Chapter content: vomit, Lovino's swearing, dead body, bugs, urine, contaminated food, a wet dog, Ludwig's POV
Gooey Ashes
"Feliciano, this way."
Ludwig strayed from the main road, leading the way over to a cluster of stores. He couldn't tell if the clashing store signs bunched up along the windows represented stores run-down before or after the flooding. Feliciano followed, his path pockmarked by investigating every little thing that caught his eye. Ludwig considered calling him to get his attention, but the Italian seemed to be taking a delight in just being alive. The sheer bounce, so tamped down in Lovino's cynical steps, made him swallow his objections.
Taking a chunk of cement from the sidewalk, Ludwig took a step back, and hurled it through the open door of a tattoo parlor. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he heard the crunching and low growls of more than a couple things in response. He bit his tongue, keeping his fear from being voiced.
That was one place they were going to avoid. Even Feliciano fell silent, rocking on his heels a safe distance away. Despite his long absence from consciousness, something from Lovino must have seeped through, invading him with a healthy fear of those sounds.
Thankfully, none of them came racing for the door. Ludwig had already taken a few steps back in anticipation of needing to flee. Inside, the crunching and growling softened until they were barely above a whisper. Ludwig motioned for Feliciano to stay back, picking up another sizable chunk with care, his hands stinging. The cuts had closed up, but his hands were left itchy and with a tinge of rusty brown. He didn't want to risk reopening any of the scratches or inviting river bacteria to climb into any opening they could find.
The windows were already broken on the next store, with the unmistakable smells of rot and mold coming from within. If the zombies didn't kill them, the mold would.
Next store: furniture. A splash of mud had dried on the front windows, but Ludwig could see security shutters pulled halfway down. Probably forced open by someone seeking shelter….or partially closed before the store employees were attacked. Either way, if they could get in there, it could prove to be a formidable barricade against the terrors of the night.
Ludwig took a deep breath, steeling himself for the throw, the door as open as any of the rest. He bounced the rock in his hands, gripping it hard despite the pain in his hand. Something had searched each one. Hopefully, nothing had decided to stay in this one. He threw the rock.
All Ludwig heard was the crunching from the other stores.
Nothing started screaming. Nothing came running out towards them.
Ludwig motioned for Feliciano to remain silent, putting a finger to his lips, and switched on his flashlight. He took a deep breath, covered his mouth with his sleeve, and stepped forward. To start with, he just angled the flashlight inside, trying to get a glimpse of any tattered clothes or gray, clammy legs. He couldn't see much beyond the legs of tables and low-set couches.
That meant he had to go inside if he wanted to get a good look at the place. With great reluctance, that was what he did, pushing the door just an extra few inches to be able to fit himself through. If he had to escape quickly, it would be much more difficult than entering. Ludwig crouched, and slowly crept under the security shutters, flashlight heralding his way.
He stood up, breathing into his sleeve carefully, way too careful, mindful of the gagging stench that so often accompanied the zombies. He fanned out the flashlight from one end to another, half crouched, prepared to dive back under at the first sign of danger.
But his caution was unwarranted. Nothing stared back at him from this darkness. No beady, cloudy eyes staring back at him. Ludwig cautiously moved his arm away from his face, and found nothing worse than river water and the start of mold. He heard Feliciano whisper his name outside, his voice shaking. Ludwig didn't reply. Instead, he stepped forward. His boots splashed in small puddles, but water didn't cover the entire floor, and held no threat of making his socks soggy.
He had to walk around, aiming his flashlight into every corner, banishing the shadows for a few seconds. He carefully stepped around the crowded furniture set up, his heart leaping at every flickering shadow. All of these shapes, all of these pieces of furniture making monsters of the dark; anything could be lurking. His flashlight scanned, and stopped on an odd lump on a footstool, too large to be innocent. Ludwig caught his breath.
Then exhaled again, seeing that the dog meant him no harm. It stared at him with wary eyes, but didn't growl. After a moment of hesitation, each sizing up the other, Ludwig put out a cautious hand, offering it up to the dog, hopefully not as a new chew toy.
There was a tense moment. Ludwig held his breath. Then the dog sniffed his unassuming hand. The dog started licking his hand, and Ludwig chuckled in relief. The sound surprised the dog into freezing, but then it continued on licking, the tail wagging.
