Yes yes, this took a long time, I know. But it really turned into quite the grind in the past month, and I'm rather surprised I got it out by now.
Running From the DEAD
By JSF16
Chapter Three
The bus rolled on, and Denya saw just how bad the situation was. Pillars of thick smoke rose all over the city for miles upon end, sirens wailed in the distance, and everywhere They walked. Denya held on to his seat as they tore down the road in the minibus, although Shizuka had slowed down a bit now that they had entered more compact suburban areas.
They drove, they talked, trying to figure out how to execute their plans. They had to get across the river, but everyone knew they chaos and death would only be increasing the nearer they got to the bridges. Denya let the others talk, they knew their way around the city far better than him, and it wasn't his families at stake.
Shido was still with them, offering his 'comfort' to the petrified students in the back, students that Denya couldn't help but pity. They were young, naïve, stupid. They had no real idea how serious the situation was, and they could not see the evil that radiated from Shido. But even from them, Denya had witnessed heart-wrenching loyalty as one of them tearfully ran back to her dying lover, even as They stripped his flesh from his bones. She died with him, the person she loved and Denya couldn't get the image out of his head.
Is that me? Am I that loyal, that brave? Will I charge into a hopeless situation to help someone I love, even if there is no way out? Denya wanted to believe the answer was yes, but in the back of his mind was a sickening fear that told him no. Denya looked at the others, still talking about how to get across the river. Will I die for them?
They got to the bridge, but not all of them. Rei had been unable to go any further with Shido in the vehicle and had jumped out. Takashi went after her, and Denya's heart nearly stopped when the burning bus blazed between them, only to burst with relief when he heard them saying they were okay and they were to meet across the river at the police station.
So they kept going, they drove through the haunted streets, avoiding them when they could and plowing through them when they had to. They reached the bridge, but it was even more congested than they'd feared. They were stuck in traffic, sandwiched between vehicles on all sides in such a way that if They attacked, they would be completely incapable of movement. Denya wondered how long until they struck out for the other side on foot.
"So Takagi-san, what's the big plan?" Denya said casually. Saya turned around.
"What do you mean?" She said. Denya nodded his head towards the other side of the river.
"What's the plan? I mean sure, we get across the river, fight our way through more of the dead and find all your parents. Then what? Do we all walk off into the sunset together, hand-in-hand?" Saya gave him an annoyed scowl.
"Don't be an idiot. Once we get to my house my father will have a plan to get us out of here."
"And what if we don't find him? Hell, what if he's not alive?" He said, and she glared all the more.
"If anyone in this city is going to survive, it will be my father. We've got a gated-off manor up on the hill with a large number of armed guards. He'll keep a low profile to Them while sending out groups to find survivors and collect them there. Besides, you seem quite sure your father will be fine, why shouldn't mine?"
"Because my papa is not in a city of four million, he's five kilometers from the nearest town which has a little over a thousand people in it. He watches the news a fair deal, so he'll know what's going on. That, and he's ex-special forces. He will be quite fine." Denya said, casting a frustrated look out on the pile-up of vehicles. "Which is more than I can say for us." He shrugged and turned back to Saya. "But who am I to criticize, I doubt I can think of any better ideas." He admitted, then looked over at Kohta who was looking out the window, casually ejecting and reloading the magazine for his nail gun. "So Kohta-san, what about your parents? Where are they?" Kohta looked over at him, surprised at the question.
"Oh, well they're both out of town, way out of town, so we won't be getting them." He said casually, then went back to staring out the window. That was a bit too casual. Denya noted.
"You don't sound terribly concerned." He said, Kohta looked back at him and shrugged.
"My folks weren't exactly the best parents in the world; they were mostly concerned with their careers and were perfectly content to throw fistfuls of money my way to keep me happy." That explains buying me a three-hundred American dollar machete. Denya thought.
"That must suck." Denya said, and was a bit surprised when Kohta seemed hesitant to agree.
"Kind of, but it's nice not to be worried about them. I know that sounds pretty bad, but I'm honestly not too worried about them." He shrugged. "I guess I'll find out someday. "What about you Denya-san, what was it like being the son of a Spetznaz?" Kohta asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"Hard, very hard," Denya grinned and answered. "He was very insistent on me being tough and being able to protect myself. That and there was plenty of farm work to do and getting up at oh-five-thirty, to pitch hay isn't exactly an enjoyable experience." Denya smiled as he thought back about his old life. "And then sometimes he would have members from his old squad come out to help 'educate me.'" Denya chuckled. "And having half-a-dozen fifty-year old ex-soldiers threatening to break your legs is a very riveting experience."
