A/N: Yes, another fic with my OC, John Gallagher, because this is an idea that will not leave me alone, and I've always been interested in the idea of a zombie story with superhumans that takes into account the fact that some would be completely unable to really be physically in danger. Sure, DCeased and Marvel Zombies are a trope of superhero zombies, but I can't say I'm that big of a fan of either, since it focuses on A) Making the superheroes zombies, which is an interesting concept admittedly, but not executed in a way that really interests me, and B) Makes the zombies either still have intelligence(Marvel Zombies), or able to use abilities they shouldn't have the brain power for anymore(DCeased).
Also, I've just been on a massive Walking Dead binge lately, for the show this time, and since it ended a few days ago, I figured, never a better time.
Unfortunately, I don't have direct access to any of the episodes, or a transcript, so most of what is written is based on memory alone.
John
There's an old zombie movie I used to watch. Night of the Living Dead by George Romero. I was born long after the film released, but I watched it a lot growing up. I was… you could say I was demoted, after I watched the Resident Evil movies and had nightmares. My grandparents let me watch Night of the Living Dead instead because the effects didn't look at real.
Nowadays, the tag line sticks with me.
"When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth."
Obviously, the actual cause in the film wasn't actually some voodoo mysticism, but you gotta admit, that is one memorable and badass line.
But lately, I've found myself remembering the line for a different reason.
When the dead did start walking the Earth.
From what I could gather before society completely collapsed, some virus started going around. People were going crazy. They'd get real bad fevers, pass out, and then wake up, stumbling around, attacking people, eating them.
At first, I just assumed it was just some new type of bath salts or drugs until Papaw called me in one day to watch the news, where the CDC were enacting quarantine procedures, and declaring a pandemic.
And it spread like a fucking wildfire.
To tell you the truth, I don't know how long it took for everything to go to shit. A few weeks, a couple of months… it all just kind of blurred together. My sense of time has always been shot anyway. I couldn't tell you what time it is from looking at the sun or the moon in the sky, except for noon and midnight. Some times it's a wonder that I still know what day it is.
But what I do know… is that I lost everything.
Even with my powers, I couldn't save my loved ones.
Mamaw and Papaw took James and Shiela to a quarantine zone. A shelter the CDC had set up in Cincinatti.
All it did was put all the food for the zombies in one spot.
When it happened, Alex had started sending people who'd volunteer to high-risk quarantine zones to help out, keep them safe. I wanted to go to the one in Cincinatti, but he'd already sent Peter. Rachel was sent over to Montana, and I haven't got a fucking clue where anyone else went.
I volunteered to go to Atlanta, Georgia. Apparently, they didn't have enough people to spare, and it was in need of help badly, so who better to go than the one guy who can take an atom bomb explosion to the face?
But my powers weren't enough to protect everyone when a herd of the dead rolled in. No matter how powerful I am, I'm still just one guy. Alex spreading everyone out probably hurt more than it helped, but I guess it's the thought that counts.
I can't say for sure since I wasn't there to see it fall, but the last thing I heard from my family was a phone call from Shiela, terrified beyond belief, telling me that Peter couldn't stop them all and the armed guards they had on hand were being overwhelmed. The last thing I heard before the call dropped was a blood curdling scream, and then nothing. Nada.
So I'm almost positive that they're all dead. I never could get ahold of Maddie, and I don't know where Levi is. I haven't heard from Peter, Rachel, Alex, anyone. All communications are gone.
It was three days after the phone call from Shiela and desperate calls to Maddie and Levi, to no avail, that the Atlanta shelter fell.
I tried, dammit, I really tried. I smacked the dead apart in droves and tried to keep everyone safe.
But I'm only one guy, and anything I could've done that would've annihilated the herd that snuck up on us would've killed everyone who was alive as well.
By the time there weren't anymore dead for me to kill, the shelter was mostly abandoned. Corpses of both zombies and the poor souls who couldn't escape littered the ground. It's… got me a little fucked up.
Okay, a lot fucked up.
I can still hear the screams of all the men, women, and children over the sounds of zombie snarls. Where before, my time on that table would haunt my nightmares, now it's that horrific day. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, and after encountering some of the psychotic fucks and sickos I did following that day, I hate to say that almost any motivation to help people is down the drain.
I just… I've seen people shoot kids point blank in the face without a second thought. I've come across sickos doing the unthinkable, raping and murdering since there's no law to stop them now. I've even had to put a few poor suckers out of their misery.
I still try to help some people, but it's more out of habit than motivation or want.
Though, I would like to find at least one decent person who's still alive, if only because I'm… well, I'm just desperate someone to talk to at this point. A companion, a friend. Hell, at this point, I'd even take Alex, and he grinds my nerves to hell and back with how much of an uptight ass as he is.
Like I said, my sense of time is shot, but I do know that it's at least been a couple of months since that day.
The dead can't hurt me. I know it sounds like I'm just some arrogant prick, but the truth of the matter is, ever since I got my powers, or would it be more accurate to say power, singular, not plural, I'm kind of an unstoppable machine. I wasn't exaggerating when I said I could take a atom bomb explosion to the face. When Rachel's powers built up to the point that she was gonna let a similar explosion off, I sat with her even though she told me to leave, because none of us knew that she was just expelling the power, not straight up bursting to pieces.
Now, you see all these things and reasons as to why having superpowers would be bad, and I guess there's some element of truth to them. After all, I have to have extremely precise control over every muscle in my body so that I don't accidentally level a city with a footstep, but having superstrength isn't as dangerous to oneself as people would think.
A lot of stuff you hear about having super strength in real life always leads back to you killing yourself the moment your try something, but no one ever seems to realize that if your muscles are that strong, so is your bones.
My body's more dense than titanium. I can shrug off bullets, rockets, and the aformentioned explosion. It's also the same reason why I don't have brain damage every time I move, because ever single part of my body is tough.
It's basic science, at least it feels like it is to me anyway. If you have superstrength, a by product would be superhuman durability.
