Nooooooot the first zombie fic in the DPverse. Damn. I didn't even get a chance to check before people were leaving reviews. Lol. Guys, it didn't offend me, I had a feeling it had been done before. I was gonna be really, really surprised if this was the first zombie fic in this fandom. Don't worry about offending me with that stuff. I take offense to people who insult me when they review. If you like my writing, awesome. If you don't like it, that's fine. It's your opinion, and I'm not gonna get all pissy because you don't like my writing. But if you start insulting me as a human being?

Bro, that's when I start having a problem.

But, yeah, don't worry about offending me with your opinions of my writing or pointing out mistakes I've made. I really don't take offense. The majority of the reason that I even have a profile on this site is so that I can get a feel of what works and what doesn't work as far as reading goes. I need you guys to be honest, because if I ever want to publish anything of my own (which I do, very much so) I'm gonna need a good idea of what people want to read.

Okay. Rant over.

Let me know if you think I'm going too fast or too slow with this. I think people are gonna get confused by something I stuck in later on, and I have a feeling y'all are gonna think that I'm starting to wind the story down because of this thing, but I promise you, it's far from over. I still have a big plan for these characters.

Um, let's see. No more character deaths for a while, so y'all can rest easy on that.

You're either going to be very happy for very pissed at where I leave this chapter. I look forward to the hate mail I will be receiving over the next few days. :D

I don't own Danny Phantom.

Enjoy (:

Wide Awake

Chapter Three

November 27, 2012

Danny stole a picture of her, if you could call it stealing. He snuck back, in the dead of night, just a few weeks after it happened, because he could not bring himself to leave without something to remember her by. He knew that without a photograph, he would start to forget what she looked like. And that terrified him, because his memories were the only thing he had left of her.

There was only one picture that was left untouched by the fire that destroyed her home the night of The Event, as he had come to refer to it in his mind. She would have hated the fact that he took it, that it was the only solid evidence he had that proved she ever existed, because in the picture she was wearing his clothes. His shirt. His hat. She was looking up at the camera with wide, innocent eyes, her lips glistening slightly with that hypnotic purple lip gloss he used to lust after, obviously oblivious to the effect she had on him. She swore she hated that picture when she was alive, even though she framed it and kept it in the drawer she kept all the things he had left at her house over the years in.

It was his favorite picture of her, partly because she was wearing his clothes, and partly because he had been the one that took it.

He started the grieving process all over again when he found it. The picture was fairly recent, taken just a few months before the start of the epidemic. He pulled it out of the shattered frame it once sat in, folded it, and carefully tucked it into his wallet, which miraculously survived the dump the night his mother emptied his backpack and his entire world fell apart.

After that, he flew east, hoping he would find Jazz. He made it all the way to Boston, where the zombie population was unbelievably thick. He was invisible the entire time he floated over the city, staring in disgust and disbelief at the scenery. He made it to the Auburn University campus, which was nearly destroyed in what looked like was the largest fire Boston had ever seen. The vast majority of the campus was scorched. So he merely turned and floated away without even trying to search the rubble, numbly attempting to come to terms with the fact that he was now officially completely alone.

For a year, he drifted. Besides the first day, when he scavenged abandoned outlet stores for tennis shoes to wear while he was Fenton, his feet rarely touched solid ground. When they did, it was only long enough for him to find something to eat. And then he was up and off again. For a while, he berated himself for flying over the mess. He told himself that his mother died believing he would be able to do something to change the disease. He was furious with himself for letting her die believing a lie. But soon he was able to fly without forming a conscious thought. He drifted, mentally and physically. The pain of everything he lost was too much to bear, so he shoved it all away. Vaguely, he wondered if he was losing his mind.

The only time he felt sane was when he pulled Sam's picture out and floated mid-air to stare at her. He memorized the contours of her face, the way the tips of her feathery raven hair tickled her jawbone, the way her collar bones were just barely visible poking up through the neck of his shirt beneath her creamy porcelain skin. He closed his eyes and pictured the way she straightened after he took that picture, eyeing him suspiciously, and muttering "Perv."

It was four months after The Event that he realized he could no longer remember exactly what her voice sounded like.

He saw uninfected humans occasionally. They seemed to travel in small packs. They were all incredibly wary of anyone that did not belong in their pack, which made the option of joining them next to impossible. He tried, two or three times, to join a group. He always ended up leaving. He was better off in the air, where he could make no connections. Because when you make connections, he reasoned, you start to care. And when you care, they die. And when they die, you get left alone.

His phone died fairly early on, not that it was a major loss. The cell phone towers were either destroyed or useless, so it was really more of a brick in his pocket than anything else, especially after it died. He cursed himself for not taking any pictures of Tucker or Sam or his family while he had the chance; he chose to fill the memory space with photographs of hundreds of sunsets.

