CHAPTER ONE- HETALIA: LAST ONE STANDING

Stepping out of the small helicopter, a slight wind blew in my face. The smell was all too familiar; I'd been coming here at least once a week for the past five years, but nobody knows that.

Coming here always brings back memories. Good ones and bad ones. Especially the bad ones. Scratch that, the worst.

Back in 2012, sometime in December, I guess, this terrible thing happened, but I'll get to that in a minute. See, I don't know exactly where I am right now, but if there's one thing I do know, it's that I'm in the United States of America. And I shouldn't be here.

So, it's July 1st, 2024. Twelve years ago, the worst thing happened here. Practically every one here in this country turned into zombies. Man, I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was at McDonald's, and there was this lady and her husband…and my car keys…and some guy whose daughter was bit by the lady's husband…well, it wasn't a good day for me, Alfred F. Jones. I used to be known as the USA, but now I'm just some little country in the United Kingdom (though I'm still America, just no "the United States of" in front of it).

My birthday's in three days. Sorry Mum, but…I really don't care what England has to say. Two years ago, I think it was, we got into this argument over when my birthday should be. He says I should change it to December 23rd, which is the day he gave me some of his land (yes, in 2012). But, dude, come on. You and your people who moved to my country already gave me an accent. You've already put your stupid King and Queen in charge of me and my people. You already made me put the stupid Union jack in my flag. Please, for the sake of me remembering what I once was, I beg you, do NOT change my birthday. I don't care if I'm not entirely independent any more. I was, so don't take Independence Day away from me.

Aw, dude…sorry, I'm rambling. Anyways.

Okay, so I'm walking down a long road, cracked and broken, dusty, old, abandoned, with cars scattered all over, all crashed and wrecked. There were dead, rotting bodies inside and out of the busted cars, tires and other car parts, and even some flyaway papers, luggage, et cetera, dispersed everywhere.

Then I come up to this used to be welcoming sign, now cracked and faded. All it said was:

"Welcome to Disneyworld!"

So that's where I am? Florida? Might as well look around, huh? So, I start walking forward, soon walking under that sign and getting a few steps closer to my destination.

That's all I ever do when I come here; walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, cry a little, walk, walk, walk. And wanna know what's the weirdest thing of all? I usually don't run into any zombies. But when I do, they don't attack me. They just stare at me as I walk by. Sometimes they follow me a little while and leave. I guess after awhile, they really aren't what those ridiculous old movies make them out to be. Sure, they look scary, but…yeah. Anyway.

The smell of rusted metal and rotting flesh filled my nostrils as I walked into one of the parks. I don't mind, that's usually what I smell when I'm here. Is that what ruins of a once great country smell like? Oh man, don't cry, don't cry…aw, hell with it.

Wiping away the tears from my eyes, I saw a bunch of signs with these crazy names of rides with their fun fonts and once bright, now faded, colors. I started recognizing some of the names. I remembered from years upon years back, when I dragged Canada, England, and France here with me. This ride, we rode like a trillion times. The Tower of Terror. Is it me, or does it look the same as it did before this place turned into a bunch of ruins? Ha, it's always looked kinda rundown, huh?

Hm, I wonder if, just maybe, it still worked, just to humor me and make me remember the good times, back when everything was okay and I was totally carefree. But of course, my safe side took control and urged me to turn around.

After lots more walking, I realized it was sunset, and there was no way I'd make it back to the helicopter before dark. But that's okay, I'm not afraid to be out here, alone with some zombies, in the dark. But, I better start heading back.

When I was nearing the exit of the park, I saw a zombie creeping out from in between two buildings, coming towards me, but stopped and stared at me half way, and I did too.

I'm so stupid. But I had to. I smiled and waved to it- I'm sorry, I smiled and waved to him. I might've been just wanting to see it, and my brain just played a trick on me, but I swear I saw him smile a little. Yeah, it was probably just me. I rolled my eyes at myself, thinking about what I'm about to do, and ignored any possible reasons for me not to.

"Hey," I called to him. "enjoying Disney? Hah…"

I got the expected groan back.

"Yeah, it is pretty nice here. Lots of childhood memories. Not really for me, but there are memories, nonetheless, right? How 'bout you?"

Another groan.

"Good to hear, I think. Well you take care of yourself, okay?"

