With America and England out of commission, France, Canada and Russia were having to finish off the preparations. England was well enough to look after America, even if he wasn't fully up to assisting. Though Canada and France dropped in at random intervals to make such they were ok.

France had tried to contact Germany's group, but there was no way to get through to them. He had, however, gotten a hold of Japan and worked out a safe route for them, once they got into the country. Japan had a few undead, here and there, but not an extreme amount. His people had enough warning to find shelter, and very few casualties were reported. Apparently, China, Hong Kong, Korea and Taiwan were already there. Unfortunately, besides from them, he hadn't gotten word on anyone's location, or plans. It was frightening to think how many of them were already gone. It was truly isolating.

Around another day or two, and the small group was going over their supplies to try and make sure they were ready before setting out. Russia read off the list, and Canada checked off supplies. Not just for them, but they figured it was a good idea to bring something for any stragglers that had made it to Japan. "Foods?"

"Um. We don't have much but a few cans." Canada frowned. "At least their fairly big cans." He searched the bags until he found a can opener, and smiled. This was technically the reason they hadn't eaten them yet. "Wonder why Francis didn't think of this.

"I suppose he's not used to cans. Medical supplies."

"Cleaned out the pharmacy."

"Ammunition?"

Canada chuckled. "Got enough artillery in here to make Alfred swoon."

Russia laughed lightly. "We've already had enough of that. What about spare clothes?"

"Um." Canada riffled through the supplies. "We have some, but can't hurt to grab other stuff. As much as we can fit." He slid out of the truck. "I'm sure none of the other survivors have access to such things, and might be relieved for it." He glanced at the list. "Anything else we'll need?"

Russia scanned the items, double checking what they just went over. "Once Bonnefoy has returned with the water, we should be ready."

"What about gas?"

Both heads swiveled around towards a voice they did not expect to hear. America slid into the doorway, making his way over.

Canada's jaw dropped. "Alfred, what are you doing here? You should be resting."

America scoffed, waving a hand at him. "I'm fine. I was starting to get sick of laying around, anyway. So I made my brain stop bitching and got out of bed." He touched his chin thoughtfully, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Didn't really tell Iggy though. Bet he's gonna have a calf."

"Well, don't let it happen again, Comrade." Russia jibed. "You are heavy. Now what is this about gas?"

America's expression turned quizzical. "Gas." He pointed to the vehicles. "For the truck and the boat. It's a long way to Japan, dude." He cocked a brow at them. "I may be a good swimmer, but I can't lug all of ya'll with me.

Russia scanned the list again. Surely he had thought of this... he hadn't. His eyes scowled up at America. Curses. He had to give him that one.

America grinned, tapping his temple. "See, I can think of things."

"I suppose every dog has his day."

"Top dawg, ya mean." America commented, shooting finger pistols at him.

Canada face-palmed, but was smirking.

Russia, however, clung to the clipboard to keep from smacking America upside the head. "Ok then, You and Matvey can try to find gas. Bonnefoy and I will finished up here."

"Okie dey. Come on, Mattie." America grabbed Canada's wrist and dragged him along. Once they were out of the Parking Garage, Canada slipped his hand into America's. "Al?"

"Don't." America cut him off, and spun around, stopping Canada in his tracks. "I know what you're going to say, and don't. It's not worth it, now. We can discuss it once we get to Japan."

"But." Canada was a bit startled. He didn't think America was angry at him, but he definitely seemed annoyed. "What if something happens to one of us, before we get there?" He asked quietly, throwing America's own logic back at him. America's entire face narrowed into a scowl. Instantly, it dissolved into a wide grin. "Then it really won't matter." He leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Come on. Let's go find some gas."

xXx

"Alfred?... ALFRED! Where the bloody hell did you go!?" England rushed frantically through the corridors of the mall, having already checked the furniture store, searching for the formally fluish nation. This place, however, was very large, and filled with many many places for America to hide. Hell, he could barely find him in his own home, when he was little, let alone this big ass mall. "Alfred!" Finally, England resolved to check the Parking Garage where he was sure the others had gone. "Alfred. You in here?"

"What are you on about?" Francis asked, peering over at him from the side of the truck. "Arthur, what are you doing up and around?" He scolded, making his way over. "You should be resting."

"Well, I was, but that brain-dead son of mine seems to have run off. You haven't seen him, have you?"