He hadn't finished scouting out the rest of the store, but the dog's presence assured him that there was nothing to be afraid of. He hadn't seen a single pet, dog or otherwise, since the beginning of this mess. He didn't bother alarming the dog by yelling, instead leaving it to go talk to Feliciano face-to-face.
"Ludwig!" was the cheer that greeted him, returning from the depths of the furniture store. Ludwig tried to frantically shush Feliciano, but that didn't stop the tackle hug. "You're alive!"
Ludwig sighed, and tried to gently pry away Feliciano so that he could have some space. He definitely was nothing like his brother.
"Yes. I'm alive," he awkwardly pat Feliciano on the head. "It looks safe inside here. We'll set up for the night in here, barricade, have dinner," he explained his plan. "I haven't checked the bathroom yet, but that's easy to block off. If it's safe, we can refill our bottles there. There's a dog taking shelter inside - Hey, wait!"
Feliciano didn't pay attention to him, however, having dived for the store as soon as he mentioned the dog.
"Don't scare him…" Ludwig sighed. He watched as Feliciano ducked under the shutters, face full of excitement.
He heard the click of a flashlight, and a soft squeal. "Aw, Lud! You didn't tell me he was hungry!"
"Hungry..?" Ludwig was confused at first, almost panicked at the thought of Feliciano happily letting the dog chow down on anything from his hand to their actual food, until he remembered how emaciated the dog looked. Feliciano had probably just figured that one out by appearance, and not by actions, he reassured himself. It had probably survived this long on scraps. Or on mold, he considered, glancing to the bakery next door. Anything edible likely hadn't lasted long with the onslaught of bacteria and loss of power to keep any refrigerators running. Ludwig followed him inside, although he was cautious, wary of scaring the dog with too much stimuli at once.
He found Feliciano petting the animal, scratching it behind the ears and searching for the perfect spot to bring the most joy to the creature's face. Ludwig put his hands on Feliciano's shoulders, tugging him back a few steps.
"It could have fleas or ticks," Ludwig warned, but that only made Feliciano's determination stronger.
"We have to help him, Lud!" He looked up at Ludwig with wide eyes.
With a sigh, he relented, letting go. "...fine. Just make sure that you don't get any fleas yourself. And clean up any ticks that you squish." Ludwig shook his head and turned away, not wanting to see the carnage Feliciano would bring to them tonight. Fleas with no guaranteed way to keep up proper hygiene was not an appealing thought.
He let his flashlight lead him through the store, trying to locate the restroom. If this store even had one. He kept one hand at his hip, and used the flashlight to shine the way before stepping into another dark path. He assumed that a dog wouldn't hole up with a flesh-eating zombie, but he didn't want to damn himself and the Vargas brothers on something like an assumption. He had to be careful. Feliciano's cooing hadn't drawn anything out yet, so maybe they really had found safe shelter.
Ludwig found the restroom in the back of the store, tucked into a corner next to boxes of lamps and deconstructed chairs. One door, marked unisex, handicap accessible, family… One size fits all. Looking at all the storage back there, he wasn't sure how the previous store owners expected a wheelchair to navigate back here. He tried the door, and was surprised to find it locked. So many places had been left unlocked and open in some way.
He took a step back, shining the flashlight up and down, surveying the scratches covering the door. Maybe someone had holed up in here? Locked an infected inside. Bracing himself, he knocking on the door.
No response. No human words, but neither did anything scream and bang at the door. Nothing was in there. Unless someone had managed to starve something inside. He wasn't even sure if the zombies needed to eat. The flesh-eating had been a joke, really, he told himself.
One way to find out. And really, they needed access to the plumbing for fresh water. Ludwig looked around, and found a sturdy-looking metal chair leg. That would do.
He hefted it carefully, and then rested it on the restroom handle. He wasn't sure about if this would work, but he didn't know a thing about picking a lock. With one swift movement, the handle broke. Ludwig winced at the noise, but he was then able to pry the rest of it off. With a grunt, he forced the restroom door open.
A flurry of bugs greeted him on the other side. Ludwig lifted the collar of his shift to cover his nose. The stench was overpowering, making his stomach roll.
