A/N: Hello; first thing I would like to state is that this is going to be one heck of a bloody fanfiction. (HAHhaa)

Well I guess you have come here because you wanted to see a zombie story or johndave/stridercest. Both romance and gore is going to be in this story so watch out for that. Also! There are going to be a whole bunch of triggers in this story so I will state them at the beginning of each chapter. Just watch out and read them.

Trigger warnings: blood, gore, cursing, zombies, fear, and weapons


Day ?
Prologue

Dirk POV

Spinning around distinctly, I swung my sword and blood spurted out in a splattering mess. I tried to take a leap back but crimson red blood found its way to my black sweater. 'It' howled in pain, backing up while holding its battered face. Its clothes were torn up; cuts and gashes were everywhere on it. The left arm dangled at the elbow, decay already eating away at the remainders of the flesh.

"Fuck," I whispered to myself, feeling dissatisfied, "not enough to kill the thing."

Sweat dripped down my face as I teetered, feeling tired as hell. I tried to breathe steadily but it kept coming out shaky. Killing Prowlers was one thing, but killing them for five hours straight was another. Especially with 'certain' conditions.

At least I didn't kill them alone in any circumstance. Someone was at my side, fighting with me each day. He had a great attitude about it too. Though he agreed to limit the Prowlers with me at first, now he was obsessed.

He always asked when the next time we would go kill more...

This person was Dave Strider, my younger sixteen-year-old brother. His confidence and bravery put me to shame in many ways. I sort of remember when I acted like the older brother, leading him through life. Showing him new things and letting him explore around the apartment building. He was so small and fragile then. But now he is one audacious fucker.

At the moment Dave was in the process of impaling a Prowler. This one had hideous facial features, including a twisted, smashed in nose, and one eye that protruded from its eye socket. Angry red blood vessels pulsed unnaturally in the gooey remains of what it used to be.

My thoughts clicked into place. Still had to take care of the gruesome mess of that one Prowler, which was staggering up from its lying position. The only thing that prevented it from getting up at a fast pace was its rotting, grotesque arm.

I shut my eyes tightly for a second.

I felt the reassuring weight of my sword.

I swung.


A/N: dave killed da prownbler den he smiled with he leiked doing dis and it was da beast ding in da woreld. he loveed iet. dirk was stuipidhead bout it and didntt leik et dat muche. dave lov ed et so mecuh dat he dieieiiiiid et every deay. den deese more porlswers came dat are zomvbiyes camee. le gasp da endly of de prodloug ey