Hiya guys!
This is a fanfic based on a fantastic roleplay I had a while ago,
I wanted to make into one as soon as it finished, but actually found time to do it just today ^^;
I wrote short pieces of various parts in time.
Anyway, Enjoy!
~One day after the breakout
"MATTHEEEW!" Alfred cried out at the flames busting out of the small bungalow.
He dropped to his knees and looked up, tears flowing from his eyes. He swallowed hard, and rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.
This was not supposed to happen. Matthew would just lid the house on fire, and run back to him without a problem.
The sight replayed in his head, over and over. His ever loving mom, hair on fire, grabbing his smaller brother's legs and pulling him back in.
Matthew had screamed. He had screamed so loud. Alfred had only been able to stiffen in horror.
They were behind him too. He knew it. For god's sake, it was a bungalow park! Of course they were behind him.
Alfred stood up, and ran. Tears still running over his dirt-stained cheeks and his heart still aching like it was severally stabbed with a rusty knife.
~2 days before the breakout.
"It'll be alright Al! Camping is fun!" Matthew chirped in the backseat next to Alfred. The car stopped, and his father stepped out to have a talk with the park-owner. Matthew opened the window to listen to them, chuckling at the man's accent. "Hey Al, you got to listen to this. English people actually talk with that weird accent for real." Matthew whispered behind him, his soft voice even softer than usual. Alfred closed his Gameboy, and tucked it in the pocket of the front seat, leaning over to overhear his father's conversation.
"It's just a few days Alfred." His mother agreed. "Only until your father finished his business."
His father just nodded at that.
Alfred had stubbornly crossed his arms, and glanced out of the window, at the serenity of the English countryside.
"Boys.. It's not really polite to eavesdrop at people.." their mother warned half-heartily.
The brothers just grinned at her, as she was actually leaning in to hear it too.
"Geez, are they serious?" Alfred grinned, falling back to his seat. "How is dad able to keep an straight face?"
~The day of the breakout.
"There is a worldwide virus breaking out. All over the world adult humans are losing their minds and trying to kill the younger ones under the age of sixteen. The sickness starts with innocent cold symptoms, and sensitivity to light. Then itchy spots start to appear and those spots turn into pus-filled boils. Voices will appear inside the adults' head to kill and feed at the young, even their own children, until they lose their minds, and they become almost inhuman. Ladies and Gentlemen, we might be talking about the apocalypse. I repeat, There is a worldwi-"
Suddenly, British voices weren't so funny anymore. Alfred saw how his mother shut the radio down and dropped down on a chair in the bungalow.
Matthew looked at him, violet eyes filled with fear. Alfred gazed back. He had dropped the ball they had been playing with as soon as the reporter mentioned the killing. "Itchy spots.." Alfred muttered, his gaze falling back at his mother. She nodded, tears formed in the corners of her eyes while she pulled her sleeve up, showing off a few little boils, that had started to appear.
"Boy's come here, we got to talk." She said firmly.
~One Day after the breakout
"After that, you set it on fire. Am I clear Matthew?" His father asked, fastening the grip on his brother's shoulders.
His mother gave both of them a full backpack with provisions.
And dad pressed his prizewinning shotgun in Alfred's hands, saying; "Keep you and your brother save, Alfred."
Alfred had nodded. The weight was heavy in his arms and he swung the gun's belt over his shoulder, trying to look nonchalant.
He knew his face was as white as a sheet, and his legs were trembling. But this was not a time to be weak, he had to be a hero.
"No. Matthew. No! You can't go ba- COME BACK HERE! MATTHEW."
But Matthew kept running. "I got to go back in! I can't go without Kumajirou. They're tied up anyway."
The flames were already licking at the roof of the wooden bungalow. And before Alfred could even grab his brother's arm, the blonde had already ran in.
Half a minute later he had already appeared again, enclasping the white polar bear plush tightly. Alfred breathed out relieved.
"See! I told you it wo-" the cheeky remark was cut short by a yelp, Matthew had tripped, and before he could stand up again, his eyes widened and mouth opened slightly. Alfred could only stare, his mother… or what was left of her, had grabbed the blonde's legs and pulled him in harshly.
"A-ALFRED!" Matthew screamed horrified.
Another pull, then a crack. Alfred closed his eyes and froze in his pace as the loudest scream he ever heard penetrated his ears.
It was the last thing he would ever hear from his little brother again.
~29 Days after the breakout.
