Summary: The last survivor in New York knows there's only so much time left to live. So she finds a 'game' to entertain herself, to make life alone a bit more exciting. But what will happen when the subject of her 'game' catches her?A/N: Just a short oneshot to get me back in the mood for typing, a short break for my other fic. I'm in the process of learning Parkour right now, so I kinda wanted to write something about it. Let me tell ya', it takes a LOT of muscle to do Parkour. My shoulders, arms, and abs are sore. Ow. But it's worth doing, and I highly recommend the sport to anyone who has access to a teacher. And don't be afraid to ask around, because I found my teacher quite accidently. Oh, right, back to the fic. Um, read and review, if you would, it makes me quite happy and makes all the achiness worth it. Hope you enjoy it!
I looked out the door cautiously, searching for the little black shadow I knew was waiting for me. My eyes scanned the tops of the buildings, peering out from behind the bars of the safe room door. Where was he…?
There, I breathed, grinning as I caught sight of my only entertainment in this new world. The Leaper sat hunched on the roof, shivering miserably in the cold. Most of the Infected had long ago died off when the cold hit, so it was quite the surprise that the Leaper was still around. The other Specials had moved south to avoid the frost and ice that came with November, but for some reason this particular Leaper stayed north, braving the cold.
Actually, I knew why he stayed. My 'game' kept him thinking he had a chance to catch me, so he remained where the food was. It might be cruel to tease him like that, but I needed some form of entertainment through the long days. If playing with the starving Leaper was the only way to have fun, then so be it. I'd play with him until either he or I died. And who knew, it might be today. It could be tomorrow. It might even be years from now. But I lived for the day, and today, I was bored, and it was time to go outside and play.
Watching him to make sure he didn't move before I was ready, I quietly slid the bar from the slot, cracking open the door slightly. At the squeak this produced, the Leaper snapped his head in my direction, and even though he was three stories above the ground, I swore I could see his eyes narrow.
I grinned. Time to play, little hunter. Are you ready?
His growl responded to my soundless taunt, and he began rolling to his feet, stiff from the cold. Before he could gain his stance and get the advance on me, I threw open the door all the way, sprinting out, running for all I was worth.
His screeching weight slammed into the ground just behind me, and it took all my control not to jump and ruin my rhythm. As he recovered from his failed pounce, I was already fifteen feet away from him, feet slamming into the ground, breath coming in controlled gasps, eyes scanning around me for a new route to take today. I needed a new route to take every morning I played. If I used the same one, he might learn it, and that would be the end of me. Also, it just got boring doing the same thing every day.
His furious snarl sounded behind me, and I heard his clawed fingers scrabbling against the concrete as he raced along a short distance back. His hot, moist breath reached my ankles, and my mind went blank as I reached my first obstacle to cross. Time to play.
A cadence of simple words filled my mind as I preformed my favorite sport, thoughts becoming motions as my body moved into the familiarity. Run, twist, turn, see, jump, grab, pull, climb, jump, roll, run, run, run, jump, vault, land, run, jump, roll, run, leap, land, roll, run, grab, pull, climb, run, jump, vault, swing, land, roll, run. Run run run.
The entire time, the Leaper was only a short distance behind me as I vaulted and climbed over my obstacles, feeling his hot growls eternally on my skin. While he could jump faster and further than me, I could run faster, and my rolls saved me time when he had to recover from each of his jumps. It evened out and kept him from seizing my skin between his teeth, from making me his next meal. It kept me just barely ahead of him, just enough to keep me alive and give me the thrill of adrenaline I so craved. It kept me alive.
Finishing my loop, I grinned as I saw the familiar red door ahead of me, listening as the Leaper began stumbling with exhaustion. Yet another day I would survive my dangerous game, taunting Death. Forcing my exhausted muscles into an extra burst of speed, I dove into the safe house and slammed the door in the Leaper's face, grinning tiredly as I heard his screech of fury and exasperation. I placed my hands on my knees and panted, wheezing for breath, listening as he paced angrily outside the door he couldn't get through.
