As Long As We're Still Breathing Air
Twenty years after the outbreak of the virus that killed half of the world's population and turned another half into zombies, Heero meets Relena. Soon the fondness sprouts between them, giving hope to the world to get back to normal, but are they prepared for it? Rated for language, violence, and lemons in future chapters.
AU, but very greatly inspired by the universe of The Last of Us game series.
Disclaimer: I don't own absolutely anything of the Gundam Wing nor The Last of Us series, everything belongs to their respective owners. When it comes to Gundam Wing, it belongs to Sunrise and Bandai, and The Last of Us belongs to Naughty Dog and Sony, while it was being created by a genius Neil Druckmann. These two stories influenced me a lot, inspiring and moving me, and also partly shaped me as a human. This piece of the story is a pure fanfiction, written by a fan for the fans. I don't get any profit from it, nor I don't claim it as my own.
I'm not an English-speaker, so if there are mistakes, forgive me, I'm doing my best to avoid them.
If you stumbled upon this story, you probably, like myself, love all the romantic moments between Heero and Relena. For your convenience, I marked the chapters with fluffy moments with an "x". I would be pleased if you, Dear Reader, were interested in the whole story, but if you only like the romantic passages, I will also be honored.
Please leave feedback. Enjoy.
Chapter 1 - Prologue
June
He looked her straight in the eyes, realizing the inevitable.
"This is it. This is the end," he heard himself muttering, but the truth didn't seem to reach his brain just yet. He slowly lifted his gun.
She made a step closer, reaching her hands out to him, tears falling down her pale, horrified face. She kept calling him by his name over and over again.
He knew her voice would haunt him forever.
"Stay away from me," he warned her, unable to hide a slight tremble in his voice.
What stopped her from making another step in his direction was a sound of the reloaded gun, pointed at the center of her forehead. There she stood, like a deer, held at his gunpoint, her eyes widened with horror that was yet awaiting her.
"One more step..." he hissed through clenched teeth, "and I will kill you."
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March
He deftly jumped over the metallic fence and braced on his knees upon landing on the concrete. He held his gun ready in front of him, his steely eyes carefully examining the surroundings for any signs of the patrol. He finally noticed a concealed entrance to the tunnel on the other side of the ruined pavement. Suddenly a strong stench of decay coming from the inside filled his nostrils. It always surprised him that after surviving so long in the dirt and pollution of the shithole called 'quarantine zone' he was still able to smell anything at all.
Another ten seconds of silence ensured him that it was safe to trespass. Slowly, on bent knees, he approached the tunnel and threw aside the board covering the entrance, feeling a few splinters sting his fingers. After another ten seconds of listening, he slid himself down into the dark hole, disappearing from the sunlight.
The bottom was dark as night and full of rubble that crunched under his feet. The reek was still intense, but he could feel a breath of cold wind coming somewhere from the darkness. The tunnel had to be passable, though somebody tried to ruin it. Maybe even somebody was rotting in it. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his less dirty hand and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a flashlight, immediately switching it on and directing towards the dark.
The contour of the rubble emerged out of the shadow. Right behind it, he could notice a corridor filled with rusted pipes that led further down. The rifle strip sliced into his arm, so he slung it onto another. He held the gun with the flashlight straight in front of him. Then, without further hesitation, he slowly walked into the tunnel.
The man was on the job again. Well paid one, as always. It was a waste of time taking cheap jobs these days. But he didn't bother risking his life to the limits where other smugglers would withdraw. This provided him with a constant supply of new assignments.
That day Heero Yuy planned it to be a typical, rather easy job.
Two weeks ago, another smuggler took up a task to deliver a batch of guns and ammo. Because inside the zone only the military had the right to legally carry a weapon, if somebody wanted a gun, he had to refer himself to a smuggler. And pay a lot. The batch usually had to be retrieved from one of the transfer points outside the northern border of the zone - a dangerous spot, full of these things. But well hidden from the guard's sight.