Alfred climbed through the window of an old shop. It had already been skimmed, but a few cans of food had still been unnoticed.
Hungry as always, Alfred pulled open one of the unlabelled cans, and grunted heavily at the sight of beans.
"Well Alfred.. At least it's better than nothing." The blonde comforted himself.
If he pinched his nose and thought about fresh warm hamburgers then-. He swallowed. The bean-liquid dribbled over his chin.
He wiped it away with his sleeve, immediately regretting it.
"Fuuuck.. I should really stop doing that.." he muttered, staring down at the new stain forming on his limited edition captain America hoodie.
It was smudgy, but not even close to ragged. Afraid he would damage it even more, he pulled the hoodie back over his head and stuffed in his backpack, together with the two other cans he had found. There wasn't much more inside. The leftovers of his collection of mom-packed candybars, a dead cellphone, pocketknife, flashlight, and a lighter. The lighter. Alfred quickly closed his bag again and dropped the can of beans on the sidewalk.
It seemed like he had to hide again. Brain-dead adult 'humans' had somehow managed to gang up. Alfred took a small glance at the huge clock tower the British people called the 'Big Ben'. It was already past eight. It was safest to stay nearby London, as most settlements were formed there, and most 'Oldies' as Alfred liked to call them, were exterminated. Alfred didn't want to join any settlements, he liked freedom, but sometimes he'd stay over some days to do some task in trade for food and safety. But usually, he was pretty lonely.
~35 Days after the breakout.
"H-hey 'ello?" Alfred grabbed for his gun, pointing it at the sound of the cracking voice.
"N-non! No shooting, please!" The voice begged. It came from behind a trashcan, and the closer Alfred came near to it, the more blood he saw splattered over the asphalt. He lowered his gun and came closer. There was a longhaired blonde boy, positioned between two garbage bags with his legs pulled up, he missed an arm, and that wasn't even the only place he was bleeding at. "H-holy shit.. What happened to you?" The longhaired boy took a shuddering breath, and tried to pull himself up. Alfred helped. The boy muttered something in a foreign language, which Alfred supposed was French, and let himself be pulled up.
"Let's just say I was attacked." He muttered, grabbing a tighter hold of Alfred's shoulder with his other arm. "My names is Francis."
"I'm Alfred." Alfred had wanted to shake hands with him, but seeing the other's working arm was very busy holding him up, he dropped his arm back down.
"I'll help you get it fixed, don't worry." He promised. Francis just tried to stay conscious.
~65 Days after the breakout.
"Oh, Alfred, do you remember that traveling group of people we crossed last week?" Francis asked.
He leaned against the windowsill, and stared into the distance, as if he was looking for something bad to happen.
"You mean with that huge Russian kid and his scary sisters?" Alfred muttered from the couch.
He had his head propped up against his favourite hoodie, and stared at the ceiling.
"Oui, those people." Francis gave a quick glance over his shoulder to look meet Alfred's eyes.
"What about them?" Alfred asked, raising his brow.
"I was thinking, why shouldn't we accept his offer, I mean…"
"Request denied." Alfred said, turning his back on him stubbornly.
Francis frowned, and pulled himself up to sit on the windowsill. "Can I ask why not?"
Alfred sat up again and slowly made his way over to Francis. "Because they kill little kids." He grunted through his teeth.
"But, that doesn't necessarily have to mean we should too." Francis opposed.
"Goddamnit Francis! No! I am not joining them!" Alfred angrily hissed at his companion.
"But mon ami! It will be so much easier to survive!" Francis reasoned, staring out of the window again.
His French accent hadn't lessened in the slightest the past month, and French words always slipped through every sentence he spoke. "They kill innocent children, Francis!" Alfred hissed. "I am not working for people who do that, I am an hero, not an killer." Francis rolled his eyes at the last remark and then just shrugged. "Okay, bon. No hard feelings." Alfred sighed at him and dropped back down on the couch of their makeshift home. "How is your arm?" He asked, more out of habit than interest.
"Don't you mean, 'Where is your arm?' " Francis answered dryly.
"Haha. That was funny the first five hundred times." Alfred muttered back.
"Then, maybe you should stop asking. I told you, J'ai magnifique."
Alfred held up his thumb and let himself fall back on the bed.
When he woke up the next morning, Francis was gone.
Woah! That was chapter one! If you guys like it, be sure to fave or review and I'll happily make more!
Thanks for reading!