It Starts With Desperation
Chapter Eleven
Desired attention, but denied affection
Zero
It's a cramped space the humans have forced him in, the bars of the cold cage digging into his skin whenever he tries to move around. There is something around his throat, thick and heavy, that he can't grasp due to his wrists being shackled behind his back. His feet are also bound with a weighted chain that will keep him grounded should he ever attempt escape. There is no room to move, no room to breathe. Every pant he manages is never enough and he longs to spit out the cloth gag knotted painfully tight around his head.
All he is permitted to do is watch. And wait.
In the beginning, Zero had fought long and hard against the net. But then the humans were angry and pain was suddenly exploding across every nerve in his body as they decided to give way to that anger. Kicks, punches, long sticks – he was beaten into submission, beaten until he stopped moving and he believed that he would die. And then they dragged him across endless miles, away from his Michael, away from the town, never stopping for food or water until he was loaded into one of the moving metal carcasses.
It was almost the same build and structure of the one he had hidden inside of with his human, but this one smelled like death and decay. The scent immediately reminded him of the dumb brothers and sisters that had attacked them on the streets and unconsciously pulled an irritated growl from his dry throat, of which he was hit for. Any noise or movement he made was met with abuse and, eventually, he quieted.
When they arrived at the destination they set upon him together at once, restraining his limbs and nearly breaking his nose as they shoved his face into the dirt, having shoved him from the back of the metal box on wheels. He tried screaming a warning, snarling and snapping at their hands and fighting again for his life, but they were too big and too many, and he was tied as easily as anything. He was weak from hunger and thirst, shaken and frustrated by all that had happened already.
They used the thing around his neck to choke him until his eyes went dark and his body limp, and then they dragged him to his cage, the one he is slumped inside of now, and locked him away. For a long time he has been left alone – no other human has wandered into this shack despite how he wishes they would, if only so he could try to tear at them through the bars. It doesn't matter that he's bound, the bloodlust is like a fire in his veins and burns away what little rationality he has gathered from his weeks in Michael's company. He wants to kill.
Night comes and goes and still he lays inside the prison staring listlessly at nothing. His arms have long since gone numb. A few whimpers slip from behind the cloth unbidden when he thinks of Michael, wanting nothing more than to escape and curl into the man's warmth. The half-formed thought of his human lying dead in the streets with common brothers and sisters makes him tremble and growl silently. He tries to break free more than once but the cage is reinforced steel and his body is too weak.
It's the following evening before anything changes. A human slips through the creaky door and shoves a bowl through a little opening at the bottom of the cage right in front of Zero's nose, causing him to flinch and hiss behind the gag. His resentment and fear is forgotten quickly, though, when he glances down and sees the water sloshing around the plastic bowl.
A pathetic whine breaks behind the gag as he struggles, unbalancing himself and dunking the lower part of his face into the bowl. The water is freezing and he makes another distressed noise at the shock before sucking hysterically on the cloth, never ceasing the desperate whimpers at being unable to get as much as he would like.
The cloth gag absorbs most of the water and he's able to get a few sips down his parched throat, but it's not nearly enough. By the time he gives up, his chin and neck are soaked through and the jacket he wears turns out to be little more than a wet blanket covering his chest, uncomfortable and miserable.
"Jesus," Zero snaps his head up and glares at the human. He's a small, reedy looking man clutching a frayed book of papers in his hands. He looks both intrigued and fearful. "I told them to give you water yesterday, but by the way you look, I take it they didn't."
The man flips open his book and scribbles with a pen, eyeing Zero curiously over the cover and muttering to himself, "This would be so much easier with a recorder, I hate notating everything manually. Okay, subject is clearly emaciated which indicates a less than stable diet – different than the other subjects. They seemed to be getting constant food sources." Quieter, "Also shows signs of emotional distress. Strange. Dead things usually have lack of reaction."
Zero snarls quietly, but then stops and drops his head back to the cage floor with a broken noise, tongue still swollen and sticking to the roof of his mouth behind the gag.
"Look, I'd cut your mouth loose if I wasn't convinced you'd tear my hand off. It's your fault anyway for getting caught. And dying. Anybody worth their salt would know to turn around and run when zombies come. What did you do, sit there and wait for them to bite? God." The man begins to pace in slow circles around Zero's cage, occasionally crouching for a better look and continuously murmuring under his breath as he writes in his book. After a while, he finally stops in front of Zero's face and sets his pad down.
"Buck said he saw you following that guy around before you hit Wendover. Just so you know, that's the only reason you're alive right now, buddy. I mean, what are you, his dog or something?" Zero breathes out audibly through his nose, eyes searching the man's face for some sign of what he's trying to communicate. He cannot make any sense of the jumbled words, yet there seems to not be any immediate danger. Even so, Zero remains tense and expectant of a blow. "Oh my God, I'm talking to a zombie. Everybody's right, I'm losing it."
