He betrayed them.
They should have seen it coming. Infact, they did.
They just never stopped it.
Oh wait, am I skipping too far ahead? I'm sorry, let me start from the beginning. One would wonder why I'm rambling about this, I do suppose. And, I do apologize. Well, from here on out I shall begin from the beginning. Maybe not the exact beginning, but the beginning nonetheless.
Let's get started, shall we? I do apologize for the inconvenience.
Well, here we go, I suppose.
x-x-x-x-x
"Where the hell are we?"
Those were the first words to escape the man's mouth, his golden colored hair rather messy. He stared around, the dried blood and dirt beneath his fingernails giving them a dark, rusty color. He stared at the man standing to his left; a man with raven black hair and equally dark, chocolate eyes. He glanced at the American, and shrugged. A man of few words, as was apparent about him. The American let out a heavy, if ever slightly aggravated sigh, turning to face the man a few feet behind them, dressed in thick, dark clothes mostly suited for cold, Russian winters.
"You comin', Nikolai?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow, a slightly amused smirk on his face as he watched the man waddle through the shallow water. The blond scratched at the growing beard on his face, mumbling to himself about how he needed to shave soon. If it grew long within the next few months, it gave the freakbags more to grab, and no one wanted to have their beards ripped off by an undead gutbag. That was certainly no fun at all.
"I'm coming, I'm coming." The Russian grumbled in response, stepping forward after taking a quick swig from a bottle he held in his right hand. "Fuckin' swamps, always have been trouble for Nikolai." He added, quite annoyed at the current circumstances. His words earned a laugh from the American, as the three advanced towards the hut in the middle of the swamp. They finally, finally had found shelter, and in the best-case scenario, there might just be food rations inside, as well. They had finished the last of the MRE's, and the idea of eating zombie flesh... well, that just didn't sound appetizing to anyone. Or at least, to anyone in their group.
The men stepped inside the hut, glad to be out of the water. They looked around, and soon began searching for supplies. The man with the dark eyes, an Imperial soldier of the Japanese army, began to search for food. He always made everything he rationed out exactly equal, having been taught from a young age never to be greedy, so he was in charge of food rations. The American was in charge of weaponry, being sure to find the ammo they needed. The Russian was the one who they sent out in search of new headquarters incase their current one got overrun, and while the Imperial despised him, they managed to put up with eachother, not killing eachother quite yet.
"Do you think anyone's living here?" Nikolai questioned, turning to face the American as he dug through some old equipment. It looked like medical equipment, which was one of the disturbing things about this hut. Not to mention the swinging, hanging body above their heads, but they had all silently agreed not to mention him.
"Nah, this place looks completely abandoned. Good news for us, eh, Nikolai?" He replied with a smug smirk. Nikolai nodded with a laugh.
"Yeah, good news for us." He repeated, staring at some of the equipment. Needles half-filled with some sort of clear liquid, another empty syringe, a bottle of pills, a bottle of rubbing alcohol-
"Don't even think of drinkin' that shit." The American said with a chortle. Nikolai huffed, rolling his eyes.
"Dempsey, you think I'm fuckin' stupid?" He asked, hands resting on his hips. The Imperial nearby had stopped rummaging through crates to listen to the conversation, nodding his head.
"Well, you do have a history of alcoholism." He mumbled under his breath, going back to searching for something, anything they could ration out, if only for a night.
"But that doesn't mean I'm going to drink this shit. It smells like piss, anyways. Rotting pig piss." Nikolai said as he set the bottle of rubbing alcohol back into a wooden crate.
"Alright, alright, if you two ladies would stop arguing-"
"Ladies?" Nikolai seemed offended at this, growling and clenching his hands into fists.
"Forget it. We need to find somethin' to keep us alive." The one addressed as Dempsey spoke. The Russian grumbled, rolling his eyes once more. As they all went back to searching for food, for weapons and for ammunition - and if they were really damn lucky, maybe some idea of where they were - a noise seemed to awake them from whatever trance they were in. It was a creak, a moan of the rafters, and then silence. The noise had them all on edge. Their weapons were out of ammo, so they'd have to rely on their knives. When there seemed to be no danger, they all collectively let out a sigh of relief.
"Ah, hell. I hate that sound." Dempsey said, a relieved chuckle escaping him. Nikolai nodded, and the Imperial continued searching for food, mumbling in his native tongue. Dempsey stepped over to the corpse that was dangling from a rope in the rafters, staring at the dead man. They were missing an arm, it seemed.
"Poor bastard," he said, frowning. "Wonder what the hell got him?"
"Probably the same shit that'll get us if we're not careful." Nikolai replied with a laugh. Dempsey didn't laugh at this, but instead shook his head, and felt some sort of a pain of recognition, as if he'd met the hanging man before. He sighed, biting at his bottom lip, and then returning to search through the crates for weaponry. He managed to find some rifles, and now was attempting to find ammunition.
And somewhere else in the swamp, a man with a wide grin was wandering, a spring in his step.
_
A/N: Please do forgive me if I'm not that good at telling this story. I'll be sure to improve in the future.
Hope you did enjoy!