France suddenly looked a bit worried. "Non. I haven't."

"He's fine." Russia threw out, slipping from the front seat, where he was loading up the water supply. "He and Matvey went to find some fuel."

"Ahh... I see." Any relief England had boiled up into rage. "Why the hell did he run off, without telling me he was alright then!?"

"Hey now, look who's awake."

"You." England growled and spun around to see Canada and America, each pushing small trolleys loaded with fuel cans. He advanced on them, waving a finger threateningly at America. "You have some nerve running off like that. Imagine me waking up to find you gone, with everything that's going on."

"I did imagine it." America commented lightly, smirking at him. "That's why I didn't tell you."

"Wha?" England's brain broke for a split second, trying to decipher the logic here. "Why then, if you knew I'd be angry, did you not see fit to inform me?"

"Because." He pushed the trolley on past, heading towards Russia. "You yelling at me is how I know you're ok."

England froze in his spot, rolling that last comment around in his head. Should he be appreciative of him saying that, or did America really like to piss him off? It was hard to say. England resolved to just slump to the ground, making France (who was looking right at him) extremely worried. "Arthur?" He rushed over, dropping to his knees next to him. "Is everything ok? Are you hurting again?" His expression fell, shocked to see that England was actually laughing.

"Arthur?"

England dragged his hand across his face. "Why do I put up with him?"

"Don't strain your brain, Arthur." France smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. "We all do, and none of us know why either. Come on." He grabbed England's arm, and helped him to his feet. "You should still be resting."

"I suppose." England stated wearily. Once the adrenaline for finding America had worn off, he suddenly felt very tired. Again, he didn't know why he was surprised. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence with him. He sighed, glancing back at America. Wondering how he could possibly be up and about already. "Bloody, yank."

"A thought's just occurred." Canada stated, scanning their rig. France having long gone with England, and didn't look to be coming back. "Shouldn't we be putting the supplies in the boat?"

Russia stopped to think about this for a bit. Obviously they couldn't take the truck with them, but he assumed it wouldn't matter once they got there.

"We can always transfer the stuff, once we get to the shore." America answered, at this point sitting in the truck with Russia, rearranging the supplies.

"But will we have time?"

Both America and Russia stopped and stared at each other. Would they have time?

"I mean, we don't know what's out there. It's taking a while to get everything in the truck. What if we're surrounded and only able to get ourselves into the boat? Then all of this will be for nothing."

There was a long pause from inside the truck. Both Russia and America's heads swiveled out to look back at the boat, then surveying the inside. Judging on how best to transfer what was already packed. Finally, America asked a more pressing question. "Will all of this stuff fit in the boat with us?"

By now, all three of them were going over the two vehicles and the supplies, trying to figure out how to do this. "We could get a dingy." America suggested. "Or some kind of storage boat to lug behind it."

Russia shook his head. "The spray from the motor would soak the supplies."

"Maybe just get a second motor boat then." Canada offered.

"But would we have the fuel to maintain both?"

"We could always get more." America suggested, sliding from the truck, and checking back over the boat.

"But could we rig a second one up to pull it?" Canada asked.

America examined the harness, and the rigging trailer. "Maybe. It'd be a bitch to haul though. Then comes up the issue of time again." He straightened up, wiping his brow. "Even with that, I don't think this truck has that kinda torque." An uncertain gleam slid into his eyes. "And I don't know about you guys, but I ain't lookin to go out there for another one. Those things have come up in droves."

"There's really no way to test if this vehicle can pull both." Russia stated, scanning the rigging as well.

"We really won't need that big of a boat." Canada added, finding his knowledge on this subject very lacking. "Just enough to hold what we need it to, and a driver."

Russia shook his head. "I still don't feel comfortable trying it. Not with us being surrounded."

The three of them fell into silent contemplation. Canada was only feeling partly guilty. Sure it was a fair point to being up, but a small part of him felt he shouldn't have said anything, without any idea of input.

America snapped his fingers, causing the other two nations to jump. "ATV's have a decent amount of torque. They're pretty good on fuel, and should be able to lug a small supply boat. I saw a few of them while we were siphoning gas."

"They don't have cover." Russia commented, with a scowl. "Is not safe for anyone to drive." Both Canada and Russia glared at America, knowing he was probably planning to be the one to take it.

