Act 1-2
Airwaves
Rip Him To Shreds
"I got the food," Lee says, throwing open the door. "Tenten! Neji! Are the drugs over with?
"Good morning to you, too," Neji sneers. "Has your never-ending affair with being socially awkward finally over with, or have you decided to give it another five years?"
"I'll get the knives," Tenten says quickly as she grabs Neji's white…shirt? Or is it a dress? Pushing aside her confusions, she slips it on under the bed sheets, and an exit is hastily made.
Rambling – The Rotting Rolling Risky
Discursive, my thoughts, each individual piece seamlessly streaming into the next without any brief delay no need for grammar no desire for punctuation now because something is stirring outside and I am on the inside ripe for taking my vision is stellar on the outside but tonight I wish it wasn't this isn't real this isn't right he was rotting last week eye sockets still have something in them but his innards are slipping from a hole in his rib cage as he rapidly limps past this too thin window that man my old man the pervert silver hair slipping from his skull he is lunging into the crowd not too grope women like he used to now he's eating them instead I am throwing up into the toilet-thankfully missing the floor.
Vomiting can clear the mind, though not always enough time is allotted
For me to completely return to my senses
Heightened, fortunately, unfortunately
I do not want to see this.
This is not the man I used to know.
Kurenai, outdoors
Hand patterns forming rapidly
Jutsu! Salvation!
A mind trick is in dire need!
I am peering over my windowsill.
Ducking down
Not fear, doubt!
I inch my head up and sneak a glance into the world
Not a glimpse
Of Kurenai
No red eyes or salt and pepper hair
Her absence
Is acute, for the first time.
Always the last.
I am washed away
Swept beyond the seas
Sasuke! Sakura! Shikamaru!
Ino! Choji! Rock Lee!
Tenten! Hinata! Kiba!
Neji! (There are more screams outside, I know, I fear but wish deeply)
I dare to think their names (Please not these names.)
And in doing so I am abolished
Sasuke.
Dead? My friend, my close friend
Not dead enough to be sought
Yank open the drawers
My pockets will be an armory
Made up completely of knives, throwing stars
(Jiraiya, my old master, I do mourn you, but not your corpse)
My foot is halfway out the door, and within moments of fleeting hesitation
I am out the door, me, myself, alive, for now.
Searching and yet not lost.
Raspberry Ice Cream
Choji shoves the ice cream back into the fridge as he hears the toilet flush down the hall. The sirens halted an hour ago, but the screaming from the east side is worse, much worse. Choji can pick out the men, the women, the wailing children. Mentors and acquaintances. Anbu and widows. There is a dissonance, Choji's guilt over not being there and his hidden relief at being away from the scene of the crime, or maybe it is just the fear bleeding through their sobs and staining the air.
Shikamaru enters the room; he is stepping lightly because he is light, not because he is trying. Choji wishes desperately for a bag of chips. They will not let their differences come between them, will they? For Shikamaru is all that Choji has, and their friendship means more than the village. Choji is sweating. An eyebrow is raised, and Shikamaru opens his mouth. "We're going to the station," he says firmly, jaw set.
"Why?"
"To find Ino," Shikamaru answers while tossing knives, kitchen and weaponry alike, in a backpack.
Choji blinks. "How's she going to find us if we're hiding in the station?"
"We'll broadcast. You know her. She has the radio on all of the time."
"Fair enough." Choji is quick to agree. He opens the cupboards and empties their contents into a separate bag. "What do you think is out there?"
"I don't want to know," Shikamaru sighs and lights a cigarette. "I don't want to know."
Rational
The bathroom smells rational to Kiba. A perfect hiding place in the midst of a crisis. The howling outside has been numbing all of his senses but his smell, and even Akamaru is shuddering. They keep the door locked as the shrieking makes its way into the grocery store, and persistent fists hammer at the door. "All we wanted was some broccoli, right Akamaru?" Kiba whispers, voice quavering. "Right boy?"
The dog, small and white and shaking against the green tile of the bathroom floor, nods in agreement. The door is being pounded like a young boy in a street fight, and Kiba can smell the blood seeping under the crack. This door is solid, yes, but how long can it hold? There is static playing over the radio. As long as the static is on the airwaves, Kiba decides, he will stay inside. He shuts his eyes and plugs his nose. The groans and shrieks, animal and malicious, still pummel his ears, but he has made his choice.
Let the waiting begin.
Rustling To You, My Dear
Hinata's knees are pulled up to her chest as she trembles incessantly. The tremors convulse through her body no matter how hard she tries to lay still. They'll be coming soon, she is sure, the screams. The night on the bench had started pleasantly uncomfortable enough, but it had deteriorated quickly into wailing and sobbing, and already Hinata has joined the crowd in their grieving, though over what she is not sure. The causes don't matter to her-she simply believes in practicing sorrow for all slight grievances more quietly, that was all.