Once more the man circles Zero's cage and takes notes. The repetitive motion begins to lull Zero into a dazed awareness and he begins whimpering under his breath again, momentarily forgetting noise only rewards him pain. All he is able to truly focus on for longer than a few short moments is Michael's face, the timber of his voice, and his welcoming touch.
By the time he jolts from his stupor, the reedy man is gone and he is alone again. He does not return until morning.
A week passes in which Zero is poked and prodded by the mysterious man. Not once is blood drawn or pain inflicted – at least, not by this twitchy human. One afternoon, a rowdy bunch of youths broke in and stood silent in the dark of the shed watching Zero watch them back, and, after a few silent minutes, had begun to jeer and smack the bars, shouting in his ears for a reaction.
He had tried to attack at being so tormented, but, once he realized that's what they wanted, he stopped and ignored them until the scholar returned and chased them away. Since then, it seems as though the man is making an effort to keep Zero away from the others (and Zero knows there are more because he can smell them, hear them – somany). He is strangely grateful for the kindness, even though he can't understand it.
He craves for Michael every second. This new man is generous and accepting but keeps his distance, only stepping close to offer Zero food and water (having reached through the bars and removed the gag, finally, once it was realized that Zero would not bite unless driven to it, and every now and then his arms are released, but never his legs. Never his legs, and never let out). Even the brief one-sided conversations that take place do nothing to soothe the ache settled in Zero's chest that throbs with every thought of his own human.
Time ceases to matter before anything changes and by that point Zero has taken to growling out noises that have the hint of structured words hidden somewhere in them, endlessly intriguing his observer to the point that he's chosen to sit and listen in more than once. Zero ignores him for the most part, more fascinated in examining his newly cleaned fingers (having copied the other man after seeing him dunk his hands in a bowl of water much like Zero's own and rub them together) and mumbling his way through this revelation, eyes bright and intelligent.
It's when he's grunting and stretching his hand out for a slice of raw meat that Michael bursts through the rickety door, nearly capsizing the other man and sending Zero's nearly docile-like behavior straight out the window.
Zero is immediately clawing at the cage and making a loud, strange mix of noises ranging from broken growls to something nearly like throaty sobs. Both men start to yell and get in each other's faces, provoking a violent response from Zero at the threat of his Michael being hurt right in front of his eyes – and him having no way to provide aid.
It is frustrating in ways he has yet to experience and he snarls his indignation through the steel of his cage.
"What the fuck, Chester? You said you had nothing to do with this! You said you knew nothing about him!" Michael towers over the scholar, yet the other man is strong in his own right, refusing to step back.
"Calm down, you'll get the whole damn camp on us with how you're acting," he snaps. "I couldn't tell you anything, alright? I'm sorry."
"You little prick, why not? I told you about Zero – you knew I wanted him back and you just…"
"I was following an order, Michael. It's how things work around here."
Zero thrashes. "Oh, really? That's how things work? Really? Look at him. Look at what you did to him!" Zero immediately latches his fingers into the thick fabric of Michael's sweater when he comes close, shoving his nose through the bars into his chest and inhaling, shuddering at the familiar scent and longing to be free just to get closer. "Jesus Christ, I could kill you. I could kill all of you fuckers."
Chester, the reedy observer, snorts in disbelief. "Please. You couldn't kill your own sister."
Zero whimpers as he feels his human stiffen in anger. "What does Maggie have to do with this? She doesn't count." The resignation in his tone is startling even though the demand was formed as a question – as if his human already knows the answer to what is being asked.
"Man, come on. Your sister was the one who told me to keep this from you."
Michael
In the week that Zero was kept hidden away in the forlorn looking shack at the edge of camp, Michael was reunited with his sister. It was not a very joyous reunion considering the first thing she did was punch him in the shoulder and then cling to him so hard his ribs creaked and sobbed into his shirt until it was wet. To his credit, Michael didn't cry. He held her just as tightly though and tripped through the first of many apologies.
Once they had gotten through the near hysterical How are yous and Where have you beens and I thought you were deads, Michael had pulled Maggie away and explained what happened from the moment they had last spoken, including the death of their sister and Lawrence. It was at that point that Michael cried, breaking down completely and becoming the kid brother seeking his big sister's comfort from so many years ago.
It was tough on the both of them considering they had nothing left but each other. But, once it was over, the questions started and didn't stop. Michael learned that in the time Maggie had spent away from home in college, she had met Buck Anderson and – gag – had fallen in 'love'. Deciding that the end of time was nigh, they had jumped the gun and gotten married in the camp with witness and a preacher, making it all official like.