"They actually threatened to break your legs?"
"They did once jump out of the hay bale and knocked me off the loft in the barn. Later papa said that was a lesson to be learned in being more aware of my surroundings." He laughed. "But he didn't abuse me, and papa is the kind of guy who intimidates you, but also motivates you. Frankly, it wasn't that bad in the end. And I'm definitely not complaining about it now."
"It sounds like childhood was interesting for you." Saeko spoke up.
"Da, it definitely wasn't a boring experience." Denya remarked before craning his head around to face the swordswoman. "So what of you Busujima-san? Why did you choose kendo?" Saeko tilted her head as she pondered the question before answering simply.
"I enjoy the adrenaline rush of a good fight." Denya agreed with her there, there was no denying the excitement of battle.
"Hmm, I agree with you on that point." Denya said, suddenly realizing how tired he was. Now that the adrenaline and fear had drained from him, he felt fairly sapped. And the bus seat was rather comfortable. Don't go to sleep now, They might come at any time. One part of him warned. We'll hear them if They get on the bridge, there's a few cars as a buffer zone behind us. Besides, no good fighting drowsy. Yes, a good sleep was what he needed, a short power nap even. His eyelids drooped, his breathing slowed as he drifted off to sleep.
Quiet whispering woke him up. Saya, Kohta, and Saeko were all discussing something with Shizuka. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Denya ambled out of his seat and wandered over to join them.
They weren't going anywhere, they had barely moved since getting there and there was no telling how long until the dead found all these people bottled up on the bridge like a giant sausage waiting to be eaten. They had to move and they had to move immediately. But he tried to stop them.
Shido was disturbed at this rebellion against his control, and he was quite insistent that Shizuka stay with them. But Saya wasn't bluffing; she was a genius, and a sharp one at that. She could see through Shido and his guise, and she didn't buy it. Shido tried, but finally relented, especially after Kohta drove a nail into the seat right next to his hand.
So they left. They collected their few possessions and exited the bus to find another way across the river, preferably one that wasn't barricaded and loaded with cars. Striking for the streets next to the riverbank, they headed for the next bridge, avoiding Them as they went. But the further they went the more and more of Them there were, until they found themselves unable to avoid drawing attention to themselves anymore.
"I must say Takagi-chan; this is truly a terrific plan! Surely we are much better off now than before!" Denya shouted as he cut down another one of Them and turned to face two more lumbering towards him.
"Shut up Kondrashin-chan!" Saya snapped back, standing at the edge of the road with Shizuka as more and more of Them hobbled towards them. "I don't need to take your bullshit, just shut up and fight! That's the agreement here, I make the plans and you make sure we don't get eaten. I'm the genius, you are all the grunts."
"I think your plans are pretty good Takagi-chan!" Kohta chirped up.
"Shut up Hirano-kun!"
Pop! Pop! Kohta's nail gun hissed as he dropped two more of them with his uncanny accuracy. Denya was hesitant to use the Tokarev due to the loud sound, but as more and more of Them came into view he was beginning to be more and more inclined to open fire.
"Kohta-san, to your left!" Denya called out as he spotted another one flanking in Kohta's left.
"Right, got 'im!"
"No, left."
"What?" Kohta said, confused. Denya shook his head.
"Never mind." Denya said, shoving his kukri through the eye of one of the undead and kicking it away. But even as it slid off his blade he saw another four stagger around the corner and make towards them. "Oh for god's sake, we may as well put out a fire with Dixie cups for all the good we're doing!"
"Maybe if you would stop yelling they wouldn't keep coming!" Saya snapped from behind him.
"Oh yes, because your shrieking isn't having any effect on their behaviour of course." Denya remarked, side-stepping one of Their swings and bringing the blade around in both hands to send the head flying off, spilling blood along the ground as it went. Saeko was a few yards away from him, smashing heads in with an artistic finesse. Kohta continued to steadily drop them with nails to the head.
But they were losing. More were coming, and Denya had noticed they had been slowly but steadily giving ground for the last minute, and with the mess of cars at their backs they soon wouldn't have much more ground to relinquish.