Something lays a tentative finger on the back of her head, and she flies up, years of training finally being put into use for this brief rebuttal. The fingers are like sausages, large and meaty but wholly unappetizing. Another blink composes her mind, and she says plainly, "Hello."
No shaking. No stammer. She is proud of herself, for once. How many other teenagers can manage to speak clearly with obvious danger lurking so close? Choji and Shikamaru peer down at her, concern etched across their faces. "Come with us," Shikamaru says, reaching out a hand.
Hinata stands up on her own. A boy's hand? That is almost more frightening than the sirens and the screaming combined, and certainly ten-fold more intimidating. He has no feelings for her but pity, she tells herself, confident for once in what she is saying.
They set off the way from whence she came, and Hinata follows in a dazed, dreamy state. She is in a nightmare, she is sure of it. The circumstances can't allow such a combination as this. Why is she moving? Why is she following? Questions follow actions such as these, but she can never find the answers.
Rework The Basics
Punch the brick wall!
Slam the hard ball!
Take the long fall!
Lee is not that small!
He will hurt
He does hurt.
But abandonment will never be in the works.
Lee will never give into that jerk.
So prepare he will!
Gather the food-it won't spill!
Gather the knives so the others can kill!
In this, Lee can show his skill.
Really Fucking Ugly
This woman is so goddamn ugly! Sasuke wrinkles his nose in disgust. She hasn't showered in a week, owns one shirt, no washing machine, and lives she in a dump, too, and since Sasuke is on a storytelling roll today, she is a widow who abandoned her three children to lick the walls of the most spacious sewers in Konoha. She is sprinting down the street as he lounges on his front step, ignoring the shrieking, focusing on sharpening his kunai. Why do people have to be so fucking gross and so goddamn crazy?
She is approaching rapidly; Sasuke snags this from the corner of his eye. Veering off the road. Stepping onto his sidewalk. Feet heavily but quickly pounding the ground. Her breaths are ragged and long, labored but lasting. They drag out like the screams, and are just as intrusive. The smell is overwhelming. Fresh blood and pus are leaking onto the pavement. Sasuke gags and tightens his grip on his kunai. Whether this is subconscious or not, he doesn't quite know.
A screech, fierce and raw and animal, echoing through the otherwise empty street tears its way through the woman's throat. She is lunging forward, the knife is ready, and her claws-fingers-are outstretched and she is moving so fucking fast, but Sasuke is faster, thank god, and the knife breaks the skin, plunging into her stomach. He looks up, finally and fearfully, though this is never to be admitted. Her eyes are a cold, milky blue as if they belonged to a blind person, though there is a constricted pupil in the dead center. Her clothes are torn, and how in the fuck had Sasuke, a ninja of considerable prowess, missed the blood smeared all over her dress?
The woman squirms and thrusts her arms forward, clawing at Sasuke's face, slashing at his skin with her nails. "What the fuck is your problem?" he snarls, twisting the knife in her gut.
Only a twitch. He nearly drops the kunai as he sucks in a sharp breath. A drip of blood slides down his forehead. She is standing over him, he remembers as he tries to deny the emotion that is taking hold over his mind and his body. It is dawning.
He is going to die here. This woman is not alive. She is not alive but yet she is directly over him, shrieking at him, bleeding on his white forehead. He is going to join her, he knows. She can never die-because how can you die after you've lost yourself?-but he will. He is bracing himself. He cannot draw the kunai out, only twist more and more, wincing as she cries like a dying animal with each inch the blade swivels. For once in his life, Sasuke is sorry for being rude to somebody. The dead deserve their respect. They don't deserve to be slaughtered again. A nail tears open his cheek. He will not react. He refuses to. He will die with dignity. The last of his clan will not die without pride.
His hands are soaked with blood. Thankfully not his yet, but this will change soon, he knows.
He has resigned to his fate but not the fight. Footsteps approaching, flying closer. It is sealed. This dead thing looming over him has won. Her allies have arrived. He is lost. The bite marks on her shoulder are his future, a thing to cry over, but not to be avoided.
She pitches towards him without warning, letting out a shrill cry. Sasuke rolls out of the way, cursing ashe whacks his head on a stair. He is dizzy and disoriented and the forms are folding into twos and into fours and shaking side to side. A foot smashes down and a knife is plunged and the woman's head is a pulp and flowing lazily down the stairway like a river through a grassland. Puking. Someone is puking. "Radio..along…us…" Sasuke hates concussions, and he hates being the one helped, but sometimes they both happen, so he allows them, currently unknown, to drape his arms over their shoulders and carry him helplessly away.
Radical Ideas
Neji is writing on the walls. The ink is flowing from his pen like a waterfall, and his penmanship is suffering for it. The desperation, though, is his motive, driving him to record even though his teammates are packing and gathering for the perilous trip ahead of them. Supplies and weapons will be necessary for them to survive, yes, but this is more important to him right now. His story will not go untold.