Sunsets had lost all meaning for him. If anything, they hurt him, because in his mind they became a sacred tradition he shared with Sam and only Sam. He tried to watch one after The Event, and when the yellow slowly faded to orange, he told himself that she was the one lowering the sun for him. She was the one that was painting the sky such brilliant colors. She was the one bringing beauty back to the world when beauty was non-existant.

Suddenly his heart clenched, tears blurred his vision, and he had to turn away.

He flew aimlessly, unsure of what he was looking for. He rarely looked down, except to check that he was still in the United States. He was close to Mexico, once, when he spotted a sign that stated in proud, faded lettering, "Welcome to El Paso, Texas!" He turned to the north and started off again.

He was starting to adjust to the life of a drifter. There was no danger in the air. Screams for help did not affect him, because in his mind they were not real. No one was real anymore. The only real thing in his life was the sun, high above him, and his picture of Sam. The fact that he could no longer remember exactly how thick Tucker's glasses were, or the length of his sister's hair, or the color of his mother's jumpsuit, or the color of his father's eyes did not bother him. They were important to him, and it hurt him deeply that they were gone, but none more so than Sam.

His other friends, if you could call them that, rarely crossed his mind. He thought of Valerie the most: a grand total of three times, and two of them were only because he thought he heard someone down below calling out to someone named Valerie. He ignored it, as always, and continued flying.

He was not aware of it, but it was exactly one year and twenty-seven days after The Event that destiny intervened once again. He was flying, as usual, when something down below caught his attention and made him descend in slow, lazy circles. His head was cocked to the side, listening intently, hardly daring to believe was he was hearing.

It was music.

It was the first time he had heard real music since before The Event. He had heard people singing before, of course, but this was different. This was recorded music played over the radio or a CD. Someone had a giant speaker system hooked up, and was blasting music loud enough to be heard from at least a quarter of a mile away.

Danny paused a few feet over an abandoned water tower, his eyes zeroing in on a large storage facility that he believed was the source of the noise. He was in a small town; Clifton seemed to be in all of the names of the buildings still stamped over the busted doors. He chewed on his tongue and tried to remember if he had ever learned what state Clifton was in.

He peered down at the streets from the side of the building. They appeared to be completely empty; there was absolutely no sign of movement from anywhere. He straightened and stared at the building, frozen in indecision. He was curious, as anyone in his position would be. But at the same time, a terrible feeling was winding through his stomach, clenching unpleasantly and begging him to just turn and fly away.

Finally curiosity won out and he slowly lowered himself down to the streets and flashed over to Fenton for the first time since just after The Event. He walked cautiously, prepared to flit into intangibility and shoot off at the slightest sign of movement. The music was familiar, irritatingly so, but he could not seem to put his finger on exactly where he had heard it before. It was a female singer, with a raspy, soulful voice. For some reason his mind was associating the song with Sam, though he could not remember why.

He paused and closed his eyes when the chorus started, trying to place the lyrics. It was not until the singer insisted "that's not my name, that's not my name, that's not my name, that's not my name..." that his eyes finally snapped open and he remembered. The song was played in the background of Horrible Bosses, which was one of Sam's favorite movies. He chuckled as the scene replayed itself in his mind's eye. It was one of many scenes that made Sam choke for how hard she was laughing. "I'm gonna marry Charlie Day." She declared every single time she watched that movie.

He crept around the corner concealing the building and peeked out, glancing both ways down the cross street to find that he was still completely alone. He moved forward slowly, feeling a little ridiculous for how terrified he felt. The door to the building was slightly ajar, and it did not take much force to push it open. He stepped forward cautiously, the toe of his shoe barely brushing the threshold.

The door revealed the entire first floor, which was empty save for a few overturned chairs and desks. Every available surface was coated in a thick layer of dust; he could even see legions of dust swirling in the air, thrown into sharp relief as they danced through the slats of sunlight pouring in through the row of windows that formed a ring on the wall up near the ceiling. Thick pillars were strategically placed around the room, and he could see the speaker pounding out the music propped up against a closet door in the back right corner.

He stepped in cautiously, glancing behind himself nervously. He was still alone. His feet stirred up large clouds of dust as he moved toward the speaker, peering curiously around for the source of power. Electricity was a luxury he had not even heard of since The Event. He could not see any apparent signs of cords connecting the speaker to a power source.

The music was far louder in here than it was even outside. As he approached, his eyes started to water from the mixture of the pounding bass and disturbed dust. He coughed as he breathed some of it in.

