Chapter Text
The zombie apocalypse was really, really annoying, actually.
Remus gets bit one time--usually he enjoys that sort of thing, but this time he didn't agree to it, and it hurt like a bitch --and now he's starving, and freezing his ass off, and hungry all the time, and everything is either numb or sore, and had he mentioned how damn hungry he was?
He wished he could just go to the grocery store or something, but he was dead, not an idiot. He knew what he was hungry for, as annoying as it was.
Especially considering there weren't any people around, and even if he did eat, it wasn't like his stupid hunger went away for very long.
He banged his head against a wall, groaned, and did it again. Being dead was almost worse than trying to survive, he was sure of it. At least surviving gave you something to do.
Remus leaned his head back to repeat the action, then paused. He sniffed the air, licked his blackened lips, and turned. There was a human somewhere nearby, an alive one.
Might as well go look.
He sniffed, but he didn't need to, as gunshots rang out from around the corner.
Convenient.
Remus wandered towards the sound, glancing at a few others doing the same, though he grimaced internally at the way they walked, practically stumbling over themselves. It wasn't that serious, it's not like they'd die if they didn't eat. Sure, it got painful, but so did gunshots and knife wounds and other shit survivors used against them.
He rounded the corner, his gray eyes lazily surveying the scene. Zombies laid on the ground, bullet holes in their foreheads, and a survivor with his back to a wall, gun in hand. Remus continued walking towards him, watching the others start to pick up speed at the sight of him, snarling. The smell of the human filled his nose, and he couldn't help but do the same, baring his teeth like a wild animal.
The ones in front of him hit the floor as the survivor calmly took them out.
I don't want to die.
And Remus didn't want to die, or die more than he already was.
The gun aimed at his head, and he skidded to a halt, putting his arms in front of his face. And he waited.
"What the hell?"
Remus peeked, briefly noticing he was the only one left.
The survivor had his gun still trained on him, so he decidedly took a step backwards.
"Hey, are you alive?" The gun lowered slightly, and Remus let his arms fall to his sides.
He really, really wanted to bite him. Nearly every inch of him was covered in makeshift armor, or at least cloth, a pair of eyes the only thing visible between his beanie, facemask, and hood. Interestingly, one of them was brown, and the other was green.
If he wasn't so hungry, if he was still alive, Remus would've found them pretty. Instead, he found them appetizing.
"Clearly not." He muttered, raising his gun again.
Remus made a guttural noise, backing up again and tripping over a body, landing harshly on his back and cracking his skull on the road.
"Fuck." He hissed, though the pain was dull and fleeting. He got up, touching the back of his head and pulling his hand away with an inky black substance on it.
"You can speak?" The survivor demanded.
Remus wished he could speak still. He barely had motor control now, and if he could speak at all, it was a one syllable word, garbled and more of a growl than an actual word at all.
His lip curled, but the survivor moved forward, carefully over the bodies towards Remus.
Uh.
What the hell was he doing?
"Can you understand me?"
Yes.
Remus had no way of telling him that, swaying a bit on the spot.
The survivor narrowed his eyes.
"Copy my movement." He held up his right hand.
Remus tilted his head to the side. Well, he tried to. It was more like his head fell limply to the side.
He held up his left hand shakily, mirroring the survivor.
"You can understand me." The survivor lowered his gun again, and Remus lunged.
The human yelped, quickly moving out of range and letting Remus fall on his face.
"Ow." He grumbled, struggling a bit to get himself up again. His jaw was crooked, and he took a moment to try to fix it. It was difficult when your hands just barely cooperated with you.
"And you can speak." The man muttered. Right. He was still there.
Remus jerked his head towards him, though he wasn't surprised when he found the gun aimed directly at his head.
This was stupid. He was never going to get him, not without getting his brains blown out.
He snarled and bared his teeth, but the survivor didn't even flinch.
"You hungry, big guy?"
Remus stilled, his eyes staring into the other's.
"Yeah, I thought you'd understand that. If you can follow me, I can get you food. Food that can't hurt you or run away."
Remus narrowed his eyes a bit. He wasn't stupid, this didn't make any sense. He was hungry, though, and he didn't have anything to lose, so he mentally shrugged, and raised his left hand again in understanding.
The survivor's eyes flitted to his hand, and Remus had to make the conscious choice not to lunge at him again.
"And you have to be quiet . If you get me killed by zombies, well. I'll be the only meal you'll see, but if you cooperate, I can get you more."
More?
God, Remus was starving.
He whined in the back of his throat, taking a step towards the survivor.
"If I lower my gun, will you attack me?"
Probably. Yes. I want to. You're an idiot for this.
Remus considered his options.
Don't kill him.
He gave a jerky shrug. He'd try, but it'd be a lot harder without a gun on him.
The survivor kept his eyes on him and slowly, slowly, lowered his gun. He finally took his gaze off him to reload his gun, and Remus brought his hand to his mouth, sinking his sharp teeth into the grayed, decaying skin, swaying in place once more. The human backed up to the wall again, where a backpack laid slumped against it with various survival tools scattered nearby.
He whined again into his skin, watching the man crouch and pack up the backpack. It would be so easy, if he was quick, to pin the man down and dig his teeth into his flesh.
After about 5 minutes, Remus couldn't help himself, starting to shuffle forward, and the survivor finally, finally, stood up again, pointing the gun at his head and stopping him in his tracks.
He considered Remus for a moment.
"Impressive." He decided. "Instincts, I'm guessing?"
Remus spat his hand out of his mouth. It was dry and cold and tasted terrible, even by his standards.
The survivor snorted, shook his head, and started walking, Remus following, discouraged from doing anything by the frequent looks the human would give him, making sure he was behaved.
"I don't know if you have a name, or remember it, or care," he said, after a few long minutes of silence, "but my name is Janus."
Remus. My name is Remus.
He growled.
Remus wished he could run his mouth the way he used to. Telling someone his name, who he was, his favorite color...it'd be nice.
Janus shrugged, and kept walking.