A/N: For the YGO Fanfiction Contest Season 11 Round 5. The pairing: Thornshipping (Yami no Malik x Anzu Mazaki). All these firsts just keep piling up on me this season. This time: zombie Apocalypse AU. …in hindsight, choosing Shinedown to provide the musical background for this fic may not have been the brightest idea I've had to date.

Disclaimer: Kazuki Takahashi and all associated companies are the rightful owners of the Yuugiou! franchise and I claim no association with any of them. No copyright infringement intended with this and no money is being made from this. Please support the creator by purchasing the official releases.

Warnings: gore and violence and zombie shenanigans, and questionable consent.

A City of Dust

(Covering Both of Us)

The first time Anzu sleeps with him, she doesn't really know why she does it. She's confused, scared, lost, and he's just there, and he's dangerous and frightening, and also very human and warm in the way living bodies are. She supposes the fact that it's a zombie apocalypse outside is the key factor to all the complicated reasons she has concocted for herself. Because she doesn't say yes, but she doesn't say no either. She wants it and she doesn't want to want it, but there's a thrill that runs down her spine that's not entirely unwelcome when he levels her with one of his stares of desire and borderline madness. There's a look in his eyes that makes it clear that he sees her in a way Atem had never seen her. That he knows who she is and why she is. He doesn't force himself on her the way she'd expected he would, instead choosing to wear her down with heavy looks and clear hints of his intentions, so that, when he reaches for her, she takes a step forward instead of back. When he picks her up in his arms and carries her over to the bed, she tangles her hands in his wild hair and whispers,

"Don't hold back."

He doesn't.

He does hold her afterwards, though.

There isn't a safe place for them to stay in for extended periods of time, so they keep moving. They travel through ghost towns, trying to leave them behind as fast as they can, having learned the hard way of how useless things like axes and katana are against this particular breed of zombie and how easily it is to fall into their trap. How little is effective, in fact, as it's sometimes hard to say who is and who isn't affected. They are a clever, plotting bunch, capable of coming up with elaborate plans to trap people not yet turned and add them to their horde. Driven by an unfathomable rage that makes the feelings Malik displayed at the Battle City tournament seem tiny and insignificant in comparison, they feed on the victims they deem an unworthy addition to their ranks – or just anyone they spot when they're really, really hungry. Most of the time – they are.

And to think that they'd shrugged the first zombie sightings in America as just another hype of the overwhelmed mind that had been fed one too many scary stories. They'd even joked about it until the first local reports had come in and even those they had laughed off as some overly easily influenced people temporarily losing their sanity.

And then Malik's darkness had made a comeback with a brand new killing spree on the eve of another international tournament where he'd been an honorary guest.

She doesn't think she'll ever be able to forget the way he'd all but growled at her that night outside the brand new KaibaCorp stadium, "Do you want to live, girl?"

There had been no vocal answer that she can remember making, but there must have been something in her eyes that had made him press the gun he was carrying into her hand. She could have shot him when he turned his attention to the KaibaCorp security guard that rushed their way. She'd even raised the gun and trained it on him, hands trembling, but instead she'd shot the guard, suddenly realising that the man had blood streaked on the front of his shirt and around his mouth. She'd missed the first few times, drawing the man's attention. The inhuman growl he'd made upon turning her way had her freezing up and she must have squeezed the trigger by sheer muscle reflex because he stopped and collapsed, more blood slowly spreading on his shirt.

Before she had realised what had just transpired, Malik had been by her side again, his hand locking around her forearm like a clamp. He dragged her away from the scene while the distant howl of police sirens grew rapidly louder, the two of them disappearing around a corner just as the first police car pulled up at the stadium's entrance. Those few unlucky cops who spotted them and tried to follow them ended up dead, perfect mid-forehead bullet holes marking the end of their path.

She'd never asked him just where he got the gun, but she does have a few guesses. She is perfectly fine with keeping them unconfirmed though.

