Important Note: Since ALL of the characters in this are significantly younger, I have put together a document with what they would look like. :) All the actors/actresses are the same, but I searched out younger versions of them. Use the link below to see them as they would appear in this story!

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An (Incomplete) Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse: Chapter 2

March 11th, 1999 - 4:02 pm

Tom has never had a panic attack before, but he's beginning to think that today might be the day. His head is spinning and his chest hurts.

Zombies.

Surely these people are fucking with him?

Zombies?

There's no way. There is no way.

"There's no way," he gasps, and Danny puts a supporting hand on his shoulder.

"And he hasn't even seen one yet," Kara marvels from behind them. Tom turns and shoots her a glare, placing a hand over his chest and breathing in deeply.

"This is... this is just a big joke. Those douche bags from my team are fucking with me," he says, and he can almost believe it, except for the look in Kara and Danny's eyes. They don't look like people who are joking. In fact, they look like the soldiers that he'd seen in Afghanistan - haunted by what they'd seen, the people they'd killed, and what they'd been through.

"Sorry," Danny says, and Tom nods, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He tries to calm himself down, but he still can't seem to wrap his brain around the fact that most of the world is dead and that it's because of zombies.

"OK," he finally says, and then switches into soldier mode. "All right. Tell me everything about them. How do we kill them?"

Danny shifts uncomfortably on his feet. "I don't know how much we should say," he hedges, and Kara rolls her eyes.

"He's a little scared of the boss," she says, and then adds, "Who is three years younger and half a foot shorter than him."

Danny shoots Kara a glare and Tom wants to laugh.

This entire situation is ... insane.

"It'll be up to her if you come with us, by the way," Kara adds, and she leads Tom over to a chair beside the nurse's station (or, what used to be the nurse's station). Tom takes a seat, and Kara and Danny position themselves so they're each covering one of the doorways. Tom recognizes some of their moves, the way they read each other without speaking and move together so fluidly. One or both of them had been in the military, he's certain.

"You can't leave me here on my own," Tom argues.

"She's got this way of reading people," Kara says, continuing as if Tom hadn't spoken. "If she says you're good, then you're good. When we found Tex, she said that he could come with us and he's saved our asses more times than I can count."

"Neils, on the other hand..." Danny trails off, and Tom wants to hear the story behind the tone in his voice. Later, he decides. They haven't answered his question yet.

"How do we kill them?" he asks again, and Danny shrugs.

"Like you kill all zombies in the movies and books. Head shot, if you have a gun."

"Yeah," Kara says, "Except that the sound of guns draws more of them. Knives to the head, anything to the brain, really, will kill them. We use guns on supply runs like this, because we're not planning on staying here for any length of time. But when we're traveling, sleeping, or anything like that, we use knives. Tex has a sword," she adds, and Danny rolls his eyes at the amazement in Kara's voice. "He's pretty amazing with a sword."

"He's insane, is what he is," Danny grumbles. "Gets results, though," he grudgingly admits.

"OK. I can do that. I'm a good shot, and I can handle a knife," Tom says, nodding to himself. "Who... what... how..." he trails off, unsure where to start or which questions to ask next. He is overwhelmed, more so than he'd even been on his first deployment. Being blown up, losing two months of time, and waking into a post-apocalyptic, zombie-ridden world is simply more than he can process at the moment.

"Just take a breath," Danny advises. "We'll explain everything when Tex and the Doc get back. We're not staying here. If you come with us, we can explain tonight when we get to our current safe house."

Tom nods, dropping his head into his hands.

What the actual fuck, he thinks, and then tries not to panic as he waits.


March 11th, 1999 - 4:25 pm

"Took you long enough," Kara says, breaking Tom out of his thoughts twenty minutes later. He looks up, dropping his hands from his face, to see two people walking toward him with large duffel bags over their shoulders. One of them is a man, older than he is, with long, messy hair. He has a wide grin on his face, and is laughing while his companion rolls her eyes at him. The second is a young woman, early twenties probably, with long wavy brown hair and striking green eyes. She's short, lithe, and moves quickly and easily on her feet, despite the heavy looking bag she's carrying.

"Doc here made us go through every room," the older man says, and Tom thinks that this must be Tex.

"Yes," the young woman responds, and she has a soothing English accent. Tom follows her with his eyes as she walks toward them. She drops the duffel near their feet and stretches. "But we found what we needed, finally. No point in getting home more quickly if we don't have what we need. We now have enough supplies to last us several weeks, if not longer."

"That's great," Danny says, and then steps to the side so that the newcomers can see Tom. He's still sitting in the chair, his hair wild from where he has been running his fingers through it for the past half hour. He offers a small smile and a wave as Tex and the young woman's eyes swivel toward him.

"Who the hell is this?" Tex asks, eyes roaming over Tom before turning to stare at Danny.

"This is... actually, damn, we didn't ask his name," Kara says, and Tom chuckles.

"Name's Tom," he says, and then adds, so he doesn't have to go through it again later, "Lieutenant Thomas Chandler, US Navy. Stationed in Afghanistan. Blown up by a land mine, brought back here, just woke up from a coma. Apparently I woke up into an actual living nightmare where zombies are real, unless you two want to tell me that these two," he says, waving toward Danny and Kara, "Are lying assholes."