Radio Station
"It's locked," Choji grunts as he rattles the front door of the radio station.
"Great," Shikamaru mutters. "Let's try the back. Everyone, stay quiet."
Shikamaru takes the lead, tiptoeing along the edge of the building, ignoring his pounding heart, and attempting to pretend that the blood on his cheek is his own. The bushes are more of a nuisance than a cover. The rustling, especially Hinata's, is loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear. "This is bullshit," Sasuke groans.
"Don't complain right now," Choji says through gritted teeth, and Shikamaru smiles to himself. Choji is an asset, always, a morale booster and a confidence check. Thanks, Shikamaru wants to say out loud, but the downfalls of being the unofficially elected leader have stopped him from contradicting himself.
The back door has come into sight, and Shikamaru raises his hand to signal a stop. The group halts behind him, and he can swear that he hears all of their breaths, their heartbeats synchronized with his own. It's a comforting thought, to say the least. He steps forward cautiously, and each time he puts his foot down, he takes the next movement even slower. The fear is ever increasing. Crunch. Crunch. He really wished someone had raked the damn side of the building. When had people gotten so lazy? He slaps himself, mentally, of course.
Reaching his hand out cautiously, he turns the handle. "Fuck!" he swears to himself. Their eyes are all on him. Watching, waiting. All just as frightened as their leader. He is shivering, though it isn't a particularly cold day. Man up, he tells himself. Get over it. He grabs a kunai from his pocket and toys with the lock for a few minutes, a cold sweat drenching him.
Another minute passes.
And another.
And another.
"You can't pick locks for shit," Sasuke says drowsily, leaning on Choji and Hinata, who looks more than a tad uncomfortable.
"Thanks, Sasuke," Shikamaru replies through closed teeth. "You're really helping here."
Another minute and then snap! Shikamaru grins to himself and slides the kunai back into his pocket. Taking a quick survey to catch any of them in flight, he quickly opens the door and holds it for the others as they rush inside, shutting it softly behind them.
It is pitch black inside, and the only noise is a gentle, humming static. Hinata lets out a whimper. "Let's find the lights," Choji's voice comes from the other side of the room.
"Yeah," Shikamaru nods despite the darkness.
There is a crash. Hinata gasps. Sasuke groans. "Sorry!" Choji apologizes profusely. "I'm really sorry! I just tripped! No zombies here!"
"Did you just say zombie?" The trembling in Sasuke's voice is barely audible, but his words are only a transparent mask for the horror lurking behind them.
Harsh, fluorescent light floods the room. "Yes," Choji says. "Now let's make that broadcast while we still have time."
Real Life Scared
I am so scared
Nobody but Ino and
Nothing but static
Run On Lies
Dark outside silent
Me, her, them. She is crying.
Won't admit it.
Riddles On The Radio
The static broken!
She jumps I laugh we hug
Closely. This is joy.
Raised Hopes
Ears pressed to the radio, Ino and Sakura are tuned in to his voice. The revolting sights outdoors are ignored for this brief moment that will be over all too soon. It is too sweet to miss while it lasts.
Ino refuses to speak right now. If she talks she will spoil the fragility of this happiness amidst the three in the morning horrors, and besides, if the world is shutting down, isn't she allowed to hear Shikamaru speak just one more time? She can feel Sakura's emerald eyes trained on her, but this is unimportant right now. What matters is the voice on the radio, and the hope it brings.
"I know that it's three in the morning," Shikamaru is saying and Ino is smiling, "but please don't be asleep right now. Or if you do, take it in shifts. It's not safe out there, and I'm saying this for everyone's benefit, but especially my friends, and especially my friend Ino, because I know that sometimes she does really dumb shit when she gets in a tight spot. That's my teammate, Ino, and the rest of the team is holed up here in the radio station with some other friends and we fought…"
Come back!
"…a zombie and you have to kill it in the head, Ino, only the head! Nothing else works, and you can ask Sasuke when you see him if you really don't believe me. Just get here, okay? And alive. I don't want to get any of that zombie bullshit from you or any of our friends, okay? Just please. This is Shikamaru Nara, and goodnight."
There is a pause. Ino stares at Sakura. Sakura stares at Ino. It is mutual. "We're leaving in the morning," Ino says, just to taste the words.
"He just said zombie."
"Yeah," Ino replies, smiling softly in her island of sleepy, temporarily indestructible bliss, falling onto the couch. "Goodnight, Sakura. We're going to be safe tomorrow."
Sakura murmurs something to herself as she drags herself off of the floor, looking back once before closing her bedroom door behind her. "Goodnight, Ino."
Author's Notes: And the story truly begins with this chapter! Hopefully, I'm going to get a beta soon, and there will be a big improvement within Other Towns And Cities. I'm going to be on a trip to New York for the 9-14, so this will most likely be the last update for a week and a half. Thank you for reading! (:
