Chapter One: Late Dawns and Early Sunsets
For a foreigner Nik Mikaelson is pretty deft at navigating his way around the broken town of Mystic Falls.
He hasn't been here that long-four days-but he knows where to go and not to go. The "not to go" areas unsurprisingly outnumber the "to go." And "to go" doesn't necessarily mean a safe haven. It doesn't mean protection. It doesn't mean stay here and help will be on the way. No. It doesn't mean any of that. They just haven't reached it yet. Haven't discovered them.
He started out in Atlanta. What was supposed to be a relaxing trip to visit his eldest brother after-how many years was it now? seven?-and a lovely stay at the St. Regis turned into a makeshift melee fight to the closest stairwell and then having to leave through a fire escape. He watched as the city fell before night. Buildings set on fire, exploded. Cars blown up, wrapped around telephone poles. Civilians running up and down the streets and roads, bloodied and crying out Lord Almighty have mercy on the sinners and others spouting of their conspiracy theories the Mayans were only off by a few months!
It was frightening.
It was terrifying.
It was exhilarating.
Nik found his way to the car garage, but really there was no use in trying to get to his car when it was all the way up on the seventh level and there were so many vacant cars right in front of him. Oh, how he would miss his Porsche, but a Lamborghini Aventador couldn't really stand up against his baby.
Somehow he got the door to swing open (everyone has a little bit of super strength when the world is ending) and he when he got in, good lord the technology. Buttons, buttons everywhere. He was like a kid in a candystore. He saw a little red hood and he flicked it up. In the middle read "engine" and on the top it said "start." Start it was.
He peeled out of the garage, frowning at how disgustingly fast this city fell. It was like nobody noticed anything was wrong. He didn't, but in his defense, he hadn't even been there a day to notice anything serious. He was tired, jet-lagged from what seemed like a million hour flight from Wales. Sure, the people looked different, but didn't they look different in every country? There was a sickness going around though. That old lady he sat next to in first class kept coughing and having to get up and go to the lavatory and, what he figured, vomit. She looked kind of on the gray side too. But Nik just brushed it off as maybe her time was just coming. Oh well. Death happens.
But then at the airport, it was even worse. A place filled with virus and bacteria and impending deaths. The old woman collapsed on their way to baggage claim. She didn't get back up. She wasn't the first to do so, and she certainly wasn't the last.
The further he drove through the city, he saw just how bad it had gotten. There were so many cars trying to get out of the city, so much traffic that the police couldn't even control that people began to just drive on the sidewalk, grass; anything but the road. Outside of Atlanta was progressively worse. The authorities had lost all control; the US government was keeping hush hush about the whole situation, playing it off as another swine flu epidemic. But the people knew better. People who had swine flu didn't die and then come back as some hissing, raging monster.
A zombie.
It sounds weird. He isn't the type to be sucked up into pop culture, but the term has never been more accurate. Ex-humans running around aimlessly with whitened eyes, sniffing around for blood and their next meal. Their hunger never sated, thirst never quenched. An eternal starvation at the pit of their stomachs. Sickening.
It got worse the further north he drove. He had a set destination, Mystic Falls, Virginia. His baby sister and brother had been residing there for the past year. He tried to call them, but no one ever picked up. Either the phone lines were dead or...well, they were dead. He liked to think that they left. They got out in time. Rebekah wouldn't let anyone get more than four feet to her if she didn't like them, and Kol would have protected her with his life. He's protecting her with his life right now.
Nik likes to think that, because in Mystic Falls, there is nothing. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; someone has already tried to dispose of everything before it began. Bodies lay strewn across the sidewalks and streets, charred or just devoured to the point of not being able to return. A high school, "home of the Timberwolves", looks more like an abandoned warehouse than anything. Not a place of education. Today is the third time he's passed by it. He travels in daylight, scrounging up every little bit of supplies he can manage. He's been into infected infested drugstores and supermarkets, taking them out with a single shot to the head with a silencer. If he hadn't stopped at police stations along the way and cleaned up the arsenal, he'd probably be a straggler by now. Wandering around and picking at dead bodies just because he could.