A body was splayed out on the floor, deformed by the process of decomposition. The bugs had certainly helped out in that department. They came in through the vent and made the moist room their home, feeding on a splatter of blood on the wall and nesting in the holes they could find in their search of the body. A gun had caught on the bloated fingers of the corpse, the bugs ignoring the cold metal.
Ludwig felt frozen, staring at the scene. He vaguely heard a groan from the front of the store, and he snapped himself out of it. He snatched the gun from the floor, having to rip it out of the body's hand, and stepped back from out, dragging a box over to use it to keep the door shut. He'd broken the lock, after all.
He hurried back to the front of the store, knocking his hips against the edges of tables and sofas. He tossed the gun on a table, and looked to Feliciano groaning on a footstool, vase in hand clutched close to his chest.
"Feliciano, are you okay? Did anything happen?" He smelled vomit.
"No, I'm not okay. I just fucking threw up."
"...Lovino? So soon?"
"Shut up," Lovino snapped, confirming that he was indeed dealing with the more bitter of the two. "My head hurts like a bitch."
Ludwig's mouth opened, so full of questions, and then shut again. Quieter, he asked, "Are you sick? I- I mean," he hurried to correct himself, his voice soft under Lovino's glare. "It's okay if you're not feeling well, it's probably not the flu-"
Lovino spat into the vase, effectively cutting off Ludwig's words.
"It's the switch," Lovino mumbled. "It was too sudden."
Ludwig hesitated, but conceded with a nod, pulling out a water bottle to offer. After Lovino had washed out his mouth and spat in the vase a few times, he said, "I'm glad you're not sick."
In reply, Lovino held out the vase to him. Ludwig sighed, but took the vase without comment. "The restroom is safe, but bugs have been breeding in there. Don't go in."
Before Lovino could ask him to explain this 'breeding', Ludwig hurried out of the store, emerging into the fresh air. There, he set the vase in the parking lot. It would no doubt go missing overnight, rolled away by the water or nighttime activities, but that was more preferable than keeping a vase of vomit inside to let it ferment and attract more bugs.
When he went back inside, he pulled the security shutters down. Nothing could get in if the store was closed off. That had been their original purpose, after all, although he was sure the manufacturers never expected it to deal with a zombie apocalypse.
"Hey, do you have any matches?" Lovino asked, having recovered in his time away. Well, mostly recovered, Ludwig noted as a flashlight dimly illuminated Lovino rubbing the side of his head. "I took more painkillers, by the way. You gave Feli the weak shit."
Of course. "I'll check. I'm just glad you're not in too much pain. It's not going to interact with the other pills you're taking, right?"
That was apparently too far. "Don't even talk to me," Lovino said, turning away.
Ludwig sighed, and handed over a pack of matches once he found them. They were a bit damp, but he was sure they would still work. Lovino gave the matches a scrutinizing glare, and scowled at them. Ludwig felt as if that scowl was meant for him, and he lowered his eyes.
The matches scratched, scratch, scratch, and then a small light burst. Lovino used that little light to light several candles that he'd found in Ludwig's absence. Fat candles, tea candles, decorative candles sculpted to look like stars. It allowed the both of them to save their flashlight batteries.
"If the bathroom's covered in bugs, then your job is to refill the bottles. I'll set up some food."
Ludwig cleared his throat, swallowing down the vomit that threatened at the thought of the body in the bathroom. "Lovino, I think you should handle the guns." Better to get this over with now, before he got stuck with them when they left for Francis's house.
Ludwig hesitated, then handed over the gun after a pointed look from Lovino, handling them as delicately as possible. Ludwig, the pacifist. Ludwig, the guy who'd shot a zombie in a rush of panic. Lovino, actually willing to use it.
Lovino turned the gun over in his hands, and flicked the safety on. Ludwig cringed. He did his best to stay well away from guns; he'd forgotten about the safety. He watched as Lovino poked and prodded at the gun, finally breaking it in two to look at the insides. Lovino checked the magazines of both, lingering on the new handgun.
"One bullet left," Lovino growled. He smacked the gun back into one piece, startling Ludwig. He hadn't known Lovino would even know how to work with guns like that. "We have to find more ammo."
