notes: i wrote this up at two am don't shoot me.
dedication: to amenah, who deserves so much better than this piece of trash.

.

.

.

(a zombie memoir, wherein girls get shit done and that's about it.)

.

act iv

cheerleaders are vicious, or i broke a nail and now i'll break your face

.

{the danger is i'm dangerous and i might just tear you apart}

.

—

Mirajane is on top of a barstool writing today's specials in bright-colored chalk on the board. She mumbles the checklist aloud to herself: soups, salads, sides, drinks—iced tea, she notes with a twitchy left eye. Again. For the third time this week. She likes iced tea just as much as anyone else who does, but this is really pushing it okay, and she's going to have to have a word with whoever is writing up the menu. And if they simply insist on making iced tea the special, then she is simply going to pour a pitch of it over their head.

Brushing the extra chalk dust on her apron, she delicately descends from her wobbly perch and hops to the tiled floor. Fairy Tail is strangely empty, even for nine in the morning. Usually there were dozens of people popping in and out for breakfast or coffee or something, but she has yet to see one soul today. The weekend cook hasn't come in yet either, or her shift partner. Mira glances up at the clock ticking away and narrows her eyes.

Speaking of shifts and absentee workers, Cana still isn't walking through the doors. It's Saturday, so logically the brunette should already be smacking away on her gum, dressed in the short ugly-orange and red uniform with the zipper down too low, and complaining about her sketchy side business. But she is, in fact, not lazing around cutting tarot cards and applying a copious amount of dark lipstick or chatting up friends who walk through the door instead of actually taking their orders.

Kianna is rooting around somewhere in the storage room, looking for the ever elusive extra notepads and pens. Bless her heart, this morning she came in wearing snakeskin heels and wobbling like Bambi on ice. "I can't do this," she'd mumbled, and then informed the other girl that she was taking a double shift. She too kind, and takes double shifts all the time—usually covering for (surprise, surprise) Cana, but without actually covering for her. The short-haired girl claimed that it was 'the wildest coincidence' but Mirajane knew better. In her own biased opinion, Cana is out too much and Kianna needed to get out more.

She thinks about her younger brother and sister probably still sleeping back at home. They're the reason she's working this job, she reminds herself, even though in all honesty it isn't that bad. The pay is decent enough, and sometimes she gets to take leftovers home, and—

Her late coworker bursts through the door, the tiny bell dangling above it going nuts, and slams it shut behind her. "Zombies," she chokes out, hair sticking out in all directions and a panicked expression on her face.

Mira looks up from the glass she's cleaning just in time to see Cana sprint across the room, jump several tables and chairs, and then proceed to hurdle the counter and slide across it like she's James Bond.

Mira sighs. "Have you been day-drinking again?"

"No," Cana says petulantly, "this is serious, Mirajane. He tried to eat me. I know I'm hot and all, but that is so far from okay. The cute guy from the coffee shop—" she pauses and shudders, fingers curling, "you wouldn't fucking believe—"

The doors crash open again at the same time Mira's about to ask if they need to stage an intervention. She puts that thought on hold and slips it into her back pocket for safekeeping and a later, at-length discussion. She puts on her prettiest 'hello, how are you, what can I get you today smile?' and grabs a menu from the neat stack on the counter and swings around.

"Good morning, how may I—oh my goodness gracious!"

Kianna chooses this moment to walk out of the back, several pads and pens in her hands. She drops them all and screams.

His eyes are blacker than Laxus Dreyar's mythical soul, he's missing most of his hair, and his jaw is snapping. There is literal foam—foam—cascading from his mouth and as he makes a grab for her, Mira thinks that either Cana hasn't been drinking at all, or she's the one who has.

Kianna is flailing and Cana is doing that creepy peeping thing from behind the counter while screaming at her all the while, and Mirajane thinks, why can't I just have a normal workday just once?

Before he can touch her, she ducks under his rotting arm and stumbles away. The nasty thing seems to forget her as soon as it sees Kianna, and it takes a step toward her. She frantically attempts to turn the knob on the supply room door and seriously, damn the manager for not getting that faulty lock fixed sooner. She's going to die and it's all because they have astonishingly lazy management. But before she becomes cannibal's delight, Mira handsprings across the room, vaulting herself off the floor with grace, and lands behind them. She grabs the nearest chair by its legs and slams it into the dead thing. Icky-colored blood and guts splatter everything in the perimeter, and all three girls cringe.

The zombie isn't dead though, and Kianna scrambles back as Cana tosses Mirajane something from the kitchen. She catches the metal pole, twirls, and swings it at the gross thing's head—which goes crashing out the window. ("Nasty," Cana comments from behind the counter.)

They watch in silence as it rolls in the street before coming to a stop, the two holes where eyes should be but aren't staring back at them.

Mira lowers her hand and the pole, and walks over the broken window. She pulls the string and the shades smack into the window frame, effectively blocking view of the street.

Cana marvels, awestruck. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"I was cheer captain for three years," the other waitress turns and gives her a sheepish smile.

.

(x)

.

