A/N: I did warn you guys that there'd be a flood of new content from me now that I'm writing warmups for Way to Fall and here we are with my third story update in four days hOORAH

SO this is going to be a series of short chapters of the Classic Zombie Apocalypse AU That Nobody Asked For because I've been in a zombie mood lately which never happens and I'm taking full advantage

THE CATCH

I'm following the formula that one of my favorite authors VelkynKarma used for their Voltron fic "Road Trip to End Times." I'll be playing through a game of Organ Trail which, for those who are unfamiliar, is a zombie spinoff of Oregon Trail. Situations are randomly generated, and I'll be doing my best to get our good AU agents to Safe Haven, their end goal. Everything I write is going to go along with the sequential order of events that are happening in the game. At the bottom of each chapter, I'll be putting the exact events that happened in italics. If someone gets sick, they gotta get sick. If someone gets bitten, I gotta figure out how the hell I'm writing that. Essentially, the future of this story is just as much a mystery to me as it is to you all.

So with that, dear readers: welcome to the apocalypse.

Rusted metal and torn canvas had never looked so beautiful to Jack in his entire life.

It wasn't unusual, finding old, rotted-out cars like this in places they shouldn't be. The reasons why they were abandoned were impossible to not think about when you came across your first on the side of the road. The hordes had learned to mob fairly quickly when the virus had settled deep within about a quarter of the population, and there had been a drastic decrease in outbound traffic for weeks when reports of ambushes on the road reached the cities still standing. Most of the poor saps stuck in their cars during those times were never seen again. And if they were, they were usually missing a few limbs and shambling.

After you'd gone as many miles as Jack had and seen one old shell of a car after another (or had the joy of trying to navigate around a whole cluster of them blocking the interstate), you stopped mourning the loss and started keeping an eye out for those previous inhabitants. More times than not, they never went far. It was even less likely that they would be happy to see you. But only a fool would pass up the opportunity to raid a vehicle that hadn't even begun showing signs of growth from the nature around it.

Especially when rations were as skimpy as they were nowadays. Having extra mouths to feed that he hadn't counted on was stretching him pretty damn thin.

The car appeared to be recently abandoned, which meant it likely had something useful inside. He'd stopped the second he'd seen it, too jaded by experience to feel hope, per say, but feeling something all the same. The sun was well on its way to setting in the next few hours, and if his heading was correct, they wouldn't make the next habitable city until the next afternoon at least unless they continued driving right up until darkness fell. It was too risky traveling at night when the swarms were most active, and if they stopped to scavenge properly, they would lose precious hours of road time.

This whole affair had been a lot easier when it had been just him.

Shaking away the thought, Jack got to work around the old Jeep. They'd gotten lucky. There were no signs of activity, and as Jack searched the surrounding road and overgrown thicket in full, he allowed himself to breathe. They wouldn't have any problems this time.

He gave an all-clear sign over his head to the group gathered around the old station wagon idling several yards across the road, and he saw their hands raise back in acknowledgement. They were all well accustomed to his rules when it came to scavenging now. He was to scout the area out alone, and if there were any problems he couldn't handle quietly and quickly, they were to leave immediately.

They'd had one close call too many in the past two weeks to argue.

He wasted no time in cracking the car open, rummaging under seats and in compartments with the methodical hand of a man who had done this a million times before. Every crevice, every cushion, every cup holder was searched. He could feel his lip curling as the minutes ticked by and nothing presented itself.

He'd moved on to the open trunk and been searching for something to jimmy open the built-in toolbox when he heard movement behind him.

Jack didn't so much as turn. Instead, he yanked a loose bit of bumper off of the beat up four-seater and shoved it into the only gap he could see between the box and its casing. He'd only known his companions for the past couple of weeks now, but he could recognize each of them by sound and sense as if he'd known them for years.

"Anything good?"

The first kid he'd picked up was peering over his shoulder into the now-open toolbox curiously. But really, Lucio didn't tend to do things any other way.

The improvised sling they'd thrown together didn't do much for him, but the kid refused to let something as trivial as a broken arm keep him down. He'd been the life of the ragtag team since Jack had snagged him out of D.C a mere hour before it had been wiped out, and Jack was grateful for that at the very least. He hadn't been all that enthused to be picking up passengers, but as he'd gone around the city, trading and gathering the last of his supplies he'd needed for the long haul to the west coast and the one true chance of salvation that it held, he damn well couldn't just leave him behind. The kid had given up his last stash of batteries in a trade for Jack's med kit to bind some toddler's ankle in the street before pushing the pack onto the crying girl's mother, insistent that he wouldn't need it. He'd smiled the whole time.

Even Jack wasn't a big enough asshole to turn his back then.

For now, he grunted in response to Lucio's question. He'd searched the entire car, and by the looks of it, someone had already beaten them to it. There wasn't anything in the box aside from a few shredded bits of old plastic bags, and he hardly saw the use there. He inhaled slowly before letting it out in a self indulgent sigh.