I knew he was waiting for the next part of my game, so I made my trembling legs move until I reached my supply of food, grabbing a can of SPAM from the stack I had. Stabbing the top with a knife to open it, I yanked the top off, throwing it out the barred window to the Leaper crouched outside.
"Happy now?"
His feeding growls answered me, and I grinned as I flopped down onto the ground to stretch, thinking quietly. Yeah, I know feeding the Leaper was probably a stupid idea, but I wanted my game to continue. If he died of starvation, I wouldn't be able to play with him anymore, and I would have nothing to do when the winter winds howled and screamed outside my safe house door. Even though I wouldn't be able to run with all the ice and snow, I could still tease him from inside. I had discovered the other night that he had an addiction to laser pointers, and that often replaced my nightly movie.
Pulling on my toes, my mind drifted back to when I had first started my game. Back then, it hadn't been a game, merely survival. I was being chased by a small horde when I had dropped my shotgun right outside the safe house door. No, I wasn't stupid enough to try to grab it, but when I was safely inside and the horde had gotten bored with me and wandered away, I looked out the door to my gun, laying there in the center of the street. I hadn't heard anything around me, so I cracked open the door, easing out slowly to retrieve my only weapon. As I bent down to grab it, the familiar screech of a Leaper had me running, sprinting toward the nearest thing I could climb and jump over.
I guess my sudden sprint forward surprised him slightly, because he missed. That surprise didn't last too long, though, and he had taken off right after me, chasing me as I preformed the sport that had saved my life many times. I had been so grateful I had discovered Parkour, because it was probably the only thing that kept me from being devoured that day. Running back, I had slammed that red door behind me as fast as I could, hearing him slam into it behind me. I hadn't been able to grab my shotgun, and I spent that night trying to think of a way to retrieve it.
The morning after, I had figured the Leaper would have been gone by then, so I had tried the same thing, sneaking out the door and trying to grab my only source of protection. The same thing happened, him leaping at me and I running away, and we repeated this cycle for nearly a week before I realized that I could outrun him, that I could avoid his claws and teeth. From then on, it was a series of tests, to see just what I could do to stay alive. By the time a month had passed, I didn't even worry about my old double-barrel, having collected a mass of better weapons from around town. In fact, I think the shotgun is still lying there on the street, forgotten and rusted from the rains that accompanied autumn.
The day I noticed the Leaper was slower than usual, I noticed that the other Infected were slowly disappearing. It took me a while to realize that they were dying of starvation and exposure, and my Leaper was also beginning to be affected. As I finished my daily run, I had paced, thinking my next action over as he growled outside the red door. Then, giving in to temptation, I had tossed him some of the meat that was going bad in the icebox.
The suddenness of food had startled him, and he ran away at first, screeching. That night, I had lain awake, listening to see if he would even eat the food or if I was going to stay alone in this northern hell. A sudden scratching of claws on concrete made me jump, and he had devoured the old steak outside the door, growling softly to himself. From then on, I fed him just enough to give him the energy to play my game, and keep him alive. Because of the increasing cold, it required more and more food. I wasn't worried because of that, though. I had plenty of food stocked up in here, even if I started eating twice as much as much as I was now. What I was worried about, though, was if he would survive the savage winter the north kept company with, the biting monster that tore at you with every last shred of strength it had.
Frowning as I stretched my left calf muscle, I calculated just how long I had been alone. The Infection had started here about the same time as my birthday, toward the end of March. I had found my current home in mid-April, and it was the beginning of November now…
Christ, eight months? Hardly seemed like that long. It should have been at least years, years for the human race to die. But eight months had me hiding alone in a hole. Who knew if there were even any other survivors left?
Shuddering slightly, I hugged my knees, staring vacantly at the wall. I was alone.