The camp was watched by the U.S. Army and, every Sunday, a convoy would arrive and drop off necessary supplies. It was kind of like a volunteer camp. Survivors chose to stay and take in loners – much like Michael himself – and, if the survivor wanted, hand them over to the military for safe evacuation. Mostly, the camp was to keep a human hold on the virus spreading so that people didn't go extinct or something, and to spread morale to those that left for safer grounds.
"But we're really just a test, you know. The military wants to see if we can survive out here. So far, so good."
When demanded why she hadn't gotten to a safe zone while she could, she had looked Michael dead in the eye and said, "This is where I'm needed." And that was that.
In return, Michael told her everything. There was no reason to keep secrets from his sister, she always seemed to find out anyway. So he told her about Zero and how he'd saved his life more than once, how they'd first started traveling together and, weirdly, Michael enjoyed his company a lot. He missed him.
"He couldn't talk much, but he was learning. I think…I swear, Mags, I think – no, I know he was still human. His eyes, you could see how smart he was by his eyes. They were clear instead of the fogged up mess these other pieces of trash have. I wish I could've saved him, I owed him that much."
Maggie had been visibly disturbed by it all and so he stopped talking about it. At her vehement insistence, he had even stripped to his boxers and spun in a circle to show that he had not been bitten or infected. He was fine. Except for his head, which he explained as a fuck-up on his part when he tried to hotwire a car and the alarm sounded off, attracting a mini-horde and getting him a nasty cut thanks to a strategically placed rock on the ground that his head just felt the need to get intimate with.
It took hours for them to work through everything and by the time they decided it was time for bed, it was well into the dark hours of the morning. And they only stopped because Buck came to find Maggie, whining (in Michael's opinion, to which Maggie gave him a very stern sister look) about how he couldn't sleep without Maggie next to him.
The days passed slowly and Michael was content if not outright comfortable. He missed Zero more and more, never realizing that most of his conversations centered around the infected man or would begin to veer that way lest Maggie stop him with a warning that not everyone would be as understanding as she was if they were overheard.
Michael didn't point out that she wasn't exactly understanding. In fact, she looked pained every time he brought it up, but it couldn't be helped. Zero wasn't there, and Michael wanted him to be, and therefore he was going to talk about him so at least he'd be alive in conversation. Michael just wasn't ready to let go.
He couldn't have known what was really happening, however. And he wouldn't have ever found out despite most of the camp's obvious wariness around him (which he naturally chalked up to him being a new face and never considered the idea that a few of them might know about Zero without his knowledge), had he not been listening outside Maggie's tent one evening when she was hissing at Buck that he should kill 'the monster' before Michael found him.
"It's dangerous, I don't care what you say. Just because it didn't kill my brother already doesn't mean it's a pet! Make Chester stop the – studies, they're not going to answer anything. Michael thinks it's dead, so, please, please, Buck. Kill it before it kills someone else."
By the time she had finished begging, she was in tears and Michael was half way across camp, ripping through like a tornado. He knew Chester on a personal level and considered him a friend already. If Michael wasn't with Maggie, he was with Chester, poking around at his pickled jars of scorpions or scouring through his nerd books. He liked Chester; Chester was a funny guy.
But now Chester was considered a Grade-A asshole, and Michael wanted to break his face.
Zero
Zero is still making desperate keening noises by the time both men calm down enough to focus on him instead of each other. His fingers refuse to unclench from Michael even as he feels the familiar touch of fingers push through his hair and grip the back of his neck in an act of reassurance.
"Easy, I got you now. I'm here."
"Michael – "
"Just shut-up for a minute, alright? Let me think."
Zero whimpers, angry and upset and ready to explode from the hurricane roiling through his body; desperate to be free, desperate to be as close as possible to his human because he's alive and there and Zero needs, more than anything, he needs.
After a long stretch of silence filled only with Zero's strangled noises, Michael begins to pull away, and he panics, clutching harder and panting anxiously. The man stops immediately and moves back in, brushing knuckles so gently against his scarred cheek.
"It's okay. Zero? It's okay. I'm not leaving. I'm gonna to let you out, but you need to let me go. Stop holding – yeah, there, good. See? I'm right here." He watches intently as Michael steps back and turns his head to the scholar, hands gripping the bars next to Zero's own. "Help me get him out. Now, Chester!"
"I-I can't, I'm not allowed to – " Zero flinches back, taken by surprise by how fast Michael moves across the room and snatches the other man by his shirt to drag him back to the cage. "Fuck! You're insane!"
"Let him out." The smaller man is shoved at the cage, jostling Zero inside. "Chester, I swear to God…"
"Fine! Jesus Christ, fine, you crazy sonofabitch." Chester glares for a few seconds more before jerkily pulling a key from his pocket and setting upon the heavy padlocks latching the cage in place. When they are all removed, falling to the ground with individual heavy thumps, he then snaps off the plastic ties wound through the seams of the cage along the sides that served as extra restraint. Some bear teeth barks gouged into their texture, giving testament to their effectiveness, much to Zero's annoyance.
