Volume 1: The beginning of the end
Summary: God promised the resurrection of the dead. No one knew what he had in mind until he showed us all.
Thanking everyone who reviewed: Ferdos, Lakota, Insanity, Jenny, Rinter215 and StorSpeaker.
Insanity: I know what you are trying to do but I have already portrayed Toothless as a character in my plot. You can rename him something else though.
One more time to apply as a survivor.
10:00pm, the air was different. A bright sunny morning ruined by fate. A virus, unknown to civilization evolved into a mind of its own, awaking the dead, killing the living. In minutes the State of New York City went into a frenzy of panic. Civilians ran up and down like a mad house, tailed by the undead. Some locked their doors, praying death will come painless; others fought for their lives but failed miserably. Cars exploded, blood spilled infinitely, guts pooled every corner, humans lay dead on the streets, and loved ones sunk their teeth in the person they once cared for. It was hell in New York City, a hell the government thought they could control.
But they were proved wrong.
10:49pm, soldiers rushed to the heart of the problem, pumping lead after lead into the undead. The thing is; they wouldn't stay dead. They crawled, some body split into two, trying to reach for the soldiers. It was a one-sided battle. But the soldiers clung to hope like a drowning man clutching a straw.
"Back to back man, we need to retreat!" The army fired bullets like crazy, but it was hopeless.
"What are these things? They won't die."
"I don't know. We need to retreat." The remaining soldiers ran to a functioning war tank, heart pounding against their rib cage. They watched as their comrades went down one by one, screaming in agonizing pain. The living soldiers mourned for their fallen, as they drive the tank into the swarms of undead.
"What do we do?"
"We need to get out. Contact base."
"Sir, sir we need a plan of evacuation. Everyone is dead! Please help us." Silence was all there was on the other side of the radio. The soldier pleads again.
"Thank you Sergeant for your service." The commander said.
"What do you mean?" the soldier asked. The tank jerked violently.
"There trying to turn us over." The driver of the tank said.
"With that number, that will be easy." Lieutenant admitted.
"What do you mean sir?" the soldier on the radio asked. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" A missile sizzled pass the four soldiers.
"No, no no no no," the Lieutenant swore. "Their nuking New York City."
"What?" A missile race passed the undead below, target: One World Trade Centre.
"You, can you hack into the emergency alert system?" the Lieutenant asked, pointing to the radio operator.
"Y- yes." He stuttered. The man commenced his work, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.
"What are you doing?" another man in honor said.
"They betrayed us," the Lieutenant growled, staring blankly into the thousands of corpse. "They deserve to die, they deserve to suffer and I'll make the people of America do that."
"But how?"
"We're on." The radio operator shouted.
"Like this." Lieutenant snatched the radio. "This is Lieutenant Braid, broadcasting on emergency alert system. I am bringing an update on the situation in New York City. I do not know what kind of cover up story the government might tell you, but I tell you this, 'we are facing the dead.' Yes people, the prophecy is right. Moments from now the dead will be banging at your door, hungry for your flesh. It does not matter if your family or not, their dead and they don't care. By tomorrow time, New York City will be no more."
Thousands of people crane their aching necks to have a better hearing of the situation. The place was deadly silent, on the streets, in the rooms, everywhere. Every ear was plastered to the Lieutenant words, believing every drop of the truth; no matter how crazy it sounded. The emergency alert system was not a joke. This was real, this was reality.
"Get off the radio Lieutenant!" the commander ordered. "I said get off the radio soldier."
"I do not follow your orders," Braid growled. "You hear people; this is what the world has turned too. Moments from now, the world will be in ruins. And it is because of the tyrant government, SITTING ON THEIR COMFORTABLE CHAIR THINKING THAT THEY WILL BE SAFE.! WELL THEY ARE WRONG! THEY WILL DIE JUST LIKE I WILL! People, if any leader ever survives, honor a dying soldier words and kill him. Do not hesitate."