Only two possible reasons were explaining why the smuggler didn't return with the merchandise. First - he seized the merch and flew with it. Only a madman would decide on antagonizing clients against himself and blocking himself the way back to the zone. So it wasn't likely. Second - his body rotted god only knew where along with the merch. That was very much likely. And Heero was now being paid to find it.
He bent even lower and crawled through a narrow isthmus in the rubble. The light of his flashlight swayed violently with the movement of his body, the debris wiped his calloused hands, and his throat went dry with dust that filled the air. He held his breath, listening, but all he heard was the loud howling of the wind echoing inside the tunnel. Then he allowed himself to cough to clear the dust out of his throat and continued along the passage. Soon the rubble ended, and he entered a corridor nestled between rows of pipes. He stood up and walked it silently, listening, and being prepared to shoot at anything that came up his way.
Soon Heero's senses strengthened as he noticed the first deathly danger. It was pointless shooting at it. He instantly held his breath. With a swift, reflexive move, he pulled out a gas protection mask and put it on a nanosecond before a cloud of yellow-colored dust filled the air around him.
Spores.
His gas mask made a low swish as he inhaled. His vision blurred in yellow. His worst predictions were accurate. The fungus had been developing in here for days, if not for weeks. Maybe the former smuggler wasn't so alert to notice spores until it was too late and they filled his lungs. That also meant, paradoxically, that Heero could no longer consider himself the only living creature in this godforsaken place.
The corridor ended with a broken hole in the brick-built wall. Heero swung his leg over and walked into something that looked like a labyrinth of cellars. The light of his flashlight flickered dangerously as if it was running out of batteries. Heero shook the damn junk firmly a few times until it was working correctly again. He realized that he was stepping on something wet and sticky. When he directed his flashlight against the floor, it illuminated many red stains and streaks, that vanished in the darkness in front of him. As if somebody was dragged there.
Then a low, tortured howl reached his ears.
Heero felt his muscles tightening in alert at this hellish sound. He knew it damn too well, though the light of his flashlight couldn't yet find its source. He considered for a second pulling out his rifle, but using a long-barreled weapon in a ruined underground cellar didn't seem a smart idea. Instead, he reloaded his gun and aimed it straight ahead, then took a few more steps closer to the center of hell.
The cloud of spores around him was getting more and more turbid; the bloodstains on the floor were getting drier. He knew he had to be close - the prey was losing its blood, and by then, it was probably just a corpse dragged on the floor. Then he noticed a belt bag. Inside he found one full ammo magazine; somebody didn't have the opportunity to use it. He also found a roll of bandage and plaster. He slid the ammo to one of the pockets in his jeans jacket and the dressing to his backpack.
When he tipped his head up again, his flashlight illuminated the smuggler. Or instead, what was left of him. The poor man was lying in the corner, almost ripped in half, guts tangled in his legs. His head was hanging on skin cloth against his chest, a piece of spinal column protruded from the broken neck. The fungus was already sprouting on his corpse, flourishing with huge, but ominous flowers and stem.
His pulse quickened as he heard a rustle in the darkness behind him. He turned around in a flash and searched the surroundings again. He started to distinguish other sounds that were becoming louder with every second. Panting, spluttering. And clicking.
So it was coming.
Heero lifted his gun and aligned it with the flashlight in his hand, ready to shoot on sight. He gritted his teeth; he won't finish like this poor fool lying beside him. He had a job to do; he had to get out of here.
And there, from the darkness, in the cloud of spores, it walked towards him. Its head didn't have a face; it looked like its head was chopped in two, fungus sprouting from his brain, and right underneath it revealed a mouth full of sharp, exposed teeth. Its skin was covered by straps of dirty material and was nearly grey because of the loss of blood, ripped with countless minor wounds. It walked barefoot, swaying on insecure legs, swinging long, skinny arms around.
A living dead. Infected. The Clicker.