When the cage is broken down to nothing more than its original design, Chester steps back and gives Michael a pointed look. "Like hell I'm going to open it. You do it. I'm not even going to risk getting bitten."
"Pussy," Michael snaps and pushes him aside, yanking the cage door open. There is a flurry of movement punctuated by a painful grunt in which Zero attempts to launch out of the cage and only manages to tumble out ungracefully do to his legs still being tightly bound together. Michael is by his side in a flash, carefully undoing the weighted chain with expert fingers and tossing it away.
"Michael! Man, c'mon, don't let him get away. Buck is going to…"
"I don't give a shit what Buck is going to do," he growls, pulling Zero up and against his solid chest. Zero nearly purrs as he wraps his arms tightly around the man's ribs, crushing himself against the solid weight. A sense of gratitude so fierce settles in his stomach as Michael lowers his voice just for him, talking. "There, that's better, right? I won't let this happen again."The rumble from the man's chest is enough to ease the prickling pain stinging his numb legs.
Zero can hear the other man shifting impatiently a few feet away. "Mike, someone's going to see."
"I don't care," he says back tightly. "Get me a rag or something. Wet it."
"What for?" But he is moving regardless to do just that.
"There's blood on his legs from the chain. And his face is bleeding. He's filthy."
After a pregnant pause, Zero tenses and turns his head at the sound of rushing water and approaching footsteps. Chester's dirty jean-clad legs stand before him and he lets a warning hiss slip from behind his clamped teeth. A reassuring hand on his back kills the sound before it can get any further and Zero huffs, twisting his back to the other man in a clear dismissal, something he had picked up from watching his own human. It earns him a slight chuckle and perplexed snort from the two men.
He allows Michael to clean his legs without fuss, having long since sliced and torn the pants material from the knees down in various different situations over the week. Most of the gashes in his legs are from his own doing trying to get free of the restraints, though all are but superficial wounds and washed easily.
When Michael moves to scrub gently at Zero's face, however, he freezes and stares openly as if looking down the barrel of a firestick. There is no fear, though. Plenty of trepidation, but he is not full out afraid of what is being done. In fact, he craves this intimate touch like nothing else and begins to lean into it, letting his eyes droop to half-mast and mouth fall open as the rag passes over his lips. He feels tension bloom between the two of them like something living and mewls, dropping seeking hands to Michael's lap. The man jerks and stops the repetitive wiping motions. Hands grip Zero's wrists like a vice and Michael's voice is whip-sharp when he hisses, "No. Stop it."
Zero whines pathetically, confused. Just as he is about to press closer, insistent, the audible gasp from Chester catches his attention.
"Oh, my God – "
"Chester, it's not what you think."
"You…and it?"
"No, you asshat! I said it's not what you think!" Zero cringes and bares his teeth at the rise in tones.
"You're fucking it? What the hell!"
Michael pushes Zero off despite his vehement and wordless protests, though makes no comment when Zero follows suit and stands stiffly at his side. He watches the other man with a near hateful glint in his eye for stealing Michael's attention so thoroughly.
"Would you shut-up? I'm not fucking him."
"Really? Because it seems like you were just seducing it right in front of me."
"Stop calling him 'it', he's got a name."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Should I call him sweetheart, or is that taken by you? Baby, perhaps?"
"Smart ass. He's human. Don't look at me like that, he is. He's different and you know it."
Zero snorts at the look of utter shock on the man's face and rolls his eyes in a very human-like way. He may not be following the conversation in its entirety, but he knows enough. He knows it's about himself and Michael and that, obviously, Chester is unsettled by it. The thought prompts an almost-smirk on his newly cleaned face.
"You've lost it. Not only is Buck going to flip shit, the entire camp is. This is – there's not even a word for how messed up this is. It's – oh, excuse me – he's a fucking zombie!"
Zero eyes Michael warily when his hands suddenly clench into threatening fists at his sides, bleaching the knuckles white. "He's just sick."
Chester's disbelief seems to increase tenfold. "Sick," he deadpans.
"For now. Eventually, if something's not done, he'll be like those others. Just – fuck, Chester, listen. I'm going to fix him, okay? I owe him my damn life. I need you to keep him here though, you can't let anyone hurt him. Just until I figure it out."
Chester blanches. "What are you going to do?"
"Nothing. I don't know. I'm…I'm going to make him human again."
Zero snorts quietly and leans against Michael's side, emitting a pleasant hum when he isn't pushed away.
Chester sighs, resigned. "You're fucking insane."
"Yeah." A warm hand settles low on Zero's back. "Yeah, I know."
A/N: This was proof read really quickly, so there are probably a plethora of mistakes. I just don't have the time to do a more in depth read, so please accept my humblest apologies :U ...and fuckin' review, you asshats.