A young woman rested her hands on her swollen stomach. "Braid?" she called dreamily.
"I love you, Sophia," were the soldier last words before the missile impacted the World Trade Centre. The explosion was powerful. Glasses shattered in a one mile radius and fire consumed the buildings of New York City. In seconds, New York City was nothing more than a burning inferno. The four soldiers screamed as death came with swift wings. Their skins were burned to nothing but tendons and muscles along with the undead. Moments after, the fire disappeared and a big crater was all that was left of New York City.
"We did it," the president cheered. The room bombarded into shouts of victory, muffling the gunshots heard above.
Above the bunker the army was doing a somewhat good job at killing the undead. But, when one corpse falls, others took its place. They found out a shot in the head was all it took for the dead to be dead but not all soldiers were sharp shooters. Moving targets were hard to kill and it didn't help they had to aim for a specific spot. Inch by inch they came closer to the doors of the bunker. Ammo was gone, the soldiers were tired and the fighters had lost hope…
They retreated, but, the leaders stated otherwise. As the soldiers were routing their way to safety the doors closed.
"Hey, open the door!" A soldier shouted. They braced against the doors, drew their pistols and fought for a few seconds.
"Thank you brave soldiers for your service," Commander said, emotionless.
"OPEN THE DOOR!" A soldier kicked and punched the door. "Please. Please."
This was it. This was the end. A single tear escaped from the soldier's eye. "Please, you're killing us." He sobbed. The others dropped their guns in defeat. They bowed their heads and waited for their inevitable death.
"You're killing us," the soldier wept. "You're killing us. YOU'RE KILLING US!"
The first undead came and bit into the man's neck. Others soon piled on the remaining soldiers, biting any sort of flesh they could find.
It was the worst punishment mankind had ever brought on themselves…..
"What do we do?" one of the surviving leader says, clasping his hands on the table. The leaders are seated in a dimly lit conference room with only one exit (or so they thought.)
"Alert the world, tell them to prepare. We can win this," the president says. The men and women exchanged nods and did as they were told.
"And about the situation upstairs, that's probably half of the army wiped out." The leaders look to the man seated on the head. It is a sort of situation where only certain few or the elected knows what to do.
"Aid the people." The president deadpanned. "We need recruits to fight these things off."
"And the people would be an excellent choice?"
"Yes."
"And what if the army is also wiped out. You saw how those things are, they won't die."
"Have you ever heard of zombies Commander?" the President asks.
The room grows silent. The occupants shudder in their seats. Some even burst out in protest. 'That isn't possible,' they scream.
But deep down in their minds, they know it is all real.
"Aye."
"A shot in the head will kill them for good," the president says. "Contact base, Commander, and prepare them. "We're winning this thing." His voice is so determined, so strong the leaders did nothing but agree.
Abruptly, as if the gods are against them, outside breaks into a frenzy of panic. The dead wades out of every side. Remaining soldiers are back to back as they fight a losing battle yet again. It is not long before the whole outside turns into nothing but a bloody pool.
The leaders are terrified. A single soul mutters a prayer before he opted out. Two others follow his lead and it is then the dead burst through the doors.
It happened so quickly. Leaders drew their gun in a lost string of hope, pumping lead after lead into rotten heads. But the ammo drained and others soon took their lives. The president saw the panic and left. He pressed a hidden button and an elevator popped into view. A single surviving leader pleaded to be let in but the president shook his head with little to no emotion. He mockingly sympathizes with the man as he made a tasty treat.
He thought he was safe. He thought he would survive. But that was all proved wrong as the doors opened. He freezes in his path as thousands of zombie stares hungrily at him. They piled into the elevator. He tried to commit suicide but his gun clicked.
He was meant to suffer an agonizing death. The dead grabbed him and feasted. For all the sins, for all the tyranny and for all his souls he ordered to death, this is his punishment.
And slowly, the tyrant died a painful death.