His SUV (had to let go of the Aventador because, well, a sports car was good for speed and speed meant noise and that meant the horde) is filled to the brim with supplies he could manage (read: fight for): water, a few pairs of clothes, foods that can't spoil like canned vegetables and fruit, and guns of course. Automatic and semi-automatic. Sniper rifles, shotguns, pistols, assault rifles of different breeds, and a few grenades (which is nothing short of a miracle, but apparently the South is prepared for anything). It isn't like he plans to ride this thing out until the end of time, but he won't stop fighting until he finds his siblings or at least knows that they're fine. Which they are. They have to be. They're Mikaelsons, and Mikaelsons don't go down without a fight. Nik's father was always fond of that motto-may Satan torture his soul.
Nik parks in the desolate parking lot, being sure that there aren't any undead lurking about. He's not particularly in the mood to shoot anything, but if need be, he tucks a handgun in the back of his jeans and hitches an M16 over his shoulder. The only reason he's going into Mystic High is because there has to be something there. Whether it's Rebekah or Kol, or just food, there has to be something worth a little value.
He slips easily through the front doors, which aren't even doors anymore. Just busted out blackened glass. The halls are silent, they reek of smoke and sadness. He's been in other schools before, but there's something about Mystic High that screams not to be forgotten. Like this place has a legacy that needs to be upheld at any rate. From the trophies in the display cases to the pictures of happy groups of students on the bulletin boards on the walls.
The prom queen is blonde and blue eyed and all smiles as she stands next to a matching blonde boy with blue eyes in a winter scene. She looks so mystified as if she can't even believe she won the crown, but there's a flash of confidence behind her eyes that the camera catches. Nik sees it.
Below her is a picture of the cheerleading team. Prom Queen must be the captain judging from her being the sole girl with a yellow shirt on while everyone else wears blue. His eyes glaze over the girls until he stops at his sister. His breath catches in his chest a little. Her shoulder-length hair is in two pigtails and she's winking, holding out a peace sign in front of her. Her smile is contagious, her eyes are twinkling. Even in the dimness of the situation, Nik finds himself smiling along with her, if only for a second. Maybe he won't ever get to see that smile again. Maybe he won't see her eyes twinkle or hear her bickering with him or one of their brothers again. Maybe he won't and the image of something biting into her neck or any part of her body forces him to shut his eyes tightly and rip that picture down. He folds it a few times before stuffing it in his pocket and wishing the thoughts to just leave.
Rebekah isn't dead. Kol isn't dead. None of the people he cares about are dead. They're all...somewhere. They're hiding out in a bunker or up in a bloody treehouse or something. They're safe. Completely safe.
Nik continues down the halls of Mystic High. Lockers are buckled in, hanging open, or simply missing. Classroom doors are gone and desks are scattered about the rooms. Windows are gone, a fish tank has crashed and dead fish coat the floor, drowned by air. He walks through a corridor and enters the big and empty gym, save for a few scattered basketballs and blue mats. If he listens closely, he can almost hear the high-pitched squealing of fans at a championship game. Rebekah probably cheered at one.
He makes it to the cafeteria and stops at the entryway.
He's not alone.
Nik reaches back and takes the gun out of the waistband of his jeans and holds it up to eye level as he creeps stealthily into the cafeteria. There's a figure at the opposite end screeching and causing a ruckus, knocking into tables and chairs searching for anything to swallow. It moves around easier-faster-than any other straggler he's seen, and that is electrifying. He pictures that thing wandering in, dumb and clueless, believing that there would be something lying around just for him. Who would ever seek shelter in a school of all places? Especially in one where you could literally walk through walls.
But this beast is here, soaking up the same stale air as Nik and losing its mind. It's bigger than any other one Nik has unfortunately came in contact with, maybe a football player or wrestler. He's sloppy in his movements, bumping into walls and stumbling around like a drunk. Nik figures it's best to just put it out of its misery while its still so unaware.
He walks out into the open, taking long strides to the monster. Its back is to Nik as it roars at nothingness. Perhaps the emptiness in its heart is escaping through its lips and this is the only way it can plead for something. He closes in on it and fires. The loud crack of a shot erupts through the cafeteria and a bullet flies across, headed straight to the undead creature.