"Uh, well, um, weeeee can try to make a covering for it."

Russia shook his head again. "Something strong enough to repel zombies would be too heavy. It would slow vehicle down."

"Then we get a two seater and have someone on cover fire."

Canada started. Not quite sure why that assessment made him nervous.

Russia made his way around the boat. "You are grasping at straws, Comrade. Are you serious with this plan, or do you just really want to drive this thing?"

"Actually, I was thinking you drive?"

"What?" Canada gasped, again not sure why he was so shocked.

Even Russia's eyes widened slightly.

"We don't have that many options. You drive the ATV, and I can cover you. We can go ahead and load the supplies in the boats. That way, even if we have to run straight into the water, everything will be set for us to go."

Both Canada and Russia were staring at him in shock.

America's face reddened. Confused as to why they were staring at him so strangely. "What? Does that not make sense?"

"I'm not... sure." Canada stated slowly, his head cocking to the side.

"There are many holes in this plan. However, it is unclear whether plan is madness or brilliance."

America felt his lips twinge into a grin. "Most of my plans start out crazy, I suppose. I'm better with thinking on my feet."

Russia shook his head. "How have you stayed alive so long?"

America beamed. That question was easy. "Because, I'm awesome."

xXx

"Are you mad!?" England cried, once he had seen what his former son had concocted.

"Ya know, Ivan said the same thing. And yet, he agreed to drive."

"Still not sure why." Russia commented, his brow furrowing. Finally, he shrugged. "Curiosity, I suppose. I want to see how well this one is with, how did you say, thinking on the feet?"

"Yea. That's about the gist of it."

Russia's chin fell into his hand. "Although I do not understand one thing. Tell me why it is, you are shooting?"

America shrugged. "We can trade off, if ya want."

Russia thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. "Niet. I see you drive. Is safer for you to have gun."

America laughed, chucking Russia on the shoulder. "You say the sweetest things, Ruski."

England gaped at them, feeling his confusion slowly rising. He felt a bit faint, but wasn't sure if he was overwhelmed by the sheer stupidity of this, or because he still hadn't fully recovered. Very hard to say, but he could be sure of one thing. They were both off their nut.

"Come, come, Arthur." France grasped England's shoulders. "Say something nice to them, then we can set out."

England looked up at France, then back towards the two somehow very callous nations. "You better not get your stupid selves killed."

France smirked, patting his shoulders. "Good enough. Good luck, you two." America saluted, and he led the still grumbling nation towards the truck. "Mad. Both of them. Completely off their nut."

"I know."

America laughed, then grinned at Russia. "Good to know he cares."

"All set." Canada stated, sliding off from where he was tying the supplies down. They had managed to find the equivalence of a motorized dingy, although slightly bigger, and hooked it to the back of the ATV. Canada made to stand next to the vehicle, twisting his fingers nervously. "I really feel like you should have someone else with you."

"Na. You stay in the truck, Bro."

"Jones is right. With Bonnefoy driving, you are needed to look after Kirkland."

Canada still didn't like it, but resolved to accept it made sense. America stepped off of the ATV and threw his arms around Canada pulling him tight. "It's not gonna do you any good to be worried."

"I know, but it won't stop me." Canada sighed, drawing him closer. "Just be careful."

"I will."

They stood there like that, for a bit, Canada mostly, not wanting to let go, until America finally pushed him back. "You guys lead the way."

Canada nodded, and smiled up at Russia. "You be careful too, Ivan."

Russia smiled. "Da. Just don't crash."

"Yea. We've had enough of that." America commented, climbing back in.

Canada laughed lightly, and ran over towards the door.

"You two make sure to wear your safety harnesses." England called from the truck, leaning over France in the driver's seat.

America checked the seats, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "It doesn't have any."

"What!?" They heard England growling back at them, but France forced him to sit back down, and fasten his own.

America laughed, and settled back into the seat, checking over his ammo. "We're better off. Those things are a hindrance anyways."

"Are you sure you are ready for this?"

"Huh?" America glanced over at Russia, closing the clip on his rifle with a loud click. "Yea, why?"

Russia shrugged. "Just curious." He left it at that and started the ATV, leaving America in confusion. "Why are you so weird?"

"I was born this way."

America laughed, reaching into his pocket. "And you fault me for that excuse." The engine on the truck started as he plucked out his wallet, and passed Russia two tens. "Here dude. Before I forget again."