Well if we're done here I'm damn well going to take some of you bastards with me! He gritted his teeth as anger shot through him. With a sudden surge of energy he charged forward, cutting down two more while knocking another's legs out from beneath it. He leaped over it, about to stab it, when iron fingers wrapped around his shoulder.
Poof! The grip relaxed as the corpse fell, a nail protruding from the back of its skull. Denya gave it a shocked look, and then looked up at Kohta who flashed him thumbs up.
"Remember to watch your back!" He said, Denya smiled appreciatively, and then went back to ramming the blade through the downed thing's skull. Stepping back, he drew the Tokarev and mentally recalled his situation. Four in the magazine, one in the chamber. Five magazines remaining. Putting his foot out behind him to stabilized himself, he leveled the gun on the nearest one's head and squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot was loud and rang out through the area. From behind him Denya could hear Saya yelling "Baka!" but he was too preoccupied to notice. His target took the 7.62mm slug in the left eye and was bowled over backwards, pieces of brain spraying out the back of its head. Taking aim at another one, he blew its head out as well, taking another step back as he did so.
"Damn it." He cursed, and then shot another one. Maybe we can try the river; they surely can't swim can they? He was getting desperate now, and he had doubts they would all be able to take on the currents and possible undertows. And then something happened.
Is that a motorcycle? He thought as a growling mechanical noise grew louder and louder. Bang! Another gunshot, another one crumpled to the ground. And then it happened.
It was the most awe-inspiring sight Denya had ever seen. The motorcycle flying through the air, delivering Rei and Takashi like some form of divine intervention. Takashi plowing his bike through a mass of them, swinging his bat like a sword. Rei played her dance of death, makeshift spear in hand as she struck down Them with deadly grace. The insane grin on Kohta's face as he blew down Them with relish, firing his newfound revolver with a ghoulish delight.
They fought side by side, cutting them down even as more appeared. But a new spirit invigorated them; it was more than just fighting for bleak survival now. Denya felt a surge of power and dedication rush through him as he fought side-by-side with these students, with his friends. This was not fighting to survive, this was fighting to live.
And when the fight was done, as they all stood around exchanging plans, Denya could feel a fire lighting in him. Even if they had no goal, nothing to strive for, Denya knew what he was to do. He was to protect them all. Papa had trained his vigorously for this, brutally even. And now for the first time in his life, even as the world collapsed around them, he felt alive.
It was a very nice house; Denya was a bit surprised that a single woman could afford such a nice place.
"So, this girl is some sort of military-person? I didn't know they paid this well." Takashi observed, warily scanning the vast interior of the house.
"Actually she's with the Police department's Special Snipers division, they pick from some of the best marksmen -and markswomen- in the country." Kohta corrected. "But I didn't think they paid this well either." His voice trailed off as he took in the house's grandness as well, running his hand along the expertly polished stair rail. "Barely looks lived in." He murmured. "How does it stay so clean? I don't see any dust anywhere."
"Eh, Shizuka-sensei said her friend lets her stay here to keep the place clean while she's gone. I guess she's not just good at medicine." Denya reminded them, although the idea of the busty nurse being able to clean this well was a bit of a far-fetch for him. Unless of course she made a game out of it, dressed up in one of the maid outfits…
Denya shook his head clear of that image. Not the time or the place. He stepped into the kitchen and swung open the cupboard, and was surprised to find it stocked with food; lots of canned foods and non-perishable food stuff packed the shelves. "We're well-stored here; there must be two weeks' worth of food here." He said to the others.
"Won't last too long when the water shuts off, and judging by how chaotic it is our there I don't think that'll take long." Saya said moodily, moving forward in her mission to crush all and any forms of optimism, and then headed upstairs after the rest of the girls to take over the main bathroom. Denya rubbed his face in exasperation, but nerve-grating as the pink-headed girl was, she did have a point; the water flow probably wouldn't be working too much longer so they'd do best to take advantage of it while they could.
There must be some bottles or something around here we can use to carry water. Denya began digging through the pantries and cupboards for any kind of container that could be used to bottle up water. Hell, even a bowl and a decently sealed lid would do. But even after upturning every cupboard he could find, he hadn't found a damned thing.