"Don't get open wounds. Don't get their blood into your wounds or you're fucked," he'd snarled low in her ear that night, huddled in a crook of an alleyway while he surveyed the area.

"What… What's going on?" she'd whispered back, uneasy in his grasp and wanting nothing more than to break free and put some decent distance between them.

He'd looked at her. For the first time in years since he'd met her, he looked at her in a way that she couldn't describe. There was recognition in his eyes and acknowledgement that she existed before his face contorted into the most insane mask of glee she'd ever seen – taking into account even the first time he'd emerged before them on the KaibaCorp blimp – as he proclaimed, "Zombies, little girl. Welcome to the fucking Apocalypse!"

And he'd laughed at his words as if it was the best joke he'd heard in a lifetime.

She hadn't believed him at first. The world still trudged on behind the windows of the apartment where they were squatting; the media broadcast his picture as belonging to an armed and dangerous criminal along with hers as his hostage. The police asked for cooperation and advised utmost caution when encountering him. She saw her parents on TV, her mother looking like she had been crying for days on end and her father looking dishevelled – something she'd never seen before. They'd pleaded with Malik to let their daughter go, to do her no harm, but he only scoffed at their teary pledges and didn't let her call them and assure them that she was fine and safe.

"We're not safe until it's over," he'd said.

And then the disaster hit on a large scale. It was as if somebody had spilled some sort of a drug into the drinking water. Overnight, the media had forgotten all about the murders at the KaibaCorp stadium on the opening night of the grand tournament and the kidnapping of one Anzu Mazaki. Horrible stories about violent attacks and people rushing each other in uncontained rage to feed on flesh and blood took all the news channels by storm.

"The hunt is on," Malik had chortled, watching one channel for a moment before flipping to another to see an almost identical news coverage.

"Don't get open wounds. Don't get their blood into your wounds," Anzu repeats to herself quietly, watching in mortification how the world flies off its rocker. It's her new mantra and survival guide, now that everything has gone crazy. Paradoxically, Malik's crazy is one of her safe anchors.

She has a gun of her own now and a full spare clip in each pocket. And she thinks that all of those zombie movies she'd seen before are full of lies. These zombies move fast, fuelled by rage and blood-thirst and a headshot is the only safe way to dispose of them without risking exposure to anything that could lead to an infection. They aren't stupid hulking masses of decaying flesh. They are still very much sentient and they can plan and scheme. Until they lash out at you, faces contorted and eyes filled with fury, you can't even tell that there is madness hiding beneath their skin. Quite like Malik, actually.

He's sleeping right now, stretched out next to her on a broken bed, but she knows that the tiniest movement, the faintest sound is enough to wake him. There's a gun under his pillow. There are two under hers. She debates with herself for a moment, then slides on top of him and straddles him. His eyes snap open in an instant, his gaze alert and attentive while his body still struggles with the lingering sleep paralysis to catch up with her. When it does, he grins up at her and his hips move under her in a manner most encouraging. She leans forward, running her hands up his chest and wondering if she's finally lost it because it feels right to do so. When the thought of Yuugi – and, more so, Atem – enters her mind, she finds herself banishing it with haste and focusing her attention more intently on what's at her fingertips; on everything she can touch and feel, and hold. Somewhere along the way, Malik has lost the terrifying factor that used to make her blood run cold. Perhaps it's because he hasn't gone off on one of his world-domination speeches the way she'd expected him to. The zombies have provided him with a new outlet and it seems as though he remains content for as long as there is a consistent number of people for him to kill. At this point, that number seems limitless. She shudders at the thought and invests herself more firmly into mapping out his torso. She must not think of the people she has killed herself.