Russia took the money, a bit surprised. "This is strange."

"Just wanted to make sure we had nothing left unsettled, in case I do get eaten."

Russia eyed the offer, slipping it in his pocket. "Don't you owe China money?"

America held a brief scowl that slowly slid into a condescending smile. "Technically my boss owes him money."

They were both startled by Russia's hysterical laughter.

A wide grin spread across America's face and he started laughing too. "That's an awesome laugh, dude. Remind me to amuse you more often."

"You'll have to survive to do that, da?"

"That I will, Comrade." America winked, imitating Russia's accent.

Canada called back to make sure they were ready. He pressed the button to open the door, and bolted back to the truck. Once he had made it into the cab, France started to inch out slowly. Some zombies had been alerted by the door, but others made their way closer with the movement of the truck. The initial plan was for France to just plow over any in the way, but apparently he thought this was going a bit too slowly. The Frenchman laid on the horn, his foot slamming down onto the accelerator, and sped out through the parking lot.

"Francis! Be careful of the boat." Canada cried, his head whipping back as it tilted to a dangerous angle.

"I have this under control." France assured him, but there seemed to be a strange gleam in his eyes.

"What the bloody hell are you doing anyway?" England asked, cringing at the turns pulling on his still sensitive skin.

"I want to try and get as many away from those two as I can." He looked back, and slammed on the horn again. Many started chasing after them, and a wicked grin slid onto France's face as he jerked the wheel, to check them into the other cars.

England grimaced, rolling his eyes. So that's where America got it from, cause he sure as hell didn't get it from him.

Canada's eyes watched their hitch, nervously, as well as looking back for Russia and America, who hadn't yet made it out of the garage. Mostly because France's initiative was a bit of a shock, but also because there was a mob of zombies running past the door.

America took aim with the rifle, but Russia placed a hand on the barrel, pushing it down. "Not yet."

"What? Why not? They could run in here." America retorted, making Russia more nervous at hearing the slight panic in his voice.

"Bonnefoy is trying to draw attention away from us. We can't alert them to our presence."

"But if we don't hurry up, we're gonna lose them."

"Is ok. We know where they're heading, so we can just meet up there." Russia secured his scarf, and revved the engine, preparing to take off. His eyes narrowed for an opportunity to make it through the crowd. "Hold on, Comrade." Russia shifted gears, slamming his foot onto the accelerator. America grasped onto the frame overhead, trying not to fall off. Russia plowed over a couple zombies, getting some air as he flew over. Landing with a rather unsettling bounce. He had to turn before he was able to adjust his speed properly, and the ATV tilted slightly. They both leaned to correct it, America throwing his weight over the side, still holding onto the padded frame. The vehicle corrected itself, and sped through the parking lot. America settled back into the seat, with a deep sigh. "And you say my driving's dangerous."

"Just trying to get out." He glanced over at America. "Just focus on your job."

"Yea, fine." America stood up, and threw his legs over the back of the seat, to clamp onto the frame. It was as good a fix as any, considering he couldn't hold on with his hands. Perhaps he should have invested in some rope. There were some figures running at them, from the right, and America picked them off easily, but more were still coming. America started laughing. "You'd think they'd realize they're gonna get shot."

"Must have something to do with the virus cutting off all common sense. Although, with that logic, I'm starting to wonder about you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean. Turning." America relented to grasp onto the frame, with his hands, just in time for Russia to whip the wheel to the side, plowing over a large group. "The lack of common sense. Are you sure you're not a zombie?"

"Pssht, I ain't as dumb as these things. At least I know to run away from the bullets." America started shooting again. "Plus I'm a lot prettier."

"Whatever you say, France." Russia laughed.

"Ouch, dude. That's low."

Speaking of France, they easily passed the truck, and America gave the driver a broad salute, as Russia rounded the last turn out of the mall parking lot. "Didn't think this thing went that fast."

"Anything is possible with Russian power." Russia smirked, and swerved to run over another stray zombie. That is eighty-nine, Jones."

"Oh. Are we still playing that game? Good." America laughed, shooting a couple more down. "Cause you're totally losing."

"You lie."

"Am not. I'm at like ninety-six. *bang* Seven."

"Then why don't you try to get some over here?"

