Here is chapter two! We hope you all enjoy. Sorry it took so long! (Ordinaryryder says it's because I'm lazy, and that's true). Katniss will be here soonish so just hold on for that!
Not again.
That was the only thought ricocheting around Peeta's brain as he slowly regained consciousness. What world would he wake up to this time? Aliens? For a moment he imagined he was actually waking up from his coma, still in the hospital, and the last few hours had been some type of dream, because it didn't seem real at all.
When he tried to move his arms and felt them restrained above his head, he knew he wasn't that lucky.
Opening his eyes, he slowly took in the darkened room he was lying in. He was in a house, on a bed, his arms and legs spread eagle, tied to each post of the frame. Sheets and blankets were nailed over the windows, a gas lamp lit on the nightstand. The kid who hit him with the shovel stood over him, a baseball bat now in his hands, while his father stood on the opposite side of the bed, washing his hands in a basin of water.
"I changed your bandage. It was in pretty bad shape. Smelled like shit." The man said as he dried his hands on a cloth.
"I need to know what happened." He said, turning to face Peeta, his arms crossed over his chest.
Peeta looked down at the new bandage on his chest, neatly taped over his wound.
"Gunshot. I'm a cop." Peeta said watching the man carefully.
"Anything else?" The man asked, his eyes focused on Peeta's face.
"No. Got shot. Isn't that enough?" Peeta snapped.
The man stood for just a moment before uncrossing his arms and leaning over Peeta, his hands palm down on the bed.
"Did. You. Get. Bit? That's what I'm asking. Tell me the truth." The man said through clenched teeth. Peeta's eyebrows furrowed.
"Bit?" He asked bewildered.
"Bit, scratched, anything like that." The man responded, his eyes unblinking.
"No. Just shot." Peeta answered.
The man reached forward carefully, and placed his hand on Peeta's forehead, as if feeling for a fever.
"You feel cool enough. Fever would have killed you by now." The man said, nodding at his son before pulling out a knife.
Peeta flinched as the man cut his wrists and ankles free before turning to leave the room.
"We've got food. Come out when you can." He said over his shoulder before walking away.
For a few moments after the man and boy had left, Peeta lay on the bed, shaking. The man was concerned that he had been bitten, but by what exactly? Those human like things? Is that why he had shot that man on the street point blank, with no remorse at all?
"What the fuck is happening?" Peeta whispered to himself as he stood up. Still shaking he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and made his way out of the room, down the stairs to where he could see the light of a few candles flickering.
In the living room, he noticed more blankets and sheets nailed over the windows, allowing no light in the house. The pictures on the walls were of a family he knew from growing up in the town, and he eyed the man suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.
"This is Carl Walters house. I know him and his family." He said, making sure to not sound accusatory as he made his way over to the largest covered window.
"It was empty when we got here. Figured no one would mind if my son and I crashed here." The man said, answering Peeta's unasked question.
Peeta nodded, his fingers closing around the edge of one of the blankets.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. They'll see the light and know we're in here. I've got everything pretty secure but I don't know how long we'll last if a bunch of them try to get in. There are more of them out there than usual." The man said and Peeta withdrew his hand quickly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.
"Why's that?" Peeta asked, coming to stand near the table where the man and his son sat.
"Shot that gun today. Sound draws them. Shooting a gun isn't ever a good idea but I wasn't thinking." The man said, shrugging his shoulders.
"You killed that man today. Shot him in the head point blank." Peeta said, his voice hard. The man stared for a long moment before responding.
"That wasn't a man. It was a walker." The man said, he son nodding his head in agreement.
"A walker?" Peeta asked, unsure of the situation he had found himself in. What the hell was this man talking about?
Sitting down, the man put some food on his plate, and held out his hand, bowing his head.
Oh great, these are some Christian psychos. Like on the news, those rapture people. Peeta thought to himself as they blessed the food in front of him. He kept his eyes peeled throughout the prayer, wondering if he was strong enough to escape. He had a sinking feeling the answer was no.