"Well well well what have we here?" Tuffnut mutters.
"And they have no dignity, doing it in front of us," Snotlout teases.
"They still have their clothes on Snotlout," Fishlegs deadpanned.
The four are cautiously observing the two sleeping figures: Hiccup and Astrid, heads a little too close for comfort. They continue to mutter under their breath, figuring out just what words to tease the two as they wake.
Astrid soon stirs. She groans as she stifled a yawn, blue sleepy orbs slowly fluttering open. Her heads hits something muscular and the memories of last night hit her like a speeding bullet. Maybe lying down for a few minutes more won't be bad. It's not like she has anywhere to go. She turns and buries her head in Hiccup's chest. It had an unwelcoming result.
Hiccup moans as he wove his hand through her hair. He places a kiss on it, neck aching from the awkward sleeping position.
"Morning," he whispers, oblivious to the four other teens, their heads hovering inches from the two.
"I never recall kisses to be an ok thing," Astrid mumbles, sighing on his chest.
"It's actually a friendly gesture Astrid, no bullshit involved."
"No bullshit, I like that. Remember it."
"Of course." And reluctantly they untangle their selves from each other and prop themselves on one elbow.
They freeze on the spot.
"Morning," Ruffnut says lowly, biting back a giggle. Hiccup yelps. He falls off the couch, rolls away from the four and stares hopelessly. Realizing there is no threat he stands on his foot.
"Don't ever do that again," Hiccup scolds.
"What is with her?" Snotlout asks, pointing to Astrid. Astrid is petrified, her face flushed like a red tomato. She shakes her head.
"Don't ever do that again?" she tries to growl but comes out as a low whimper.
"There's nothing left to do honey," Snotlout says.
"Why don't you try slinging yourself on the balls, maybe it's probably better than stalking."
"Maybe I'll try it later." Astrid rolls her eyes.
Is this going to be her life now? Cuddling with Hiccup wasn't so bad and she would shamelessly jump at another chance again but waking up to an annoying boy is not ok with her. Grumbling a few silent curses, she sinks in the couch softness again, concealing her blushing face with a pillow.
What else is there to do?
Snotlout smirks at each curses. Now this is who he would be delighted to spend his last days. Waking up, teasing Astrid, eat and tease again. Maybe find someone to beat the time too would be nice.
"Okay everyone," Hiccup says, not sure if he should disturb anyone. "Breakfast?"
"Sure," Astrid grumbles. The other agrees.
"So the food will run out in a couple days," Hiccup blurts. He munches on his protein bar, observing his other companions.
"Soo?" Tuffnut asks.
"Don't try to play dump Tuffnut," Astrid snaps, cheeks resting on her prop elbows, gobbling her cereal down.
"To be noted: never mess with Astrid in the morning," Snotlout says.
"Go fuck yourself Snotlout."
"Have you noticed Astrid," Snotlout chuckles, "there's not a place for privacy here."
"You can try under the table," Tuffnut offers, "Or maybe on the couch."
Fishlegs shakes his head as a laugh escape. Ruffnut holds a devilish grin and Astrid pats her stomach.
"If I puke, you'll be covered in it," Astrid threatens, suddenly all greenish.
"Hey, no one is doing whatever and puking here," Hiccup says. He swallows the last piece of his bar and throws away the paper. I've checked the storage and we have about two day's food with us."
They groan. "Doesn't your family pack the storage Snotlout?" Tuffnut asks but gasps as he realizes his choice of words.
Snotlout heart skips a beat and his chest knots into tightness. His lips quiver. "Parents?" Snotlout lips curves into a smile. "My parents are dead Tuffnut," he says, voice voided of all emotion. He springs up in a flash and storms away to a corner of the room. He braces against the wall as he curls into a ball.
"They're dead Tuffnut, they're dead."
"Give him time," Hiccup breaths, "He'll get through it." Hiccup stares long and hard at Snotlout before clapping his hands, snapping his friends back to his attention. "Two days left of food, five or so days if we ration."
