Title: Apocalpyse, How
Disclaimer:Pah-ha. Like they're mine.
Summary: It's the end of the world as he knows it, but he feels just fine.
Rating: R. Lots of cussing, and fairly disturbing image-y words.
AN: Zombies can be mixed in with any fandom if you try hard enough. This is at Level "Half-Ass" on the Trying scale, but hey, if that works...;p Also, there may be some things that seem kind of flippant in this fic. Personally, I like a little humor with my drama/action/horror/whatever, but some people don't. If you see mistakes I'd love to know. :)

Feedback is much appreciated.

Logan knew he was going to Hell, he just didn't expect it to be now and like this. If anyone had told him that Night of the Living Dead (or hell, even that D-grade disaster Aaron starred in Honey, I Love You, But I Have to Eat Your Brain Now - He didn't deserve to use the excuse that it was his first role.) was now showing at a street corner near him, his first reaction wouldn't have been automatic belief. There would have been a lot of laughing, eye rolling and eyebrow raising, but belief? No.

Seeing is believing, though, and seeing someone torn apart by a tank-like truck and still be able to move was enough to make him believe something odd was going on.

He shuddered and gripped the wheel tighter. Despite (or because of) his penchant for trouble, his first instinct had been to just keep driving, but Veronica's Influence (its own entity) had beat his instinct down, took over the wheel and brakes, and guided him to the side of the road. Then the fucking thing had prompted him to get out of the car and try to help. Help. Help, how? The guy was in two separate pieces, and trailing his intestines behind him - apparently he decided his legs weren't worth the effort.

"Do you need any help?" he asked the torso crawling towards him. Of all the stupid fucking questions. He cringed, more out of disgust than embarrassment.

His would-be good deed didn't answer with words, just growled and continued moving in his direction.

Logan pushed back the bad feeling (after all, who'd be comfortable with visible body cavities and organs randomly decorating the street?) and moved closer. Bad idea. When he was standing directly in front of the man and bending down, he noticed how rank and dead the man looked. While he was somewhat distracted (or maybe just because he was close enough), the man grabbed his leg and bit down - hard - on his foot. Technically, he got a mouthful of imported leather, but he still went for Logan's foot.

The sudden movement startled Logan enough to push V.I. back and let his instincts get him out of a harmful situation. The speed of light had nothing on him as he raced back to his X-Terra. He couldn't resist looking back to see the thing that bit him was still steadily moving in his direction with an open mouth, and something thick and dark dripping from it. Blood? Ew. And also, eep.

Logan had seen enough scary movies to know that this? Really wasn't the best thing ever. Good thing he was already at his car. He'd hate to have to let out a shrill, girly scream. It would have just hurt the thing's ears from where they were somewhere beside his legs.

What should he do? Should he report it to Lamb? His V.I. laughed at that, and the rest of his brain agreed that was a fucking stupid idea. Lamb couldn't handle regular, everyday, human criminals, how could he deal with a shoe-biter? There was always the trusty standby of getting completely shit-faced, passing out, then waking up to discover it was all a dream. He could drive far, far away from the mess on the highway (which was about a foot closer now, and he really should get his ass in gear, but it wasn't like the fucking thing could get to him in the car.). Maybe there was just one of those things, and maybe it wasn't really a "zombie," just an escaped mental patient preforming an illusion; they were supposed to be super-strong and all. The horror movie geek within snorted, and shouted how stupid that was.

Logan sighed. Even if that was the only one (for now), he couldn't just pick up and leave. Fuck. Despite the urge to be in Timbuktu, he knew he wasn't going anywhere, because of Veronica. Veronica, who was out there somewhere trying to crack a case for her dad. What about Keith?

With a set location in mind, he started his car, made an abrupt U-turn, (ignored the squishy sound from under his tires) and drove.

To be continued? Well, I'd say it depends on you people but then I'd be a big ole fibber since I doubt I'd just leave it alone. Still, reviews are nice. -Bats eyelashes-