Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
AN: Sorry, for getting this out so late, I've had a bitch of a case of writer's block.
"Eating People Is Wrong"
-Malcolm Bradbury, book title
Tugging Quatre closer to him, Trowa jogged down the street, sweeping Wufei's gun in front of him, searching for any threat. The mindlessly hunger cried of the undead called out from the unseen depths of the shadows oozing out from behind parked cars and buildings, adding to the already beyond macabre atmosphere. Trowa jogged a little way, Quatre right beside him. The pair stopped after turning a corner, seeing that the rest of the road was obstructed by a blockade. The only way to bypass was through a shop, one with a sign handing over the door that read: "Kendo's Gun Shop."
/click/
That was the first sound to register in Trowa's brain, and immediately on instinct he threw himself in front of Quatre. Covering up his slightly smaller lover from the deranged lunatic who just so happened to be pointing a wicked looking Remington shotgun at them.
"Who are you?!" the man demanded, his sweaty gaze darting to Trowa, then Quatre. Then back again. "What are you doing here!"
"Don't shoot!" Trowa heard himself plead, staring at the man. He was overweight and over-the-hill, with a cloud of thinning brown hair on his head. His brown eyes contained what could only be construed as blind terror, as sweat trickled down his ruddy face. "We're humans!"
The man stared at the two boys, his sweaty gaze still darting around, his thick fingers tightening ever so slightly on the trigger-
-and then, in a sigh of relief, he lowered the weapon, coming around from the counter towards the two boys. "Sorry about that," he mumbled slightly, motioning for the two boys to move out of his way. They complied, the taller one asking, "What's going on in this town?"
"Hold on," he replied, locking the door, just to be safe. "I don't have a clue. By the time I noticed something was wrong, the entire city was infested with zombies." The taller kid with the weird bangs nodded, looking down at the small angelic boy. He walked further into the store, investigating a little, the blonde kid doing the same. Trowa was just about to ask the man if he had any ammo for a VP70 when the large glass windows of the store blew in, spraying the three with glass as a troupe of zombies hungrily stumbled in.
On the other side of town, Heero, Wufei, Duo and the girls made it all the way to the police station without incident. Luck was on their side, they had ended on the beneficial side of the crash, leaving the station only a few blocks away. Wufei lingered behind, armed with Sally's gun, ready to blow apart anything that followed.
After a shortcut through a watchman's cabin, the six make a quick dash through an infested courtyard, narrowly escaping the cold grasping fingers of the undead, as Relena and Duo had to help Hilde around, her unwieldy stomach stretched out before her. Duo protected that bulbous tummy as if it were some kind of valuable treasure, which in a way it was, but more precious to him than any gem or jewel. Hilde's belly now encased a part of him, flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood. A part of him kept safe inside her, and Duo was determined to make it stay that way.
The small group was making its way up the stairs to the police station roof in the inner courtyard, with Heero in the lead, Duo and Hilde close behind when a loud noise suddenly caught the Perfect Soldier's attention. He held out a hand, staying his comrades, all safe on the stairs, as the zombies apparently could not walk up stairs. They shuffled along, hitting the stairs and vainly struggling against the cool metal, unsuccessful in their blind attempts as they fell against the bottom step, only to rise in a stumble and try again. Someone forgot to tell these guys that dead people don't get up and walk around.
Heero stared up into the sky, his already unruly hair being blown around his handsome features by forced wind. Suddenly, Heero recognized the heavy /whackawhackawhacka/ of a helicopter's engine. "Hey!!" Heero screamed, running up to the roof, leaving his comrades behind to wait for him on the stairs, while he raised his hands above his head and yelled again, trying to get the attention of the oncoming pilot. The 'copter neared, and Heero waved his hands about, attempting to-
/bam!/
-Suddenly, the door to the police station slammed open, a terrified cop running out, oblivious to Heero's presence on the roof, or the others on the stairs. Two zombies were in close pursuit, one woman and one man, the woman in the tattered remains of a meter-maid's uniform, the shirt hanging open to reveal one gouge breast, maggot wriggling around in the flesh. The man, quite a handsome young man in fact, his features clearly defined. He must've died recently.
The zombies neared the frenzied cop, who began screaming in a breathy, high-pitched voice for the zombies to stay back. Abruptly, when they did not head his terrified warnings, the cop open fired, pumping round after round into their rotting bodies, which seeming to have no effect on the creatures, save for the slight stumble in their quest, and the splatter of blood and the slop of shredded organs on the roof of the station.
The cop staggered back, blind terror alighting his face, the zombies nearing-
-and then lunging forward, bringing the cop down, who began firing again, screaming as he was taken down, the shots going wild and Heero was screaming for every to take cover, the /ping/ of bullets as they ricocheted off metal ringing-
-and suddenly the /ping/ of rebounding bullets was accompanied by the high-pitched whine of the 'copter as it reared up in the sky, veering wildly as it bucked forward, Heero watching in shock as it advanced towards the roof-
//Jesus, he shot him!!//
-and then he screamed for the others to take cover as he threw himself down, looking up in time to see the 'copter crash right over the fallen cop and his killers. The Japanese boy stayed positioned on the concrete of the roof for a moment, stupefied for a moment before the gears in his head started turning. //Wait a minute. If that cop was killed by zombies, on the roof. . .but zombies can't use stairs, right? Can't use. . . stairs. . .shit.// If the zombies couldn't use stairs, but were on the roof, then that meant the station wasn't safe. Heero looked forlornly at the door to the station, only a few feet away from the rising flames of the 'copter wreck. Suddenly his salvation seemed so far away.
Swallowing his fear, the Perfect Soldier stood up, ushering the others toward the door, Duo covering Hilde and the baby from the harsh biting flames that licked hungrily at the passers-by.