There ought to be a liquor cabinet around here. Denya thought. Surely no one with this much money wouldn't burn it away on some alcohol somewhere. He moved out of the kitchen, looking for any kind of door or pantry that could hold such a commodity.
He stopped near the entrance, then turned around and made his way up the spiraling staircase. The sounds of giggling and splashing began to filter in from the bathroom, and Denya hurried as he went past, ignoring the squeals of delight. "Son, there are some things men are not to know. What women do alone in the bathroom is one of these things." Papa had smiled when he told him that, one of the few times Denya had ever seen him do so. The memory brought an upward curve of the lips to Denya's face, and he felt a twinge of remorse. Papa's alright, he must be. If anyone can survive this mess it's him.
Denya felt a stirring of pride in his heart at the thought of his Papa blowing down the undead with his Kalashnikov, strong and powerful despite his age. Crimson beret shining boldly for all to see, his old comrades at his side as they rescued civilians from these monsters, putting the evil down with power and cunning. Denya grinned, that was something to fight for. Just to be back with his Papa in this situation. Papa had never taken well to farming life, and Denya suspected he would be almost enthralled to have a cause to fight for again, one that seemed so right.
"Fighting against men is not the natural way my son, killing another man is not what we should do. There's always factors, what-if's. You see Denya, no man is truly evil, not a single one. Whenever a man dies, a little bit of good dies too." Papa had hated the orders he'd received in the service of the Red Army; he had often cursed the Soviets in front of Denya even though the boy had not grown up under them. But part of him had still loved fighting for a cause, even if it was questionable. And he had always found pride in fighting for Mother Russia, there was no denying the undying patriot in Mikhail Kondrashin.
Denya rummaged through what seemed to be an office when a large oak door caught his eye. Grabbing and twisting the handle, he found it to be locked. Not as if that would stop him of course. The door was strong, but it was hinged to a much weaker wall. Two solid kicks later and the door tipped over, only to be caught by Denya who gently laid it on the ground. Stepping into the room and flicking on the light, his eyes bulged at what he saw.
The room was twenty feet long and ten feet wide, bottles crowded together in their nooks lined on either side and at the end.
"Wow." Was all he said before walking in, running his fingers along the unopened bottle caps and corks. Wine, sake, whiskey, rum, vodka, scotch, gin, and even a few bottles of absinthe. Grabbing the nearest bottle and pulling it out, Denya held it up to the light. They were almost all in glass bottles unfortunately, but it was still better than nothing. A though crossed Denya's mind, and he grinned wickedly. Stuffing the wine back into its crook, he pulled out a bottle of Russian vodka with an approving nod, then grabbed two bottles of sake and headed out the room and back downstairs to the kitchen, grinning happily.
"Okay, ready?"
"Ready. On three."
"Got it. One, two, three!" With a final heave, Kohta and Takashi shoved forward with all their strength into the crowbar.
Wham! The door came swinging wide open and sent them piling forward into the floor with an oof! Rubbing his face, Takashi pulled himself back up and crawled back over to the gun locker they'd finally wrenched open.
"Whoa, holy shit…" His voice trailed away at the sight clustered before him.
"Huh? What is it, did we find anything?" Kohta said, crawling up next to Takashi. He focused his gaze on the locker, and nearly squealed in delight. Shoving Takashi out of the way, he dove into the gun locker like a frenzied animal, laughing like a maniac. Grabbing long black rifle out of the locker and, holding it like a mother holding a newborn, lifted it up in awe and glee.
"Look at this! It's a model of the AR10! And configured like this, this is illegal!" He looked up at Takashi, face in awe. But it soon dissolved into a nearly insane giddiness as a semi-murderous grin spread over his face. The quiet and timid otaku was gone, replaced by a maliciously grinning expert, checking all over the gun and all of its components, excitedly pointing out every unique feature on it until Takashi –overwhelmed by it all– held up his hand.
"Hold up man, you're leaving me all behind. First off, how do you know all this?" Kohta opened his mouth to answer, just as the door swung open and Denya walked in, a very satisfied smile on his face and a bottle of liquor in his hand.
"My comrades, may I present my find." He said smugly, and held up the bottle. "There is whole storage room full of this stuff, hundreds of bottles!" He carried on excitedly, pressing in closer to them both. "We can carry as much water as we possibly need, just pour out the liquor and fill them up! It's great!" A wild grin crossed his face –Takashi had never seen him grin this much before– and he put the bottle to his lips and took a deep swig.
