A/N: OH MY GOD I'M BACK. It's only been like, over a year, right? Right. I've had fun jumping completely off task and slacking from my responsibilities as an author. And it's not just the fanfiction, but I've been slacking on my original stuff as well. I've been coming up with new ideas for stories, but never got around to writing anything. So, without further a due, let us continue with Nathan's adventure to find Sylvia!
Chapter 2: No Sounds but the Moans of the Dead
NATHAN
"The city is silent. Not even any gunfire. It is nights like these that are the most peaceful. They are the nicest. Even without Sylvia to share it with. It's almost serene, or at least as serene as it can get in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. It's nights like these I just like to lay down on the roof of a building, and stare at the stars.
The odd thing about this city is the fact that I haven't seen a single Special Infected. Not one. It's been three days, and nothing. But, I remain optimistic! Because I've found a fire axe, and even an empty pistol. So, I consider that a success.
Anyway, night to night, I've been moving from rooftop to rooftop. Being at least half-Hunter gives me the opportunity of being able to jump farther than any known creature. Which is awesome. And of course, I have no idea where Sylvia is! I don't even know how the military is keeping a quarantine. Or what happened to Sylvia!
Man, am I obsessed with Sylvia? Probably. But who cares? That Infected down on the street whose name is probably Richie, or some generic crap like that? Nah, he's brain dead. Literally. He has no feelings, no emotions, no thought process other than eat.
Making me, a survivor. A prodigy, if you will. Making me, the apex predator. Of probably this entire city!
Oh, and another thing, I raided a liquor store! I have been drunk of my rump all night. And why shouldn't I be? What doesn't give me the right to drink? And drink hard. If I had a chair right now, I probably would have tipped over at least sixteen times.
And then I realize, I'm saying this all out loud! Because I'm drunk as balls!"
If I had control of this body, I'd sigh. But unfortunately, Hunter does. And he's using it to drown his sorrows in alcohol rather than find Sylvia. And since he's not willing to do this, I am. Have I tried to gain control of the body? Of course. But to what extent? To none.
Man, Hunter's a stubborn ass. And he likes to sit on it too. That thing he said about moving every night? A complete lie. He's sat us down here after the first day, grabbing a bunch of alcohol, and now he's being stupid.
"Ah, man... I could use a pool, some babes, and some more booze especially." He tosses the empty beer bottle over the edge.
What an idiot. What a waste of my body. Unbelieveable.
"Hey, shut up! You don't know what I've been through, alright? My body, my will!" He screamed into the night.
I'm guessing it was directed towards me. But these days? I can't tell anymore. Man, what I could use is for this idiot to be gone for good so I can be a complete human again. I'm sick of his bumbling, ranting and vomiting, especially.
I need to take this body back from him. Somehow I need to do it. But how?
"How? You gotta... Drink! Yeah, that's it!" He grabs another beer from behind him. Behind us. I am so sick of this. I could imagine it now... Lifting my arms and legs, and sprinting. Sprinting faster than ever. Actually gaining effort to find her. I could imagine cradling her in my arms again, whisking us away from the terrors down below, and never letting her go again.
But unfortunately, the chances of her being dead are pretty high. Or injured somewhere, bleeding out. Or kidnapped by a bunch of thugs. The stakes are all too high for trying to find her. I feel a surge of anger sprint through my veins, as I try once again to lift my arms. I try and try, and try... And then-
Nothing. The bottle is still in my hand. Even though it should be me controlling this body, he tilts the bottle back and the alcohol inside pours down his throat.
I hate you so much, Hunter.
I really fucking hate you.
"Profanity is bad, Nathan."
I really. Fucking. Hate you. I truly do.
This is pointless. We are doing nothing. Nothing at all. Sitting here. Sitting here uselessly. We could be out there, searching, but instead we sit here like a useless asshole! I wish so badly I could just chuck this stupid bottle off the roof, and when I manage to do it, it takes the both of us by surprise.
"Did you do that?"
Yes. I did.
"Why? I was drinking that!"
Exactly.
"You're not very nice."
He reaches for another bottle, but I will the body as I did just before, and prevent him from getting it.
"Hey! Piss off!"
Make me.
"Okay, I will!"
He, not kidding whatsoever, punches himself in the face, knocking himself out. That was much too easy. Much too easy. I feel my eyes open and grin as I bring my legs up from over the edge, and stand up. I brush myself off, and feel my face for blood. Surely enough, it unsurprisingly drips from my nose. That was far easier than it should have been. Just piss of a drunk and watch him hurt himself.
Now for real progress. I walk around the edge of the rooftop, until I find a ladder. I'm not sure how he built up the energy to jump as far as a hunter, but I have no experience with it, meaning descending down the ladder will have to do. I grab the cold metallic rungs in my hands and throw myself over the edge.
Of course, just because I have control doesn't mean I'm not drunk. I'm not entirely drunk, but I'm feeling a bit tipsy. I wonder if that makes Hunter a light drinker. Rung by rung, I climb down the ladder until I'm on a fire escape above an alleyway. I lean over the railing and look at the ground below. I'm probably like four storys up.
I sigh and tap my finger against the railing. I could go down the ladder, or I could use the express route... But that might hurt me. On the contrary, I have enough muscles in my legs to throw me twenty feet into the air, so who says I couldn't survive a four story fall?
"This is stupid..." I whisper to myself, shaking my head. I throw my hood over my head, before gripping the rail and tossing my legs overtop and letting go of the rail. The air whips past me as I freefall to the ground. I grit my teeth and prepare for the snapping of bones, but it never comes. I feel the hard pressure of the pavement under my feet, but the pain is minimal.
I cringe and collapse to the ground. Maybe not that minimal of pain. I rub my legs, pulling my pants up to examine them. But truly, it's not that bad. I don't really know how to explain it, but I'm not dead. My legs aren't broken.
So that's good.
I wait a minute, letting the pain in my legs subside before rising from the ground and dusting myself off. I take a look around, seeing just one common puking on the wall. I groan and slap my face into my palm as I remember the fire axe is up on the roof. I take another look around and see something that will work just as well: a pipe. I casually walk over to it, lift it into my hands and slapped it into my open palm like a member of the mafia about to break someone's legs.
I whistle at the common, and get into a stance like I'm about to hit a baseball with a bat. The common whips it's head around before sneering and running at me.
"Batter up!" I shout as I swing the bat. It makes contact with the common's head, knocking it down as though I'd clothes lined it. The blood splattered through the air, and the only thing that could've made the moment better was a slow motion angle of me hitting it from the side. I laugh at the common, who's now dead on the ground next to me.
"Should've worn a helmet, huh?" I say, nudging it's shattered skull with my foot. I could be psychopathic, but I think the real answer is that I'm just having fun with the new body I've gained through the means of being awesome. I rest the pipe on my right shoulder, walking out of the alley with a smirk on my face.
I walk out into the street, looking left and right at the abandoned, raided cars, the trash on the street and the idle commons. I would be disgusted by how much the city has been ravaged by the apocalypse, but I'm pretty sure the common are the only addition to the mess that is Detroit.