It is midnight now here in the UK and I have only just remembered that I have a chapter due in for 'today'... This could get interesting. :') (I usually update it in the small hours of the morning anyway… I just usually have the chapter written and sorted out by this point.)

No new reviews or followers this week (not that I really expect any; as my mother says, 'keep your expectations low and then you will be even more happy when good things happen and less disappointed when things go badly.' Now I know who is responsible for my pessimism... Thanks Mum.)

I can't think of anything else I need to say right now except the obligatory begging for reviews; PLEASE REVIEW! *.* (Phew, now that's done)

I don't own Hetalia. :'(

Let chapter 4 of Zombie Land begin! :D

As America and Japan rounded the corner, Scotland turned to greet them with a triumphant smile on his face.

The smile was wiped off when a pair of arms grabbed him and took him by surprise. America and Japan couldn't reach their newly found comrade in time as he was pulled back towards the mouth of the tunnel and had a set of teeth sink into his neck.

America's eyes widened and he lunged forward, arms straining, trying to grab his newfound uncle. He managed to grasp Scotland's wrist and pulled desperately with all his might. Scotland was pulled out of the tunnel along with his assaulters.

Japan was quick to move, he used his katana to detach and decapitate the zombies latched onto Scotland before they were pulled onto America with his uncle. He then went to open the container door and secure it in place.

Scotland groaned and pulled himself off America and leaned against the container, he put his hand up to his neck and hissed when he discovered that some of his flesh had been torn away as America pulled him back.

He closed his eyes, furrowing his thick brows as he tried to block out the pain. When he opened them again he saw America staring at him, panic in his sky blue eyes.

America pushed himself off the ground and turned to see Scotland sat against the container, a grimace set on his face. America crawled over to get a closer look and just as he moved his eyes away from the already blood soaked hand that was trying to cover Scotland's neck wound to his face, Scotland opened his eyes.

The two stared at each other for a few moments before Scotland let out a weak chuckle, "Ye did guid, lad."

"Huh?" America replied, confused.

"I need ye to listen to me now."

America shook away his confusion and nodded, his expression becoming more determined.

"A'm sure ye realise by now, this body's no gonnae make it."

"But-"

"Hold yer wheesht an' listen. I need ye to tell ma brothers that A'm goin' home and that they're no tae let me wait too long."

America nodded his head slowly; he had no idea what Scotland was talking about. Going home? Did that mean, like, heaven? Did countries even go to heaven when they died? And what was that about his brothers not leaving him waiting for too long? Did he seriously want them to die too? Scotland was looking at him so desperately that America decided to humour him in his last moments.

Scotland must have realised that America wasn't taking him seriously and grabbed his upper arms weakly trying to pull America closer. "Yer no listenin'."

Blood came spurting out of Scotland's neck now that the pressure was removed.

Deep green eyes that looked so familiar stared searchingly into America's, begging America to understand, trying to convey something that was beyond America's reach. Scotland sighed and leaned back, "Ye ken how tae use that knife Ah gave ye?"

America startled at the change in subject. He nodded the affirmative and pulled it out, waiting for Scotland's instructions.

Scotland slumped forward and refused America's attempts to steady him, his breathing grew heavier and the blood flow from his wound increased with his movement. He slowly raised his left arm to where the back of his head met his head.

"Ah need ye to… here."

America nodded, realising that it was a necessary job and was more kind than letting Scotland become one of the undead. He moved himself closer to Scotland so that the older man's head was leaning against his chest.

"America," a weak and quiet but unwavering voice said, "Tell them… the low road."

"what was that?" America leaned to the side to hear his uncle's last words properly. He was shocked at what he saw, the man's face had become more pale his eyes were closed.

"Do it." Was the only thing he said.

America positioned the knife so that the cool tip of the blade was where the scot had specified, pointing slightly upward. America saw Scotland tense and begin to breathe even more heavily through his nose. At that moment, America felt a wave of admiration for the red head; he seemed so undeniably human, so desperate to live and yet so willing to die for the people he loved. He had shown courage and for that, America would remember him.

America let him take one last breath before plunging the knife-

"NOOOOO!" Came a scream from behind, accompanied by heavy footsteps, "DON'T!"

-into the vital point and wrenching the knife around to make sure the job was done. It was a clean and painless death. America pulled the knife out of his uncle's body, leaned it back and stood up before he was yanked out of the way by the youngest red head. He landed rather painfully on his rear end for not the first time that day. He looked up with a scowl on his face but it fell as he saw the scene before him.

The youngest of the Kirkland brothers was knelt in front of his brother, tugging at his shirt and hoarsely calling, "Ali… Ali… Ali, come on Ali, this isn't funny!" over and over again. South was stood, holding his youngest brother's shoulder, quietly saying things like, "Let him go, James, he's gone." and trying to pull him away.

England was being held back by his other brother, he was yelling at America, screaming about how he was going to kill him, Wales didn't look much calmer but looked to be more concerned about his brothers than exacting revenge.

Then America's eyes fell on Canada. To his surprise, his brother was also on his knees, a little bit away from Scotland's body. He was staring fixedly at the dead man's face, his mouth agape and silent tears streaming down his face. For some reason, America found that image, the image of the brothers one so caught up in grief that he forgot the world, another so unable to just cry that he was ready to lash out at those precious to him, the two older brothers who were willing to put aside their own pain to help the younger ones deal with their own and his own brother, who always seemed so strong in his own timid way, so anguished that he couldn't find it in himself to make a noise, America found that image to be haunting.

He would never forget it in all his life.

The journey home was made in complete silence, America found himself in the car they arrived in with Wales, Canada and Japan. Wales was driving and Japan was sat in the front passenger's seat. The others went in the other car.

America looked over to his brother; Canada was looking out the window at nothing and despite the blank look on his face, America was able to guess what, or rather who, he was thinking about. He opened his mouth to speak but started when a hand touched his knee. He looked over to Japan who had manoeuvred himself round to look at America. The small man looked at Canada and then back to America and shook his head. Let Canada speak first was what he seemed to be saying with those black pools.

America closed his mouth again and went back to staring at his brother.

O.K. I can't write anymore this morning (It's now like 3:20am). This seems like a fairly good place to end this chapter I would have liked to have gotten farther along the plot but I need to get up early as I'm being dragged out on a daytrip with my family (In this heat? I'll burn! D: )

Sorry if Scotland wasn't very understandable in this chapter, if you can't really tell what he was saying at some points, tell me so I can figure out what the happy medium is with his accent. (Though I don't seem to have given the rest of the UK + ROI brothers an accent… Crap. I can kinda do a N. Irish accent, I could maybe manage South's accent. As for the Welsh? Probably won't happen. I've only been living in Wales for a few months and am on my summer break (and so have retreated back to sunny (literally!?) Northern Ireland) so my knowledge of Welsh colloquies goes as far as 'Twonk' which I have already used. I will try my best though.

For those of you that don't know, 'Ali' is a fairly common nickname for men named Alasdair and it's variations in Scotland (Or at least, it was when I left…)

I'm just running spell check through this and not really proof reading it as I am about to fall asleep in my chair. What ever happened to the years when I could easily manage pulling an all-nighter? :') I'll probably read it over again and look for any major mistakes

Goodnight folks. :)