XXXXXXXXXX
The next morning had me scanning rooftops again, seeing him in his usual place. He sat there to soak up the sun as it rose, and it was also a good spot to be to watch me as I walked out. You'd think that with me following the same routine every day, he'd learn by now to be ready when I left. But every day he still tried to scramble to his feet as I sprinted out the door, already out of range of his pounce and running.
The routine was the same, just the route taken different. I ran, leapt, vaulted, rolled, and twisted my way out of his reach, feeling the thrill of being hunted. His claws were always mere inches from me when he tried to attack, and once he even nicked me, a spot of blood flying into the air. I performed a simple monkey vault over a fence, and gained some ground when he had to crouch and spring, landing awkwardly and having to regain his momentum. This distance allowed me to scramble up a brick wall, arms pulling me up while my feet dug into the bricks, pushing myself over the wall in a time that would have made my old teacher proud. Once I reached the top, I jumped off it, falling fifteen feet, rolling, and returning back on my feet in the same fluid motion, never once losing my momentum. That's all Parkour was. Building momentum and keeping it going.
The Leaper easily jumped over the wall, snarling as he realized he had gain some ground on me with that maneuver. He was still out of range though, and I began my route back, knowing these streets like the back of my hand. I had grown up here, and it was easy enough to find a path through the deserted town.
Once again, I ran through that red door and slammed it in his face, but this time he twisted away before it closed, screeching as he jumped onto the roof above it. I raised an eyebrow at this, panting, but assumed he had gotten used to me getting away from him. I don't think it really mattered if I got away from him or not, as long as he got food. Speaking of which…
I sighed and grabbed another can of the processed SPAM out of my cabinet, again stabbing it open and throwing it out the window. It had just barely hit the ground when a large blur screamed down at it, catching the tin in his claws and devouring the contents within. I was glad he seemed to like it. I hated SPAM, most processed meats in general, so I could just unload it on him.
I watched him eat for a moment, regaining my breath, then groaned and fell onto the floor, again beginning my stretching routine. I found it tedious and dull, but I knew I would regret it if I didn't stretch after doing a run like that. When I had first started, I didn't stretch, assuming I would be fine. I had been very wrong, and it had hurt like hell to move the next day. Now, even though I might not feel like it, I made myself stretch my overused muscles. I learned my lesson then, and it stayed with me now.
Done with my stretching, I examined the small cut on my arm, dabbing at it with peroxide and putting a Band-Aid on it. Normally, I wouldn't even bother with a cut so small, but I didn't know how filthy the Leaper's claws were. I also didn't feel brave enough to test my immune system, so on the little strip of plastic went.
I glanced out the window, where the Leaper was still licking at the can, and I sighed before giving in and reaching for another can. He seemed surprised when it landed next to him, but didn't hesitate to snatch it up and devour the fatty food. Good, he could have it. Ugh, that stuff was nasty.
Shaking my head, I walked into the small bathroom, and began my short shower. Sweat felt nasty against skin.
XXXXXXXXXX
Once again I rose, yawning, making myself a simple meal of dried eggs and pancakes. The smell drifted out the window, and I heard my Leaper growl up on his roof, unwilling to move until the sun rose. I grinned at the torture I was no doubt putting him through, glancing in his general direction. As winter approached, the days got shorter, and now when I rose it was too dark to see. It often didn't start to brighten until around seven, and I didn't start playing until about nine. That way I had plenty of light to see, and it wasn't too cold. Sometimes, the air was so frigid that when you inhaled it, it momentarily froze your lungs. That would be bad if you were being chased by a Leaper who wouldn't hesitate to rip your throat out.
Turning back to my food, I placed the pan directly on the table, not caring if I scorched the wood. I was done doing the nice hostess act. I considered this place mine now, and I was too lazy to wash too many dishes. Thus, the many black spots on the table where it had burned from a hot frying pan.