But that being said, it also comes with the added bonus that zombies can't sink their teeth into my skin. It sounds horrible, but with what feels like nothing left to live for, I found a herd, and I didn't fight. I just got down on my knees, and hoped and prayed they could kill me, even though I knew in the back of my mind that they wouldn't fare any better than anyone alive would.
My skin still feels like skin. In spit of how tough I am, it's not like I feel like a piece of metal. Anyone I've touched, hugged, all of them would tell you that despite being pretty much impenatrable, my skin still folds, melds, and wiggles under touch just like anyone elses does. When someone tries to stab me with a knife, my skin indents, but it doesn't break. And it's not like I can't feel anything, obviously.
I let the herd swarm me. They clawed at me, bit at me, tore my clothes all to hell, and each other, toppling over themselves trying to get me.
Had to find some new clothes. Picked up a simple little shirt, a new pair of jeans, and I might've snagged a nice, smooth leather jacket I found that happened to fit me. At least my boots survived.
I sat there in that herd for hours before I finally accepted that I really don't have any possible way of killing myself, short of stopping my heart, the only muscle in my body I have absolutely no control over.
So, I just… I just kind of wander around Atlanta, now. I can go months on nothing but a candy bar and a bottle of water due to my biology, because I don't need to eat or drink regularly like normal people do. I would love to go back home, I really would, but everything's down. Internet, phones, GPS… and so even if I found a car or somehow managed to teach myself to fly a plane or a helicopter, I would have no idea how to get home.
You might wondering why I don't just jump my way home. And I guess that's understandable, since with my strength, my leg muscles let me clear miles in a single leap.
But the thing is, I don't have some sort of sixth sense like you see in movies, where characters can just jump directly towards where they want to go. I know where east and west are, cause you know the old phrase, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, but I can never remember which way's north and which way's south, and even if I could, I'm not confident enough in myself to know I'm going in the right direction based on where the sun's at in the sky alone.
I kind of just find a snack or some water, quench the want, rather than the need, for them. I'll kill any dead that come after me, but even though they can't hurt me, I tend to avoid them, simply because looking at them hurts.
Anyone else has probably tried to get it out of there head, make it easier to put zombies down without guilt so they can survive, both good and bad people. But since they can't hurt me, it's hard for me to let go of the fact that every single zombie was once a person. I might kill one that comes at me, and yes, a part of the reason is because it's a little annoying, but it's mostly because I feel like they may have deserved to be at peace, not shambling around as a mindless beast.
I don't need to kill them to survive, so it's not like I can just go numb and shrug it off. It's the reason why, in spite of that horrific day, I don't actively kill any zombie I find, even though if I truly wanted to, I could probably hunt down and slaughter every single one in the city.
I try to stick to the quieter areas, ones that look like they weren't as populated, in the hopes of avoiding the dead as best I can. But some times, I find myself longing for a change of scenery, and I take a walk through the streets of the city, between the skyscrapers, stores, apartment buildings, and office buildings that were probably once bustling with activity. I just stay quiet so as not to draw the dead on me.
I'd like to assume anyone still alive learned pretty quickly that noise attracts zombies like a moth to a flame. They don't have much in terms of brains, so they go towards pretty much any noise, regardless of what it may be.
Like I said, I still try to help people out of habit, but in spite of my desperation for a companion, I kind of just help out and go on my way when I'm sure they'll be okay. I'm just… I'm too afraid nowadays that if I stick by somebody, either they'll turn out to be some sicko, or…
… or I'll lose them.
I'm too scared to form attachments.
The feeling of losing everyone I ever cared about, regardless of if their alive or not, eats at me ever single second I'm awake, and some times when I manage to fall asleep.
I don't really sleep in a specific place anymore. I kind of just wander around with nothing better to do, and when night falls, I find a place that has a bed, whether it's some rinky dink old mattress or a high quality king size bed, make sure that I can sleep in peace, and try to conk out.
Going to sleep at night, even though I don't actually need to sleep all that often, is still a habit. Even though sometimes, I wonder why I torture myself, when I know that it's only going to be nightmares that await, and I can stay up for weeks before I actually start feeling tired, so…
But then I realize that in spite of the nightmares, still going to sleep at night every night is the only semblance of normalcy, a reminder of the way things used to be, that I still have.
But… everything changes eventually.
The streets are barren. Cars lie scattered across the city, left abandoned here and there, and considering the tall buildings that surround me, it's… it's an eerie site.
Kind of reminds of something you'd see in Silent Hill, just without the fog.
Based on the fact that the sun is high in the sky, even I can tell with my shitty sense of time that it's around noon. Unfortunately, I don't even remember when I lost my phone, and it'd probably be long dead by now anyway. And with pretty much all power shut down through the whole city, It's not like I could recharge it.
The only guy I can think of who probably has a phone, or anything really, charged would be Jason, and with pretty much all of humanity scarce to find, both superhumans and normal humans, it's pretty easy to believe that if he isn't dead somehow, he's just trying to survive.
Just like anyone else, I guess. As weird as it sounds to say that about Jason of all people
There was a time when I would've dreamed to be able to see a big city like this on a regular basis. But in my dreams, it's full of life. I pass people on the side walk, every single one of them going somewhere they want or have to be, while cars drive down the street towards different destinations, occasionally stopping at a red light or intersection.
Now, the only light you'd probably ever see working are those solar powered lights on a street sign.
I can't even remember the last time I've saw a lit bulb.
The streets are abandoned by the living, and if anyone is still in the city, they're most likely scavenging for supplies or somehow made a safe haven somewhere, though it's usually the former from what I've encountered.
Most of the zombies still within the city were probably some poor souls who didn't get out in time.
After the shelters began falling, I'm assuming the government, before they more than likely went downhill just like everything else, ordered a firebomb on major cities. It wasn't that long after that day, though how long, I couldn't tell for sure. I just remember hearing the jets while I stumbled down the street, and then next thing I know, I'm standing in the middle of a napalm blast, and then everything was just… silent.