"Well that wasn't in any way terrifying or scarring," Lucy mutters as she carefully eases herself down from her hiding spot. She puts one foot against the trunk and both hands on the handle of her ax in an attempt to pull it free. She'd swung it into the tree after the danger had passed so she could climb down without cutting off one of her own limbs.

She brushes bark residue off her shirt and grimaces at her surroundings, coming to the decision that she needs to get off the man road as fast as humanly possible. those zombies had been trying to get at her for hours, and the only reason she's even on solid ground now and now still holding the title of 'world's actual best tree hugger' is because some poor, unlucky suckers had run past her. Instead of trying to claw their way to a seemingly unreachable target, the walkers had apparently made a communal decision to get a meal on the run. Literally.

(Real fast food, she thinks and laughs at her own bad joke. then she clamps her mouth shut and wonders if this apocalypse thing is driving her insane. Or maybe it was just that five hour stint where an old oak tree was her best friend, and she had to seriously pee for the last three.)

Lucy cautiously peers around before high-tailing it to any other street besides main. All she wants to do is curl up in a ball and cry. Or maybe lock herself away from the world with a consoling cup of hot chocolate and five-hundred page novel. A mani-pedi sounds nice too, but that's absolutely out of the question. Really, there's only one thought plaguing her mind, rising above all others and far surpassing the danger alarm going off in her head.

"I gotta pee like crazy bad," she whispers to herself.

And she's hungry, okay. So frickin' hungry. She hasn't eaten anything in like, six hours. That is two hours too many, and even then, it was a strawberry Danish. Curse her petty inableness to refuse Juvia's (super, extremely tempting) offer for breakfast. Which, by the way, she never got.

All because the world decided to end by zombie infestation.

She's really mad, okay, and she's not going to die until she can at least find someone to vent and scream her frustrations to. And even then she's not going to die, mainly because she refuses to be killed by zombies. Ugh.

Something moving down the street makes her duck for cover. Normally, she wouldn't be able to notice things like this, but after spending five hours up in a tree, she's become one with Mother Nature and has enhanced hearing like a bat. Whatever it is, it's quiet, probably trying not to be seen. Her hopes soar—is it another living human being? Is her luck finally taking a turn for the better? Her father always did use to say that she was her parents' "Lucky Lucy."

Then again, it could also be a walker searching for food.

Wow Lucy, helpful much?

She peers around the corner, mostly because there's no other way of proving or disproving her theories, and almost bursts into song at what she sees. 'Let's Dance to Joy Division' seems fittingly appropriate.

Throwing all caution to the wind—well, not really, she checked both ways five times before running out into the open—she sprints across the street and after the figure. "Juvia," she breathes, not even caring about the bloodied shovel in the other girl's hands. "You're alive."

Juvia is equally as ecstatic, though Lucy doubts she'd spent the better half of the day clinging to a stick for dear life. "Lucy!"

The blonde pulls Juvia into a hug. "You're real. That's good. I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating for about—since I stupidly ran out here to check."

Juvia looks at the ax smeared with blood and odd chunks of flesh so close to her face with some concern, but otherwise hugs her friend back. Lucy pulls back and huffs some fringe out of her eyes. "So. Zombies."

"Insane," Juvia agrees.

Lucy gestures helplessly to the world falling apart around them.

There's a moment of silence—eerie, unsettling silence that's been looming over them all day; the world is nothing but silent unless you're being chased by the undead—before they both speak at the same time.

"Have you seen Gray?"

"Did you see Natsu?"

They stare at each other, then avert their gazes in burning embarrassment. Lucy is the first to break the gloomy air that's settled in around them. "I um, I haven't seen Gray today. I'm sorry."

Juvia nods, barely meeting her eyes. "Natsu's probably fine. He has an awful lot of canned Manwich in his pantry."

The blonde laughs, then scoffs. "Yeah well, you haven't seen his linen closet. The moron practically lives off of spray cheese and bologna. He's helpless."

"Except for the fact that he's been preparing for this his whole life."

She does not say 'zombie apocalypse' because it's not really something either of them like to talk about. Or want to acknowledge is actually happening more than absolutely necessary.

Lucy runs her arm. "Gray's a tough guy. He can eat like twelve snow cones and not get a brain freeze. Also, remember that time when he got locked out of his house in his boxers in the middle of winter? There was like three feet of snow and he was okay. Pretty sure he's a freak of nature at this point, but."

Juvia cracks a weak laugh, and they share a small smile. The thought strikes the blonde that they should probably get going like ASAP, but for a second, it's nice to pretend that everything is normal and they're just two teenage girls talking like the world isn't dying around them. And that's when the familiar but horrifying sound starts.

The pounding of feet, the low groan of dozens of dead beings all at once, the onslaught of zombies headed straight toward them. Predictable, really, she should have known.

"Holy shit," Lucy breathes. "They've returned."

Juvia gives her a look that clearly says, 'you're my friend but I think you might have lost your mind.' the blonde waves her away and heaves her ax up. "Long story that we really don't have time for right now. But those guys," she points at the horde just coming into view—it's smaller than before, though, so that's good—and looks at her friend, "are no bueno."