I scarfed down my food quickly, eager to take a warm shower and begin my daily exercise routine. Sit-ups, crunches, push-ups, squats, pull-ups, leg lifts… the list went on for an eternity. And for most of them I did in counts upwards of one hundred. It normally took about an hour or so to do all of them, followed by a half hour of stretching and resting before starting my game. It kept me in shape, though, on top of the running. Hmm, I was going to need to find something to do when I was snowed in. I wonder if there was any way for me to drag a treadmill in here?
As I contemplated the chances of me sneaking such a heavy piece of machinery past the Leaper, I began my shower and sit-ups, halfway through my set of pull-ups when I decided it wasn't possible. The chances of me being able to move a treadmill on my own was slim, never mind past a blood-thirsty monster angry at me for teasing it daily. Oh well. Maybe the main room was big enough to do laps in.
Finished with my morning schedule, I stood just inside the door, once again looking for that black shadow huddled against the rooftop. It took me moments to find him, and even from this distance I could see him shivering harshly.
I felt a brief pang of sympathy, feeling the air's bite against my own skin, but shook it off. Now was not the time to be feeling sorry for him. Not when I was about to begin running for my life. Willingly, but still.
Shifting the bar out, I watched as his head lifted, swaying slightly. Hmm, might have to start giving him more food. I cracked the door open a bit and he turned in my direction, sniffing. As he shifted his weight, I bolted, leaving the door open behind me. I didn't have to worry about Infected sneaking in while I was gone. The Leaper and I were the only ones left around here.
Surprising me and causing me to yelp, the Leaper slammed down just behind me, his claws catching on the back of my shirt and tearing through. I picked up my pace, sprinting, and he followed right on my heels, snarling and spitting as he smelled my leg barely a foot in front of his nose.
Since I was on a ground-gaining run, I ran toward the first fence I could see, vaulting over it and rolling to continue the motion. When the Leaper had to crouch to clear it, I gained about three feet, a safe distance for me. As long as he couldn't snag out a claw and grab me, I was comfortable. Still, though, I was going to keep this an easy run. No daring, stupid stuff. I guess that extra can of SPAM had given the Leaper plenty of extra energy.
Spotting another high fence, I made a wide turn and ran for it, mentally counting and calculating my steps. One, two, three, short step, jump, hands down, feet up, push, over, unfold feet, land, bend knees, lean forward, roll, stand, run, run, run. Behind me, the Leaper screamed furiously as he realized I was pulling away from him, leaping then hitting the ground at a run. Inwardly, I worried about this: he was learning from me. He had to have been, because he had never continued a motion from a jump before. And if he was learning from me, then how could I avoid him when he knew all my tricks?
I took a sudden left, a direction I was always weak on but it would lead me to another brick wall. The Leaper snarled as he overshot me, claws scrabbling on asphalt as he turned to chase me again. I kept my eyes open, scanning the area carefully. I didn't use this side of town too much, since there wasn't too many obstacles. I would have to be careful not to accidently corner myself.
I jumped a ditch, slipping slightly on wet grass and struggling to regain my footing. The Leaper snarled at my heels, tone tight and anxious, and I growled back at him before taking off again. He had gained three quarters of the ground he had lost, and was now only ten feet from me. I needed to find my way back to the safe room, and soon. The Leaper was starting to win the game.
I took a right, vaulting a chain link fence and continuing. I heard the Leaper follow, yelping as his claws were temporarily caught on a hidden chain. I didn't gain much ground, though, and looked for another thing to climb. Stairs would be best, a handicapped ramp even better. I had no problem crossing those, but I knew the Leaper did. He didn't understand that he could walk across the railings rather than jumping each individual set.
Spotting a playground, I hopped the short fence and jumped, grabbing the monkey bars and using them to swing myself to the top of the slide. Glancing back for a moment to see the Leaper struggling with the climbing ropes, I jumped and rolled, coming back to my feet. The Leaper screamed with frustration, arm caught, and I suddenly gained fifty feet on him.