Danny stopped just a few feet from the speaker, staring at it blankly. The black box was suspiciously void of the layer of dust that coated every other surface of the room, but the only footsteps he could see were his own. It was all very strange. He stretched his hand out, fingers moving to brush against the surface, when he heard the faintest click out of time with the beat of the music.

He whirled around and zeroed in on a thin, sickly zombie blocking the doorway. His grey eyes were on Danny's face, and his bloody lips were pulled away from a set of gnarled, decaying teeth in a snarl. The zombie growled, lurching forward, dragging his mangled left leg behind. Danny froze, his limbs locked in fear as the zombie slowly approached. Intangibility bubbled just below the surface, ready at any moment for Danny to push. But he remained frozen, suddenly imagining the way Sam's face twisted in sheer terror in the moments before her car slammed into the gas pump and her life ended. That zombie no longer threatened death. It gave Danny a way out. It quietly offered to bring about what Danny had been foolishly avoiding for over a year: a way to see everyone he loved again. It promised him the opportunity to see his parents, his sister, Tucker, and Sam in whatever lay beyond this damned life.

And so instead of running, or flying, Danny sat very still and closed his eyes. He could distantly hear the sounds of the zombie struggling to approach over the thudding bass of The Ting Tings playing on repeat. I'm coming, Sam, he thought.

"What the hell are you doing, midnight?" A female voice demanded sharply. He barely had time to turn before a blur of black and maroon shot past him, slamming into the side of the zombie with a sickening crunch. The zombie fell and Danny's savior landed in a crouch, busily checking the zombie with practiced hands for any signs of life. Through the suddenly clear doorway, Danny could clearly see a horde of zombies closing in on the building.

The girl glanced up. "Shit." She hissed. She left the dead zombie forgotten on the floor, turning on her heel toward Danny and running. She seized his arm, right above the crease of his elbow, and dragged him along, shoving the speaker out of the way and ripping the closet door open. He registered a few rats scuttling past, squeaking in indignation at the intruders, before he was shoved inside. His savior slammed the door shut behind them, plunging the small room into complete darkness. Blood rushed in his ears, spurring him into action, but he remained on his feet, shifting his weight nervously from one to the other. He wanted desperately to fly away from the mess, promising himself that his feet would never touch solid ground again, but he could not leave this girl here. Something about her reminded him of the home he had before The Event, though he could not place why. In the brief glimpse he caught of her, she appeared to be a wild, frazzled human being; thick, tangled curls of hair blocked most of the defining features of her face, though he saw enough to gather her skin was the color of rich milk chocolate. Her head was the only thing about her that was exposed, the rest of her skin hidden beneath a black-and-maroon body suit. He wondered how she could handle such confining clothes when the heat was so unbearable.

"Don't you dare close your eyes." She muttered, tightening her grip on the door handle. Danny threw his head back, choking down the urge to scream as the door began to rattle violently beneath the girl's hand. He could feel her bending, keeping her entire bodyweight against the door as the sounds of building chaos infiltrated their space. The music was still blasting, though it sounded strange and warped as it weaved through arms and legs to reach them. "If you want to stay alive, you'll keep those baby blues wide open. Got it?" And despite the fact that he had never been more terrified in his entire life than in that moment, he found himself nodding.

The darkness suddenly hit his senses like a brick wall. "Yes," He choked out, shaking his head roughly at his moment of stupidity.

"Good." She was breathing heavily with the effort it was taking to keep the door closed. "In the center of the room there's a lightbulb. A chain. Find it, and turn it on."

Danny did as she instructed, reaching blindly until his fingers caught the long chain the girl mentioned. He yanked the chain down, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden light that flooded the small room. He looked at the girl, just to find that her hair was still mussed and blocking her face from him. He was a little surprised to find that his own hair was long enough to do the same for him.

"F-Fenton?" The girl gasped. Danny froze, his eyes going wide beneath his hair. How does she know who I am? "But you're dead!"

"No," He said slowly, momentarily forgetting about the army of zombies attempting to beat the door down. "Do I know you?"

"It's me!" She brushed her hair out of her face impatiently, and suddenly her face was exposed. Danny gasped.

His savior was Valerie.

"Valerie?" He choked.

She opened her mouth excitedly, but she was cut off by a particularly loud gutteral howl produced by one of the zombies. "There'll be time to talk in a minute, we've got to get out of here." She grunted, banging the heel of her hand into their side of the door. "Go away you assholes!"

"What do we do?" Danny asked, his fear mounting. "I don't know what to do!"

"How have you been alive this long and you don't know what do to?" Valerie demanded, throwing him a look of fury. But then, her eyes widened. "You're a ghost! That's right! You can get us out of here!"

