. Barricade the door. Sleep with a gun. Don't sleep at all.

After the second week, the news reports stopped. Neither Griffon nor Fenrir were anywhere in sight, and Dragon didn't know if she should be thankful or worried. Whatever plague floated in the air, some contagious crap, it affected people as well as Zoids and other "living" mechanical things. Dragon lifted the T.V. remote and turned the T.V. on, only to be greeted by the harsh grainy static that had been on for the last 14 days. Geez, that long already? Who kept count?

Dragon, apparently. They still had fucking electricity and water, a small supply of food and two bulky shotguns but seriously, they heard the Zoids stomping around out there, moaning and roaring as if their circuits were being chewed alive, which they probably were. How the fuck did Zoids catch a disease? How could they protect themselves against rabid, multi-ton monsters?

Adamaris said some crazy lunatic scientist mixed Deochalcum with the nuclear waste from Earth, hoping to create some sort of super drug designed to kill off internal diseases, like the ones that caused people to freak out or twitch or see things that weren't there. Instead, it came with the exact opposite effect and turned shit into brain-munching zombies. Dragon covered her eyes with the blunt of her palms, drowning out sight completely. Zombies. What sort of fairy-tale bullshit happened here? But Adamaris said this couldn't be stopped, because the disease leaked and hey guess what, it travels by air! And water. Then it mixes with the Zoid's Core fluid and drives them insane. Bonkers. Bat-shit crazy. Feral.

Dragon heard them outside, the Zoids. Sometimes the Organoids, but she didn't like thinking about that because her own Organoids were out there somewhere, dying or living or in some fuzzy gray area. Eventually the disease won out and killed the metal critters, but until then they became encased in complete black with scary red eyes and they ripped each other apart. Dragon thought of Flare, Wolfgang, Seto, and Romeo, stowed away in who-the-fuck-knows, when the city tried to cram as many Zoids as possible onto transports to cart them away before the disease spread further. Some fucking epidemic, the Black Plague that existed back on Earth, only worse.

Zombie Zoids are more dangerous then zombie people. Those who got infected, their skin turned gray and clammy, eyes dull and vacant with mouths that could open like a snake's, baring teeth and blood and chewed-up organs. Dragon and Adamaris would sit, staring out their big picture window on the 6th floor of their apartment and watch, guns loaded as the zombies dragged themselves along the streets, all bloody and broken and gross.

Dragon knew how to pilot Zoids no sweat, but pulling the actual trigger on an actual gun proved to open a whole new can of worms. Especially an awkward, long-barreled rifle that, Dragon swore by on all she knew, possessed a mind of its own. The first time, Dragon nearly shot off Adamaris' hand, but thankful he dodged and the bullet left a nice gaping hole in their wall. Oh well. The landlord, dead or eaten or zombiefied, probably had bigger things to worry about. Dragon learned how to shoot a gun eleven days ago. Now they were on day fourteen and the guns were used only once, when a zombie tried climbing up the fire escape and Dragon screamed her throat bloody because Oh Ra, ew, its right there, ew! Not only did it look gross, but the zombie, seriously, just climbed up five floors and tried to break the window.

Adamaris, not really the macho type since he adores coffee and can't really pilot, came barging in Imperial soldier style, gun in his hands, and look of toughness on his face. Ready to kill, protect, serve, whatever. The rifle leveled and bam! The zombie flailed and fell off the fire escape, half of his face missing, his splatter mark baked into the sidewalk from the blazing sun.

They taped the broken window up. The air smelled stale and old, even outside. Inside proved to be no better, despite the tiny air fresheners littering the rooms, Adamaris' idea of a joke. When Dragon took the time to look at him, like really look at him, she picked out all the fine and tiny details. The paleness of his skin, the gaunt tightness of his face and the sharp shoulder blades poking out from under his shirt. He didn't sleep much, only stared out the window with the gun on his lap, looking beyond exhausted.

Dragon stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her appearance fared no better.

The city, save for its flesh-chomping citizens and dueling mechas, seemed totally vacant of living people. Living as in, people with heartbeats and brains still attached firmly to their skulls. On one rare occasion, when they completely ran out of food, Dragon snuck off into Adamaris' Camaro. She figured that the car, fast enough to avoid people and small enough to get away from Zoids, would be the key to her and Adamaris' survival. Dragon made it the corner mini-mart, fighting back guilt as she grabbed armfuls of apples and pears, chips and bananas and even Coco Ligers cereal. All the goodies were haplessly tossed in the Camaro's trunk before Dragon ran back into the store, grabbing orange juice and water bottles and even energy drinks and chocolate bars.

