Lyo Lateralis is my own crossover of some themes from The Last of Us and Army of the Dead, with all original characters.

Chapter 1: Plus One

He woke up to sunlight filtering through the make-shift shades of his hut. Val autonomously focused his vision on the golden beam and watched the particles that danced through it, checking for spores. Of course there were none. His hut was sealed up tighter than Fort Knox, but one could never be too careful.

Val sat up and stretched with a thick grunt and reached for his tan T-shirt and slipped it on over his head. He took the overused hair tie from his wrist and pulled his dark hair into a ponytail. Securing his black scarf around his neck, he stepped out of his hut into the morning light, scanning the forest for any spore clouds before he took a deep breath. It did well to take in his surroundings and exert thoughts of gratitude at the beginning of every day in this time. Val found that he could use every mood boost that his brain could spare. He whispered. "Trees. Flowers. Mountains. And another chance to see them." It had become his mantra, a prayer of sorts. Not to anyone in particular. Unless there was a god of dopamine and serotonin.

Beside his hut in a gentle, level clearing, he began his routine to check his garden protected by a semi-translucent tarp he had taped together to keep spores from landing on his food. Val ducked under the plastic where it was much warmer and had trapped condensation from yesterday's watering. The tomatoes were looking good, on their way to being red, squash looked fine, beans were on track (save the few beetles he had to pick off the leaves), and the potatoes were struggling a bit, but they were out of season so that was okay. He had another automatic moment of doing math in his head, about when these veggies would be ready to eat versus what he still had. It had become second nature to calculate his chances of survival in every situation.

Prior to the pandemic, Val delighted in keeping a vlog demonstrating and discussing the ins and outs of survival through techniques, tips, and general knowledge. He'd accumulated a hefty follower and fanbase on social media. It was fun. It was informational. A hobby. Now it was a blessing. He thanked his lucky stars that the thing that had kept him from getting bored before the virus struck was now the thing that kept him alive. And he hoped those who closely followed him before were still benefiting from things they learned from him.

After watering the garden, he went to check the traps to see if anything had been caught overnight. He hadn't had anything in a couple days, so he was due at least a squirrel. Fortune smiled upon him when he saw the telltale fuzzy coat of a rabbit in one of his quick-and-humane traps. Val raised his scarf over his mouth and nose as he approached and released the trap to remove the animal. He went about inspecting the corpse, looking inside its ears, rubbing the fur backwards, checking between toes for any signs of fungal growth. So far so good.

Val took his catch back to his skinning station, located away from his hut, and began peeling back the rabbit's epidermis. He stopped when he found an unsightly yellow mold on its shoulder just on top of the muscle and mixed with some fat. Under it, some blood vessels had begun to turn dark and grim. He sighed into his scarf and stepped away from the kill. He had been looking forward to meat that wasn't fish. But he was running low on some supplies. Perhaps it was just another blessing in disguise.

Proceeding with an excess of caution now, Val finished skinning the animal and disposed of the hide. He deposited the carcass in a grocery bag he kept at the station to take it back to his hut. Back home, he first stripped down before thoroughly washing his hands in the water basin with a bar of soap. He dried his hands with a paper towel, tossed that in the grocery bag with the rabbit, and used the last of his hand sanitizer all before entering his hut to put on new clothes and a new scarf. Val prepared his backpack with one of his last two smoke bombs, his flare gun he had never once used in the two years since the pandemic began, and some empty water bottles. Lastly, he secured his hunting knife in his boot, popped on his diamond hat, picked up his grocery bag of infected rabbit, and set out.

Behind him, Val rigged his traps that would keep his hut safe while he was gone. When he breached the threshold of the forest, the heat intensified. The sun was harsh even this early in the morning, and when it became flatter, he could see the atmosphere bending in the high temperatures, settling over the dirt. The little abandoned town was still standing when he arrived. Surely they had heard him by now, so he slipped on a latex glove and removed the rabbit from the grocery bag to carry beside him. He took his hunting knife and made a laceration across the rabbit's flank, letting its blood drip from its naked paw as he neared.