Today's one of those days where I craved a change of scenery, which is the main reason why I'm walking down a sidewalk in the middle of what I'm assuming is downtown. I never really learned the names of these places. I wasn't here with living people long enough to, and in my head, downtown usually just creates an image of a few city blocks, filled with big ass buildings and and busy people.
Well, the buildings are here at least.
I'm not really expecting to find anything, I never do anymore. I managed to snag a melted Hershey bar the other day, so I'm not really wanting to eat, and I had a bottle of Gatorade, warm unfortunately, last week, so I got a good few weeks to go before I need to get something to drink.
I'm lonely, I'll admit. But like I said, I'm just too scared to form attachments.
I'm not ashamed to admit though that despite my strength, I jump outta my fucking skin when I pass by an alley, and hear a voice, hushed but clear, sound out.
"You trying to get killed, buddy?"
"Jesus!" I snap towards the source, my gaze shooting down the alley as I level out my breathing from the slight scare. My unnatural durability doesn't change the fact that sudden and unexpected noises, no matter how quiet they may be, make me jump, no different than anyone else.
I find myself staring at some guy. He's an adult, but a young one from the looks of it. He's Asian, I can tell that alone, but I couldn't tell you anything specific, though I do know he's probably Asian-American considering his accent, or lack thereof. He's got on a little blue hat, and he's wearing a white and blue T-Shirt with a pair jeans as his pants. And he's got a backpack.
I put the pieces together immdiately. Scavenger. Though, as rude as it sounds, not a smart one, considering he just scared the shit outta me.
He's lucky that since the dead aren't a danger to me, I haven't really developed the habit of killing anything that makes a sudden noise. Anyone else with a ranged weapon might've blown his head off, and if I had developed such a habit, you better be damn sure my first instict would've been to splatter him all over the alley.
"You're asking me that?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, old habits of smartass remarks shooting through me on the fact that I'm interacting with someone. "You know how many people I've met who met would've blown your brains out just now?"
"Not many, probably." He retorts with a quiet chuckle. "Probably know better than to alert the geeks if they're in the city, otherwise they'd already be dead."
I gotta admit, he has a point there.
"That's fair." I nod with a sigh. "But I gotta ask, why'd you call out to me? From what I gather, most people nowadays avoid both the dead and their fellow living." I tell him, and I admit I'm genuinely curious.
He gives me a smile. Now, I'm not good with telling which words are the truth or not by voice alone, but I'm very good with expressions, and I can't help a small feeling of… something, inside me, because I can tell that it's not forced or for an act. It's a genuine smile.
"I guess I just hope that if I help out someone nowadays, they'd be willing to do the same for me." He shrugged, but from what I can tell, his voice holds no malice.
I give a shrug of my own. "Well, I can't fault that." I say, and I mean it. There's nothing wrong with that kind of view, and something tells me that he's not doing this simply because of some sort of 'I help you, you help me' attitude. "But what makes you think I need help?"
His eyes widened, as if I've just said something completely unbelievable. "Your walking down the middle of the street like the city isn't filled with the dead." He answers, and I admit he's got somewhat of a point. The alleys would probably be filled with less zombies than the streets were, but since I can't really be hurt by the dead, cause reminder, I tried, I don't really feel the same sense of urgency he probably does.
"It's quicker." I answer calmly. "Maybe not as safe, but as long as I don't hoot and dance like an idiot, I'm free to enjoy the sites."
His eyes practically bulge out of their sockets at my answer, and I gotta admit, his facial expression is almost comical at my words. "You're walking down the streets to enjoy the sites?" He asks in disbelief.
I give him a small smile. "Long as I don't stir the dead, it's peaceful, and I gotta occupy myself."
"Are you suicidal or something?" He asks in disbelief, and I know it's a rhetorical question, but I answer anyways.
"Yeah, kinda." I admit bluntly with a nod, before I shrug my shoulders. "Problem is, can't do much when a bullet bounces off your skull and the dead can't even scratch you, let alone bite you."
He looks confused for a moment at my answer, and shocked, before his expression turns to one of realization. "You're a superhuman, aren't you?" He asks, looking even more shocked than he did a second ago.
Now, even though superhumans were public knowledge (Something I admittedly caused when I accidently exposed myself in Portsmouth escaping from Jason's chamber), normal humans still outnumbered us by a large margin, so actually encountering one randomly in public was rare, even rarer since the world went to shit.
So his complete surprise is understandable.
"Yep. Actually, you've probably heard of me." I can't help but remark with a chuckle, before a tell tale groan sounds out nearby.
Our conversation is stirring the dead, and if we don't at least move, we'll be swarmed, and this guy's gonna die.
And something in me, not just out of habit, doesn't want to let that happen.
"Come on." I say, eyeing the direction I heard the groan as I move into the alley next to him. "We gotta move, or you're gonna get killed."
He doesn't argue with me, instead turning to follow me further into the alley. "You said I've probably heard of you?" He repeated my remark, curiosity in his tone.
I can't help but smile.
When I revealed the existence of superhumans to the public, people started trying to attach labels to them like you see in a movie or a comic, before we started popping up so much more that it just seemed pointless. Though normal humans outnumbered superhumans, it was more like seven billion to three million, rather than it being like a thousand to one, or something like that.
Obviously, they attached a name to me. One I'm not a big fan of, but that everyone on the planet has probably heard a thousand times over by now.
"I'm the Juggernaut." I clarify, and I can't help the amusement on my face when his widen in surprise.
"You?!" He exclaims, a little too loudly for my liking.
"Quiet!" I snap in a hushed tone. Luckily, he wasn't loud enough to draw the dead down on top of us. "Yes, me."
"I thought you lived over in Ohio." The guy commented, curiosity in his tone as he brings his volume back to a more acceptable level.
I nod. "I did." I confirm once more as I smile at him.
"What are you doing in Atlanta, if you don't mind me asking?" He questioned as we come further down the alley.
