Disclaimer: Characters belong to Fresh Tv. I own nothing.

~A/N~ Well, I guess I'm back on track with this one now. I have a few good ideas as far as the plot is concerned, and playing some zombie games really got me in the mood. So, without further ado, I present...


Life Goes On: Chapter 5 - Hatred


POV: Shawn


(Day 14)


My raging, boiling blood is about to erupt from my veins. Jasmine, my Jasmine, has been violated and all these men can do is laugh. Even the sight of a fellow Total Drama contestant makes me sick despite my state of awe. The fact that Duncan is helping those assholes is making me sick. My bunker has been breached, and I've lost everything. He speaks.

"So," Duncan asks me with a chuckle. "Got any good stories, 'cause I'm bored outta my fu-"

"You're from Total Drama?!" Jasmine gasps again. "We're from that show too!"

Duncan chuckles and pulls out a pocket knife before slamming it into the wooden table by his hip. "Really? I don't remember an amazon and a hipster from anywhere. Are ya' sure you're not tryin' to suck up, because I really don't care either way with you two in those chairs."

"We're not joking," Jasmine whines. "Right, Shawn!?" she asks me, begging for the desired answer.

I could tell the truth, but there's no way on an apocalyptic planet that he'd believe us without proof. But I tell him anyways with a simple "Yes."

"Well, maybe I'm thinking too close to home," Duncan yawns. "If McLean did a season while I was in prison, then I probably missed it. Still, that means nothing in your current situation."

"Please," Jasmine begs. "From one camper to another: help us. We can make up to ya' later if you need us too!"

"I've always liked Australian accents," Duncan smiles menacingly, trying to stray off-topic. I look him in the eye from my current position and growl.

"Look here, dude," I say with a hint of anger in my voice that represents a mere slice of my hatred. "I have the skills to survive. Jasmine has the skills to survive. You don't have the skills to survive. Help us out and we'll be able to help you out. Leave us to die and you're as good as walker chow!"

Duncan snorts with arrogance and laughs slightly as he continues to stab the table with his blade. "Is that what you buffoons call 'em? Walkers?"

"Yeah," I hiss. "Now stay on topic!"

"Dude, have you even seen one of those monsters? Have you?"

"No." I sigh and look over my memories of zombie games, shows, films, and the art of voodoo. I know what to expect.

Duncan leans in close to my face, only a few inches, and speaks directly to me as I feel Jasmine squirm. "These things are runners," he whispers, a slight chuckle in his voice.

"Runners?!" I gasp in shock as adrenaline shoots through my veins like a burst of... fear. Everything I know about zombies says that they're slow and sluggish. It's science stuff, but the body can't move fast if it's decaying or it'll collapse in on itself.

"Runners," the delinquent in front of my confirms. "They're faster than me, and I'm faster than most of the pals in prison."

"How fast?" Jasmine panics from behind me. I can hear the teary sobbing in her voice and I can sense her fear. "How fast are they?"

Duncan shrugs. "Faster than two other shits in our group; these weren't fatties either."

As much as I want to slug Duncan in the face right now for being a part of this mess, I need his information while it's available and I'm not letting it slip away, no matter how much hatred has built up inside me. "What do they look like?" I ask solemnly, keeping my cool. "The walk, uh, runners, I mean?"

The young man spits on the ground and taps his knife against the wall. "Well, like a regular old person, just with... grey skin and... bloodshot eyes. The ones we saw looked like that at least. Who knows what happens after a few months?"

"Duncan," I ask. "How many did you see? Ten, twenty, a hundred?"

Duncan yawns and brings himself to his feet before rolling his eyes, visible only by the light of the lantern to our right. "Sorry," he says humorously. "I doubt my buds want to wait on me for dinner. We found I whole load of beans. Maybe I'll tell ya' tomorrow... if you last that long."

Anger erupts from my mouth as I feel the veins in my head swell and and eyes bulge. "No! You're telling us now!" I gasp for breath and hiss once more, but the man flips me off with a steady hand and closes us inside the kitchen with the creak of the door providing a nice source of ear ache.

"Shawn?" Jasmine groans with a sob.

"Yeah?" I sigh angrily, turning my body to get a glimpse of her darkened face. A few seconds of silence follow and I repeat my response with a bit more of a commanding tone.

"We have to do something... Now," she cries. "We have to do something. I don't know what, but we have to try!"

As much as it pains my soul to hear my love crying for help and knowing in my heart that we're boned for sure, I can't help but tell a small fib. I have to do whatever it takes to keep her from cracking even further, and the confirmation of a zombie apocalypse via Duncan was the worst thing for her fragile mind at this point. First came lockdown, then came the radio, and finally... Imprisonment in our own shelter: the bunker I blew half of my prize on in one fell swoop. But I lie. "We'll get out. I have a plan for everything, ya' know."

"But what do we do?" she asks in a stroke of desperation. "Those thugs are gonna kill us if we don't do something, and Duncan's not budging on helping us out. What... Do... we do?"

I feel anger flood my head again and finally snap at Jasmine with one single scream. "I DON'T KNOW!"

Jasmine silences herself and I sigh in despair at what I've said. I've never yelled at her like that before, and even though she's a tough gal, she's in a very dark place and I'm not helping.