Damn.

"I'm taking this as a solid "no," yeah?" Lucio didn't sound disappointed. Jack didn't think the kid had it in him to ever sound disappointed. Or if he did, he was incredibly good at hiding it. All the same, he turned away from the car to face him, shutting the toolbox with a solid slam behind him as he did so, his voice grating and low as it always seemed to be these days.

"Nothing here."

Lucio's brow furrowed, his expression puckering as he ran his eyes over the car. Jack almost expected one of his "better luck next time, I'm sure of it" spiels, but he was surprised when the kid made his way around to the passenger door and popped it open instead.

He made a small sound of victory as he leaned awkwardly inside, and Jack shifted over himself to look through the driver side window. There was no way he'd missed anything. It was impossible-

"It looks like it might be- ayy, it's detachable, thought so! Here, help me out with this real quick-"

The kid had a solid grip on the faceplate of the old radio, and he was wiggling it like there was no tomorrow. His focus was solely on the dashboard, and he looked about one good shake and slip away from landing on his broken arm if he kept up the way he was going. Jack yanked open the driver side door.

"Stop," he reprimanded shortly as his hand swatted Lucio's away from the radio, "what are you doing? A bit of plastic isn't about to do us any good."

Lucio gave him a look that clearly said he was humoring the older man. "Does your radio work?"

"You know it doesn't," Jack said, returning the look evenly. The kid shot a meaningful glance to the radio and back to Jack. HE let the look slide as he continued. "And I'm saying it again, a bit of plastic won't help us. I don't have anything to wire this up with if we do manage to get it out. We don't have time to waste on this."

"Three minutes," Lucio bargained, his free hand thumping to rest over his heart earnestly. "Just give me three minutes to mess with it, and we'll get going. You know it could be useful if we can swing it."

Jack looked up. The sun was steadily marking its descent, and they were doing themselves no favors standing around. They had maybe two hours of driving left if they miraculously didn't hit any roadblocks.

But when he looked back into the kid's face-

Jack reached into the dash and popped off the radio's faceplate in one solid tug.

"Three minutes. That's all you're getting."

Lucio positively beamed at that, and before Jack could blink he had shuffled himself into the car to get a better angle at the detachable radio, being extra mindful of his restrained arm all the while.

Jack turned away from the Jeep, looking back over the road. His other companion was leaning against the side of the station wagon, the beaten up bat she'd had when he'd picked her up resting over her shoulders and her hands draped over each side. When she saw him looking her way, she raised her hands in a universal what's taking so long gesture. He raised three fingers in response, and she gave an exaggerated shrug as Jack turned to keep watch around the car as Lucio got to work.

Two minutes passed before he heard a solid k-thunk from inside the Jeep.

The kid emerged a second later, the grin on his face threatening to split it straight in half as he held up the small metal box, two cables intact and dangling from the back.

"I'm sorry, did I say three minutes? I did, didn't I?"

Jack stared.

He couldn't help himself. He was actually slightly impressed, and he squinted at the radio in its casing openly. It didn't look any worse for wear. When he raised a questioning brow, Lucio held the object out to him, which he willingly took and turned over in his hands.

"How did y-"

"Used to work for a radio station on the weekends," Lucio fielded the question before it was completely out, miming a headphone on his ear. "Warned a lotta folks about how easy it was to lose their stereos if they didn't have 'em in right when they started bringing factory radios back into the mix."

Jack simply grunted in return in his usual way. He turned the box over again in his hand, inspecting the wires. They might actually have some use for it.

Lucio was already walking back towards the station wagon when he looked up again. The kid was fast when he wanted to be. Jack caught up quick enough, drawing even with the kid as he scanned the road one last time. It was a quiet evening. He only hoped it would stay that way.

"Hey," he said as he held the radio out for Lucio to grab with his good arm. The kid accepted it, but when he realized the word had been more of a segue than a means for grabbing his attention, he tilted his head slightly.

"Hm?"

"…nice work."

It sounded strained even to him, but Lucio grinned all the same. Jack wasn't used to dishing out praise. He hadn't had to for a while now. But this seemed like something that deserved it.

"No worries, man. Besides, it's more than just useful."

Jack gave him a sidelong glance as they circled the station wagon. Their companion had already hopped inside when she'd seen them coming, and she was tapping at the window impatiently. "How so?"

Lucio raised his eyebrows meaningfully over the top of the car to Jack, his expression clearly jesting despite the seriousness in his voice as he popped open the shotgun door.

"If I had to go one more day without hearing something other than the two of you, I'd probably go completely nuts."

And with that, he slipped inside. Jack took a moment before shaking his head and sliding into the driver's seat himself.

Honestly?

He couldn't blame the kid one bit.

Lucio has a broken arm.

You come across an abandoned car, but there is nothing to scavenge.