Title taken from the song The Sounds of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel I would suggest listening to it, the live version on youtube from the 25th anniversary Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Concert. It's just this side of spooky and perfect for a zombie fic, I think.

It was dark outside, silent. No cars rumbled past or buses chugged along. The streetlights must've taken the night off because they weren't even alight on the other side of Jim's window to annoy him like they usually did. Jim turned over in his small bed once, snuggled his head into the pillow, realized he couldn't breathe then turned back around to the other side where he'd started. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. But it must've been one or two in the morning by this point so he didn't question it.

He should have, but he didn't.

Jim opened his eyes when sleep didn't offer its warm embrace and stared at the ceiling. He could have sworn he'd turned his ceiling fan on last night before stumbling into bed. Now however, it stood still - unwavering, unmoving - but Jim couldn't find it in himself to care, to question. Maybe he was crazy and hadn't turned the fan on last night. Either way he just stared wanting nothing more than to fall asleep. He lay there for an hour longer before the silence was just too much. Something wasn't right.

Something was wrong.

Maybe he was just hungry. His pain medication made him hungry.

With a sigh of defeat, Jim swung his sheet - it had been too hot for the comforter - back then maneuvered his one good leg and one bad leg into a sitting position. Hugging and cursing his broken ankle he grabbed for his crutches that were conveniently placed beside his bed leaning against the wall. He ignored the digital clock that blinked out a time and his cell phone as he heaved himself off the bed grunting and groaning trying his damnedest not to put any weight on his bad leg.

"Six weeks, no weight baring post surgery. Sorry Jim, looks like you'll have to take some time off work."

The doctor had been kind, if not a little tired and just this side of cute. But, the wedding ring that shined around his third finger dashed any plans Jim had had about asking to play doctor with the man later. All was well however since the man's brown eyes and blonde hair reminded him too much of Sam's and Jim was not about to make a move on a guy who reminded him of his brother because no. Just no.

But damn did he have a thing for doctors. The white lab coat. The brooding atmosphere of knowing too much about the human body and its workings. The over tired protectiveness of their patients and, last but certainly not least, the three day stubble that blanketed their chins. Sexy.

The air was cool as Jim slowly crutched one foot at a time out his bedroom.

Put one foot in front of the other.

Or two crutches front of one foot, as his case may be.

He would turn the light on the brighten the otherwise dark room but those switches were all the way across the room. Too much work. So he trudged on in darkness until he reached the lip of the stairs. Swiftly, because he'd been doing this by himself for two weeks already, he threw his one crutch down the steps and cringed as it clanked loudly against the carpeted floor and side of the steps. He then leaned into the raining, took the other crutch down a step and hopped down. He did it once more, then twice until sinking to the step and throwing his remaining crutch at its twin. It hit the side of the wall, Jim hoped he wouldn't have a dent in the morning.

Something still felt off.

Maybe he was still hungry.

Maybe it was his pain medication making him paranoid.

Maybe he just really wanted the rest of that left over hamburger he knew was in his refrigerator.

And so Jim slid his butt down the steps silently - or not so silently since he lived alone in his house - berating himself for not turning on any lights. By the time he reached the ground where his two crutches lay the cool feeling that he had felt evaporated as sweat glistened on his forehead. He had only recently broken his ankle making every movement harsh and more effort was expelled than he was used to. Jim grabbed his crutches and leaned until he was upright then began his journey to the kitchen.

The house was not big, not small but it was his. Bought using money from his job and parts of his inheritance from his dead father. It was only a few blocks from the small college he used to go to before people had started to get sick and attendance had dropped so much that they had to close it down.

People had been getting sick for a while. Fevers, chills, throwing up into trash cans on the street as Jim walked past them with his nose in his shirt while looking away discreetly because ew. He didn't even like Peter, Sam's son, throwing up on him and he loved the little guy. After his school had closed down Jim had focused solely on his work with nothing better to do. He liked fixing cars and tinkering inside engines. So what if he couldn't get the degree in engineering like he'd always wanted - this was the next best thing. Right?

Jim had dedicated his time to working his life away - which wasn't too hard - until some of his coworkers started to get sick. When Jim had stumbled upon Arty passed out in the bathroom he knew something was defiantly wrong. It wasn't just a stomach flu going around the streets of San Fran as the newscasters had said, people were really getting sick.

But then Jim, in a show of true and utter Kirk luck, had shattered his ankle.

Falling down the steps.

In his own home.

Stone cold sober.

And he'd just laughed at himself already feeling his body go into shock. He'd called the paramedics to come help him but after twenty minutes of waiting he just said Fuck it and picked himself off the ground high enough to crawl. He didn't have anyone else he wanted to call. Sam was on vacation in Europe for the month relishing in his high end job that let him travel the world with his family. He wouldn't call his mother to help him because no. Just… no. Other than that he didn't really have anyone he was close enough to come help him. Jim Kirk loved people but he was a loner at heart keeping track of only himself. He was an extrovert when he felt like it but an introvert the six other days of the week. So, with no other option, he crawled out to his car and he drove himself to the hospital.

Jim had been surprised to see all of the people sitting in the waiting room as he checked himself in.

"If you're sick go sit with the others," the lady - Barbara, her name tag had a flower sticker peeling off it - said without looking up from her papers. Jim had cocked his head to the side angry and in pain and way too embarrassed to be sitting in a wheelchair since he couldn't walk.

"I'm not sick I broke my goddamn ankle now can I please get some help here?"

She had looked up at him surprised at his tone and leaned over to see his mangled foot.

"Right this way," she pointed to which Jim followed.

They took X-rays, twisted, prodded, touched and gave him a cast telling him to stay off his foot and come back in a few weeks. The sexy doctor told him about possible surgery but Jim had waved him off with an oh, no, I wont need that, because he hated hospitals enough as it was and he was not about to lay down so they could cut open his ankle. No sir, not for him.

When he had crutched out of the hospital to his car - no he didn't need a nurse to push him in a wheelchair he was a grown ass man, damnit - Jim looked at all the sick people coughing into tissues or hands. Their skin all looked grey with dull hair. Jim wasn't sure if a cure had been found yet but he hoped it would be soon. He might've been an asshole but he still cared…

By the time Jim finally made it to the fridge he felt clammy and out of breath. He had bypassed the light switch to the kitchen too preoccupied with his thoughts so darkness still reigned in his household. He balanced on one foot letting the other one rest on the ground careful not to place any weight on to it then leaned his crutch against the counter. With a jump-hop he was at the refrigerator with his hand on the cool plastic. Like he had done a thousand times before, Jim opened the door feeling the cold brush of air against his bare chest and face. But something was wrong. Instead of there being a hallelujah gospel inspired ark of light shining like God's own smile from the fridge, there was nothing. More darkness and shadows where his food was kept.

Oddly enough, that was how Jim Kirk, college drop out and one footed wonder kid, figured out the world had essentially ended.

Tbc…