When the blessing finished they all began to eat in silence, Peeta staring down at his plate as he shoveled the food into his mouth. He was ravenous which made sense, seeing as he didn't know how long it had been since he had eaten anything.
The man watched him as he chewed slowly, swallowing and setting down his own fork.
"Do you know what's going on?" He asked Peeta, and Peeta stopped eating for a moment.
"I was in a shootout. I don't know how long ago, I was in a coma. I woke up in the hospital today, alone. Abandoned I guess would be a better way of putting it. It looked like the hospital had been shot to hell." Peeta answered. The man's face registered shock before the careful mask was back in place.
"Do you know about the dead people?" The man asked, and Peeta nodded as he swallowed.
"I saw a lot of dead bodies when I made my way out of the hospital. There were hundreds of body bags laying on the ground." Peeta answered, trying desperately not to let panic cross his features. He was a fucking cop damn it, he wasn't supposed to get scared.
"No." The man said, shaking his head. "Not the ones they managed to kill. The walkers. That's what I shot today. If I hadn't he would have killed you. Slowly, mind you. He would have eaten you, taken bites until he was full." The man paused for a moment. Peeta gaped at him.
"Look. This must be scary as hell, hearing it for the first time. Shit went down man, and the dead – well they don't stay dead long. Only thing that works is getting them in the brain with something sharp, or a gun. But the sound draws them. The most important thing though, is don't get bit. You get bit and it's done, the fever burns you out and you come back. And when you do, you're one of them." The man said seriously, and Peeta nodded, feeling himself pale.
While he was in a coma the dead had come back to life and gone after the living. If he hadn't already seen the aftermath, he might not have believed what this man was telling him, but suddenly the door marked "Dead Inside" at the hospital – and whatever was behind it – made sense to him.
"Well damn." Was all he said in response to what he had just been told. There wasn't really much else he could think to say. Sure, plenty of questions were running rampant through his head, but he wasn't sure there was much more information he could handle right now. All he could hope was that Madge and her husband had gotten their family out before everything had gone to hell.
Later that night after dinner they sat in the living room, on mattresses laid out on the floor. All the couches and chairs had been pushed up against the walls, candles and a lone gas lamp provided light. Peeta sat on his mattress talking to the man – his name was Morgan-while his son, Duane, lay sleeping.
Morgan had made sure Peeta knew the danger of noise, how it attracted the walkers, and so they whispered, as Morgan filled Peeta in on what little he actually knew.
"It just happened. I don't know why, but it did. They attacked and now there aren't many people left I'd guess. You're the first alive person I've seen in a while." Morgan told him. Peeta nodded. He was lucky to have been found by Morgan and Duane, he knew that now. They weren't crazy rapture people; they were survivors in a crazy world.
Silence had settled between them when the sound of a car alarm went off outside the house. Duane jumped up but Morgan quieted him, telling him to get the lights as he drew his gun. Peeta helped, going around and blowing out candles with Duane, joining Morgan at the window.
"It's down the street. Take a look." He told Peeta, moving aside so Peeta could peep through the hole in the blankets.
There were tons of them, walking aimlessly around on the street. Some walked directly towards the car, others just shuffled along, going nowhere slowly.
"Will more come?" He asked. Morgan was quiet for a moment.
"Probably. The alarm will go off eventually but we've got to be careful. They move more at night. I don't know why for sure, but that alarm will draw them in."
Morgan left the window to go and comfort a scared Duane. The kid put on a good face, but Peeta knew Duane had to be at least as scared as he was. Moving towards the door, Peeta watched through the peephole as more and more of the walkers moved around, some walking towards the house, coming as far as the door and staring blankly at it for a few moments before turning around.
As he watched, one of the walkers seemed to notice him, and his breath caught as he stared eye into lifeless eye. He could see the woman scratch her hand along the door, testing to see if it would open. The house was dead quiet, everyone holding their breath, but the walker lost interest and stumbled down the front steps, joining the horde now surrounding the blaring car.
Peeta scrambled over towards his bed, shaking slightly before turning towards Morgan.