America settled back to reload his gun. "Nah, you're doin alright." His point was proven by Russia swerving into some again. Unfortunately he was still reloading the rifle, and lost his balance. He tried to grab hold of something, and ended up dropping his gun, in the process of failing. Russia reached out and grabbed America's ankle. Unfortunately, by now, the stunned nation was hanging over the side at a bad angle. It took him a moment to realize his leg didn't hurt because he had fallen out, but because of Russia's grip putting the rest of the weight onto it.

"Can you get back up!?" Russia called over, slowing down.

"Hold on." America tried to pull himself back up enough to grasp onto the frame, but the strain on his leg was painful. Russia tried to help by pulling, but that just made it hurt worse. America forced his arm up to grab onto the bar. He pulled himself on up, and slid into the seat, a hand falling onto his chest. "Holy shit, Dude."

"You ok?"

"Yea, I think." America rubbed his leg, finding it difficult to move. "Man, I hate it when Iggy's right." He looked over himself, and whipped his head back to look along the road. "Shit man. I dropped my gun."

"You have others."

America pouted. "I liked that gun. It was my favorite gun. Her name was Verra."

Russia's expression took on a look of looking at a dirty idiot. "You name your guns?"

"Yea, sure. Don't you?"

"No."

"Any chance we can go back for her?"

"I don't think so."

"Aw." America slumped in the seat, folding his arms, but the movement drew his attention back to his leg, and he rubbed it again.

Russia glanced over at him. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I don't think so. Just strained a bit." He sighed, resolving to rest for a while. There weren't too many lining the roads. Apparently Russia's tactics of drawing them all to the mall had worked. Too bad there was more than they could kill. Russia did a decent enough job running over any along the road, and America didn't even care that his kill count was going up. He just wanted his gun back.

xXx

"Did you guys know that vehicle could go that fast?" France asked as the crazed ATV whizzed past them. Apparently the laws of boat didn't apply to them.

Canada and England shook their heads, their faces settled into shock. "They're going to get themselves killed." England commented.

"Hope not. They have the supplies."

"Matthew!" England scolded, shocked at his indifference. "That's not appropriate."

Canada whipped his head towards him, a small smile slowly inching onto his face. Soon, he started laughing. "Sorry. Just trying to diffuse the tension." His unsure laughter settled into a moan, and he dropped his head into his hand, gazing out the window. "Yea. Guess I'm not too good at that."

"Don't start acting like your brother. The world can only handle one America."

Canada laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Fair enough."

With the roads clearer, it didn't take too long to catch up to the rambunctious duo. Or at least within eyesight. "See. We didn't lose them."

A bit later the ATV swerved, and something fell over the side bouncing off the asphalt. England nearly stood on his seat, looking eagerly out the windshield. "Was that Alfred? Tell me it wasn't Alfred!"

Canada helped him look out for the lump laying on the side of the road. He was relieved but also a bit sad. "Aww, Verra."

"What?"

"Alfred must have dropped his gun."

"What's that?" France indicated back to the ATV just in time to see a figure slide back into the seat.

England clenched his fist and huffed, giving what must have been a one armed arm fold. "I told him. I tried to warn him, but he never listens to me."

"Arthur, calm down."

"No, no. That boy's gonna get himself killed, and I'm not even gonna care. All I'll have to say is, 'I told you so.' Cause I did. Just watch." He nearly hissed, settling back in to a pout. Mumbling further about stubbornness. "I repeat." England suddenly stated, waving a finger in Canada's face. "Don't turn into your brother. That foolish little – ugh." He started pouting again, this time about how no one ever listens to him. Canada just stared at England, then glanced up with hearing France laughing.

France was just shaking his head at England's fail.

##

AN: ARGH so much brain bitching with this. I was gonna go a bit further, but I figured this was already long enough, and I kinda decided late in the game to go somewhere else with Germany's group... even if every fiber in my being is telling me it might not be such a good idea. Also the anxiety to actually get to where I know what happens. 2 Chapters away from Japan... then I'll be just over halfway... maybe... possibly... eh, I dunno anymore.

Oh yea, side note. I have some moments plotted out for America and Russia to bond over the joy of killing zombies, but now they seem to be going off again. They're bonding without my permission, and I don't know how I feel about this. And PLEASE tell me someone got the reference. If you have to ask what reference then you probably didn't get it. (Here's a hint: Jayne.)