Kohta gasped in shock as Takashi pulled back, startled. Denya gave them both a fat wink, then took another pull.
"Bu-but that's illegal! You're underage!" Kohta exclaimed. Denya laughed –Takashi had rarely heard him laugh before– and gave Kohta a pitying look.
"Hey, I'm not a Japanese citizen. Besides, I'm Russian, da? I had my first shot when I was ten!" He laughed again and took another slug, just as Takashi reached out and grabbed his arm.
"But this isn't really the time to get bombed man, not here and definitely not now." Denya lowered the bottle and smiled, goofily actually, as if Takashi was stating the stupidly obvious.
"I know, I'm not going to have that much, I know my limits man." He winked again, and then capped the bottle, to Kohta's relief. Denya then noticed the rifle in his friends hand and zeroed in on it in interest. "What the hell is that? Where'd you find it?" Kohta switched back into his "other" mode and, grinning in triumph, pointed to the open locker. Denya reached for the gun, wrapping his fingers around it and trying to pull it closer, only to find Kohta stubbornly holding on. "May I?" He said plaintively. Kohta relented grudgingly, and Denya pulled the weapon up close to examine it.
Looking it over in silence with just a curious look on his face, he checked it from all angles, pulling back the charging handle and thumbing the muzzle. He looked back up at Kohta. "What is this, some sort of Armalite?" He asked, puzzled.
"Damn right, made in the US of A!" Kohta took the gun back greedily. "Chambered in three-oh-eight and accurate out to six hundred and thirty yards, unless you've got a telescopic sight, which we do!" Kohta raised the gun to his shoulder and aimed out the window. "Oh yeah, I could definitely get hits at seven hundred and fifty yards with this."
"Again, where the hell did you learn all this Hirano-kun?" Takashi asked in slight exasperation, annoyed at being left out of the conversation. Kohta turned around and left the muzzle aimed towards the ceiling, still grinning.
"My folks took me along with them on a trip to America. While I was there, they paid for me to get advanced combat training from one of the world's top PMC's, Blackwater. I was taught for a month by one of their instructors, an ex-captain from Delta Force." His crazy smile widened. "I got a two-inch grouping of fifteen rounds eight hundred yards downrange in under ten seconds." Denya and Takashi both just stared at him like he'd grown a third arm.
"Holy shit." Takashi said in a distant, quivering voice. "The class otaku's a card-carrying member of the NRA."
Denya looked just as surprised. "Wha-what the hell? You can't be that good!" He sounded angry, defensive almost. "You're not supposed to be that good within a month!"
"What's your best record?" Kohta said, a slight challenging tone to his voice.
"That's not important!" Denya snapped. "Anyway, what else is in there?" He motioned to the locker. Kohta snapped out of his spotlight and started digging around for the rest of the locker's contents, pulling out an Ithaca M37 shotgun, an M1A Super Match, and a Barnett Wildcat C5 crossbow; all of which Kohta went into enthusiastic detail about and leaving Takashi and Denya behind in his wake.
But the excitement of the discovery wore off as the work began, loading all of the magazines one bullet at a time. And there were a lot of bullets. The three boys plugged away at it, slowly filling each magazine to its capacity, talking as they went.
The sound of giggling again filtered down through the house and into the room, drawing Takashi and Kohta's attention. Kohta gave Takashi a mischievous look.
"Hey, wanna take a look?"
"Heh, I don't want to die today." Takashi said, blowing the idea off.
"Da, it's best not to anger a bunch of girls who know how to kill." Denya pointed out. Kohta just shrugged and went back to loading bullets, tossing each completed magazine onto the ever-growing pile on the bed. Denya just rolled his eyes and kept on working. He had his own reasons to not play the peeping tom game. Namely a very serious vow he'd made years ago when he was thirteen.
"I was your age once too Denya, I know what you're going through. But if you ever look at any of those degrading pictures again, I will beat the flesh from your bones." Denya remembered with a cringe the time Papa had caught him with a porn magazine slipped to him by one of the school kids. He then remembered sleeping on his stomach for the next week to save his back –and ass– the pain.