I've never really ventured into the alleyways of Atlanta, so admittedly, I'm just taking us down a path that will hopefully keep us off the streets for his safety.
"Not long after I exposed myself, I joined up with a malitia of sorts." I began. "We'd go around the world, helping people, trying to minimize damage in disasters and stopping bad guys, stuff you'd expect out of superheroes in movies."
We come up to the end of the alley, which leads to another alley section, and to the right, I can spot another pathway catty corner to our own that hopefully doesn't lead to the streets.
"When shit started to get real bad, our leader, Alex, started sending volunteers to the shelters set up in the main cities." I continued my story. "The one in Cincinatti had already been accepted by a buddy of mine, so I volunteered for Atlanta, since it was a high-risk shelter."
"Oh." He seemed awfully quiet at my answer, and it didn't take much to figure out why. He probably knew about what happened to the shelter. "I wonder why Jim never mentioned anything about you…" He muttered.
I raise an eyebrow. "Jim?" He must've been someone who had been at the shelter. Someone lucky to escape.
"Someone from our group who escaped the Atlanta shelter when it fell." The guy clarified, confirming my suspicions.
"Group?" It made some sense, but so far, everyone I've encountered hadn't really been in any numbers higher than two at once, and usually, someone was raping or murdering the other person. So actually hearing about a group of people surprised me.
"We're set up in a quarry outside of Atlanta." The guy explained with a nod. "Me and a few others came into the city to scavenge for supplies."
I nod. If he's in a group, it makes sense that he wouldn't have come alone to the city. Though it may not be dangerous to me, I'm not stupid to believe that the same is true for anyone else. Honestly, I've never actually found anyone in the central areas of Atlanta. They've mostly been in little suburbs and warehouses, areas like that. "Smart choice." I commend it.
"Thanks." He responds with a smile, before sticking his hand out towards me. "I'm Glenn Rhee, by the way."
I nod, and I smile as I shake his hand. "I suppose there's no point in secrecy anymore. My real name's John Gallagher." I tell him as we let our hands drop back to our sides.
"So, are you alone?" He asks me, and admittedly, I feel the answer should be rather obvious.
"You think I'd be taking a stroll through the streets of a city if wasn't?" I can't help but ask with a raised eyebrow. "I've encountered a few people here and there, helped some of them, but I've mostly stuck by myself since the shelter fell."
"Why?" Glenn asks me curiously. "You could probably keep anyone you find safe." He remarks.
I can't help it when my gaze kind of just drifts off, getting the thousand yard stare as I recall the screams, groans, and raging fire of the day the shelter fell. "Too scared to form attachments." I've always been one for honesty, and while I so far like Glenn, I don't really think that I'll be sticking around long enough to form an actual attachment.
A part of me hopes that's the case.
Another part of me detests the idea completely.
"I… I guess I can kind of understand that?" It sounds like a question, like he doesn't really understand it, but he understands that there are possible reasons. "But I feel like any attachment we can form with good people these days are something we should cherish."
I can't fault that logic. "It's not so much that I don't want to form an attachment." I admit with a sigh. "I'm just… too scared to lose them."
"So cherish the time you are able to get with the people you attach yourself to." Glenn answered with a shrug, giving me a small smile as he joking smacked my arm, as if he'd been friends with me for years. Maybe it's because of the fact that despite the ungodly amount of power I have, I'm only seventeen. Even if he's a young adult, he's still an adult, and maybe he just makes friends easy. "No one wants to be completely alone."
After god knows how long actually being alone, I can't help the fact that I do agree.
"Tell you what." Glenn says, coming to a stop as he turns to face me completely, causing me to do the same as I look down at him. At seventeen, I'm about six four right now, and Glenn here isn't quite as tall as me. "How about you come back to the group with me?"
I can't help my hesitance at accepting the offer. "No offense, but as bad as it sounds, I'm more comfortable alone at the moment."
"But do want to be?" He asks me with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, you can't seriously tell me that for however long your gonna live, whether your comfortable with it or not, you'd rather be alone."
Once again, he has a point.
"And besides, if you still decide that you'd prefer to strike out on your own, you can leave, no one will make you stay." He assured me with a sincere smile. "But, maybe it'd help you, if you gave it a chance."
I look at him for a moment, contemplating my thoughts. On one hand, no attachments means no more heartbreak and pain. But on the other…
Do I really want to spend the rest of my life in solitude? And it's not like I have to stay if I decide I want to leave.
I don't really need too much convincing, but maybe… actually, no, I do have one condition.
"I told you who I was because I didn't think I'd be around you long enough for it to matter." I admit as I look at him with a serious gaze, causing his smile to fall off his face. "But, if I go back with you, the I want the fact that I'm a superhuman, let alone the Juggernaut, to stay between us."
He looked confused at my condition. "Why?" He asked. "Do you really think anyone's gonna hate the fact that your superhuman?"
"You say no one will make me stay," I recall his words with ease. "But can you seriously tell me with one hundred percent certainty that I'd really be able to leave without a fight of some sort, even if it wouldn't be much of one, if your group knew just who I was?"
The realization hits his face immediately, and he opens his mouth to respond, before closing it. He was likely going to tell me on instinct that I'd be allowed to leave with no problem, but I also think we both know that wasn't completely true.
"Alright." Glenn accepted with a nod and a smile. "It'll stay between us." He assured me. "But all I ask is that if you do choose to stay, you tell everyone else at some point."
Well, that's kind of a given, so I agree without a second thought.
"Alright." I say with a shrug, smiling at Glenn, and I hate to say that it's the first time since the shelter that I've given a smile to anything filled with only joy.
"Now, I got another question." He says with a joking smirk. "Do you even know where you're going?"
"Not really." I admitted with a shrug. "I was just trying to take you further into the alley. Talking to me on the street was stirring the dead ones, and like I said, kind of a habit to help people." I joke with a grin.