It misses.
"Shit," Nik mutters under his breath as the straggler turns around. His hair is as dark as night and despite the rotting flesh, he has a strong jaw. A strong face. His nose is completely missing and one of his ears is sliced in half, but something about him seems like he's alive still. That deep inside is still a high school boy who's fighting for his life. Nik wonders if this boy knew Rebekah.
The monster lunges at Nik and throws him off balance as he fires another shot, hitting it in the right shoulder. But that doesn't act as an obstacle. The zombie knocks Nik to the ground and falls on top of him, doing his best at clawing at his skin and extending out his neck as far as he can to get the tiniest bite. Nik rolls over to the side until he's on top of the monster and reaches for the gun that has skidded across the floor a few inches away. He grunts as he tries to reach for it, but the zombie is pulling at the fabric on his long-sleeve shirt, smelling the blood coursing through Nik's veins.
The zombie writhes beneath Nik's body as he keeps one arm on his throat and the other extended, trying to get the tiniest grasp of the gun. His sleeve gets torn open and he has no choice but to release him and dive for the pistol. He scrambled with it to get a firm grip and twists around just as it dives in for the kill. Nik fires, hitting him right in the forehead. Black brain matter splatters behind it as the thing falls face first and Nik rolls out of the way.
He lets out a breath and looks down at the monster, shaking his head in disgust. He inspects his arm for any skin tears, because if that's the case, then he might as well do himself in right here. Anything is better than turning into one of them. Anything. But everything seems to look okay, so he gets up and starts to the kitchen.
Nik stops short.
It's like a breeding ground. An endless pit of milky eyes and dead skin. They walk slowly towards the doorway, alerted by the noise of a struggle and three gunshots. It's like they all died and turned in this room like a family. Like they just gave up before even trying.
Is that what happened to Rebekah and Kol? Did they just stop and throw in the towel?
No. They didn't. They wouldn't.
Either way, it's too many to kill and it doesn't appear that there is anything left that can be salvaged. Nik turns around and starts back to the entryway of the cafeteria, but when his eyes set on the far distance of the caf, there's someone else standing there. He can't make the figure out completely, but he can tell it's not dead. It's alive. Very much alive.
A human.
A threat.
Survivors aren't good. They're a liability. And if this person saw his truck outside, then who knows what they looted. They might be in a group and his truck could be gone for all he knows. His weapons, his food, his supplies. Everything gone.
Before he can even react, the figure retreats hastily and Nik follows suit after them, weaving his way back through the cafeteria. The grip he has on his gun never wavers as he dashes back up the stairs and into the corridor where the doors are swinging shut. He pushes through and navigates back to the main hallway where the figure is just about to leave through the doors. A few yards away she stands and he can just make out a mop of blonde hair.
"Rebekah?" he asks, his voice so small and heavy with disbelief. It's not her. It can't be her. She would've recognized him and stopped. She wouldn't have just ran away from him.
"Hey!" he calls out to the person. "I'll shoot you if you take another step!"
She freezes, one foot on the outside world and the other still in the dark abyss. She lifts her hands in the air as if she's under arrest and turns around slowly.
"D-don't shoot," she utters as Nik steps closer, still keeping his aim straight on her. "You'll attract the horde."
"Where did you come from?" Nik demands. The girl looks scared to death, like she's never stared down the barrel of a gun before. She probably hasn't.
The girl swallows and sucks in a shaky breath, a thin layer of cold sweat forming over her forehead and under her layers of clothing. "P-please," she whispers hoarsely. Her blue eyes start to water and soon she becomes hysterical. "I just saw your truck and...and it was new so I thought it was help. Please don't shoot me."
Nik regards her with a softened gaze, but doesn't lower his gun. If he took pity on every survivor he came across on his journey to Mystic Falls, then he isn't so sure that he would even be standing here right now. This girl can't be an exception. She won't be an exception.
"You from around here?" he asks her.
She nods quickly and swallows down the lump forming in her throat. "M-my house is a few blocks from here." She points to the east.
"Who are you with? Where's your family?"
She doesn't say anything and bites her lip.