The drive back, less then 100 feet, became the scariest drive ever when this Zoid, all black and dripping something came barreling out from a side street. A Gun Sniper, but with a sheared off arm and a missing bottom jaw. Still a beyond terrifying sight, with an angry lashing tail and empty gun barrels clicking like so many hungry mouths. The Gun Sniper leered down at the Camaro with a look of pure starvation, as if the car and its driver were some form of gourmet treat.

Dragon gunned the engine, and thank Ra Camaros were built for speed, for that car just beasted out of there, smoke flying from the tires. The Gun Sniper screeched after her, but its cry escalated into a gurgled and choked yelp when something much bigger suddenly crashed into the Zoid, hooking it with bladed teeth and ripping the thing apart.

Dragon, halfway to her apartment's garage, couldn't bear to look and see what new threat they had to worry about. Shivering, she loaded the food into her arms, pockets, and sweatshirt hood before making her way back up to the apartment.

So, like, it sucked living like this. Worrying, constantly. Non-stop. All the time. Endless. Dragon sat on the couch, feet propped up on the worn coffee table, Adamaris' head in her lap with her fingers stroking through his hair, soft and full and wow, they weren't a couple or anything, just…..Dragon wanted him close, because he was all she had left.

On the 26th day, the Camaro ran out of gas. Dragon still had her Hummer, but said tank-like car ran slower and pretty sluggishly, not to mention it's bulky as Hell. So running outside for groceries and water and tissues and toilet paper came to a moot point. Dragon felt herself going stir-crazy. Adamaris watched her with sad eyes while the sun set and the city filled itself with howls and awful screams of not-people and not-Zoids.

It happened on the 31st day. Dragon, lazing on the couch with phone in hand (no service, of course), minding her complete business, reading a book she read about six times already when Adamaris stomped into the room. Dragon glanced at him. His face, worn and tired, steely eyes lackluster, stared back at her. He looked older, older then 24. Zombie Apocalypse probably had that effect on people. His rifle and backpack were slung over his shoulders.

"We're leaving. Taking the Hummer. We need to get out of here." Adamaris said, his voice quiet but forceful. Dragon frowned, brows furrowing. Honestly, she wanted to stay here, no quarrel over living like mice trapped in a sewer. Sure, food and stuff ran lower and lower every day but still, they were safe here. Out in the open, the big wide infected world, not so safe.

"And go where?" Came her simple answer, the book gently placed on the coffee table.

"Anywhere. We can't stay here. There have to be people somewhere who aren't affected. People like us, who are immune." Adamaris stood stock still, unwavering, a stone pillar. He never tried to mask what he felt. Dragon easily picked up the distress and misery in his words and in a way, she loved him even more for that.

Love as in friend love. Not love love. Dragon couldn't explain why they were immune to the airborne disease; Dragon thought it could be from her short time as a Gil Vader hybrid, or her prolonged exposure to Deochalcum. But as for Adamaris? No clue. Maybe Dragon sent off Deochalcum radiation or something. Whatever. Dragon wasn't going to question it.

She shook her head. No, no way could they leave and skip around outside like fucking tourists in the middle of summer. "We go outside, we die," Dragon pointed out, damnit that Adamaris' thick head prevented him from actually thinking. "Ra, what are we going to do? Shoot a Zoid with bullets? Run from un-dead people who can't die?" Dragon, voice rising until her throat hurt, found herself standing up with no memory of how she got there. Dragon never yelled, never lost her temper. She figured that, okay; being locked in a house surrounded by dead cannibal freaks provided her with a legitimate reason to lose her head.

Adamaris gazed back at her, unmoving. Dragon hated that. He never got mad. Ever. Dragon never heard him shout or seen his eyes flare in anger. Her hands clenched into fists. Outside, a Zoid, -Redler, perhaps?- careened through the air, screaming a horrible cry that sliced through the silence with all the power of a laser blade.

"Okay," Adamaris said, softly. His eyes held a new sort of wariness to them, his hands up in a surrendered plea, like Dragon had become one of the fucking crazed people outside and he was only trying to not get himself bitten. "We won't leave. We'll stay here," He padded away from Dragon, down the hall to his bedroom. "But I don't think help is coming and we can't live here much longer."

At 2:46 in the morning, Dragon heard the lightest tapping sound coming from her window, right across from her bed. Dragon, enormously grateful for this sleep, tugged the blankets higher and let the peaceful sky of dreams settled back over her. The wind, or a branch, nothing serious. Only the tapping got louder, hectic and forced, causing Dragon to grunt in anger, sleep still blurring her vision as she sat upright and glared at the window.