Moments later he saw movement between some weeds and a building. Val stopped and held up both hands, rabbit in one fist.

They stepped out into the street, moving smoothly like snakes through grass. Two of them strode down the middle of the broken road, a male and a female. She was in front, her chin raised as she sniffed the blood in the air, and probably to pick up some notes of Val's scent, too. He noticed a fringe of pink fungus growing out from behind her ear and parting her dirty hair. The male didn't appear to have any outer growths, though his eyes were just as milky as hers.

They closed in with two he had yet to physically see coming up behind him. Now that the male was closer, he recognized him. He saw him last time he had come to loot. This helped his chances of communicating, even though this clan pretty much had the system down. Val remained frozen as the female sniffed the rabbit, then his shirt. "Just passing through," he mumbled, not that it helped. When they gave him a little space, he stretched his rabbit hand forward in offering. The male crawled forward, emitting a couple clicks from his throat. He rather gently took the offering from Val and moved back behind the female. Now Val kept both hands up, palms exposed.

The female kept her cloudy eyes on him for a moment before her gray lips parted and a trill of clicks split through the territory with impressive decibels. Val waited until the two behind him backed away and the two in front of him moved aside before he advanced forward with a quiet, "Thank you!"

He kept his eyes peeled to observe the movement of the others peeking from around buildings and scampering across rooftops on all fours. He couldn't help it; it'd become second nature now. At least to everyone who was still alive. One didn't make it two years into this pandemic without learning a few new habits. Val's boot twisted an old newspaper when he stepped on it, the death count on the front page. Probably from a year ago. At least, that's how long this itty bitty outlet had been abandoned. But miraculously, the power had yet to be shut off here. Val guessed it must have crossed over with the power grid that ran a couple miles ahead, the place everyone had renamed The Hub for those who didn't originally live there. But to some it would always be Westchester.

He pushed open the door to his favorite scavenge spot, an old corner market and cleared the corners per habit before moving between the bare aisles with stray cardboard and containers strewn about. He hummed lightly to himself and opened a fridge door. Old girl was losing her luster, just barely keeping contents above room temperature nowadays. Of course, the water and sport drinks were the first to go. But Val liked to treat himself to some juice or a soda regularly for a much-needed sugar boost. Today was one of the last three V8 juices in the store, meaning the last three in the little town outlet. A shame, really. One of these and a couple grasshoppers made a meal that sustained his bodily needs for two days because of all the vitamins. Did nothing to stave off hunger though. "Bananaaa~" he sang as he slipped the drink into his backpack.

Val hadn't come for the drinks though. His golden idol was in the supply room in the back. He entered and moved aside the crates he had stacked to hide a chest freezer. He lifted the lid and inhaled the fog that rose from it like sweet incense. Resting at the bottom were two rib-eyes, a New York strip, and a filet cut. The Clickers and Stalkers hadn't noticed them, frozen and sealed up tight. Their sense of smell was great, but it wasn't that great. Val plucked a single rib-eye from the freezer and put it in his backpack, too.

"The infected, also called Clickers, have been known for their lack of intelligence, dependency on consumption of raw meat and blood, and fungal growths. They were the result of the virus, but now that a second strain has been identified, it is yielding vastly different results. While those infected with this second strain still depend on meat and have fungal growths, they are far less inhibited. The infected of the second strain have shown to have speed marginally greater than human speed and intelligence capacity for memory, colony structure, and organized leadership. So far, this second strain has only been reported to be contracted through bites, not spores."

He kept his eyes peeled on his way back out of the little outlet for the Stalkers who were absolutely keeping their eyes on him. But thanks to his offering, they were ordered by their hive leader to leave him be. Hives were an apt term for the colonies the Stalkers had formed. None of the reported settlements yet had been led by a male. And not only were all the leaders of each one female, but all the females appeared to rank higher than the males. Even Val had observed the males being submissive to worker females within their own hives. And while he'd heard reports of hives with female leaders who had chosen a male as their "king" so to speak, these kings were still not equal to the queen. It made him wonder what the feminists thought now. Access to the Internet was so limited, he didn't ever use it to surf hot, cultural topics. News and research was always the priority when he was online.

