Hello everyone! Sorry for the hiatus, but I have a decent plan for the rest of the fic and have at least another chapter and a half after this already written up.
Enjoy
Chapter 3: Distressed Captivity
Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.
What the fuck is even going on right now.
One second you were quietly gathering supplies on a successful mission, the next all your young charges are dead, your Med-tech Sollux is MIA, and you are being stared down by a blood-thirsty zombie.
You wish you hadn't opened the door, maybe if you didn't they would have missed you. They would have left.
But no, that didn't happen, and now…
You are fucked. You are so fucked. Oh my God.
The blonde zombie doesn't seem to be the only one eyeing you. The larger dark haired one (Boy is that some unruly hair!) looks like it's drooling at the mere sight of you.
You are dead. Dead and gone oh fuck—
They seem to face off against one another, like to lions fighting over prey, and before you know it they're at each other's throats and shattered glass is all over the floor from a collision with the cabinets.
You never thought the blonde would have a chance against the other, but it gets the upper hand and beats the larger into the ground, repeatedly bashing its head into the once pristine tiles. It doesn't stop until its skull and the floor are equally is bloody and cracked.
You're scared into a state of paralytic shock when you hear the telltale thunk of dead wait being dropped.
At least you will only have one on you as you get eaten.
'Cause there's no way even a zombie can survive blunt head trauma like that.
Oh God, not even Sassacre could survive this. You have no chance here, you're completely unarmed.
The blonde zombie stalks over to you, it's dead eyes trained on you. He keeps coming closer and closer and you press so tightly to the wall you could make a dent in it.
Blegh. He smells like rotting meat and blood. His mouth is covered in it.
Slightly cracked aviators glare back at you but the distance between you two is so close you make out slight details; you can see enough to know that he's staring right through you.
Yep, this is it. Goodbye world—
A bloodied and slightly grimy hand caresses your face, wiping bloodied filth and stench onto your skin. It goes through this motion a few times in succession with a surprisingly gentle touch. You were unaware that zombies were capable of being gentle.
The blonde draws back, and grabs your arm, pulling you up onto your feet. Its grip isn't the strongest ever, but you can't shake it off when you try pulling away.
You resign to your fate while it turns its head to the other two male zombies in the room. It gives a creaky nod to the one with a name tag and starts tugging you to the door by your wrist.
The four of you all head out of the building at a slow, but steady pace, not once do any of the zombies in your group, or the ones you pass by, give you more a second glance.
This is weird. Why the hell aren't they eating you? That's what zombies do! They eat you! Not take you on a fucking walk down the street. It's like they're dragging you to the damn mall or something.
You stew in your confusion over the current situation for quite some time before the topic gets over-thought and your attention span fries.
After that your eyes begin to wander. You've spaced out in panic for over an hour at the least, so studying your surrounding doesn't do you much good when it comes to escaping, but you do it anyway.
The dull sky and shattered landscape don't give you a pleasant train of thought to follow; it just makes you think of how things used to be, and how awful they are now in comparison. Half the world is dead and every day is a struggle.
You don't want to continue there so you turn your attention to the group you've suddenly become a part of.
The Name-Tag wearing zombie doesn't have much to him beyond the typical; some rotting flesh and disheveled hair. He looks perpetually grumpy and unhappy, and considering he's dead you don't blame him for looking that way.
The other one in front of you looks like a dentist's worst nightmare. You bet he'd had to be held down to get his teeth looked at because even as a zombie he seems awful twitchy.
Lastly you look slightly to the left, eyes resting on your captor. He seems…strange. Beyond the splotches of blood coating his face and the shades he's sporting you can't make many observations about him. He's a few inches taller than you and his frame is mildly lanky. You wonder if that's from malnutrition or if he was like that even before he died. That's a question you probably won't get the answer to though so you don't dwell on it.
He's rather preserved, you note, as he tugs you through a doorway, his grimy hand still leading you as you both walk.
He's dirty, bloody, and slightly greasy from not showering, but his skin in and of itself is in good condition. As far as you can see of his pale, fair complexion, it's marred with scar tissue and old wounds but you don't see a large amount of discoloration. There are no bones in plain sight either; at the most he has some decomposing patches creeping up his neck.
You wonder how long he's been dead; it probably hasn't been too long if he's in such a decent condition.
Decent for a zombie anyway, which is still pretty awful.
The sound of a metal door shutting resonates behind you and you notice that you're in an old, junk cluttered theater room. The hell?
He pulls you to one of the seats and presses on your shoulder so you sit. After that he lets you go, and shuffles awkwardly to the door you entered through.
Upon inspection it appears to be the only exit.
What happens now? He's, still not eating you. You don't get it. What's going on?
Maybe there's such a thing as alpha zombies. Maybe he brought you to give to someone else? It's a passing thought but you feel zombies aren't that aware of things to think of others.
He doesn't bother you and your confusion addled brain, but he doesn't leave the room either. He's blocking the exit, and with the moment of stillness your confusion subsides and things sink in.
You're trapped, and all your teammates are dead.
They counted on you, you were supposed to lead them, protect them! And now they're gone…you didn't know them too personally but…
Nobody will see Nepeta drawing anymore.
Feferi's bubbly talks about marine life are through.
Tavros isn't going to try to rap ever again.
And Sollux, Oh God…
You didn't see his body amongst the others when you were pulled from the room, but he's probably gone too, it's been at least four hours.
Your passive and biting banter with Sollux will never happen again.
Tears flood and distort your vision. Tucking your legs into your chest they begin to flow as you grieve for them. They're gone, they're gone and they're never coming back.
Their families will never see them again. You couldn't save them, just like you and Jane couldn't save Dad.
As you break down in the ripped rusty theater seat, pulling your hair and sobbing, your captor sits in unmoving silence.
Metal doors screech shut midst heavy breathing.
"Sollux? W-Where is the rest of the team? You guys should have been back hours ago!"
A pause.
"Sorry, Jake, they, huff huff I—"
"Where are they Sollux."
"W-We got ambushed…Nepeta, Fef and Tavros are all dead…"
"Shite, this is awful. Are you sure? Maybe the—"
"No, they're dead, for certain."
"Oh Hell..."
…
"What about John?"
"John, he…I don't know."
"What? What do you mean you don't know!?"
"I mean I didn't see his fucking corpse asshat! So I don't know!"
…
"Alright, alright, let's calm down. You're shaking."
"Fuck you, don't touch me, English. I'm not a damn child."
"But you did see about three people die right in front of you. Anyone would be shaken. Let's get you to the hospital to get treated. That gash looks nasty."
"Nothing to a crushed skull..."
"Huh?"
"Nothing."
…
"What's going to happen with John? Do we just assume he's dead?"
"I'm gonna talk with Dirk about it, but I don't see him saying we shouldn't search for him. He'll probably at least let us search once."
"Right…"
"C'mon, let's go. The quicker you get patched up the better."