Malik runs his hands slowly up her legs, lets them linger on her hips, enjoying the steady and leisurely rhythm of her movements before spreading his fingers and running them down to her knees. His knuckles repeat that path back up, and then his fingers ghost down the inside of her thighs. She sighs and the next dip of her hips is lower, slower, with more intent. Their gazes lock and there's something unguarded in his eyes that reminds her of that other Malik; the one who called himself Namu, and also the one they met at the time of the Ceremonial Battle. It chills her a little inside because he's still the same person; she can still see the glimpses of him every now and then. It also makes her reach for his hands to tug them away from all the teasing they are doing and pin them to the mattress. The moment of almost-sincerity has passed and the raw emotion in his eyes scalds her in a way that makes her breath catch in her throat as she shivers in anticipation. He doesn't protest to her asserting control, merely watches her closely, waiting for the right moment to step in again.

Just as she is leaning down to trail a path of kisses down his chest, the crackle of static makes them both tense and reach for the guns beneath their pillows. But it's just the old radio across the room, plugged in and tuned in to a station that has gone mute, as it turns out. They'd assumed it was turned off because there'd been no static noise from it; just infinite silence filtering through the speakers when one song had stopped playing and there had been no one there to put a new song on. The waves are full of such black holes where different radio stations used to be. It means that some of the studios have been abandoned, though escaping greater damage.

Then the voice of Seto Kaiba filters through, announcing himself and expounding on how the KaibaCorp are still working on a solution to cure the madness that's currently ravaging Japan. The sound is fading in and out and it's sometimes hard to make out what he's saying. In the background, there's Mokuba's voice shouting at something. There's a faint sound of something fritzing, something crashing, and then…

"Croatoan."

It's Bakura's voice cutting through Kaiba's exposition sharp and clear before there's the hiss of static, a brief crackle, Mokuba's scream in the background, and the radio goes mute again.

Their grips on the guns remain firm as they look each other in the eyes. Anzu knows she has heard that word before, she just can't remember where. She doesn't know if Malik has and there's nothing in his gaze to go by.

"Time to get back on the road?" she asks cautiously.

His hand slips out from beneath the pillow, coerces hers out as well and then he flips their positions, grinning down at her. There's madness creeping into his gaze all over again.

"Time to finish what you started," he corrects her, leaning over her and bending his head to flick his tongue against the side of her neck. She shivers in anticipation, feeling hot and cold at the same time, the spark of desire rekindled after the brief intervention. "I'll make it quick."

On their way to the closest library large enough to maybe have a means for Anzu to research Croatoan, they find some old almost-acquaintances – at least, for her they are. On day three of their new quest they happen upon a small settlement, barraged and fenced-off, housing the largest group of sane humans they've seen in weeks, and run by the three DOMA swordsmen. The thought that they'd be in Japan had never even crossed her mind – and why would it? Surely, they had to have places to be after breaking free from the influence of Orichalcos.

"So you heard the KaibaCorp announcement?" Valon asks needlessly, crossing his arms, after they've stated their needs and intentions. "Heh. Well, good luck with that. I'm heading out on a patrol. See ya!" He waves a casual goodbye, joins up with a group of armed men that are currently on standby at the gates, and together they drive out to scour the city and dispose of any zombies they come across.

A look passes between Raphael and Amelda before Raphael excuses himself gruffly and leaves to attend to some urgent matter or another.

"Come along," Amelda says, turning towards the hastily erected barracks and trailer homes to show them a place they can stay at for as long as they need. "What do you know about Croatoan?"

"Nothing much," Anzu admits, sill a little taken aback after learning that it's what they call this zombie disease here. She knows only what Malik has told her and what she has observed on her own during these weeks. That they have a hive mind when it comes to attacking those not like them and that it only takes a few hours to manifest after being infected. Also, that a headshot is the most efficient way to get rid of them without coming in contact with their blood and risking exposure to whatever it is in their blood that makes people go straitjacket insane.

"First documented occasion is believed to be the Roanoke colony in…"

"16th century," Anzu jumps in, suddenly remembering under what circumstances she'd heard Bakura mentioning it. As he was quite invested in the supernatural and occult, he sometimes ended up mentioning creepy things in casual conversation. "But I thought that was only a speculation. There is no evidence to suggest that they didn't just move elsewhere under the threat of impending Indian attacks."