"Ration? But that's like starvation," Fishlegs says. 'Smart thinking,' Fishlegs thought, 'maybe sticking with them won't be a death sentence after all.'
"And we don't have a choice Fishlegs."
"What do we do?" Astrid asks.
"Right now let's get the food in one backpack so we can make a quick getaway if we need to, search around here; there has got to be something of value and weapons, we need weapons. Anything pointy or looks like it can bash in or impale a skull is welcome."
They nod, and got on with their work. Snotlout joins in after a few moments of peace, hands working quickly but mouth utterly speechless.
"Ok, we have some good things," Hiccup praises, nodding at each items. Who would have thought Snotlout basement had a lot of zombie killing items? Bats, knives, pointy rods, twin sword and a scythe lay with all its glory on the mahogany table. Hiccup inspects each item with a smile, a little nostalgic thinking about these bad boys in action.
"Hey guys, look what I find," Tuffnut shouts.
"Keep your voice down Tuffnut they are wow-!" Hiccup says.
Tuffnut stands tall with a wielders helmet and a deadly chainsaw in his hands. His hands itches to rev it up but he knows better.
"Well aren't you ready for a Berk chainsaw zombie massacre," Hiccup teases. "But between you and me, chainsaws won't do much to the dead."
"But why?" Tuffnut pouts.
"To kill a zombie you need to damage the brain and a chainsaw would just make a whole mess, not to mention their blood might splatter on you and you might get infected."
Ruffnut approaches her brother with that motherly look. She jerks the chainsaw away from him and removes his helmet.
"If what Hiccup says is true then I don't want you to use this," She scolds. She wipes a black streak off his face. "I already lost people I cared about and I don't want to lose you too." she whispers, head bowed low.
"Hey," Tuffnut says, cupping her cheek and bringing her eyes to his. "I'm not going anywhere." Ruffnut smiles, a tiny smile only for him. "Now give me a hug."
Tuffnut extends his hands. Ruffnut punches his jaw.
"Yep, nice hug," Hiccup interrupts.
"It's there kind of hug. They punch each other on their jaw," Snotlout fills in.
"Well that's weird and disturbing," Astrid says, furrowing her brow.
"Talk about it." Fishlegs mutters.
"Are you all like this?" Astrid asks.
"Not this guy," Hiccup gestures to himself.
"I like that, I really like that." Hiccup slowly walks to her, smiling all the way.
"I'm glad you do," Hiccup whispers in her ear.
"Hiccup and Astrid, sitting on the couch, F-U-C." Astrid punches Snotlout stomach followed by a quick kick in the crotch area. "OH," Snotlout groans, toppling over in pain. "This girl will kill me."
"Glad to hear," Astrid smirks, folding her hands.
"Hey Hiccup," Fishlegs calls. He had been occupying his time by observing each of the weapons, ignoring the other playful antics. "All the dead will rise, including the one that was dead right?"
Hiccup raises an eyebrow. He ponders on the question. "Maybe..." Hiccup answers, not too sure.
"But this place was a graveyard," Snotlout gasps.
Fishlegs shivers and arms himself with a baseball bat. Tuffnut grabs his sister hand ad drags her to the table. They both picked a steel bat. Astrid hovers her hand over the scythe, eyes darting to every corner of the room. Hiccup straps on the twin swords and Snotlout holds his trusted rod to his chest.
"I guess it's time to go," Hiccup grumbles.
And suddenly, a hand propels out of the sand ground and grabs Hiccup feet. Astrid swings her scythe, chopping the hand with one swipe.
"Well your handy with that," Hiccup praises. "You just got more useful." Astrid smiled.
"Cuddling is not all that comes with the pack."
"Grab the supplies and everything else useful and let's get the hell outta here!" Ruffnut panics.