Another groan as I continued walking.

Hours later, I found myself back in the helicopter, around ten or eleven at night, flying over the ruins of Orlando, Florida, and soon, over the Atlantic Ocean, back home to London, England, in Europe.

Things have changed quite a bit since 2012. First of all, I now live with my uncles Scotland, Ireland and Wales, my aunt Northern Ireland, my brother Canada, and my mum England, as well as my dad France, who decided to live with us in England instead of his country (France) after mum and him got married January 6th, 2013. Also, because of the new placement of our countries, Canada has a slight French accent and I have a slight British one. It really ticks me off. But what angers me more is this; I am no longer independent. My independence was taken away with a catch England came up with a month after giving me some of his land. The King or Queen of England are now in charge of everything that goes on in America. And taxes are going up. Does he want a repeat of the Revolutionary War? I love him. He's my mum. I don't want to beat him like that again.

Although everything that used to be of the USA is crapped up, which includes my flag, my capitalism, my independence, my everything else, Canada's doing great. He said that, sure, a lot has changed, but France treats him great. No changes to his flag. France allowed Canada to keep his flag, and now he has two flags; the French flag and the Canadian flag. I didn't know one country could have two flags.

After awhile, I don't know how much time exactly, I was somewhere near home. I stepped out of the helicopter and started walking across a huge lot to my car, big and black, barely visible in the dark sky.

When I was walking, I realized how sore my legs were. Too much walking today, but I'm surprisingly not tired.

Now that my cell phone's back in range, I turned it on as I was walking, opened up my messages and read the newest one from Canada. It just simply said: "Bonjour! Where are you, Al?"

I looked at the time on my phone. 11:47 at night. Wow, I'm not gonna make it back home before midnight. Canada texted me at 7:00 PM, nearly five hours ago. But still, I texted back, saying: "On my way home, kk? C ya in a few, Matt" then turned off my phone and pulled out my car keys.

Once inside my car, a sudden burst of mixed emotions run through me. I curled my fingers into fists and slammed them down on the dashboard. I gripped the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles turned paper-white. I just stared out the windshield, back straight against the seat, both hands on the steering wheel, tears welling up in my eyes.

Why did all that have to happen? Why can't this all just be a dream? Why can't I just wake up to the bright California sun and warmth? Back home. Back to the old days. Back to my country. Back to the USA.

I sighed. Oh well, I guess things aren't that bad. Just suck it up, dude. Get over it. Everything's okay. Everything's okay…

I faked a smile to myself, started the car, and drove off.

After twenty minutes of driving, I finally came up to the big house. I slowly parked my car in the big, long driveway. I got out, locked it, and headed up the stone path, aligned with small, multicolored plants and some bushes, though it was too dark out here to really see them well, except for when you got closer to the porch, because the light from inside was coming through the screen door.

I was startled to see a certain red-haired uncle of mine sitting on one of the porch steps, a cigarette in his hand. He didn't notice me, he was just staring out into the distance. I wonder why he does that so often…

"Uh…ello, Scottie," I said quietly, slowly walking up, trying not to scare him, which I didn't.

Without looking away from…wherever it is he's looking…he said, "'Ey there…"

"What're you doing out here so late?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." he said, turning his head to look at me when I sat down on the porch step beside him.

"Well, er…you know."

"No, no I don't." he looked at me, his oddly bright and perfect green eyes, reminding me so much of Mum's, made want to tell him where I'd been since 6:30 this morning. That must be a family thing, Mum can do the same thing with that look in his eyes. "So where've you been?"

I gulped. "Just…out. Driving around, is all." Lying about it is getting harder. But I don't want to tell anyone that I've been going back to the US…they'll think I'm crazy and probably keep me from ever going again.

"Sure, sure. Well, Iggy's worried. It's past midnight. Get inside." he turned his head to look forward again, staring out into the distance again.

"What about you? Aren't you gonna head inside?"

"Y…yeah, in a minute. But I'm not the one who's been gone, doing God-knows-what all day."

"Touché." and with that, I went inside.

"Alfred!" Mum yelled when I walked in, and came running towards me. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"Just…out. You know. I'm gonna go to bed now, okay? Night Mum." I said, quickly running to my room upstairs, knowing he was glaring and shaking his head at me.