Amelda gives her a sharp look, an eyebrow cocked, as he contemplates something, but decides against saying it out loud. "Confirmed now. Paradius had… records."

She notes the hesitation in his voice, but decides against asking for a clarification. Though the memories from that time are distant and already quite vague after having to deal with zombies on a daily basis for a number of weeks which she has already lost the count of, she can recall enough of that emotional turmoil and of what they'd learned about the top three Dartz's henchmen to know that dealing with the aftermath had to have been devastating.

"I see." Her voice is slow and measured and the conversation takes a pause while he points out the most important facilities around their survivor campus. Then they're standing in front of the trailer that's going to be their home for a while.

"It seems," his voice is heavy and gravelly when he picks up the subject of Croatoan again, "that the cause of it is Orichalcos. KaibaCorp has found particles of it in the bloodstream of those infected."

She recoils involuntarily, taking a quarter-step back and bumping into Malik who steadies her with one hand while looking on impassively. He doesn't know the full story of that time, and she figures it wouldn't even matter now if she told him.

Amelda's lips twitch up in a brief and bitter smirk at her reaction. "Don't worry. Raphael, Valon and I are immune to it. It's quite possible that everyone else who was possessed by it, even for a short period of time, might be as well."

Unless they're dead, echoes uncomfortably through Anzu's mind as she nods to these news.

He seems to read her mind, continuing with, "We haven't yet located a few people to test that theory."

"What…" her voice catches. "What about Yuugi and…" the others, remains unsaid because the words have suddenly become a leaden weight on her tongue.

"Yuugi is gone."

Malik's grip on her waist tightens for a moment and she has no idea what to make of it.

While Amelda's voice is serious, there's a kind of a dry humour beneath his tone when he adds, "Kaiba didn't make it on time." Because Kaiba not managing something is truly a rarity, and the general way the redhead talks and looks whenever he mentions the CEO makes Anzu think that not everything has been resolved between those two. "Jounouchi and Honda are both unaccounted for, Otogi was last seen amid a horde attacking a school bus, Jounouchi's sister is safe in KaibaCorp's shelter, Kujaku Mai came in contact with Kaiba last week and hasn't been heard from since."

He looks weary as he does the rundown of casualties. She doesn't dare to ask for an update on her and everyone else's family members, but she gets it anyway the next day when Malik is out on a supply run along with Valon's group. He takes her to the improvised command centre where Kaiba is waiting impatiently to speak with her. Bakura speaks over him for half of the conversation until Mokuba runs in and drags him away to deal with whatever emergency has occurred.

"Is that… the other Bakura?" Anzu isn't sure, but she has become a keen observer during her fight for survival and she thinks she has spotted some things that don't match up with her memory of Bakura.

Kaiba hesitates for a moment. "Yes. Look, this isn't important. Ishizu has asked me to forward a message." He looks very displeased with that, as if the very thought of delivering messages like some commoner disgusts him on a deeply personal level. "She thinks her brother might be behind this. Have you noticed anything odd about him?"

Anzu contemplates this. Then she shakes her head. "No."

Kaiba stares at her through the flickering, noise-filled screen and eventually nods, accepting her words, and then makes sure to impress in his usual regal way the fact that she's dismissed. "That's all."

She nods again, taking a quick courtesy bow before departing the room. She is very much aware of Amelda's eyes on her back right up until the point where the door closes behind her.

"She's lying."

She hears Kaiba's voice filter through the door heavily muffled. Amelda's response is more firm.

"I know."

Her lips curl up in bitter acknowledgement of the fact that they judge her because she's a woman. Do they really think she's incapable of fending for herself? She stalks away to brood and wait for Malik's return. She doesn't love him. She's not infatuated with him. There's only the raw attraction and the good sex. She doesn't think it's Stockholm Syndrome either because she feels no sympathy for him. She stops in her tracks when she realises that she really, truly feels nothing for him.

She waits four hours after Valon's team has returned from their trip into the outside world before she confronts Malik with a question that's always been at the back of her mind.

"Why me?"