Quatre let out a gasp as Trowa seized the back of his jean jacket, yanking him roughly away from the gruesome scene. The zombies sauntered in, grabbing at the store owner, taking him down and throwing themselves upon him. Their soiled hands smudged with dirt and blood delved into his flesh as he went down screaming, flailing his arms. The sickening sound of flesh being brutally ripped away from bone resounded trough the store, as Quatre whimpered, one hand flying over his mouth to muffle the sob.
Trowa's eyes widened at the sight, as he tugged Quatre to himself, pressing the blonde's face into his chest. "Don't look, Little One,"he whispered, choking back his own whimper of disgust and sorrow as he pulled the blonde to the back door. The zombies hadn't noticed them yet, and Trowa hoped they wouldn't as he guided Quatre out the back door.
The two got out safely, and Trowa slammed the door shut, dragging Quatre down a dim street. The back alley was between the gun shop and another brick building, with graffiti scrawled across it. Trowa made his way around a few overflowing dumpsters, Quatre right behind. Trowa ran through his mental maps of the area, struggling to remember how far they were from the police station.
"You have /got/ to be fucking kidding me," Duo remarked upon walking into the police station lobby. There was no sign of a struggle. No blood, no bodies, no even a shell casing. What had happened? Where were all the cops? They had made their way down to the first floor from the roof, and had run into only a couple of zombies, but no cops. The place seemed as deserted as the rest of the city.
Wufei leaned against a large statue of a maiden holding a pail of water upon her shoulder and rubbed his temples. He'd been through enough in one night, God damn it, and right now all he wanted to do more than anything was sleep.
"Well, we've got to start looking for survivors. . ." Relena murmured, chewing her bottom lip. It had occurred to her that since the police station was the safest place in town, those not affect by whatever had caused the zombies would surely had sought out the sanctuary, too. //Unless they died trying. . .// a morbid voice inside her mind hissed. She shrugged it off, and looked up to see Heero tapping away at the computer sitting on the information desk in the middle of the expansive room.
"Door's locked," Duo muttered, shaking the doorknob to a door that led to an offshoot off to the left of the room. With an angry grunt he kicked the frustrating door, turning back to face the others. Hilde sat on the floor, leaning against the left side of the desk, near the computer where Heero was working at. Sally sat next to her, trying to comfort the dismayed girl.
"I know," remarked Heero suddenly, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Says here we need a key card to get into the other rooms. This computer controls the locks, and will only open the doors after we insert the desired card."
"Oh, don't worry, Heero," said Duo, his face breaking out into his trademark mischievous grin. "I always keep a 'key card' in my back pocket. Duo took out his set of lock picks, setting to work at the door.
"Quatre?" Trowa asked his lover, staring at the boy's pained face with a concerned air. "Quatre, what's wrong?"
They were in another back alley, preceded by a stairwell and an infected basketball court. Quatre had a hand over his heart and was panting heavily, a troubled grimace on his face.
"Close, so close. . ." he wheezed out.
"What's close?" Trowa asked in alarm, rubbing the blonde's back, trying to soothe him.
"He's so close, and he's afraid. Trowa, he's so scared. I feel so sorry for him. . ." the blonde trailed off again, looking around the deserted alley, seemingly for the mysterious "he" the Arabian kept talking about. With a sharp gasp, he found him, and Trowa looked up to where the blonde was staring.
There indeed was a he, a tall, gangly man crouched in between two dumpsters, a bloody knife in one hand and a crazed expression on his face. Quatre neared him, and the man cried out, slashing at the small blonde repeatedly. Trowa yanked Quatre back, and the man took advantage at the small lapse in the boy's concentration, hitting Trowa instead, leaving a large gash on his right forearm.
Grunting in pain, Trowa grabbed at the wound, wrapping one of his large hands over it to staunch the slow of blood. Quatre cautiously neared the man again, who had stopped his attack after realizing to two boys were indeed human. Quatre smiled at the man, trying to come off as friendly and helpful as he could.
"Hi, my name is Quatre, and this is Trowa. Do you want to tell me why you're tucked back here in a back alley all by yourself?"
"Have you seen this town, boy?" the man replied, inching back despite Quatre's friendly outward view.
"I know. Why don't you come with us? We're meeting some friends at the police station, and we're getting out of here. We can help you."
The man snorted, flashing the grimy blade again. His eyes took on a faraway look as he started to speak. "My daughter's out there. My first born child. She just turned sixteen. . ."
Quatre nodded, extending a pale and delicate hand. "Please come with us. We'll find her."
The man laughed, a little too loudly, and Quatre immediately retracted his hand, stepping away. His pale grey eyes had taken on a maniacal luminescence to them. "My daughter's out there!" He screamed, staring at Quatre as if he were the cause of all of this. "My daughter's out there, and if I didn't go out there for her, what makes you think I'd go out there for you!!"
The man suddenly lunged forth, tripping slightly as he stumbled away towards the metal staircase. He turned back only to spit at the two befuddled boys, screaming "Fuck you!" before running away in blind terror.
Quatre whimpered a little, not understanding why the man wouldn't want their help, and frustrated that he couldn't assist him. Trowa wrapped an arm around Quatre shoulders, and for the first time, Quatre noticed the blood. He gasped, ripping a piece of his thin cotton shirt and wrapping it around the wound. He smiled up at Trowa, trying best to put on a tough air about himself as they continued into the night, trying to get to the police station alive, and hoping that their friends were safe.
Just a quick note to the readers: I am now directing my time towards other, more ambitious and original fics. Therefore, "Flesheaters" will be shelved for quite sometime. Thank you for reading, and check back soon! ^ - ^