Heero held his breath under the gas mask as he watched the monster in the ray of light from his flashlight, taking on the advantage that he still had eyes. The Clicker tripped a little, without pausing that clicking sound. It didn't spot him yet, and Heero preferred it to stay that way. He had to reach the other end of the cellar, where he expected the exit to be located. He had to keep moving. Staying anywhere longer than necessary could be lethal. Heero slowly started to move on bended knees counterclockwise around the Clicker, holding it on gunpoint. Each time the Clicker turned in convulsion in his direction, he froze, slowing his breathing, listening to any other sounds from the darkness just behind his back.
A few meters further, he stepped on something. It was a belt of the black sporty-type bag. Heero carefully grabbed his gun and flashlight in one hand, still eying the Clicker, then slowly opened the bag. Bingo. Inside there were the lost guns and ammo, unharmed. Heero carefully got two revolvers and put them behind his trousers' belt.
The Clicker was still turned with his back on him, moving towards the entrance of the tunnel, through which Heero had got here. Heero took the opportunity and quickly started packing packages with all kinds of ammo to his backpack. It was his reward for accomplishing the mission. The merch was indeed goodly, as the bag was still full even when he took his share. Heero zipped his backpack and throwing it behind his back next to his long rifle he took the flashlight in his other hand to inspect where did the Clicker go.
Then, suddenly, everything got out of control when an unexpected rumble from the other side of the cellar, just behind Heero's back, made the floor tremble.
The Clicker immediately turned in Heero's direction and attacked him with a loud shriek. Before Heero could aim, his back hit the ground. He felt skinny claws clenching around him. His rifle and backpack dug in his spine under his and the monster's weight, and he stretched his neck back, wrestling with the Clicker's claws. It was snapping its sharp teeth repeatedly, each time closer to Heero's throat. Heero could feel its reeking, hot breath on his skin, and spills of saliva mixed with the blood of the Clicker's last meal.
In the fight, he had lost his gun. His flashlight was lying somewhere on the floor around them and illuminated the Infected from behind. Heero tightened his grip of the Clicker's shoulder and under its jaw, trying to push it away as far as possible, but the monster pressed against him with all its strength.
Then Heero made one last effort and reached with his right hand to get his knife. The moment the blade shined in the ray of the flashlight, it immediately sank into the Clicker's neck.
And then once more. And more.
After bursting into a loud shriek, the Clicker slowly quietened as Heero continued blindly throwing stabs until he felt the monster becoming a dead weight on him. He felt the rest of the Clicker's warm blood running down on his chest and quickly disentangled himself from its grip.
He was all right. No bites.
He quickly shoved his knife into his pocket, reached for the flashlight and his gun, and was just about to bend down to take the bag with merch when a loud bellow followed by a stomping sound of several pairs of feet reached his conscience.
The Runners. Fuck the merch.
Heero whipped around and bolted into the tunnel. He knew they were close. The light from his flashlight was jumping around, allowing him to remember where was the ground, while he ran in only one right direction - where he felt the wind coming from. Hoping that it meant the exit. He heard constant shrieks and gasping behind him. One of the Runners got close enough to grip his jacket. Without stopping and turning around, Heero aimed his gun just under and behind his right underarm and pulled the trigger. The weapon fired with thunder that echoed in the tunnel, and the grip momentarily stopped. Heero continued to run.
The corridor ended with a light. It could be a door or a hole, Heero didn't care. Though they say you shouldn't follow the light, that moment it seemed the only chance for him. He sped up, losing the infected behind him. But the closer he got to it, the more desperate his situation seemed.
He braked abruptly as the corridor ended with a high wall. The light was coming from the hole about three meters above him.
His advantage was shrinking, and it was too high to jump up or climb in such a short time. Heero reached his gun and reloaded it, readying himself to fight through his last seconds before meeting his fate.
Then he heard a voice.
"Over here!"
His head snapped up. Blinded by the ray of sunlight, he could only notice a black silhouette leaning over the hole, reaching an arm down to him. He could reach it. But he hesitated.
"Hurry, man! Grab it!"
Heero could see runners looming up from the darkness and bolting in his direction with a wild growl. He didn't think any second longer. He took a few steps back, ran-up, made a jump, the highest jump he could make, and shot his hand up in the air.
TBC
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