"If you ever look at those degrading pictures again…" He hadn't said "If I catch you…" it was a very clear statement. Papa knew, he always knew and would always find out. And when he did, oh boy…
"Denya-kun, which one do you want?" Kohta asked, breaking Denya's relapse. He lifted his head up to face his friend.
"Hmm? Which what?" He asked. Kohta rolled his eyes.
"Which gun, man you gotta pay more attention." Kohta said in exasperation, and Denya looked over to the small armory laid out on the floor next to them. He just shook his head though.
"Nyet, I already have one. I'll be fine as is. I think you and Komuro-kun need them more." He said, and then went back to loading the magazines for a moment, only to raise his head again. "Hey, turn the TV on, see what's going on." Kohta nodded and reached over across the bed for the remote control and flicked the slick flat screen mounted in front of them on. Color flashed across the screen.
The entire city was in chaos, and the three boys slowly put down their magazines as Kohta cranked up the volume. Watching in silence, they saw the newscast showing the city outside of them. Fires were blazing in dozens of points across the city, and on the bridge they had escaped from an hour ago, the police were trying to hold back a growing crowd of increasingly daring and violent protesters.
The footage shifted to a camera leveled at a group of protesters brandishing signs. It was hard to hear what the leader of them –a gaunt and pale man wearing a construction helmet– was saying, but they managed to make it out.
"Don't tolerate the tyranny of the police department! We strongly condemn this biological weapon, this circulation of killing pandemic developed by our own government! WE condemn this!" The camera cut back to a reporter standing in front of the crowd as their leader rallied them on. The boys could now see the signs being held high by the group, especially the predominant one shouting in bold characters "LOVE FOR THE INFECTED PATIENTS".
Takashi stared, Denya stared, Kohta stared. All three of them stared in utter amazement, jaws hung open at the sheer stupidity of it all.
"What the fuck…" Takashi trailed off.
"Yeblya idiotov." Denya muttered, slowly shaking his head in amazement.
"Are they out of their fucking minds? Dead people are wandering around the streets eating each other, and they think it's a fucking government conspiracy!" Takashi half-shouted, only for Kohta to tap him on the shoulder and place his finger over his lips, asking him to be quiet.
Bang! The gunshot rang out loud and clear from the TV speakers, immediately grabbing all their attention with a start. The camera was shaking, retreating from the crowd as the cameraman backed up. More gunshots, Kohta quickly dialed down the volume. Screams in the background, the protesters started to get a bit edgy, backing up a few steps. More gunshots and screams rent the air as the cameraman began to double-time it, the reporter coming up behind, still trying to assess the situation.
"It looks as if the police barricade is breaking, the infected are starting to push through the-oh god, OH MY GOD! They're attacking the protesters, the police are starting to-Tojo look out-oh my god!" There was a very loud scream from behind the camera which fell to the ground with a heavy smash. The last thing they saw before the screen cut to static was the reporter -absolutely petrified- staring in terror at something behind the camera.
The three boys watched in silence at the flickering waves of static washing across the screen. Kohta slowly raised the control, and switched the set off. "Holy shit…" Takashi said in awe. Silence ensued for a few seconds, before Takashi voiced all their thoughts. "We've got to get the fuck out of here."
Kohta took immediate protest to this. "No way man, are you kidding? They could attack us in the dark!"
"Da, we should probably wait until morning-what the hell!" Denya suddenly exclaimed as, from behind them, two long-fingered hands wrapped hungrily around Takashi's shoulders. The Russian whipped around in alarm to face the threat, hand already closed around his Tokarev, when he took in the being that faced them.
It was Shizuka-sensei. Wearing a night-gown that didn't cover much, and was slipping. Badly. She smelled like sake, and Denya vaguely recalled not closing the liquor room. He and Kohta both took a step back, eyes widening like balloons, while Takashi nearly jumped out of his skin.
Nearly locking up completely, Denya sucked in a breath, face flushing red.
"Goodbye." He forced out curtly, then spun around on one heel and then -with military precision- marched out the room without a look back, abandoning his comrades to their fate as he marched right outside onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him.
Kohta joined him a minute later, a hastily-wiped blood smear across his face. Looking more than a bit nervous, he pulled up a deckchair and raised the AR10 to his eye to scan the streets, peering down the scope. Denya cracked a slight smile. "So, how is Takashi-kun doing?" He asked with a smirk. Kohta's face turned redder than it had been and he bit his lip nervously.