Tex chuckles. "Afraid not, Lieutenant. Zombies are real, and they fuckin' suck. I'm Tex Nolan, this here is Rachel Scott. She's the boss around here, despite the fact that I could be her father."

Rachel rolls her eyes but smiles. "You could not, Tex. I am twenty-two years old. Unless you were getting it on as a thirteen year old, at best you could be my older brother. And I'm only the boss because you three can't get your heads out of your arses long enough to make a decision." She turns back to the others and says, "We need to get back, sort the supplies. Is he coming with us?"

Danny shrugs. "Seems like he's telling the truth about his story. He'll die within an hour if we leave him, he has no idea what's going on."

Tom bristles, and wants to be indignant, but Danny isn't wrong. He doesn't have any idea what's going on, and he probably would die within an hour if these people left him.

"All right then," Rachel says, and then hold out a hand to Tom. "Welcome to the team."

Tom takes her hand, surprised by the strength in her grip, and shakes it. "Thanks."

Once Rachel lets his hand go, he reaches down, grabbing the duffel and throwing it over his own shoulder. Rachel gives him a nod of thanks, and then takes point after leaning down to grab a knife out of her boot and stuff the small handgun she is carrying into the back of her jeans.

"Knives only, we don't want any of the infected following us back home."

Danny stows his gun and grabs a knife, handing it to Kara before taking a second in hand. Tom looks back and forth between them, but before he can say anything, Tex holds out a six inch blade to him, handle first.

"Any good at close quarters combat?" he asks, and Tom nods.

"Yes. Part of the training for the Navy. Can't say I've ever used it on someone who has risen from the dead, but I can hold my own."

Tex chuckles. "I like you," he decides, and then falls back, taking up the rear with Danny, Kara, and Tom in the middle.

Tom swallows, grasping the handle of the knife tightly as they begin walking out of the hospital.

It's still light outside, and the silence from the hospital follows them. The wind is blowing softly, but other than the rustling of the leaves on the trees and the sound of their footsteps, the world remains mute. Tom lets his eyes wander their surroundings, taking in the ruin and the devastation surrounding them. There's trash covering the grass, destroyed vehicles lining the streets, and bodies littering the sidewalks. There's something off about these bodies, and Tom tries to ignore the feeling of wrongness that invades as he gets his first good look at a dead zombie.

They're decayed, the bloody skin seemingly slipping right off of their bones. Their flesh is white and partially rotted, their eyes yellow and open, unseeing in death. Some of them have old wounds, likely from how they had died when they were human, and all of them have wounds from their second death, bullets to the brain or knife wounds in their heads. They're covered in blood, old and dark red, and the sight is sickening.

Tom turns his eyes away, but not before Danny catches him staring.

"The live ones are worse," he says. "It's terrifying, the first few times, but you get used to it. Hopefully we don't run into any on the way home, but if we do, it's good that you won't be alone the first time you see one."

Tom wants to argue that he would be fine. He's a soldier, after all, and has seen plenty of dead bodies, but this seems... different. The idea of someone dead, something dead, attacking him... it gives him the chills.

He chooses not to respond to Danny. He just continues walking, vigilant of his surroundings.

He doesn't see or hear anything amiss, which is why he's shocked when Rachel suddenly darts forward and to the left, sweeping a foot out and tripping ... something to the ground. The body lands heavily, and she's on it in seconds, thrusting her knife into the eye socket, twisting, and pulling it free in a spray of blood. When she stands back she's covered in the zombie's gore, but she doesn't seem to notice or care as she wipes the blade off on her pants.

"Where there's one, there's more," she cautions quietly. "Keep a close eye out."

The others nod and keep moving, but Tom finds himself staring at the body of the zombie that Rachel had just killed.

"Where the fuck did that thing come from?" he hisses, and Rachel glances back at him briefly.

"They're quiet. You learn to hear their shuffle; it's distinct and frankly terror inducing," she whispers. "They tend to travel in packs."

Tom nods, swallows, and continues walking, trying to make his footsteps as quiet as possible. The others are better at it than he is; stealth hadn't exactly been a priority for him during training and deployment. He manages fairly well, and is proud of himself when he seems to be the first one to notice the second zombie. He's less proud when he completely freezes, and Kara has to jump in, taking the zombie down quickly and efficiently. He doesn't have time to reflect on it, however, when a second, and then a third, and then a forth shuffle out from behind an overturned van.

"Fuck," he whispers, and then his training kicks in. He heads one off, slashing its throat before jamming his knife into the zombie's head. He tosses its gooey corpse away from him, and intercepts a large, lumbering zombie headed toward Rachel. He dispatches it quickly, and then steps back, breathing heavily as he surveys the scene. Danny and Tex had dealt with the other two, while Rachel and Kara cleared the van. The women step back after throwing open all the doors, making sure there aren't any more zombies, and Tom just stares.

"Learning through immersion," Tex says, and claps Tom on the back. "Best way. You're good at this."