He took a longer route back to his shelter to check a big game trap he'd rigged and two more fishing traps, but what he found made him freeze in his tracks. A camper. With a fire outside. He quickly did the math in his head. When was the last time he checked these traps? Two days ago?

Before Val could think what his next action would be, the camper door swung open and a rifle was swiftly pointed at his face. "Hands. Let's see 'em," said the man who appeared to be about his age.

Val slowly raised both hands, each supporting a string of fish.

"You got any weapons?" Behind the man appeared a woman, also about his age. She peeked around him.

"Just my hunting knife in my boot."

"You want me to go get it from him," said the woman to her partner.

The man sniffled, then coughed. Hard. It shook his whole frame the way the main symptom did. He shook his head. "No. I think he's okay," he choked out. He lowered his rifle, and now that it was away from his face, Val could see how pale he was. Clearly wracked with fever. Now Val was doing more mental math for how sick he looked to how soon he turned. But the woman looked fine. "Where are you from," the guy asked in a croak.

Val lowered his arms again. "I only stay about two miles East. I was just checking some traps I'd set for food. I hope you all didn't get caught in any; I didn't realize there was anyone else in the area." It was odd to hear his own voice speak in such a way. He'd scarcely done more than talk to himself for a couple months now.

"No, no, we didn't hit any. Sorry, we could have messed up your good life," the man chuckled, triggering more coughing.

"You're fine!" Hell. He had to. "You all look like you could use a meal. Got one for each of us if you're interested." He lifted one hand of fish.

The man and woman looked at each other before he grinned and replied. "That–would be great if you mean it."

"I do," he nodded.

They must have been hungry, because the woman slipped around her partner to approach Val. "Let me help you clean them."

"Thank you, that would be great." He handed the fish to her, but he thought it best to let them provide the knives. Leaning over to retrieve his own from his boot at this moment seemed too soon still.

"Sorry, I will not be helping," the man said, remaining on the steps of the camper. "I've got the fungus parts covered up, but… just to be safe."

So, he wasn't in denial. That was both good news and made spending dinner with them awkward–though, it would have still been awkward if he didn't believe he was sick. Val nodded. "No worries. Thanks for your consideration."

The woman beckoned him to a fold-out table where she had prepared a simple cleaning station. She handed him a knife and they began working on the fish. She pulled her mask down, but she didn't really look up at him across the table. "I'm Jessamy," she said.

He noted her hazel eyes that were downcast, focused on the task. "Val."

"This was really nice of you. You didn't have to do this."

"Well. If I'm being honest, I'm a little tired of fish. If it gets eaten sooner, it forces me to go get something else."

She chuckled in a manner that conveyed she understood this sentiment. "It takes so much more energy to stay alive now, doesn't it?"

"You said it."

"Almost a 'why bother' kind of thing." She glanced at him. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. I totally get that. I feel that way a lot, too. Pretty sure everyone has felt that way at some point in the past two years," he assured. "The pandemic blues," he sang. He wanted to show her the same courtesy by lowering his scarf, but just because she didn't look sick did not mean she wasn't. He couldn't help pointing out the obvious. "He's not feeling so hot."

She shook her head. "No. He's not got much longer. We found out almost two weeks ago. So. Any day now."

"He's your significant other?"

Jessamy nodded, but it appeared she was too emotional to use any more words at the moment.

"I'm really sorry. Are you… provisionally prepared? Do you have a plan?"

She huffed. "Not really," she said through a tight throat.

He struggled biting his tongue. Damn his heart. "... I'd be happy to give you some vegetables I have. Just to get you through a few days to help you on your way to your next location."

Jessamy shook her head again. "No. This is already too much. Thank you." She set aside a fully fileted fish, ready to cook, and started working on the next one.