"How did you know -"

"Nevermind, get us the hell out of here!" Valerie practically leapt into his arms. He conceded, flashing to Phantom and forcing intangibility over himself and Valerie. He kicked off just as the door burst open and the zombies poured in. He floated above them, listening to the way Valerie gasped and adjusted to intangibility, before gliding out into the street. He dropped Valerie just outside the door, landing lightly on his feet and flashing to Fenton as she slammed the door shut on the zombies. "That's gonna hold them for a while. Damn. That was our best speaker..."

"Yo, Gray!" A masculine voice called from further down the street. Valerie glanced toward the source, shielding her eyes from the sun. Danny caught a look of disgust bending Valerie's features as he looked toward the source as well.

A thin man who looked just a little bit older than they were was loping down the street, his arms open and hands up as a sign of peace. Danny took in the stained wife beater and ripped jeans, barely covering a pair of combat boots not unlike Sam's adorning his feet. His hair was light brown and cropped close to his head, and Danny could see several scars winding down the man's arms.

"Lars." Valerie muttered, dropping her hand to cross her arms over her chest. She stepped out into the street, slightly in front of Danny, her eyes still fixed on Lars.

"Quite a scare you just had." Lars said, motioning toward the building where the music was still blasting and the zombies were still hunting. "Thought I was gonna have to come in there and save your ass."

"Yeah, well, I handled it." She spat. "Did you want somethin'? Other than to annoy the shit out of us?"

"Who's that?" Lars pointed to Danny, any pretense of manners gone.

"None of your damn business." Valerie snarled. "Walk on!"

"Listen, man, if you get sick o' her shit, come find me. We'll talk." Lars said, raising an eyebrow. He spared one last look of disdain at Valerie, before turning on his heel and strutting lazily down the street. "Tell midnight I'm waitin' for her!" He shouted over his shoulder.

Valerie stuck her middle finger up and jammed it toward his back, before rolling her eyes and looking back at Danny. "That was a douche you don't wanna get involved with." She said, before taking off down the street in the opposite direction from Lars. She motioned for Danny to follow her, which he did without hesitation.

"Christ, Fenton, how're you still alive?" She asked as they walked, peering at him curiously. Danny got the impression that she did not really believe he was there, as if she thought that he was a figment of her imagination. "I thought for sure you were dead when I saw your house...or your lack of house."

"I just...um..."

"Oh, I get it. You flew out. Tight." She grinned, showing no signs of animosity toward the fact that he was Danny Phantom in another life.

"You don't want to kill me?" He asked.

"Why would I wanna kill you?"

"'Cause I was Danny Phantom."

"Oh. No, I don't really give a shit about any of that anymore." She shrugged, turning her gaze back toward the horizon. "Y'know, it's actually really helpful that you're a ghost. Jesus, we could have used you. Could've saved so many people..." Her voice trailed and her eyes glazed as she lost herself in memories. Danny let her mind wander for thirty seconds.

"I have a lot of questions." He said slowly, watching the way the road slowly transferred into dirt as they walked. Valerie shook her head, snapping herself out of her trance, and gazed at him expectantly. "How was that speaker working?"

"What d'you mean?"

"It wasn't running on electricity, was it? I haven't seen working electricity since before The Event..."

"The what?"

"Oh...the night that...um...y'know..."

"Oh. Right. Um, no, it's not running on electricity. It's solar powered. Everything we use is solar powered."

"We?"

"I'm part of a group. A resistance, I guess. I dunno. Yeah, Tucker fig-"

Danny stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening to comic proportions. "T-Tucker?" He gasped. "Tucker Foley?"

Valerie stopped as well, her eyes widening in apprehension. "Yeah..." She said uncertainly.

Danny felt his knees weakening. "He's alive?" He whispered.

"Of course he's alive. Why wouldn't...?" Her voice trailed again as comprehension dawned on her face. "You thought he was dead?"

"I s-saw him!" He could feel tears pricking at his eyes, threatening to spill over. "I saw him, in Sam's car, when they crashed into the gas pump! Why are you shaking your head?"

She was shaking her head frantically, so hard that her head was almost a blur. "That wasn't them." She said.

He felt his knees hit the ground as they gave way, his mind and body reeling with the news. Valerie was crouched beside him in an instant, her hands on his shoulders, lightly slapping his face. "Danny?"

"They're dead." His voice sounded strange, like it was coming through a long tube. "I saw them. They were in her car. They were driving, and then they crashed. She crashed into a gas pump and they exploded. They died. I saw them."

"Danny, someone else hotwired Sam's car that night. They stole her car and crashed it into a gas pump. That wasn't Sam or Tucker."

"How do you know?"

"Because they were with me, looking for you!" Valerie seized his face, looking him dead in the eye. "Danny, Tucker and Sam are alive. Very much alive."

Please don't kill me too hard.

Thanks.

- Tori