A note from ME! Here you go, guys…
Can I just say, writing this chapter was depressing. I had to write it, though – it's a major plot developer.
*Sniffles*
Chapter 5 – They discover
Matthew watched, concerned, as Alfred lay Francis gently on the sofa. The others grouped together, talking about their next course of action. They couldn't afford to spend much more time in one place, but at the same time, if Francis's 'condition' kept up it would be dangerous to move on.
Sitting at the table, Arthur ignored them, leafing through his books, his scowl deepening with every page. Matthew bit his lip as he moved across the room to sit opposite the Englishman.
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly. Arthur looked up in surprise – he obviously hadn't heard him sit down – before returning to the book.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He muttered gruffly. "Why wouldn't I be fine?" Matthew licked his lips in an attempt to moisten them. Arthur was very obviously not fine, but, knowing his temper, he didn't want to push the older man.
"Um… That thing… before, when you saved Francis… what was it?" Matthew asked hesitantly. Arthur sighed, before shutting his book and looking up.
"It was magic." Matthew chuckled nervously, not sure whether or not Arthur was joking around.
"M- Magic doesn't exist." Matthew replied. Something glinted in Arthur's eye, and the blonde leant forwards.
"Oh really? Does that mean you're willing to accept the existence of Zombies, but not of magic?" Before Matthew could consider his answer, the chair next to him was pulled out, and Gilbert flopped down into it.
"I want to know as well." He said. "So, what is this magic and stuff?" Arthur narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, and Matthew had the sudden feeling that Arthur didn't talk about this often – maybe not even to Francis…
"What do you want me to tell you?" Arthur asked. Gilbert frowned.
"Everything." He answered. Arthur hummed, and leant back.
"Well… As far as we know, Magic was first looked into – properly looked into – by Nicholas Flamel, a scribe who is rumoured to have been able to use Alchemy to-"
"-Create the Philosophers stone." Alfred finished, walking to the table to join in the story. He blinked as Matthew trained a surprised gaze on his brother. "It was in Harry Potter." He explained. Arthur scowled.
"Yeah. Not only that, though. Apparently, according to some speculations, he was also able to create the elixir of life. If he did succeed this or not, he wasn't the first person to look for the elixir. The search for the Elixir can be traced all the way back to China, in 219 BC, when the alchemist Xu Fu searched for the Elixir of life, although legend says he found Japan instead." Kiku and Yao, now listening from behind the sofa, nodded.
"So what do you think?" Ivan asked from his spot next to the front door, his childish voice dropping the mood, and Arthur suddenly felt like he was telling a fairy tale. "Do you think Flamel discovered the Elixir?" Arthur frowned, his brows knotting together.
"No. Humans aren't meant to live forever. Once you die, you've died. You can prolong your life with medical and magical care, but eventually it will take its toll on your body. That's just one of the laws of magic. It was the braking that law which got us in this mess…" Arthur trailed off, glaring at the wood of the table. It was safe to say that he now effectively had everyone's attention at this point. Feliciano was sitting by Francis's head, mopping his sweat soaked brow with a cool, damp cloth as he listened, and Ludwig watched from his place in the arm chair, his fingers knotted together, acting as a support for his chin.
"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked, leaning forward. Arthur sighed.
"Someone decided to be an idiot. I don't know who, or where they are, but someone tried to bring the person they loved back to life with magic." Ludwig looked up, training his cold blue eyes on Arthur.
"Are you saying that's the first zombie?" He asked. Arthur sighed, nodding as he rubbed his face with one hand.
"Yes. The first Zombie was created by magic, and so somewhere there's a zombie wandering around who can only be defeated with magic. You can't combat magic with man-made weapons." Arthur stood up, and cracked his neck. Matthew winced.
"If we can find that zombie…" Arthur started, looking into the distance. "Then, maybe… possibly… the rest of the Zombies will stop…" He scoffed.
"Well, that's impossible. We don't even know what it looks like…"
"We've seen it…" Everyone in the room froze, and looked around at Alfred. The American was staring down at the wood of the table, his hands clutching the edge as if, if he let go, he would fall. Ivan frowned.
"What do you mean, "We've seen it"?" He asked. Alfred snorted.
"Not you guys. Me and Mattie." He said. The wood under his hands started to creak. Matthew's eyes widened.
He remembered.
It was meant to be a fun weekend. Him and Alfred had returned home for two days to spend time with their mum and dad. They had a picnic on Saturday – walked to the park, sat by the lake. He laughed as Alfred picked out all the sweetcorn in his tuna mayo sandwich, throwing them to the ducks when he thought no-body was looking. They went paintballing on Sunday – Matthew had won with little to no effort, so Alfred and their dad introduced more and more handicaps.
Monday… Matthew had packed his bag, ready to go back to university, walked down the stairs…
And was faced with a destroyed living room, and his brother, a pistol held loosely in one hand, standing over the mangled, marked corpses of their parents, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared lifelessly at the figure crouched in the corner.
The girl was young, and would have been pretty. But long scratches made their down both of her cheeks, as if she'd clawed at her own skin. Her eyes were milky white and blank, and her body was scarred and warped, her skinny arms hanging loosely by her sides. A whimper had left Matthews throat, and the girl attacked.
"I shot her." Alfred muttered. "Five or six times, all in the head. They barely made her stumble… I thought Mattie was a goner…" He chuckled weakly, and barely raised his head as Ivan walked across the room, placing one large hand on the smaller man's shoulder. Matthew nodded. He'd thought the same thing. But then…
But then, giving a strangled cry, Alfred had thrown himself at the girl, barrelling into her and slamming her into the door. Her tiny legs had given in, and Alfred had grabbed Matthew's hand, and ran.
It had been several weeks later when, walking through a suspiciously empty street, Alfred had looked up and stopped them when he saw people. It had been in an open window on the second floor of a nearby house. A man they grew to love had been sitting on the window sill, his legs hanging down the side of the house, when a man they grew to respect appeared next to him, berating the auburn haired man as he brushed his own blonde hair back.
That was when Ludwig saw them, and Alfred and Matthew finally found safety.
Matthew looked down at the memory, before quietly standing up and walking out of the room. He needed time to himself.
Letting a heavy sigh escape him, Matthew wandered into a bedroom, before flopping down on the bed. He took off his glasses and ran a hand through his hair. He thought he'd been able to squash those memories…
Curling up on himself, Matthew didn't notice the door open as he began to cry.
A note from ME! Awww… Poor Mattie and Al… I imagine in a country ruled by Zombies, you don't really have time to mourn, but Al and Matt can't ignore their grief forever…
CYA next time!