Glenn actually let's out a chuckle. "Come on." He says as he moves in front of me, more than likely about to take me to the group he's here with. "It's not far."
But we don't really get to make any progress at all when the sound of the dead ones stirring in the streets catch our attention. Now, the sound is a little unnerving, admittedly, but both of us also know that we haven't made enough noise to really attract their attention, so something is riling them up.
"What do you think's causing them to act up?" I ask him curiously, though I know he's just as in the dark as I am.
"Let's find out." He answers me, and then the next thing I know, he's moving ahead in a light jog towards the source.
I find follow behind him, and we make it through the pathway we're on before turning making a left, and going towards the street, where the snarls and growls of the zombies are accompanied by… the sound of horse?
Glenn crouches down at the edge of a building at the entrance to the alley, and I'm tall enough that I can lean over him and peak out onto the street, my hand gripping the granite building next to me lightly to steady myself.
And both our eyes are going wide.
Some guy on a horse, who I'm assuming used to be a cop judging by his outfit, is riding out in the middle of the street. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it's the clap of the horses hooves on the ground gaining the unwanted attention, and the horse beginning to panic certainly doesn't help things.
The guy in the street has a bag of what I'm assuming is guns and probably ammo to, but using any of it is not a good idea in the streets. I can make out a tank nearby, and unless he somehow manages to slip through the horde, that tank hiding away in that tank until the herd thins out is the only the poor schmuck is gonna live.
And when the horse goes down, he seems to realize that too.
Me and Glenn watch the guy crawl under the tank, and a good chunk of the zombies are trying to get to him badly, while another chunk of the herd that's been stirred are now feasting on the down horse.
Glenn might be able to see him better from where he's crouched down lower, but once the guy goes under the tank, I can't see anything.
"He crawled into the tank through the hatch at the bottom." Glenn suddenly says as he shrugs off his backpack. I watch him unzip it, and then he pulls out a walkie talkie, or a radio, if you want to call it that. "If we're lucky, there's a radio in there, and since it's a tank, the radio will be on the same frequency as mine."
"Give it a sec." I advise him. I can see the bag of guns, and a cowboy hat the man was wearing, are now lying on the street for a second before the herd of zombies obscures my view, and I most of them are clawing at the tank, to no avail obviously. "Speaking anymore at all, this close to the street, is a very bad idea." I tell him as I look down at him.
Glenn glances up at me, before nodding in agreement, and me and him back away from the edge of the building we're up against and deeper into the alley.
And then a few a seconds later…
BANG!
I gunshot from what's very clearly a magnum echoes through the streets from inside the tank, and it doesn't take much to figure out that if he ain't killed himself, he just killed one inside the tank.
Me and Glenn look at each other, and we absolutely cannot believe we just heard that.
Doesn't this guy know that sound draws these things? How's he still alive?!
Assuming that bullet wasn't for himself, anyway.
"I'm going to go help him." I tell Glenn, gesturing towards a nearby ladder leading to an elevated platform, where another ladder leads to the roof. "Get up there, I'm gonna get him out and get him back here."
Glenn nods in agreement. "Alright." In spite of what I just told him about preferring not to reveal myself to anyone else, he also doesn't question my decision considering that he was gonna try and get the guy out of there anyway. "Try to hurry."
"Just get up to the top of the building." I instructed. Though Glenn may be older than me, after so long with Alex's malitia, I've long since learned how to prioritize safety of innocents over the goal. It's just a habit with me. "We'll met you up there."
Glenn nodded, and immediately turned towards the ladder.
I don't look long enough to watch him begin climbing, because I turn back towards the street and march out without a second thought.
Saving lives is still a habit, even if I don't have a motivation, and regardless, I'm confident enough to say that I've always been good at it.
He's safe inside the tank so that I'm not on a restrictive limit, and I survey the surroundings.
The herd's attention is on the horse and the tank, so none of them notice me when I make it to the street. There's another hatch at the top of the tank, most people entering and exiting would use that one since it's easier, and the horde definitely has difficulty climbing, considering they're only on the sides of it, clawing and scratching at it.
Despite the fact that I don't hunt or actively try to kill zombies, I will always prioritize the living over them.
I don't hesitate at all when I take off into a sprint towards the tank. With enough speed, my dense body would act as a battering ram of sorts, and I should be able to clear out a safe space for the guy to get out of, and off of, the tank.
When I make contact with a chunk of zombies by the tank, they're flying like ragdolls, flopping through the air and landing hard on the unforgiving concrete and asphalt road and sidewalks.
The spot won't stay clear for long, but of I need to, I can clear it out again and give the man a direct path back to the alley.
Though my body isn't so ungodly heavy that nothing can lift me, I'm still heavy enough that I jostle the tank slightly when I jump up onto it, a far cry from the results of the dead's efforts, considering the tank remiained as still as a statue.
I throw open the hatch and look inside.
The guy's still alive, as his head jerks up towards me, his eyes wide in surprise, and I can see a large silver revoler, a .357, clenched tightly in his hand. There's a corpse of a dead soldier next to him, and he has a fresh bullet wound in his head.
The soldier must've been a zombie. Explains the gunshot now.
"Come on!" I instruct, reaching down into the tank towards him. "I'm gonna get you out of here!"
The guy looks at me for a moment, before nodding without question as he takes my hand. I easily help him up out of the tank, careful not to pull too hard and rip his arm off.
Once he's out of the tank, his eyes go wide as he spots the herd of corpses shambling around, nashing teeth at us.
Luckily, they haven't gathered up again in the section I cleared out, too focused on their goal, and I look at him.
"We're gonna jump down right there and book to the alley over there." I tell him, pointing towards the alley I'd just come from to save his ass. "I got a friend waiting on the roof of the far building, and then we're gonna meet up with his group."
Unfortunately, I can't just pick him up and jump to the top of the building like you think. Sure, I can make the jump with ease, but when I jump, to me, it's like jumping off a high dive into a swimming pool, except I'm going up instead of down.