Perhaps it was too much. Too much for these times. But "these times" were so recent, they were not so far removed from a time when it was a relatively common thing to offer food to someone in need. Folks standing and holding a sign next to a gas station could pretty reliably receive something to fill their bellies. But in a very quick two years, counting his potatoes had become a daily stress factor. And it made him nervous to offer even four of them. But he did. Amazing how he broke his own survival rules the first time he sees another human in months.

Once the fish was cooked, the three sat around the fire for a civil meal. Jessamy, and the other who Val learned was named Maxton by hearing Jessamy talk to him, even had silverware in their camper. So, it was like a real dinner. Jessamy and Maxton shared some fruit flavored granola to pair. It got them talking about their favorite meals. Maxton was all about cheese things. Nachos. Chili cheese fries. Cheeseburgers with extra cheese. Even his desserts involved cream cheese. Jessamy was all over the board, however. She loved all the food. Meat, vegetables, fruit, chocolate, pastries, savory, spicy, deep fried, slow roasted, sauteéd. It was funny how every person who used to be picky or determined to maintain portion control only needed two years of a pandemic to become the most ravenous gremlins who'd daydream about all the food they wish they'd inhaled when they still had it available.

The conversation naturally drifted toward heavier subjects. Once they started sharing where they originally came from, it was typical to tell the "where were you when it all went down" story. Maxton had started coughing from laughing, so Jessamy did most of the talking. "We had a place in Kentucky. We were keeping an eye on the news and how the virus was spreading. The initial impact was actually pretty eventless for us. We evacuated. We went West. Kept going until there were fewer and fewer people. We didn't actually see our first infected person until we hit Kansas. We avoided them all pretty easily. Colorado is when it started getting hairy. The looters were scarier than the infected."

Maxton and Val both nodded in agreement. It was a universal consensus that humans were the worst part of a zombie apocalypse. There really wasn't much else to be said. People suck.

"What about you?"

Val inhaled. "Uh… well, I worked at a factory. One of the first that was affected by the virus in Illinois. Like you, I was keeping my eye on its spread. And I actually ducked out before the official evacuation and headed this way. I was fortunately into survival tactics and trapping before all this. Had a vlog, lots of people liked it."

Maxton chuckled. "That's lucky!" He was wracked with more coughing. This time, it doubled him over. Jessamy scooted closer to him when he choked and sputtered some blood on the ground. In his debilitated respiratory seizure, Jessamy and Val froze at the sound they had all come to learn so well, the sound they all heard in their nightmares, the sound that woke them from a sound sleep, the sound that had triggered a chemical reaction of adrenaline in the form of fight or flight. Two clicks uttered from Maxton's throat was all it took for Val to sit totally upright. He was already trying to figure out how he was going to remove this threat. They lived too close to him. And he could not simply pack up and leave his hut.

"Max. Look at me." Jessamy turned her partner's face toward him and lifted an eyelid with her thumb. Val glimpsed the beginning of a milky film in his eyes.

"Jess… Can… you go get some more water. Get us set… for the night."

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll be right back. Okay?" She brushed her fingers through his hair before she went in the camper to grab one of their five gallon containers and head toward the river.

Maxton looked at Val. "I think… you're here for a reason," he panted. "I need… to ask you… a huge favor."

Val stared.

Maxton reached for his rifle, cradling it in his hands. His clouded eyes turned up to Val again pleadingly.

The other released his breath he'd been holding.

"Please. I can't make her do it."

It was odd. He didn't really have a whole lot of thought or consideration he felt he needed to implement. Val swallowed and nodded. He stood and took the rifle from Maxton's hands just before the man doubled over in another fit of coughing. "I offered… to give her some food. To get her to her next location. If she hasn't been, I'll take her to The Hub. If you all have any money or anything worth trading, she can stock up there."

Maxton laid down in the dirt, barely able to draw a breath. "She's pregnant. She needs… vitamins… and someone needs… to check her iron levels."

It felt like there was a vengeful fist gripping his heart and it took physical effort to not let his empathy show on his face. "I'll get her in the right direction. I promise."

