Hello all! So, I got this idea in my head a few days ago for a Zombieland fic, and it would just NOT go away. This is my first real attempt at fanfiction that isn't based off a book series, so I hope you enjoy it! :]
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing about Zombieland. The rating is mainly for language and violence.
It had been four months exactly since the United States had turned into Zombieland.
Columbus didn't know this, of course, since there was no real way of keeping track of time in Zombieland. It wasn't like there were any newspapers to check for the date, and Columbus had stopped counting how many days he'd been on the road a long time ago.
No, he was counting from a totally different date now. The date that Wichita had died.
It had been three weeks, four days since they'd gotten ambushed in Kansas City. They'd stopped at a local grocery store that had a gas station in the parking lot so they could refuel and stock up on food and supplies. They'd been in the produce section when seven zombies piled out of the freezer of the nearby bakery. If they hadn't taken them by surprise, if they hadn't let their guard down—they'd have been able to fend them off with ease. Instead, that slight second hesitation had cost Krista Thomas her life.
After she'd gotten bitten, both Columbus and Little Rock refused to accept that it was happening. She screamed at them, using every last bit of her sanity to try and convince them to finish her off before she ended up hurting them. Columbus had watched with teary eyes as the first girl he'd ever truly cared about transformed into a hideous beast right in front of him.
As she started to turn over, Little Rock had the sense to grab his hand and start dragging him out of the store. They'd finished off the seven zombies before they noticed that Wichita had been wounded, so they sprinted for the parking lot before the zombie version of Wichita got to her feet and began to pursue them.
They ran at Tallahassee, screaming and trying to explain what had happened, but the words that were coming out of their mouths made no sense. It was only when he saw Wichita charging after them that he understood what was going on. Little Rock and Columbus piled into the back seat of the car, and when Columbus saw Tallahassee grab the shotgun from the front seat, he pulled Little Rock close to him and covered her ears, demanding she shut her eyes.
Squeezing his own eyes shut as well, he let a single dry sob escape his throat after he heard the sound of two shots firing in the parking lot. After that, it was just silence, save for the cries of Little Rock, who mourned her sister in Columbus' arms.
Those few days after the incident had been complete silence. Tallahassee was not a man of emotion, that was for sure, but Columbus caught him dabbing his eyes every once in a while when he thought no one was watching. Little Rock eventually began to speak a little after a week or so, signaling when she was hungry or needed to stop and use the bathroom. Columbus took a little longer to find his voice—it took him nearly two weeks to finally start talking again.
Little Rock decided it would be helpful if they all took some time to remember Wichita, and to tell stories to try and cheer themselves up and accept what had happened. Wow, girls really do mature faster than boys, Columbus thought to himself when the young girl suggested the idea. They went around the car and swapped stories—Little Rock did most of the talking, since she had a lifetime of stories compared to the few weeks Columbus and Tallahassee knew her—and after a few more tears were shed, they began to make peace. Krista was at peace now. That was the one thing that helped Columbus feel somewhat normal again. She wasn't suffering like the other poor souls who'd been infected.
Still, he knew Little Rock was still suffering, even if she was trying to be happier for their sake. Columbus could pretend to smile and laugh with them as much as he wanted, but nothing could stop the giant hole from forming in his heart. He tried to convince himself that he was being silly, and that he'd barely known her a month when she'd been attacked. In fact, the only real detail he knew about her past life was her name, and the fact that she'd had a sister. He never really got a chance to ask her about her hobbies, her favorite bands, favorite movies—they'd never gotten to know each other, and now he never would.
Yes, that was what Columbus was missing the most. He didn't miss what they'd had—he missed the possibility of what they could have become.