Chapter Text
It started slowly, like a silent predator snapping up small prey one by one instead of going for the biggest meal. The disease was supposed to be a few weeks of heavy monitoring of anyone who reported struggling with depression. To track, understand, and prevent the spread of what they called "Laetitia Obitus," a parasite that had managed to infect numerous hosts, causing a zombie-like state. Being around these zombies created a chemical reaction with dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin. Causing green fog to seep from the victim's ears, nose, mouth, and eyes. Attracting the infected and making them aggressive.
It wasn't a new era of medicine; it was the death of humankind and a test to all that survived. These boys would soon learn that well.
"I… can't believe it." Darell shuddered, eyeing corpses as they walked out of their old neighborhood. "I just..." A body began to twitch, and Landis put a bullet in its skull.
"I know." He replied, reloading the chamber of his .22 rifle. The barrel was still smoking as he shot again. "Everyone but us, gone." Ken adjusted the backpack he had shoved so full the zipper nearly popped, Zeke loaded his weapon and inspected it for the 30th time, and Mark looked away from the bloody zombie with a grim expression. “Maybe there are others. I doubt it, though.” Landis noted sadly.
Ken sneered. "Laetitia Obitus, more like Laetitia Cadaver Animatum." Mark eyed him.
"You're telling me you actually listened to Mr. Hunt's rants about Latin?" He laughed, patting Ken roughly on the back. "You really are a little golden boy." Ken turned to him with furrowed brows.
"Watch it," He warned. Mark responded with an eyeroll. Ken watched as green radiated from him, which ended with a quick slap from Landis.
Zeke spoke up, "We need to focus. What the hell are we going to do?"
“I know what we don’t do,” Darell smirked, looking to Landis.
“What’s that?” Zeke asked, indulging in Darell’s antics.
“We avoid the military and find a hot black chick.” The rest of the group paused to look over at him.
“I know you’re not talking about 28 Days Later right now.” Landis sighed, starting to walk ahead of the group. The concrete scraped against his beaten-up vans. “Real talk, though,” He said, turning back to them. “Obviously, we find a secure area, and we just avoid being happy. Easy.”
“Maybe easy for Barbie doll over here, but let's be honest with ourselves.” Zeke countered, “We just had Mark laughing over something retarded. We don’t need to be another freak eating brains.” Another growl from a pale-faced zombie interrupted them, Ken responding with his father's revolver.
“Yo,” Mark paused, staring at the silver weapon. “Where was that yesterday when we had to hightail it out of school?” Ken shook his head.
“At my house, fag. You think I bring weapons to school?” He huffed, “I might just hit you with this for how stupid you are.”
“Enough of you two. It gets irritating to listen to an old married couple argue.” Landis snarked, gesturing for them to follow. “I have an idea. There’s a missile silo I visited. Down in Sahuartita! The place is huge and has a bunker-like feel to it. Heavy doors that lock shut, the whole shebang! We just need to spruce it up.” He said before a beat of silence. “It’s not an active one; it’s a museum. We would just need a car.”
A shine caught Ken’s eye from across the blood-riddled asphalt that was the street. “Does anyone know how to hotwire a Hummer?” Eyes turned to Mark as he stared at the black gleam of the '80s Hummer.
“Who the fuck just casually owns an ‘80s Hummer?” Mark asked, prying his eyes away from the tanky vehicle.
“Someone who is probably a drill sergeant and nabbed one to get home fast.” Mark looked at the few around him, realizing how their eyes held an assumption. “Or works at the nearby air force base, repairing aircraft.”
Mark sighed, “Yeah, I can hotwire it. I just need a screwdriver, flat head, not Phillips.” He looked at the house that was parked in front of the Hummer. Its windows bore American flags and featured a wreath with the words “Live, laugh, love.” “They might have one.”
“Poor Christian family,” Landis shook his head before rushing towards the house, gun loaded and ready. Ken growled and ran after him, yelling a grumbled slew of insults as his boots pounded after him. Darell followed before Zeke and Mark accompanied them.
Landis reached for the handle and pushed it open, peering inside before aiming his weapon, finger on the trigger as he swept the entryway. The house was stale, lifeless. A stark contrast to their banter just moments before. Welcoming Landis back into reality. An unwelcome presence filled the air as he noted the items scattered along the floor as if knocked over in a fight. Also noticing the blood splattered on the floor and the outlined dents in the walls and furniture.
“The fuck are you doing?” Ken asked roughly, pushing in behind him. “You look like a military wannabe. Not to mention, you can’t go charging off like that unless you want to be fresh meat.”
“I was going to be in the military!” Landis hissed, “They just had to shut down due to the virus.” Landis bent down and touched the blood with a gloved hand. “Also, we need to act like soldiers. For all we know, we got a zombie patrolling this place, ready to spring like a guard dog.” Darell crept from behind, joining them in the house.
“Homie, you got rejected by the only employer that doesn’t care what you are. Accept the shame and get on with it.” Darell chimed in, his own rusty pistol in hand. Darell noticed the blood and paused. “Yeah. I don’t want to be the next biting freak.”
Ken shook his head. “Shut up. You two look upstairs for survivors, I’ll check the garage.” They nodded, their weapons pointed as Landis continued to play the role of a US soldier. Ken opened the garage door as the other two walked in, their own weapons drawn as they investigated the entryway themselves. Ken turned back to Zeke and Mark. “I want you guys to be on ration duty. Find any non-perishables to take with us to our new home.
The garage was filled to the brim with random items, much to Ken’s irritation. Boxes stacked high with intelligible writing on them. For all he knew, the box that was eye-level on his right could say ‘sex toys’ or ‘xylophone’, he scoffed and pushed through the maze. Locating a somewhat pristine area of the garage. The floor was clear, the counters tidy, and on the side sat a beautiful red toolbox. Organized with drawers that had been neatly labeled.
“I wonder where the guy spends most of his free time,” he joked to himself. Reading each drawer, it didn’t take him long to locate ‘Screwdrivers’ in the best handwriting he had ever seen. Opening it up, he picked a set of them to bring to Mark. He turned back to navigate the maze of boxes and fun labels. He heard a gunshot ring out, then another, and eventually they were back-to-back. He pushed through the boxes with haste and swung open the door back into the house.
“Ken!” Landis screamed, backing away from the stairs in horror. Darell quickly followed, his weapon drawn as he shot at a zombie dog lunging at him. Horror filled his features as he watched the dog crumple onto the ground with another shot burying itself in the mutt's head.
“The damn house is infested. Blood everywhere, we need to go now!” The dog shuddered to life, lips curling up to reveal bloody teeth, and lunged to Mark. Mark moved fast and landed 3 shots in its head, relieved to finally watch it lay down and die. “So. We found the owners mauled by the dog. They were too far gone to be saved. The dog nearly killed Landis. He was lucky to have its teeth landed in his thick boots.” Darrel explained, huffing as his adrenaline slowly left his body.
“Mark, take this and get that damn Hummer running while we make sure Landis isn’t infected?” Ken sighed, tossing Mark the screwdriver he had earlier. “Army boy here might become a zombie.” Mark caught it and nodded, high-tailing it out of there with a soup can threatening to fall from his bag.