"Thank you."

"Is there anything you want me to tell her?" He clenched his jaw.

"I… pretty much already said everything to her… But… another I love you wouldn't hurt." His throat flexed and another click escaped him, making him cringe and tighten his features in fear and panic.

Val nodded. But he wasn't one to stand on ceremony. He pulled up his scarf again, checked the chamber, aimed, and cocked the weapon. Maxton kept his eyes closed. And Val thought it best not to think too much about it.

BANG!

The empty shell fell to the dirt. Val chose not to look and immediately turned away.

"NO!"

He looked up in time for Jessamy to shove him away and fall on her knees over her partner. She couldn't do anything except scream his name and cry. Her whole body trembled as she wailed her agony.

Val went forward and reached for her. "Don't touch is blood–"

Jessamy snatched up the rifle and whipped the barrel around to his face.

He took a few steps back and raised his hands submissively.

"It was supposed to be ME! I was supposed to put him down! Not you! We don't even fucking KNOW you!"

He spoke in just above a whisper, keeping his hands up. "He didn't want you to have to. And he said he loves you."

Jessamy's chin quivered until her strength left her and her arms dropped with the rifle. She fell to her knees in the dirt and sobbed.

Val's hands went back to his sides and he sighed into his scarf. He decided it best to let her cry for as long as she needed to before he tried to engage her further. Once she began to quiet down a little, Val crouched next to her. "Let me help you handle his remains. Okay?"

With a sniffle, she nodded and started to stand up. Val offered his hand but she refused it, apparently still mixed about a stranger being so close to her in such an emotional and traumatic moment. He waited for her to return from inside the camper to see she had a canister of kerosene. Val went to gather five gallons of water from the river and set the tank near the bank. Without any further communication, Jessamy donned a mask and she and Val gently rolled Maxton's body onto a blanket and together they pulled the blanket toward the river.

Val cleared a spot of as much brush and foliage as he could, then thoroughly dampened the ground with water before pulling Maxton on top. With his face covered, Jessamy continued to cry again as she poured kerosene over the body. By the time she lit the match and had the bravery to drop it, she was wailing again. He felt like he should console her, but Val remained standing on the other side of the body. And he stood there with her for as long as she wanted to. He didn't make a move until she had turned to saunter back to her camper, hugging herself. He followed her, the fire crackling behind them and the smoke rising high in the sky.

He let her sit in silence and reverence for a moment. Grief had thrown her into the first stage likened to catatonia. But Val said her name after a few minutes in a soft tone. "Jessamy."

She slowly looked at him. She was trembling a little.

"How far along are you."

Jessamy dried her eyes. "Three months. Give or take."

Val nodded thoughtfully. "So… I promised that I would take you to The Hub. Maxton said you needed some prenatal vitamins. And we need to find someone who can do a blood test to check your iron levels. And…" he shrugged, "any other relevant levels."

She sniffled. "How far away is it."

"About four miles Northwest. Used to be Westchester. They got a little bit of everything there. Probably can find your vitamins pretty easily. And someone should have a contact for a doctor or nurse. And get you stocked up for… wherever you want to go next."

She nodded back to him. "Can… can we just… chill for tonight though," she all but whispered, the fire still crackling behind them.

"Of course. We don't have to lift a finger until tomorrow. I think you should try to get some rest. I'll keep watch out here." The fire might have drawn unwanted attention. But they didn't have a whole lot of options.

Jessamy stood up again, hugging herself. "Thanks, Val. For… all your help and stuff," she croaked.

He pursed his lips sadly. "You're welcome. Hope you can sleep." He gave a lazy wave.

She looked over her shoulder at him, almost like she was having more conflicting thoughts. But she still went in her camper and closed the door.

Val sighed. That all went way too fast. But what else was he supposed to do? He leaned back in the dirt to see if he could find a comfortable position. If he was being honest, he wasn't sure he could let her go alone. Yes. Yes he could. No. No he couldn't. He closed his eyes.

Hell. Guess he was a plus one now.