Tom makes a noise that's somewhere between a whine and a grunt, and wipes his knife off on the scrub pants he's wearing. The reddish-brown blood from the zombies he'd killed stains his hands and arms, and he hates the feeling of it. He's had blood on his hands before, but blood is warm. This is slimy, and cold, and it's a reminder that the things he'd just killed aren't even alive.

"Don't you dare throw up," Rachel says, and plants a hand on his back, pushing him forward. He stumbles for a few steps, but then finds his balance again.

"This is not real," he whispers, and Rachel sighs.

"Unfortunately, it is," she says. "I'm sorry that you're having to learn everything this way. We've had time to get used to it, to accept this reality, but you've been thrown into it without any warning. Let's get to the safe house, and I promise I'll explain more."

Tom nods, and takes a deep, calming breath. "All right. I can do that. How far are we?"

Rachel bites her lip. "Less than a mile, I think. We've only been there a few days. We came this way specifically because there was a hospital, and we needed supplies. Now come on, we need to hurry. The sun's going down soon."

A glance at the sky tells Tom that she's right, and he imagines that fighting zombies in the dark is not ideal. He picks up his pace, listening carefully for the sound that had alerted him to the zombies earlier, but their luck seems to hold out and they don't encounter any more of the infected on their way back.

Rachel leads them up the stairs of a small house. It has a privacy fence, and unlike its neighbors, has all of its windows and doors intact, which is probably why she chose it. She does a quick scan of their surroundings, and then knocks on the door two times, pauses, and then three more times in quick succession. They wait several moments, and then the door slowly opens.

On the other side is a young teen with red hair, freckles, and wide eyes.

"Oh thank God," he says, and then opens the door more fully, welcoming them inside.

"How is she?" Rachel asks, and turns around to grab the duffel bag off of Tom's shoulder. He hands it over, and watches as she closes the door behind them, drops the bag to the floor, and ruffles around inside of it. She grabs a small, white box, a vial of clear medication, and a package of sterile syringes. She's already tearing the packages open as she moves quickly into the living room. Tom follows her, confused, and watches as she drops down on the floor next to the couch.

"Hey, Katie," she says softly, and brushes brown hair out of the eyes of a small girl who can't be more than ten or eleven. "How are you feeling?"

The girl shrugs, but she looks like she's not feeling well at all. Her skin is pale, and Tom can see a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"She's been dizzy and shaky, the normal signs," the red headed boy supplies, and Rachel nods, quickly grabbing a black bag that sits on the table next to the girl. She opens it and takes out a lancet before sanitizing and pricking the girl's finger. She collects Katie's blood on a test strip that she'd taken from the duffel bag, and pops it into a tiny machine, waiting impatiently for it to give a reading.

Tom gasps, suddenly understanding.

"Holy shit, she's diabetic."

Tex walks up next to him, arms crossed over his chest and a grim look on his face.

"Type 1. That's my little girl, Katie," he says, and watches as Rachel checks the reading on the machine before drawing up what Tom now knows is insulin into a syringe. She disinfects a spot on Katie's belly, and then quickly gives her the life saving medication. "Insulin is tricky if you can't keep it cold. Winter was fine, but... it's warming up, and it's hard to keep it at the right temperature. The supply at the hospital was kept in the fridge, so we have about 28 days before it'll start losing its effectiveness and we have to find more."

Tom wants to ask what they're going to do in the summer, but wisely keeps his mouth closed. Tex continues talking.

"It's a miracle we ran into Rachel when we did. Katie just got the diagnosis a few weeks before shit hit the fan, so neither of us are very good at handling it. Rachel saved her," he whispers, and then smiles at the young doctor before heading toward his daughter. Tom watches him go, and then turns to Rachel when she walks over to him.

"What's going to happen to her?" he asks, and Rachel presses her lips together, a grim look in her eyes.

"I don't know. We've been dreading the warm weather. For right now, we'll keep doing what we can. But... type 1 is hard to control, and impossible without insulin."

Tom watches as Tex sits beside his daughter, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. He doesn't have kids, and in fact that had been one of the deciding factors that had broken him and Darien up, but he can't even imagine what Tex is going through.

He shakes his head, deciding to worry about Tex and Katie at a later time. Right now, he wants the answers that he was promised.

"Tell me everything," he requests, turning back to Rachel, and she nods.

"Help me put away all these supplies, and I will," she bargains, and Tom nods, accepting her terms. He takes the heavier duffel bag from her, and they walk together back out the door and toward a large, white van - the kind that Tom used to see some churches use as buses. This one has been modified; all of the back seats have been taken out to leave a wide, open space that's been filled with pillows and sleeping bags, and the back of the van is carefully organized with food, medical supplies, and backpacks and suitcases that Tom assumes belong to each member of the team.

He turns his attention back to his companion as she begins to speak.

"It all started with a virus..." Rachel begins.


Author's Notes:OK, writing a story with this many MAIN characters is new to me. Normally I only focus on 2-3 main characters, and the rest are side or reoccurring characters. Be patient with me, and if there's something you think I can improve on, please let me know! :)