"Where would we find more ammo?" Ludwig asked, frowning. "I don't think ammo is just going to be lying around, and I never took notice of the gun stores around here. It's not like we live in the south where everyone carrying a gun is just normal…" He sighed.
Lovino snorted, although it was weak, and came out more like an annoyed huff. "You really don't talk to people much, do you? We're in the Midwest, idiot. There's deer everywhere, and people like to shoot those things. Everyone around here has a weird cousin with a gun fetish right down the road."
Ludwig raised an eyebrow at that colorful description. "And where is, ah, 'right down the road'?" he asked.
"Exactly what you think it means. Where'd you get this other gun?"
Ludwig looked away, suddenly quiet, his mind wandering to the dead man in the restroom. "In the restroom," he responded.
"The restroom? Why would someone keep a gun there? That's stupid as all hell." But Ludwig didn't get a change to answer. He didn't intend to answer, anyway. "Whatever. It doesn't even have any bullets in it. It's useless until we find ammo for it."
Dinner that night was bland, bland, and more bland. Ludwig comforted himself with the thought that they would soon be eating like queens, once they reached Francis's no-doubt well-stocked shelter. In the meantime, packaged and processed snacks would do. Ludwig had already started to see the effects of the lack of calories, everyone slowly dropping fat and muscles, sugar and mushy protein giving everyone a turn of digestive distress. His own once-healthy skin had broken out in dry patches and acne; Lovino looked closer to wiry than the slight baby chub he'd first seen him with.
With Lovino's headache, no conversation passed between them. The candles offered the familiar passage of time. Ludwig whispered the occasional word or two to the dog. They gave the mutt a protein bar that some kind of bug had gotten into. Every now and then, one of them scratched the dog's head and idly smoothed out a knot of fur.
Scratching broke the peace. It rose louder than the unnerving hum they had accepted before. Nothing was in the furniture store with them and the shutters blocked out all light, but Ludwig's blood ran cold. He had no idea of the quality of the walls here; what if they were as cheap as the drywall of his family's apartment? Ludwig checked his watch against the dying flicker of a candle, and immediately started putting out candles, burning his fingers in the process. Sundown had snuck up on them.
Thankfully, Lovino didn't question anything, just helped plunge them into darkness. After all, who could really say for sure that something couldn't see the light coming from inside the store?
Ludwig tensed when he felt something press up against him on the couch, but relaxed when he realized it was just Lovino.
"Bathroom?" Lovino whispered, not chancing a full sentence.
Ludwig hesitated. Anything like a trashcan or the straight floor would make too much noise. Dry fabrics and cushioning was so much a rarity nowadays that it seemed ridiculous to soil such a luxury. But, judging from the episode at the clothes store, he thought it might be too much to demand Lovino ignore it.
Wordlessly, Ludwig fumbled in the dark, pressing a throw pillow into his hands. Lovino shuffled away from him.
Ludwig knew exactly when Lovino used it; how could he not? When the nightmare was just beginning to wake up outside, any kind of distraction was a godsend.
Ludwig knew his face was heating up with a blush, despite the dark. It was loud. Awkward. Then it was quiet. At least it didn't smell over the smells of wet dog and moldy furniture.
He cautiously placed his bag on the table, and leaned back to find someone joining him on the couch again. Lovino. In the darkness, they surveyed the couch, Ludwig feeling where the armrest was, and how Lovino as seated. He slowly transitioned to lying down, trying as much to avoid disturbing outside as he tried to avoid disturbing Lovino.
To his surprise, he found Lovino lying down with him, pressed up against him. He felt a hand on his forehead, but it didn't move away. He didn't understand at first, and then shook his head; his flush made Lovino think he could be sick. He tried his best to give Lovino space, but each time he pressed flat against the couch, Lovino pressed closer still to him.
After a few minutes of this struggle, Ludwig relaxed with a sigh, giving up the fight. At least, like this, cuddled together, it would ward off the chill for the night. With it being autumn, cold nights would soon become the norm. It made the couch feel cozy. Just as he was getting comfortable, the dog jumped up to join them. Neither Ludwig nor Lovino rejected the dog, so he snuggled up with them eagerly, filling the air with the smell of wet, dirty dog.
Author's Notes
As time takes its toll, things are going to get more disgusting.