Oh hi, zombies that were trying to get into her room. Dragon stared, stupefied into a state of paralysis as four hungry faces deadpanned back at her, jaws all broken and teeth cracked, black fingers vying for her through the glass. And ew, disgusting, they were all hairless and gray with sunken black holes around their eyes, but their eyes were red and glowing, unblinking and Dragon, with blankets bunched up around her, felt her jaw go limp in shock.

One of the zombies mimicked the movement. Dragon finally found her voice and she screamed, blood running cold and her heart promptly overdosed on adrenaline. The blankets flailed around her as she stumbled, wide-awake and alert, falling out of bed so ungracefully, reaching here, there, and everywhere for that damn rifle. The second Dragon gripped the barrel, her window shattered, catapulting glass shards in every direction. Dragon squeaked, back pressed up against her bed as she fired, blindly, into the mess.

Shit, four zombies, four of them! All trying to wiggle into her room, Dragon must have missed because she heard no agonized yelps or anything so she fired again, the rifle jetting backwards since her grip sucked, her hands were so sweaty. She saw them; saw those scarlet eyes and gaping mouths hungry for her, death or infection, what could be worse?

One of the zombies jerked, freezing for a second before turning to bare bloody teeth at the doorway. From the corner of her eye, Dragon saw Adamaris standing there in his pajamas, rifle leveled and aimed at the zombies. Two of them successfully gotten into the room, clothes all shred and moldy, skin hanging off in chunks. Adamaris fired again. The zombie stumbled backwards, the remains of his arm one with Dragon's curtains.

"Dragon, move!" Adamaris yelled, sending her a split-second look before firing another bullet. Dragon needed no further instruction. She scrambled onto her bed, clambering along its length before rolling to her feet beside her friend. The gun swung up and she fired, this time actually aiming, and watched with some sort of sick pride as a zombie doubled over, his stomach exploded with black blood and dangling intestines dripping out.

Adamaris looked horrified. "We need to leave, before more of them come!" His voice cracked, chipped with fear, and he turned and ran with Dragon on his heels. No time to stop and grab anything, just with the clothes on their backs, the guns in their hands, and the zombies staggering after them, moaning and groaning like in all those cheap horror movies only instead of big-boobed actresses and handsome heroes, this shit was real.

Dragon nearly tripped down the stairs, almost collided with Adamaris, but she managed to save herself as they jumped down, feet impossibly loud in this stifling silence of nothing. They burst open the door leading to the garage, hearts pounding, breath tearing from their lungs in ragged gasps as they threw themselves into the Hummer. Hands shaking, Dragon turned the key and thank Ra, thank Eve, the big red monster started up perfect with a rumbly, snarling roar. The zombies –three now- peered out of the doorway, pulsing viscous black blood as Adamaris brought the rifle up, shooting once, twice at the fucking creepers and blasting their damn brains out.

The Hummer broke through the garage door and Dragon winced, but quickly remembered that she drove a Hummer, the biggest, baddest, meanest car ever created. The Gil Vader of cars. She would be surprised to find so much as a dent in the red metal. Adamaris motioned quickly, the rifle settled in his lap, sweat pasting his bangs to his face.

"Drive, drive!" He ordered, frantic, scared, piss-in-your-pants frightened. About to puke, vomit all over the car, toss your cookies and blow chunks but Dragon spare him a glare. No throwing up in my car. Behind them, the Zoids limped out of the garage and looking out the rearview mirror Dragon saw more of the ugly fucks emerging from the blackness. She gunned the engine and the Hummer responded in kind, bellowing its mighty power before lurching forward, tires squealing.

Adamaris took a few deep gulps of air. Dragon slowed down a bit once the zombies faded from view. Darkness still covered the city. Dragon didn't put the headlights on, didn't want to attract any undead monsters. She slowed down a bit, because Hummers tended to overheat if driven too fast for too long. Her hands were still shaking, trembling on the wheel she held like the answer to all these problems. Adamaris groped for her hand, settled his on top of her eyes and gripped it with loving kindness, a physical hey, I'm here with you.

"I told you we needed to leave." He whispered, smiling faintly, a touch of sleep-deprived humor it his eyes. Now they had no home and nowhere to go. No food or water, just pajamas and guns with barely any bullets and a tough Hummer. Dragon returned the grin, because as lame and corny as it sounded……they still had each other.

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End of chapter. Read, rate, review, whatever. I love that stuff, guys!