"If we can, tomorrow I have keys to the police station. They're at my sister's house, where you found me today. I need to pack a bag and get stuff from my garage apartment anyway. We can go to the police station, get into the armory there. Maybe we can use the radios to find out how far this thing has gone." He whispered as Morgan sat with his arms around Duane.
"That sounds like a plan. We'll just have to watch, see if those things out there move on by morning. Are you planning on heading out?" Morgan asked, carefully reaching over to light a solitary candle to light the room again, keeping it low.
Peeta nodded his head.
"My sister and her husband; well it looked like they got out. Left, I mean. If they did I'm pretty sure they would have headed to where our parents live in Atlanta. Can't hurt to try and find them." He reasoned, with a shrug of his shoulders. They couldn't be dead, not his family. He was sure that if they were he would be able to feel it, he would know they were gone. Maybe he was just delusional at this point thinking that way, but at least it gave him some hope. Otherwise he wasn't sure what he would do.
Morgan seemed to understand.
"Sure man. Now that we've got a plan for tomorrow, why don't you try and get some sleep. We're about as safe as we can be in here, can't hurt to try." He reasoned and Peeta nodded, slipping down onto his mattress and closing his eyes.
The next morning Peeta found some clothes that belonged to Carl, and dressed quietly, still shaken from the day before. As they ate, he silently came up with a game plan for the day, and went over the things he had learned so far.
Sound was bad. It caught the attention of the walkers. Morgan didn't know how it had happened, how everything had gone to hell, but that didn't change the fact that it had. Getting bit meant the game was over. There obviously wasn't a cure Morgan had heard of, so maybe one didn't even exist.
Maybe this is what the world was now.
As he sat nursing a water bottle, Morgan checked outside through all the windows.
"It seems clear. Maybe one or two of them milling around out there, but we can handle that. Let's get to that police station." Morgan said and Peeta nodded, feeling his heart race. He felt silly, like he needed more time to adjust to all of this, but time wasn't something he had anymore. He didn't think anyone had the luxury of time now.
Standing, he walked over to Morgan, who handed him a baseball bat.
"Remember. You hit them in the head, that's what kills them. Anywhere else it'll delay them, but it doesn't kill them or really even slow them down any. The head. Make sure they're dead too because sometimes it takes more than one solid hit." Morgan warned.
"And you're sure they're dead. I just have to ask, one more time." Peeta said, hoping maybe magically everything from yesterday hadn't happened.
Morgan shook his head, and Peeta felt his heart sink.
"They're dead. All they want is to eat you. They don't talk, they just growl, they don't even seem to drink water. They're just animals now man, they're dead animals." Morgan told him as he handed Duane another bat and took the shovel from yesterday himself.
Peeta nodded, and waited as they pried the boards off of the door.
Stepping out onto the porch, Peeta looked around. The world looked so different than it had before he had been shot. All the yards were unkempt, grass was growing without being cut, houses were boarded up, cars littered the streets. He tried to not feel queasy when he noticed that body parts were visible in some yards, blood stains were splattered across some houses.
Down the sidewalk leading up towards the house sat one of them – a walker, and Peeta took a deep breath, gripping his baseball bat. Making his way cautiously towards it, he watched as the walker stood, and turned towards him.
It was grotesque, it's mouth gaping open, blood stained, its face rotting off, pieces of flesh barely hanging on. It was grey, stumbling some as it stood, and the smell coming off of it was like death, like a rotting corpse.
As a cop, Peet has seen a few dead bodies, and he knew how they looked after a few days or weeks of decomposition. These things truly were dead, whoever they had been was long gone, had died when they originally had.
Raising his bat, Peeta struck it in the head, once, twice, three times, falling to the ground when the walker did. He had killed it, but the pain that radiated throughout him kept him on the ground, close enough to it that he could see the maggots crawling in and out of its flesh.
"You all right man?" Morgan asked in concern, laying a hand on Peeta's shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute. I don't know how long I've been out but I doubt this would have been part of the recovery you know?" He winced, placing a hand on his wound.