"He's, uh, well he's busy. But I think he'll fine." Kohta stammered. From behind the closed door, Denya could hear Shizuka-sensei let out a particularly loud drunken squeal that made Kohta flinch and check quickly back down the street, clearly hoping the intoxicated nurse wouldn't draw any unwelcome attention.
Denya checked the streets again, and then leaned back into the railing. "Crazy day." He commented, staring out into the blackened city. Alarms sounded off in the distance, mixed with the occasional scream and gunshots echoing into the night.
"You can say that again." Kohta remarked with a nervous chuckle, still scanning the streets. There were a few of Them that he could see, but none closer than a hundred yards, well out of earshot for their conversation level. Besides, there were other, louder noises to draw their undivided attention.
Denya was fiddling with his pistol, sliding the magazine in and out of the receiver. He barked a low sardonic laugh. "Hell, I never thought I'd use this thing, not in Japan of all places." Kohta took this as an invitation to conversation and jumped on it.
"I can sure imagine. Now please man, you gotta tell me, what's with the Tokarev? Why'd your old man give you an old Soviet pistol as a parting gift?" Kohta asked. Denya just shrugged.
"Why else would you get a gun? To defend myself of course. Myself, people I cared about." He clicked the magazine into place and turned to look at Kohta. "But honestly, I think part of his game was to test me. That's his thing, you know? Always testing me some way, so I guess he figured me trying to hide a gun and bullets in a school would be a test of my sneakiness." He chuckled lightly. "Da, life was always interesting with Papa, that be for sure. Painful too sometimes." He winced. Kohta pressed on however, being all perked up with one of his favorite topics.
"So your dad was a Spetznaz?" He asked; a mixture of curiosity and awe in his voice.
Denya scratched his arm. "Mhmm, for twenty years. All for Mother Russia of course." He said with a touch of cynicism in his voice.
"So, did he ever see action?" Kohta ventured.
"Oh yeah, Afghanistan mostly, seven years doing operations there. Don't ask me what he did, because I don't know. He didn't talk about it much, and quite a bit of it was classified I guess." Denya shrugged, then smiled and held up the pistol. "Da, this was his gun though. Got it from his Papa who fought in the Great Patriotic War against the Germans. Barrel's been replaced twice since the rifling got worn to nothing. Action changed once, trigger twice, slide once." He let out a little laugh. "It's like that old saying. 'I have my grandfather's axe. The handle's been replaced twice and the head's been replaced three times, but it's still my grandfather's axe." He laughed nervously, then looked back out over the city and sighed, going back to ejecting and reinserting the magazine anxiously. Kohta pushed his glasses back up his nose and cocked his head.
"So, er, why'd you never bring up your history? I mean, damn, they'd probably have respected you a lot more if they knew you were the fucking son of Rambo." He asked. Denya laughed at the comparison, then looked back over at Kohta.
"I just wanted to go through school and go home. Attention was never on my list of things to get, I just wanted to stay under the radar and sail through, nice and quiet."
"Because, of course, hiding a gun under your pillow was the right way to go about that right?" Kohta smirked. "How'd you even manage to get that into the country? It's hard enough to get your hands on one even with all the proper licensing and all that." He asked.
"Well, let's just say that Papa acquired some rather, shady contacts during his service. He pulled a few strings here and there." Denya smiled thinly then chuckled lightly.
Kohta only let out a low whistle. "Wow, he must have had some contacts in the Yakuza or something." There was a hint of wonder on his voice, after playing the games, reading the books and watching the moves all his life, here he was in front of the nearly bona-fida deal at last. This is so cool! A voice inside him squeaked. Sure there was a global apocalypse going down George A. Romero style out there, but still. Here he was, assault rifle in hand next to the trained son of the ultimate Soviet badass with a definite evil force to fight and some beauties to save.
Speaking of which, He thought, turning to look inside the house. He didn't hear anything coming from inside, and was starting to wonder where Takashi had gone off to. "Um, you think they're all okay in there? They've been real quiet recently."
"Meh, they're fine. I'm sure we would have heard them being eaten by now." Denya replied casually, scanning the streets as best he could. He yawned. "Dunno 'bout you I'm getting rather tired. Shall I remain on watch, or do you want to?" He asked. Kohta flashed a toothy white grin.