I sit in the lantern's eerie glow as it's heat warms the right side of my face and my right side only. The other side, facing towards the danger of the outside, is cold and numb. Without our power from the sun, which I infer was destroyed by those monsters who've invaded our home, this bunker is hell waiting to happen. All it takes is one chance at escape, one bullet, and one death to ignite hell on earth. I'm not going to become caught in that, and I'm certainly not dragging Jasmine into the fire with me.


(Day 15)


I hear a knock at the kitchen door and open my eyes from a shitty night sleep to see Duncan walking inside. The glow of the lantern is slowly wearing thin, but I can make out something in his hands: a bowl.

"What is that?" I growl, waking Jasmine who shuffles behind me.

"Relax, dude. It's just a little nourishment for the time being." He smiles and shows me a bowl full of cooked beans, still steaming.

"Great," I groan sarcastically. "Ya' never get tired of those, do you?"

"Do ya' want 'em or not?" Duncan growls back. "I didn't have to give these to you, but if you'd rather starve than pl-"

"Here," Jasmine gasps. "Please."

As Duncan moves to Jasmine's side, I feel the metallic cable pushing against my hands that are tied down for safety and scoff. "How are we gonna eat without our hands? Like pigs?"

"Yes," Duncan says to me matter-of-factly. He turns to Jasmine. "Now, just be calm. I'm gonna hold this up to your face and you're gonna eat. Just don't do anything stupid or get beans in your nose."

"Not funny, dude. Just let us out!" I shout. It's futile, but I'm willing to try anything at this point.

"And risk a knife to eye? No way, dude." He lets Jasmine eat as I hear her engulfing mouthful after mouthful.

"Just eat, Shawn. It's fine," she begs between bites.

Even if I do eat, that only serves to animalize me further. I've already been strapped a chair and laughed at like a dancing monkey, and there's no way in hell that I'm going to eat like a hog. I choose to keep quiet.

Duncan takes the plate away from Jasmine and squats in front of me, a blank expression on his face that screams 'boredom.'

"Eat," he commands me. "I don't want to tell you again and I'm not spoon-feeding you like your mommy."

I think for a minute and say the only reasonable thing I can. "You're a prisoner, right?"

"What's it to ya?" he asks, a scowl on his face.

"You know what it's like to be forced into a cell everyday; to not know if you'll ever be the same when you get out, if you even get out at all. You know how if feels to be judged at first sight and never given a shot. You know what it's like to be fed like a pig at every meal. You know how it is in prison, so if you know what prison is and how horrible it is, then how could you put us, two strangers, in prison yourself? Think about it!"

Jasmine sighs behind me and I continue to stare Duncan in the eye. He stands up and puts the bowl of beans on the table. Either he's really pissed, or really depressed, because I changed him in some way, and I'm going to find out how.

"You think I enjoy doing this, don't you?" he groans. "Well, I have a surprise for you: I fuckin' hate it here with them," he continues with a whisper. "Jake is the worst human I know, but he's strong and formidable. He took six runners down singlehandedly without even a scratch. He's a safe zone, but only for his strength. He's dangerous, which can't hurt him but it can certainly hurt others. Let's just say... You shouldn't drop the soap around him."

"He didn't?" Jasmine gasps.

"More than once," Duncan whispers. "Jake is a psychopath on more than one level. Back in prison, he was called the Backdoor Bandit. I think you can guess why he was there in the first place. His toughness comes in handy, but the son of a bitch is a double-edged sword around other people. Listen, I'd help you if I could, but I can't risk it around him, so just do what he and the others say and you'll be fine. Got it?"

"You can't let him do that to me!" Jasmine squeals. "Please don't..."

"Jasmine," I sigh. "I won't let it happen to you." I know my promise is empty, but anger is building again, along with something else: hope. Duncan is on our side, but with Jake around, he's not worth the time.

"You won't be able to stop him from gettin' what he needs from you, but I might be able to keep your asses safe until this place runs dry. Then, we'll have to leave and maybe he'll be generous, if you're not dead by then."

"I'm not leaving the bunker," I say. "It's my home... My half a million dollar home."

Duncan raises an eyebrow and asks me where I got the money from, but then it hits him. "You... Won?"

"No. We won," I say throwing my head back and gesturing to Jasmine. "Together."

"Cool story," Duncan says, a look of melancholy on his face. "I'm sorry this happened to you, but there's nothing I can do." He walks outside and peaks inside again. "And just to let you know... There were twelve of 'em."

"Twelve what?" I ask, annoyed by his sudden revelation.

"Runners," he says before closing the door.

I look down once the door is closed and ponder.

"We're okay," Jasmine says without sobbing. "I think we have a chance now."

"Yeah," I say in agreement. "It's not much, but it's something." I turn my attention to the steaming bowl of beans Duncan left on the table and curse under my breath. "Shit. Maybe I should've waited until after I got fed to start monologuing?"

"No," Jasmine chuckles. "You did the right thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah... Those beans were terrible."

A chuckle escapes my mouth: the first in two weeks. It feels good to have a laugh, even in the darkest of times and places.


~A/N~ I'm actually liking this thing now that Duncan entered the scene. Even though I hate the guy, I think I'm doing a good job with writing his character: someone with a good heart who's reluctant to show it from time to time, so tell me about my portrayal of Duncan in a review. ;)

And no... the zombies won't all be called runners in the story. I'm trying to stay somewhat original with my nomenclature.