I grinned. I used to hate kids, but I had to admit they had their uses. Like the playgrounds.
I slowed my pace slightly, to regain my breath and to keep the Leaper close enough where I knew where he was. I didn't want him to ambush me.
I scrambled up the side of a ten foot wall, using my arms to pull me with my feet trying to gain leverage. Walls had always been my weakness, since female bodies really didn't develop too much upper body strength, but I was able to keep the Leaper far enough away to be comfortable. I took off running again, listening to the impact of a body on concrete behind me, and sprinted forward, recognizing where I was and beginning my turn back.
I ignored the first cough. In my defense, it had been a month since I had seen any Infected besides the Leaper, so I had allowed my guard to drop. I mean, what Infected would stay hidden for a month, then suddenly reappear?
But reappear it did, and I finally processed the second cough the same moment I felt the tongue wrap around my waist. I screamed as I was tugged backwards toward the Snatcher, trying to turn and tug the appendage off. I had stopped carrying a weapon on me a while ago, since they ruined my balance, but I was deeply regretting it now. Snatcher tongues were almost impossible to break, and as I heard its victorious wheezing, I had to close my eyes. Son of a bitch, I was dead now, wasn't I?
The tugging stopped, and I felt the tall Infected's shadow blocking the sun from my eyes, could feel the motion as he brought up an arm to begin clawing me to death. I sighed mentally, accepting my demise and preparing to block out the pain.
A sudden furious, pissed screech had me opening my eyes again, staring at the Leaper as he screamed at the Snatcher that had stolen his kill. The Snatcher roared back, high-pitched and scratchy, and the Leaper narrowed his eyes as he crouched, preparing to jump.
I had to fight back a hysterical laugh. It only took a zombie apocalypse to have two boys fighting over me.
The Snatcher screamed with pain when the Leaper collided with him, clawing and scratching. He had been stupid, really. Nothing stole a Leaper's kill, other than the Behemoths. I had even seen one fight off a Crier, making it run away wailing. The Snatcher stood no chance against the Leaper.
It was a short match, one I watched with dull interest. Really, once the Leaper had knocked the Snatcher to the ground, he had stood no chance. On the ground, his height served no advantage, in fact disabling him as he lost maneuverability. He managed to get one scratch on the Leaper's face before teeth met in his throat, ripping and tearing. Greenish-yellow blood splattered the ground as the Leaper rose his head, sudden noxious smoke filling the air, making me cough and instinctively pull away from it. Eyes streaming, I stared at the Leaper, who crouched before me, growling. Even if I managed to untangle the Snatcher's tongue, there was no way I would be able to rise to my feet and begin running again.
I closed my eyes, allowing the whimper of acceptance to leave my throat. Hugging my knees, I waited for the slamming weight to knock me to the ground and begin tearing me to shreds. I heard the Leaper pace around me, sniffing, growling, apparently looking for the best angle to attack me from. I closed my eyes tighter and waited.
A sudden screech had me flinching, opening my eyes unwillingly, widening them in shock when I saw the Leaper tear the tongue away from me, snarling furiously at it. As soon as it was removed from my body he flung it away, hissing, then turned back to me, backing up a few steps and sitting, watching me. The expression on his face was wary, yet curious.
I must have stared stupidly for a good five minutes before dropping my head to my knees, crying with relief. I didn't understand why the Leaper wasn't killing me, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe he didn't want to lose his source of food, maybe he actually enjoyed the game we played every morning, who knew? All I could really know was that I was going to live another day. I would get to see another sunrise, take another breath, feel another beat of my racing heart. I would live.
The Leaper whined uncertainly, making me look up. He had risen to his feet again, body slightly turned away, as if getting ready to run. He ducked his head when he saw me looking at him, expression inviting, watchful, even….. playful.
I grinned. I knew what his expression was.
Time to play?
I laughed at the imaginary voice in my head, relieved tears filling my eyes as I rose to my feet.
"Okay. Time to play."