There's a lady in a shoddy velour pink sweatsuit leading the pack, and Lucy's lip curls up in disgust. She swings her ax into position, beside her, Juvia raises her shovel in a menacing way. Despite the fact that she doesn't look very menacing wearing a flower crown and a floral print skirt, but hey. Badassery does not judge, and it looks great in pretty clothing.

"So what's the plan, Lucy?"

The blonde glances at her friend from her peripheral. "Reach Fairy Tail as soon as possible and look for Natsu because he's a crazy bastard who hordes protein bars and rock climbing equipment. But for now," she braces herself, "seek and destroy."

.

(x)

.

Lisanna wakes up to the smell of something burning.

Or she thinks that she's awake, anyway. It's a bit hard to tell because everything is dark and her eyes feel like they've been glued shut for ages. She wonders if this is what Sleeping Beauty felt like when she awoke from her cursed slumber. Only, at least she was kissed awake and not brought back to consciousness because of the putrid smell of…whatever that is.

She blinks groggily and attempts to sit up, but decides against it. Her body feels like she's been hit head-on by a truck—another side effect she's sure that Aurora didn't have to endure in the fourteenth century. Also, there's something heavy blocking her front sitting up very far, and she can't move it. Instead, she lies on the asphalt and tries to remember how she got to where she is now.

As it turns out, the only thing she can recall is Mirajane leaving the house at six this morning for Fairy Tail. Two hours later, she dragged herself downstairs for breakfast—toaster waffles drowned in syrup and smothered with peanut butter, collapsed onto the couch to watch a movie, and—

That's about it.

Which is crazy, because for some reason it feels like it's been hours since then. What could have possibly—oh gosh, had she been in a car accident? Is she trapped under what's left of the vehicle? Does she have short-term amnesia? What about Mira? And Elfman? Where is her brother, anyway?

Her thoughts come to an abrupt halt when she hears footsteps coming toward her. Well, maybe not, but they're certainly out there, and she wants to be as well. She pounds her fists on whatever is on top of her—sounds and feels like metal—and starts to yell. Maybe it's the EMTs? Except, she didn't hear any sirens wailing from the ambulance. That's weird, it's super weird.

The footsteps pick up their pace and stop outside her makeshift prison. Another set comes pounding up the pavement, and there's an awful creak of crushed metal as she's freed. And temporarily blinded apparently.

Lisanna cringes and brings her hands to her face to shield it from the bright sun. "Eugh."

Hands reach down and lift her out of the—what is that? a crater?—she's in, and she wobbles when they stand her up. Squinting, she peeks at the somewhat familiar My Chemical Romance shirt. What? Where has she seen that before? The thought is eating away at the back of her mind and she swears it's on the tip of her tongue, but for some odd reason, it refuses to come out.

"Where am I? What happened?"

"You just slept through the end of the world, babe."

"Shut up, idiot. Give her some time. She was in a fucking explosion."

Wait. Wait a second. She knows those voices.

Lisanna's sight suddenly hits her at full force, and she's left to gawk up at the forms of Laxus Dreyar and Bixlow…she doesn't even knows his last name. They graduated with her sister, it's not like she knows them that well. But she does know them, and they don't usually carry bloodied makeshift weapons or go around saving girls from—wait, did Laxus say she was in an explosion?

She takes a shaky step toward them and almost trips over her own feet. "Did—did you say the end of the world? And that I was in an explosion?"

For the first time, she truly takes in the world around her. It is, for lack of a better word, burning. Magnolia looks exactly like a casualty town from one of those stupid horror flicks Mira used to love and Elfman would always cry through. And is that someone's head on a stick?

Bixlow grins down at her, and it makes her think he's slightly maniacal. "Welcome to the zombie apocalypse, sweetheart. You've got yourself a front row seat to the destruction of the world. Want some popcorn?"

"My name," she bites out, "is Lisanna. I'm Mirajane's younger sister. You know, the rocker chick you turned saint that you two graduated with? Have you seen my brother? He's like, yea high," she stands on her toes and holds her hand up as far as she can," with a bad scar on his face? Looks like he works out in the gym all day, every day. Is always raving about masculinity?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry honey, haven't seen him. You look like the only survivor of this mess. How'd you end up here, anyway?"

She scowls at him. "It's Lisanna. And I don't remember, jerk."

Laxus runs a hand through his hair—it always looks like he stuck scissors in an electric socket and got fried. "Well, listen kid. We gotta keep moving. We're looking for a friend. Your sister works at Fairy Tail, right? We can drop you off there if she's still around."

Lisanna mumbles something about not being a kid, and crosses her arms. "Fine. But we have to look for my brother too. He's important to me."

Bixlow throws his arms around both of them. "Yeah! In all the movies, it's always good to stay in groups."

Lisanna refrains from informing of the fact that almost everyone in those supposedly helpful groups usually died, and ducks out from under his elbow. This isn't a permanent thing, she tells herself. It's just until she can find her siblings. That's it.

tbc.

end notes: also shoutout to outcarnate. i freaked when i read your review. seriously you're too kind. i am but a humble potato farmer compared to you okay.