"No, I doubt this would be recommended at all." Morgan said solemnly, looking away and scanning the area around them.
After a few minutes Peeta stood up slowly, nodding once at Morgan. They headed out down the street towards Madge's house, arriving there without incident. Walking inside, Peeta opened a drawer and fished around for the spare keys to the garage apartment where he lived, while Morgan began pulling canned goods out of the pantry and placing them into a bag.
"Thanks for the food man. Every bit helps. I, I hate to ask you this, but what makes you so sure your family is still alive?" He asked without looking directly at Peeta, choosing to inspect a can of green beans instead.
Peeta strode over to help him, Duane sitting in the entry way keeping guard, and began placing food on the table for himself alongside Morgan.
"There's clothes missing from the drawers. And all the pictures are missing from the walls, the albums are gone from the bookcase." Peeta reasoned.
"Ah. My wife did the same thing. The world was falling to shit, and what did she pack? Damn photo albums." Morgan shook with laughter for a moment and Peeta joined in before the smile fell from Morgan's face.
"Course, she's gone now, got bit. She was right though, the pictures – I treasure those damn things now." He said. Peeta nodded, acknowledging that he had heard, going over the canned goods and water bottles he had set aside to put in the bag he would get in the apartment.
"You guys can check for more stuff if you want, see if there's anything you might need. I know Madge and Rick wouldn't mind. I'm going to run up to the garage really quick, pack a bag of clothes, I'll be right down." He told them, turning and walking out of the door and heading up the outside stairs into his garage apartment.
Inside, it looked as though he had never left. Pulling open a large backpack from his closet, he began to pack clothing he thought would be good for survival in the Georgian summer and winters. (He shuddered to think he would need clothes for all the way until the winter, but he had a feeling he would.)
He began packing clothing, several t-shirts, long sleeved insulated shirts, jeans, a heavy jacket, some gloves, pairs of boxers, and a spare pair of boots all went into his back before he turned to his bathroom next. He grabbed obvious things first, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, deodorant, soap, but he also grabbed all the medicine in his cabinet – old prescription bottles, aspirin, band aids. He figured it couldn't hurt to have that stuff with him, just in case he needed anything. Needing to make sure he had room for the food in the kitchen to fit, he unzipped the front pocket, and went over to his nightstand. Grabbing his flashlight and a few extra batteries seemed like a good idea, as well as his hunting knife, and a picture of his family, all together on last Christmas.
Walking out of his apartment he turned to take it in for what he knew could very well be the very last time, shutting the door and locking it before slipping the keys into his pocket.
After packing up the food and water bottles on the table into his bag, he found Morgan and Duane sitting on the porch steps, two bags between them.
"We found some bandages and things like that, hope that's ok." Morgan told him, eyeing the bags on the ground.
"Of course man. I wouldn't have told you to take it if I didn't mean it. Ya'll ready to head to the station?" He asked, holding up he keys in his hands. Morgan nodded, picking up one bag, while Duane picked up the other and placed the straps on his back.
"Alright then, lets go."
They only ran into one walker on the way to the station, and Morgan was able to easily put it down with his bat. Peeta watched this time; having already killed one today he didn't feel much like having to do it again so soon. It shook him, how much they still looked like the people they had once been.
It pricked at the back of his neck as they walked that somewhere out there – near where they were – all those walkers he had seen last night through the window were milling around, just waiting for someone to walk in their path. He felt deeply sorry for whoever did, but at the same time he sincerely hoped it wouldn't be him.
Arriving at the station he dug out his flashlight, unlocking the door before they made their way into the dark building. Everything looked the same inside as they checked to make sure everything was secure.
He lead Morgan and Duane towards the bathroom where the showers were, turning one on as they watched in amazement.
"The station has it's own propane set up, runs all of this. I'm guessing the hospital did too since there was running water there yesterday. Go for it guys." He told them, smiling when Duane let out a whoop for joy.