But this guy doesn't my durability. If I were to pick him up and jump like that, the sudden change in speed would give him whiplash from hell and snap his neck in half. So unfortunately, it's gonna have to be a run back to the alley, and then we're gonna have to climb all the way up the building.
The guy has to be at least in his thirties, he's definitely older than Glenn, and based on the outfit, he definitely was cop at one point, though very obviously not Atlanta PD, considering the name King's County slathered on his uniform.
But he doesn't question the fact that it's a kid half his age telling him the plan, and he nods without hesitation. "Alright." He says, his voice thick with a heavy southern drawl.
"You're gonna go first." I'll explain quickly. "I'll come up behind you and cover your ass. Now go."
He doesn't hesitate. He jumps off the tank in the opening I made, and I follow behind him as he books it towards the alley with me hot on his heels.
A few stragglers approach from ahead of us, and I don't get a fucking chance to stop him before he's got that magnum aiming at them, firing off pot shots left and right.
Seriously, how is this guy still alive?!
As much as it pisses me off, I'm more focused on getting him to the alley and up the building. At least there, we get a breather.
He makes it and turns down the alley, and I follow up behind him. Considering how tall the building was, Glenn probably watched the whole thing go down from above, since he had a safe vantage point.
When he reaches the ladder, he practically jumps onto it, and once he's far enough up, I do the same, careful not to push off or squeeze the rungs to hard, lest I mangle them, break them, and give myself away more than I might've already.
We make it to the elevated platform, and though I'd love to chew him a new ass right now, I can see Glenn waiting at the top of it.
"Up, up, up!" I instruct urgently, letting him go first. Considering the adrenaline that's probably rushing through him, it's no surprise that he absolutely hauls his ass up there, and when he reaches the top, Glenn helps him up onto the roof, before gesturing for him to move out of the way as I drag myself up behind him.
"I can't thank you two enough." The guy says, panting and huffing, trying to catch my breath. Admittedly, I do the same, though it's more out of habit of blending in than it is actually being out breath. In fact, I'm not even really out of breath.
"Nice moves there, Clint Eastwood." Glenn remarked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at the newcomer. "You the new sheriff? Riding in to clean up the town?" Considering how irritate I was right now, I'm surprised it was only a lighthearted, but irritated, jab.
"Wasn't my intention." The guy sounded genuinely apologetic, but it still didn't change the fact that he'd just stirred every damn zombie in the city.
"How are you still alive?" I can't help but ask, smartass that I am, though I am genuinely curious as to how he is still alive considering how spectacularly stupid he seems to be. "Firing off a gun in a city like this is a very, very bad idea."
"I'm still kind of adjusting." His response surprised me, but what he said next did even moreso. "I uh… I just woke up from a coma a day or two ago."
Both me and Glenn are understandably shocked at that response. We were expecting some excuse about panicking, rushing, or something like that.
"You mean you just woke up in this shit?" Glenn asks in surprise as we both look at the newcomer. Though I'm still irritated that he fired the damn gun, I can't help but feel bad for him. I can only imagine how jarring this would be to suddenly wake up to, when the world was normal when you went to sleep.
"Yeah." The guy nodded his head, glancing down at the horde below that had now piled into the alley. "I'm… I'm still learning, unfortunately."
"Lesson number one." I can't help but smirk. "In the city? Loud, bad." Though the situation is very serious, I can't help but joke, falling back into old habits as I try to lighten the mood, as if the world hasn't completely gone to shit around us.
The newcomer cracks a smile as he glances towards me. "Again, I owe you two." He said a she offered his hand towards me. "I'm Rick."
I grin and nod as I shake his hand. "I'm John."
"And I'm Glenn." Glenn introduces himself as he shakes the man's hand. "I got a couple of people holed up in a building nearby. We should probably go meet up with them."
Me and the new guy, Rick, nod agreement, and I glance towards Rick with a smile "You owe us? Pay it by not firing that thing again."
Rick nodded, before offering the gun to Glenn. "Why don't you put it in that backpack of yours?" He suggested. "I'd rather not screw things up more than I might've already."
Glenn took the gun with a smile as he shrugged his backpack off his shoulder. "No problem." He nodded in agreement as he unzipped the backpack and slipped the gun inside.
Rick turned to look at me with a grateful smile. "Why'd you risk your neck to help me, anyway?" He asked. "You can't be any older than sixteen."
"Seventeen." I correct with a small smile of my own. "And you needed help, simple as that."
"My motivation was hoping that if I'm that far up shit creek, somebody might do the same for me." Glenn paraphrased the same words he'd told me when I asked him earlier why he got my attention, and both me and Rick smiled at the words. "Now come on, we gotta go."
Glenn led us on a helluva path, alright. A few buildings, a hatch, and a staircase later, we're coming across a couple of zombies in a hall of sorts. At least, that's what I see it as.
My first instinct was to march up and slaughter them, but I didn't get much of a chance to do that. The door on the other side of the room suddenly burst open, and two guys in some sort of black clothing, what I'm assuming is makeshift armor, come barreling out with baseball bats.
I have to admit, my eyes go wide at the unexpected event, and I watch the two men beat the zombies into the ground as Glenn rushes past them. I only watch for a second, before I'm tailing Rick, who in turn is tailing Glenn, through the door as I hear the two guys come up behind me.
And then another unexpected even occurs.
Already inside the room is two women, a thin black woman, and a blonde woman, and the blonde wastes no time.
She grabs Rick by the shirt and shoves him up against a stock of boxes, and she's got a gun to his face before I can even process what's going on.
"You son of a bitch, I should kill you." She growls, her voice absolutely thick with venom for the cop.
My reaction is instant. My hand finds her chest, and I push her back away from Rick as I step in front of him without a second thought.
Luckily, the dumb bitch didn't fire the gun, but it was obvious that she was surprised, and she nearly tripped on her own feet as I sent her halfway across the room.
