Warning for violence/implied violence, mentions of killing, injuries, (zombie) blood.

Zombie Apocalypse!AU

I have no idea what this is, or if it makes sense. Let's find out.


Sirius wipes the gunk off of his arm with a grimace. Next to him, James is in a similar state — slightly better off than Sirius, but he has a magnificent scowl on his face.

"You know," he says, and Sirius braces himself, knowing what's coming. "We wouldn't have been in this situation if you'd stayed here like you promised, rather than going on a reckless fool's errand in the night."

"I just went for a walk!" Sirius replies defensively. "It's not my fault that I'm some homing beacon for zombies!"

James snorts. "You went looking for them," he says pointedly. "You wanted to fight them. What on Earth were you trying to accomplish?"

Sirius is silent. Truthfully, he'd just wanted to release some pent-up energy, maybe kill a couple of zombies. He hadn't expected to get out of hand so quickly.

James, appearing to notice Sirius' contrition, softens. "At least you're okay," he says gruffly. "But just...don't go off and do that again. Or at least warn me next time."

"Yeah." Sirius doesn't plan on doing that again but he doesn't want to get into a petty squabble right now. Besides, James is just looking out for him like brothers do.


He does it again, but this time, he's careful. He turns on his radio and nicks James' radar watch to ensure that there are no zombies in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn't plan to go more than half a mile from their safehouse, just up to the frozen river, and he's headed there when he hears a low, guttural moan.

Sirius halts in his tracks, his hand immediately going for his knife. The foliage is thick in this part of the forest, so he can't tell where the sound came from — but he hears another moan from the underbrush to his right.

Cautiously, he steps towards the noise and peels away layers and layers of brush and uncovers —

Sirius stumbles back, hand gripping the knife more tightly. The bloodless face of a male zombie stares up at him, amber eyes glazed and chest heaving. His maroon shirt — cardigan? — is torn to shreds and he's clutching his stomach, trying to stem the flow of zombie liquid. It stains his pale fingers a sickly green.

Sirius' blood runs cold. The zombie mumbles something, gazing up at him pleadingly. Defenses relaxing — this zombie is clearly wounded, so he wouldn't try anything — he lowers himself to the ground. "What happened?" he asks.

(Is this what had happened when he'd jumped and stabbed those zombies? Had they crawled away to die like this?)

The zombie raises one shaking, stained hand and beckons him closer. "Won't...hurt you," he rasps. "Talking...hard."

Sirius hesitates, then brings his face closer to the zombie's. In a few broken sentences, the zombie explains what had happened. He'd been jumped without warning. He'd been outnumbered. Been stabbed and buried and left to die.

With each new piece, Sirius' heart grows heavier and heavier in tune with zombie's breathing growing more and more labored.

"Right," he says decisively, "I'll get James. James — he's a healer. He'll take care of you."

The zombie nods faintly and Sirius radios James. "James, get your ass out of bed. I've got an injured zombie here and he needs attention."

Something crackles, and then James' incredulous voice sounds from the speaker. "I'm sorry," he says, "but did you just say that you found an injured zombie? And you want me to heal them?"

"He's badly hurt," Sirius argues. In rapid sentences, he explains. James' skepticism fades with every sentence, and he sighs.

"Fine. I'll come. But I'm holding you accountable if something happens."


"I'll hand it to you," James says, watching the zombie sleep. Bandages cover the wound in his stomach and Sirius had lent him his sleeping bag. He'll spend the night on a blanket. "You didn't do something reckless this time. But I still have no idea how we managed to get a zombie into our safehouse. I never thought this day would come."

Sirius studies the zombie. He looks so harmless. "I don't think he'll attack us," he says. "Zombies are monsters but they have a little humanity."

"I hope so," James mutters. "But I need a drink."

He goes over to their bags and Sirius kneels, getting a closer look at the zombie. His heart aches — this is what he does to zombies. Some deserve it, but some — some, he'd just hunted with the intention of killing. They hadn't wanted to fight, but he'd killed them.

He pulls out his knife and stares at the shining blade. He'd killed so many, yet the thought now fills him with anger at himself.

He won't kill for sport. Not anymore.


798 words

(yes, the zombie they saved is Remus)

Auction - 31.1 - You found a zombie? And brought them to the safe house? What is wrong with you?

Assignment 4, Religious Education Task 11 - Write about someone reckless.

Back to School - (color) Maroon

Southern Cookout - Banana Pudding - (genre) friendship