He looks at her with a gaze full of amusement. There's laughter in his voice when he asks, "You ask that now?"

She shrugs in response, her expression perfectly blank.

His lips stretch in a wider grin, the familiar madness creeping into his eyes again. "You were the Pharaoh's precious little thing. You cared for him deeply. Yuugi cared for you deeply. When I couldn't have the Pharaoh's life, I decided to take yours instead."

She looks at him as the feeling of feeling nothing grows inside of her and nods in thoughtful acceptance. "I see."

She pulls the gun on him and shoots him before he can even reach for his own. There's a nice round hole in the middle of his forehead, marking the end of his road and she feels… nothing. There's no emotion. No liberation after the act, and she wonders if maybe something is wrong with her.

Amelda is the first one to arrive on the scene and when she looks at him, she can read it clear as day on his face that he has expected this.

"He started showing the signs," she says impassively, but with a steady conviction nobody would dare to question. She looks unflinchingly into his watchful grey eyes, daring him to question her. "He must have gotten infected during the raid."

He merely looks at her for a moment and there's something in his gaze that she doesn't know how to interpret. He nods, accepting her words, just as others are rounding in on the scene, and turns around to bark orders.

One week after the fact, the Croatoan is still going strong, which means that Ishizu's fears have been entirely unfounded and Malik has had no part in the devastating outbreak. Two days later the report of her suicide reaches them and a very grim Kaiba calls Anzu onto the proverbial carpet again for a little chat, except this time Rishid takes up half of the screen with a connection that's downright terrible. Even through that it's quite clear that he, too, is bordering on manic.

"He got infected and started turning," Anzu repeats her words to him. She's said them so many times now that a fraction of her is starting to believe it.

"It was self defence." Amelda's voice is razor-sharp. Anzu manages to not jump or react in any other way when she feels his hand land on her shoulder. "She did what she had to do. We burnt the body to prevent anyone else getting infected."

It's hard to tell the look on Rishid's face because there's too much noise and it occasionally turns into static stripes, though the sound carries uninterrupted, albeit rather muted. Still, Kaiba breathes notably easier when he disconnects. They're prepared to never hear from him again.

"Any other bright ideas? Because I'm all out."

Anzu jerks her head back reflexively at the dry tone Kaiba has. Not to mention the fact that he's openly admitting to having no grip on something. It must be a really bad day for him, she decides.

Amelda shrugs. "We stick with what we know until Bakura digs up something."

"Or," Anzu proposes, "We stop sitting on our asses, go out, and shoot some zombies."

The look Kaiba gives her is borderline incredulous. Amelda still has his hand on her shoulder and he chuckles at her proposal, his eyes glinting with mirth. He gives her shoulder a squeeze before sticking his hands into his pockets and leaning back against the closest table.

"You said you had some possible leads about her friends, Kaiba," he reminds the CEO who shoots him another look.

Their little thinly-veiled passive-aggressive display makes her bite her tongue to keep herself from suggesting that they get a room and sort out their differences once and for all. The prospect of finding either Jounouchi or Honda, or Mai makes her perk up though.

"I'm sending you the information I have regarding Honda and his last known whereabouts. Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have a company to run. Next time, bother me only when you have something important to contribute. Like the cure for Croatoan." And with a dramatic swirl of his swivel chair, he turns his back on them just as the screen goes black.

Amelda laughs, reaching to turn the nearest computer screen towards himself and refreshes to get to the email he'd just received from Kaiba. The connection is spotty and it takes a full minute to load, and then another one to open up, then ten for the download to complete before they can examine the files.

"How do you feel about taking a little trip outside tomorrow?" he asks when they're halfway through the information.

"I feel like I need to stock up on ammunition," she replies.

"9 A.M.?"

"I'll be there."

"Dress sharp."

She shoots him a scolding look and sees that's he's smiling in amusement while pretending to look at the data on the monitor. Feeling her gaze, he turns his head to regard her. She snorts incredulously and shakes her head, wondering just when she became crazy enough to see this as normal.