"I'm not happy either, but he's been only been in this shit for a few days." I come to Rick's defense without a second thought. I'm trying to play peacekeeper right now, but I mostly just want to keep someone else from being killed. "He's still learning. What's your excuse?"
"What do you mean, he's only been here for a few days?" The other woman asks, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.
"He just woke up a coma not too long ago." Glenn came to Rick's defense as well. "He's not had time to adjust like we have."
"A coma?" One of the men who had smacked the zombies outside, a big black guy with broad shoulders, asked in disbelief. "You really believe that?"
"Considering he rode into the city on horseback, yeah, kinda." I answer in a smartass tone, raising an eyebrow at the man.
"Well, congratulations." The other guy, a heavyset man with short curly hair, glanced at Rick in frustration. "You rang the dinner bell."
Though I'm not really mad at Rick anymore upon learning that the poor fella was in a coma, I understand the man's frustration. Whether he meant to or not, Rick's actions stirred most of the dead in the city, and just our luck, it was a .357 Magnum he was firing.
"I've been made aware." Rick said as I relaxed a little, dropping my protective stance as I put one hand on my waist and another on the back of my head, sighing a little at our predicament. "And I can't tell you how sorry I am."
"Sorry doesn't get us out of here, dumbass." The blonde woman snarled, and if looks could kill, Rick would be a memory. "Every single one of us is dead cause of you."
Okay, I know the zombies being awakened was bad, but come on.
"Woman, he fired off those rounds a few blocks down the road." I can't help but remark with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, every zombie for miles heard those gunshots, no argument there, but the'll be converging down the road."
"He's not wrong." Glenn spoke up, glancing towards the others of his group. "It's not like they're coming straight to us."
The four people, who's names I haven't yet learned, glanced at each other at Glenn's words, before the curly haired man shook his head.
"Let me show you three something." He said, before moving towards another door across the room. "Come on."
Me, Glenn, and Rick all looked at each other, before I moved to follow after him, and I could hear the others behind me, following after me as the man led us somewhere.
We come out into a clothing store, and I can see light from outside illuminating the room as the man came to a stop, turning to face the entrance. "Look." The man says, pointing towards the entrance.
My gaze snapped towards the entrance in confusion, but that confusion was cleared up pretty quickly.
The entrance was basically nothing but windows, and on the other side were a fuck ton of zombies. They were all clumped together, clawing and banging at the glass, and it was hard to tell when one seperated into another, as they all tried to go over top of each other.
"Aw, fuck." I mutter as I realize now why Glenn's group is so worked up.
Though noise is the number one way to attract zombies, new ones that come in will often move off to join an already established group, and considering the size of the small cluster I'm looking at, the more zombies approach, the more that will join the effort to take down that glass.
And considering I could already hear the glass straining and cracking slightly under the pressure, I gotta admit, it's a wonder the damn thing hasn't been busted down yet.
"Christ." I heard Rick mutter from next to me in disbelief as the blonde woman walked up next to me.
"Your friend her rang the fucking dinner bell." She says, and I can practically hear the hopelessness in her voice as the curly haired man turned towards me and Rick.
"Get the picture now?"
The blonde woman then turned towards Rick. "What were you even doing out there, anyway?"
"Trying to find the helicopter." Rick answered, and I gotta admit, that stumped me too.
"Helicopter?" I asked with a raised eyebrow in confusion as I turned to look at Rick.
The big guy scoffed at Rick's answer. "Man, ain't no damn helicopter."
The thin woman chose that moment to speak up. "You were chasing a hallucination, imagining things. It happens."
"I saw it." Rick insists.
I have to hold back the urge to be a smartass. Your gonna see a hallucination. Doesn't change the fact that it's a hallucination.
The curly haired man turned to look at the big man. "Hey, T-Dog, try that CB." He instructs him, and at least I finally have a name for one of the men in Glenn's group. "Can you contact the others?"
"Others?" Rick asks, and he clearly sounded surprised, but even I can hear the hopeful tone in his voice. "At the refugee center?"
Unwanted memories jump to mind at Rick's words, and I have to shake my head to clear it as I turn to look at Rick.
"Refuge shelter's gone, Rick." I tell him, catching his attention. "I was there when it fell." I don't elaborate further, and I can practically sense the looks I'm getting from everyone else, including Glenn, but I ignore them.
T-Dog sounds disappointed when he speaks a response to the curly haired man. "Got no signal." He sighed as he looked at the other man. "Maybe the roof?"
BANG!
I. Swear. To. God.
Is everyone some kind of idiot here?! Rick has an excuse, and I at least know Glenn knows better. But everyone else?
DON'T FIRE A GUN IN THE CITY!
The blond woman let out a groan. "Oh hell, is that Dixon?"
Glenn turned to look at me and Rick as Andrea rushed off, waving us along to follow. "Come on, let's go!"
Rick's rushing after him first, and I follow a short ways behind as we're lead into a tall stair well, and I can hear T-Dog and the other guy behind me as we rush up the steps.
When we finally come out on the roof, there's a thin man standing on the ledge with a rifle, firing off potshots at the dead below.
The curly haired guy, who I'm assuming is supposed to be in charge, marched past us all and right up to this Dixon guy. "Hey, Dixon, are you crazy?!" He shouted at him, competely pissed.
Dixon let out a rather disturbing laugh as he spun around to face them as he fired off another round. "Hey, you oughta be polite with to a man with a gun." He said with an irritating smile on his face, and with the way he was swaying, I was almost positive his dumbass was gonna fall of the ledge to the street below, before he jumped down onto the room. "Only common sense."
Oh, I hate this guy already.
T-Dog marched right up to Dixon, getting right up in his face. And it was clear to me and probably everyone else as well that the man was pissed beyond belief. "Man, you're wastin' bullets we ain't even got!" He shouted at the idiot. "Bringin' 'em all down here on our ass, man just chill!"
Something about Dixon was off to me, in a familiar way that I couldn't quite place, as he goes on a rant, spitting out racist remarks left and right to both T-Dog and the curly haired man, and just listening to him is pissing me off more and more.