A slight pang of guilt burdens his chest, but again with the pity. He can't afford to take care of her. She's not his problem. If she survived this long, then she must be doing just fine.
"Very well then," he says and places his gun back in the waistband of his jeans. The girl lowers her arms and wipes her face dry of any tears as Nik steps past her and out into the daylight. He walks back to the truck and examines it, seeing no signs of any changes. Funny, because she had ample time to steal anything she wanted, yet she didn't. Why is that?
"Is it bad?"
He lets out a breath and turns around to face her. She's pretty. In that "there's only one female left on earth you can screw and it not be considered taboo." Well, okay. Maybe not. He'll put it this way, he can look at her and assume she's a pageant queen who has friends out the wazoo but is too insecure to even notice how many guys have their tongues rolling out of their mouths. Therefore, she is attractive.
"Is what bad?"
"Where you came from," she responds as she casts her gaze down at her bright red Chuck Taylors. "Is it worse? Is that why you came here?"
He narrows his eyes and walks around to the driver's side. "It's none of your business why I came here."
"Well, what's your name? I'm Caroline."
Great. Now he knows her name. When a stranger has a name, there's a little sliver of responsibility that is pegged on to you whether you want it or not. And it won't just go away. But this is the apocalypse. Kill or be killed. His death won't be because of her stupidity, and she's probably more stupid than she looks. What, with her bright yellow hoodie zipped up to the top and a long sleeve shirt underneath that. It's practically eighty degrees outside and she's dressed for the next freaking Ice Age.
But regardless, her name is Caroline. Caroline who just won't shut up.
"Yes. Well, lovely speaking with you," Nik says opening the door.
"If we don't stick together, then neither of us is going to make it!" she yells, and it's the thought of being swarmed in an alleyway that makes her chest rattle.
He spins around on his heel and draws her face closer, his gaze as menacing and strong like earlier. She trembles in her Chucks.
"Neither of us?" he asks. "Sweetheart, if you stick with me, you'll be the bait."
The color drains from Caroline's face and she takes a step back. Her heart rate picks up speed and this man's hard gaze puts her in a darker place she's never been before. He'll leave her here, to die. He doesn't care. She's no one to him, just like he's no one to her. She doesn't even know his name, and maybe it's better that way. It's easier to hate someone without a name.
But still. The last thing she wants to do is be out here on her own. It's already bad enough that she's practically starving and has been camping out on her roof for the past week, too scared to even think about sleeping somewhere else. Not that she can even sleep anyway. Whenever she tried to ever close her eyes the image of her mother splayed out across her bedroom floor always flashed behind her eyelids. She couldn't shake it out of her system.
She stands up tall and meets his eyes, the color of darkened sapphires. At this point, she doesn't even care if all he'll ever do is use her. He's...safe. Sort of. In a gun-toting British air kind of way. "Then I guess I'll just be bait then."
Nik studies Caroline for a quick moment, how serious her face and tone suddenly is, and he throws his head back in laughter. Sure it's the end of the world, but this is just too funny. Willingly she'll come along to be bait. Willingly she'll stay with him while he uses her to lure away any straggler or horde that gets in his way. Why didn't he think of this before? It probably would be even better than just ki-getting rid of the other survivors that wanted to accompany him. Strength in numbers and all that jazz, but more people meant more mouths to feed, and he wasn't about to give away everything he found for random strangers. It was all for Rebekah and Kol. God knows where they were and if they were starving.
"Are you serious, love?" he asks her. She places her hands on her hips and purses her lips. "You'd come with a strange man who could kill you at anytime?"
She tilts her head to the side. Any sign of tears are long gone. "If you seriously think I'm afraid of you after spending a week out here by myself with absolutely no hope whatsoever, then you're sorely mistaken. Love."
She rolls her eyes walks around to the other side of the truck and gets in. He looks at her through the driver's side, taking in how annoyed yet utterly terrified she is. She's good at hiding her emotions to an extent, but he can see right through that exterior. There's nothing there but a scared little girl. Fresh meat.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he mumbles as he gets in beside her.
"No, I don't," she admits, fastening her seatbelt in. "But anything is better than out there."