Before he joined them in the showers he made a pit stop at his locker, picking up the uniform still left in there, waiting for him to return. He figured it wouldn't hurt in this new world to be dressed like a cop – he was more likely to get some answers from anyone who he crossed on his way to Atlanta.
After they showered, and Peeta had shaved, he and Morgan sat for a while on the benches in the bathroom while Duane used the changing rooms.
"It's a good thing your family headed for Atlanta. That's where they told everyone to go, said there was a huge refugee center there, with the military, and food and protection. Said the CDC was working on a cure, they were pretty close. The broadcasts went out a while ago, but I bet everything there is a hell of a lot better than it is here." Morgan told him, and Peeta felt hope rise within.
"Is that where you guys were headed?" He asked as he toweled off his hair.
"Yeah. We've been here around…. I don't know, thirty days maybe? My wife, she got bit. After she died, we just kind of stayed here. Haven't been able to leave. One day we will." Morgan told him quietly, watching to make sure Duane couldn't hear.
"It just all went to shit so fast man. One day, everything was fine. Next day panic took over, the day it started and those things were attacking. The streets weren't safe, people acting like they forgot how to be civil because of their fear. It'll probably be easier for you, with that get up on though." He nodded towards Peeta's uniform hanging up on the wall and Peeta grinned.
"That's what I'm hoping for."
They sat in silence for a moment before getting up and changing into their own clothes. Peeta felt more secure wearing his uniform and boots, more in charge than he had been of himself the past day and a half.
He lead Morgan and Duane towards the ammunitions stock, unlocking the door and breathing a sigh of relief to see almost all the weapons still there, along with plently of ammo.
"Ya'll make sure to grab a good amount of ammo, make sure it matches the guns you pick up." He told Morgan and Duane as he picked up a large POLICE weapons bag and began filling it with an assortment of assault rifles, shotguns, handguns and ammo. He made sure to holster and fully load his own gun, hoping he wouldn't have to use it anytime soon.
Outside of the station, Morgan and Duane packed up a car to take for their own while Peeta packed up a squad car to drive to Atlanta.
"You sure you guys want to stay here?" Peeta asked as he closed the passengers side door.
"Yeah, we need to work on using these guns, get used to them before we try to take to the road." Morgan told him, reaching out his hand for Peeta to shake.
"Well make sure you don't waste ammo. It can go fast and you may need it." He said, shaking the hand Morgan had offered him.
"Good luck finding your family. Stay safe, or as safe as you can out there man." Morgan told him with a smile, which Peeta felt himself return.
"You guys stay safe too. Hopefully I'll see you in Atlanta one of these days." He called out as Morgan began climbing into his car. Nodding his head once, he and Duane drove slowly off, and Peeta himself got into his car and left to head towards Atlanta.
He had one stop to make before he really got on the road. Taking his car down the familiar streets of his home town, he pulled to stop at the park where he had taken the bicycle the day before.
Climbing out of the car, he began searching for the first walker he had encountered here, the pathetic half of a woman, crawling around on the ground, gasping and growing with every tiny bit of effort.
He found her, some ways away from where she had started, using blades of grass to pull herself forward. It looked painfully hard, but did these things even really feel pain? He wasn't sure. They seem reduced to the ultimate basics of living, eating and finding food their only motivation. He didn't think they felt anything at all but hunger.
It took the walker a moment, but finally it recognized him as he knelt beside it, turning and stretching out it's hand in a grasping motion, trying to get a hold of him to sustain itself. Shaking his head, he pulled out his gun.
"Whatever life you lived before, you didn't deserve this. No one deserves this." He said to it. It showed no recognition of having understood or having even heard what he had said, and Peeta knew, finally, beyond a doubt what he had been wondering since learning about this new world.
There was no humanity at all left in any of these things, and there was no remorse to be had in killing them. It was either kill them or let them kill you. That was the new world order.
Aiming his gun at the walker's head he pulled the trigger, watching as it thudded to the ground, no longer moving. Standing, he took a moment to look around and make sure the sound hadn't attracted any others in the immediate area before making his way back to the car.