And then he calls T-Dog the forbidden word, and boy is he pissed.
Credit where it's due though, unfortunately, Dixon's fast. T-Dog went to punch him, but instead he took the butt of the rifle to his face, which pretty much sent just about everyone into acton.
Rick tried to intervene, but Dixon turned and clocked him the jaw, knocking him into a set of pipes nearby.
The jackass was probably expecting the gun to intimidate everyone as he went to start kicking T-Dog.
Unfortunately for him, I'm not everyone.
And he has me furious.
My lips pull back into a snarl and my teeth clench tight as I charge the fucker without hesitation. On instinct, he tries to turn the gun on me, but I manage to snag the barrel.
Considering my powers, it's no struggle at all to jerk the barrel up, causing the top of the metal barrel to slam right into Dixon's nose.
"Ah, dammit!" Dixon shouts as his hands immediately leave the gun and go for his now broken nose, blood flowing like a river as he stumbles back. "What the fuck?!"
I drop the gun to the ground and march towards him, snagging his shirt with my left hand as my right fist cocks back, before I slam it square into his face with a satisfying crack. Admitteldy, I don't really have to use an inhuman amount of strength. A normal person about my size could probably do similar damage with a decent punch.
Then again, no offense meant to the man, T-Dog's almost twice Dixon's size and he just got laid out.
My right hand joins my left in gripping his shirt as I drag him over to the ledge, forcing him to lean back over it with a snarl as I glare down at the man.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I snap at the jackass. Rather than respond, he actually tries to pop me one with a left hook. My right hand shoots up to smack it away before I punch him once more in one fluid motion, before gripping his shirt again with both hands. "You're in the middle of a city infested with zombies, and you think it's a good idea to fire a rifle from a rooftop?!"
"Fuck you, kid!" Dixon fires back, though he wisely keeps his hands raised and makes the smart decision not to try to hit me again. Considering I've nailed him twice already in his broken nose, it'll be a wonder if it ever looks right again, not that I care. "I was just having a little fun!"
"Fun?!" I can't believe what I'm hearing. This dipshit thinks it's fun to bring all these fuckers down on us?! "Is this all fun and games to-"
I stop short as my eye catches site of something, a bag, pressed sitting against the ledge, wide open.
And inside is a substance I'm unfortunately very familiar with. After all, my mom and Alice, Maddie's mother, used to do it, and many other things, together while me and Maddie were off playing with each other.
Crystal Meth.
This fucker's iced!
"You piece of shit." I growl. "You really think now's a good time to do some drugs?"
"I can do my stuff whenever I want." Dixon replies with an arrogant, oh so irritating smirk on his face.
I raise in eyebrow. "Really?" I keep one hand around his shirt as I crouch down, picking up the bag of the ground as I bounce it in my hand slightly. "This yours?"
"Yep." Dixon grinned freely. "What are you gonna do, have Officer Friendly over there arrest me?" He asked sarcastically, glancing towards Rick, who'd managed to drag himself to his feet and was glaring at the man in my grip.
I smirk, and promplty toss it over the ledge and to the streets below.
And boy is it satisfying when King Jackass here goes ballistic.
"HEY!" He shouts as he turns to look at me in utter hate. "THAT'S MY STUFF!"
"Not anymore it's not." The smirk leaves my face as I growl in his, spinning on my heel and tossing him roughly against a nearby pipe. He hits with a satisfying crack, before he crumples to the ground like a sack of puppies, groaning in pain.
Rick took that particular moment to intervene. He snapped forward and snagged Dixon's hand, cuffing his wrist to a thinner pipe running along the other one I just threw him into in one swift, experienced motion.
He dragged the fucker up off the ground as he groaned in protest. "Who the hell are you, man?!"
"Officer Friendly, remember?" Rick snarked as he patted Dixon down, before he yanked a pistol off the addict's person, and disassembled it with skill and swiftness. "Listen here, Merle, things are different now."
Admittedly, I'm a little curious as to how Rick knows his name, but considering how I was only paying attention to the racist remarks he was making, I probably just missed it when his name popped up.
"There are no niggers anymore." Rick snarled, inches away from Merle's face as he glared down at the redneck. "No dumb as shit inbred white trash fools either. Only white meat, and dark meat. Us, and the dead."
He's learning his lesson quickly, it seemed.
"We survive this by pulling together, not apart."
It would've been so much simpler if Merle would just relent.
"Screw you, man."
Things couldn't go easy, could they.
I watch as Rick sighed in frustration. "I can see you make a habit of missing the point."
"Yeah? Well, screw you twice." Merle snarked back. This guy was absolutely insufferable.
Rick agreed, apparently, and I'm admittedly surprised when he puts his magnum up to Merle's skull. "I would be polite to the man with the gun. Only common sense." He retorted, repeating Merle's earlier declaration with venom in his tone.
I can't help the grin on my face. I like Rick already.
"You wouldn't." Merle snarled, calling Rick's bluff. "You're a cop."
"All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son." Rick retorted as he lowered his gun. "Anybody who gets in the way of that is gonna lose." The two glare at each other for a moment, before Rick spoke again. "I'll let you think on that." Rick stood up off the ground and turned towards me, ignoring Merle who was struggling against the handcuffs as he walked up to me. "Those were some quick moves."
I shrug as I let out a smile. "Eh, he pissed me off, and I know how to throw a mean punch." I say with a joking tone in my voice.
Rick smiles at me, and then we both turn towards the curly haired guy.
"Those were some quick moves." He said in agreement with Rick. "I'm Morales."
"I'm John." I introduce myself, offering my hand, to which the man shakes with an appreciative nod.
Morales turns to look at Rick. "You're not Atlanta PD." He noted with a raised eyebrow. "Where you from?"
"Up the road a ways." Rick answered as he nodded his head, in a direction I'm assuming was towards his home.
Morales nodded. "Well, John, Officer Friendly from up the road a ways, welcome to the big city."