"Go on and get your beauty sleep. I'm awake, and I've got all the company I need." He shot a nearly lustful look at the AR10 clutched in his hands, stroking the barrel fondly. Denya shrugged, got up, and went back inside.
The sound of gentle snoring caught his ear, and he saw Shizuka-sensei –thankfully covered with a blanket- calmly sleeping on the bed. Feeling more than a bit awkward in the room, he hurried up and shuffled out the door and closed it behind him. Turning around, he let out a relieved breath. Where's Takashi gone off to?
To be brutally honest, this would have been totally awesome any other time, or at least, at any other time before the dead started eating people. Takashi's throat was completely dry and his palms were sweating profusely. This was just so not what he needed to deal with right now.
"Oh, what? This old thing? Oh, I found it in the pantry." Saeko's voice was muddled and a bit hazy, a perfect match the scent of alcohol on her. That wasn't so much the problem, as the aforementioned "old thing" she was wearing. She was wearing a kitchen apron, and not much else besides a very scant thong. She was over a hot stove, mindlessly stirring a cooking pot, and frankly looking more like a seductress then there ever was.
A stifled breath caught itself in Takashi's throat as he tightened up by reflex, unable to take his ever-widening eyes off of the raven-headed beauty's curvaceous frame. "You -you don't think it looks too revealing, do you?" She said, lifting up the loose material near her waist in her hands, a hint of self-conscious worry in her voice. As the emotions began to pile up in Takashi's mind and he became painfully aware of a bulge in his pants, his attention was suddenly diverted by a completely different sound from behind him.
He turned in surprise, to see Denya standing in full view of him, and doing his best to not burst out laughing. Awkward embarrassment immediately changed to awkward fury, and he shot a blistering look at his classmate, who covered up his mouth and, tears coming from his eyes, staggered off out of sight. Takashi's burning feelings didn't even have time to die down though before another, more familiar noise called to him.
"Takaaashi, get up here!" Rei. From the sounds of it, she was just as drunk as the other girls. Immediately Denya burst out laughing from around the corner, and Takashi swore he was going to kill that Russian for leaving the liquor cabinet open.
"You'd better attend to her Komuro-kun; girls like to have someone with them in tough situations." Saeko said casually.
"Takaaaashi, get your ass up here!" Rei called again, prompting another outburst of hysterical chuckling from Denya. Saeko smirked and shifted position, revealing just a flash of the inside of her thighs. It was enough for Takashi, and with a deal of difficulty, he pulled himself away and dragged himself towards the stair set on leaden legs. He passed a smirking Denya in the corner, who winked knowingly at him.
"Have a good time." He managed, before breaking down in another fit of laughter. Resisting an impulse to knock him across the skull, Takashi forced himself on and up the stairs; really not sure how much he wanted what was next.
All things aside, Denya was feeling pretty good at the moment. He quietly tip-toed past a gently snoring Saya and made his way up to the guest room where he, Takashi, and Kohta were planning to spend the night. He had a bit of a relaxed, almost dopey, feeling pumping through him right now (although it was probably just the extra shot of vodka) and the thought of a nice bed was amazingly appealing to him right now.
There was a dog barking in the distance, but he didn't think it to be close enough to draw any attention to them. Not bothering to pull of his clothes, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the big comfy futon sprawled out in front of him. Every tense muscle in his body let loose at once, and sleep seemed to be only moments away. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips as the blackness of sleep closed in.
He heard footsteps, there was someone at the door. Hand drifting towards his pistol, he quickly sat up, all traces of sleep rapidly vanishing. It was Kohta, a grim look on his face.
"We got a problem. Some little girl's surrounded down the street, Komuro-san's going out to rescue her while we fix up to go get them in the Humvee." He said bluntly. Denya's heart sank at the words. He knew what it meant. Starting up the noisy Humvee would mean attracting every one of Them within earshot –and meaning that they could kiss their renovations at the fancy house goodbye. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by a mixture of depression and anger.
Then it was over. He got up, pushed his feet into his shoes, pocketed the Tokarev and headed for the door with a murmured "Hoo-fucking-ray." Sleep, comfort, and good lodging would all have to wait. The apocalypse waited for no man.
A/N: No, I dunno when the next chapter will be out. Maybe when Summers over, unless I get another insane writing spark. But until then, read, review, and love.