And suddenly, the dead woke. They rise from the dirt, bringing countless others. Morals and queasy stomach be damned, they all hack, slash and swing for a free path to the door. Blood coats their weapon like a blanket, they are panting as they emerge from the attic and surprisingly the house is empty. They never think. It is all instincts. It is fighting for survival, for another day and another breath. Hiccup glances back and sees the attic piled with corpse on corpse. He thanks god they're all safe and follows the others.
Snotlout briefly stops to take a last look at his dead family.
"Hurry up," Hiccup barks, "We don't have all day."
"They had always wanted to be cremated, not buried," he said. Though he was never there for them, he's here now. And he'll make sure they have their last wish. He runs to the kitchen and releases all the gas in the air. Then he runs to the exit, mutters 'goodbye' to them, scratch a match and throws it in the house. His once called house explodes in a massive destruction. Thankfully he is clear of the blast and joins the other in Hiccup's car.
The tires screech against the ground for a few seconds before the car accelerates. The six all releases a breath they had no idea were holding.
"We made it," Tuffnut confirms. His friends nod in agreement.
They had been driving for hours. Hiccup eyes prickled for sleep but he ignored it. He sneaks a glance to the back. His companions are all asleep, snuggled like sardines next to each other. Snotlout lay awake with him in the passenger seat.
"The world's been cruel to us hasn't it," Snotlout says. Hiccup nods.
Indeed, it has. Resurrection was always looming over the world but he never thought it would happen in his life span. For Christ sake they are children, barely turned adults fighting for survival and already struggling. What kind of mad joke is this? Was this all a nightmare? A twisted dream the gods are laughing at right now. Or is this real, real in flesh and blood and will they have to endure this world for their short miserable life?
It seems like it.
"Is this how the world will be, dangerous and frightening?" Snotlout speaks again.
"More or less," Hiccup grumbles. He really isn't in the mood to talk. "I was thinking this was all a dream."
"So did I cuz but it isn't."
Hiccup nods. And they continue to drive in silence for a few more hours.
The sun is embracing the horizon by that time. Not yet setting but close to dark. They have to find a place to camp soon.
"Are we the only one alive?" Hiccup questions. He glances to his cousin. Snotlout eyes are close and snoring lightly. Hiccup smiles. Then, like a sign of hope, he sees a faint trail of smoke. His eye trails it and his sight lands on a camp.
A camp, with living people, who aren't dead. His foot mashes the acceleration. He feels like crying. Just when he thought there was no one else alive he found others. Other people, living and breathing and surviving.
He couldn't believe his luck. The campers stare warily as he parks his car. He lets himself out and glances back at this colleagues.
We would be doing this alone. Find the leader, negotiate and survive. He is quite handy with negotiating. But as he turns, his eyes meet familiar faces.
"Mrs. and Mr. Thorsten?"
"Hiccup!" The two runs to Hiccup. "Where are my two devils?"
"Don't worry, they're sleeping."
"Fishlegs parents, it's quite the surprise to see you two here," Hiccup says, after spotting the two. Don't worry your boy is alive and sleeping."
They are some other known faces there also. A Quarter of his class is there and some of the teachers are too. He smiles, a genuine smile after so long.
Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all.
Though the world might have ended, maybe, just maybe, it was the birth of a new one…
*Cheers*
Celebrate with me because I have finished volume one of the Ill Fate. I would be offering cookies and such but I'm not that kind of guy. Free BEER and WINE for anyone who wants. Enjoy.
Next Volume: No Hope
Next on HYTTD Ill Fate:
Hiccup freezes in his tracks, his eyes stares vacantly ahead. "Father?"
"Because you are not my son!" Stoick shouts.
Astrid glares daggers as the Mayor walked away. "How could he just banish him like that?"
"Please, please stop," Hiccup pleads, panting and thrusting wildly of pain.
"Boy, be quite. We are conducting an experiment here," the man says, as he brings the axe down on Hiccup's bitten foot….
I might have revealed too much.
Feel free to review.
mh10_anthony.
Cya