The Dead Don't Die - Ch. 1
Series Synopsis: a school teacher, a sleep deprived doctor, a couple of news anchors, a disgruntled cop, a salaryman, and a few teenagers - what could they all have in common? Survival. Join the JJK crew in a Zombie Apocalypse AU heavily influence by "Resident Evil".
Chapter 1: When was the Last Time You were Afraid?
Chapter Summary: Our main characters begin to see the beginning of the end. News of attacks and deranged people eating each other begin to spread, causing mass panic and mass loss.
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Word Count: 8.2k
Dividers by: @kodaswrld
Warning label made by me.
“Thank you for tuning into JOTX-DTV, we are bringing you an emergency news report.”
The man that was talking had stark white hair, seemingly unkept, his blue eyes shining like crystals underneath the studio lights. A nice gray suit was tailored to him, a white dress shirt under the suit jacket, and a blue tie around his neck. In front of him was a silver laptop, showing him what to say for the report,
“I’m Satoru Gojo, and tonight we are bringing you an emergency report,” the man continued. “Tonight, another group of people were attacked – this time in Nagoya Park. Victims consisted of three teenaged girls aged from 14 to 16. They were immediately transported to Kyorin University Hospital to stabilize them before further transport.
“This is the fifth attack in the last week. Witnesses report that victims are attacked by ‘drunken’ or ‘high’ individuals. Their senses have been so severely dulled that they are much stronger than normal, even their bites are enough to tear apart hands.”
A woman that was sitting next to him, her dark hair pulled up and tied into a lovely red bow. Her dark brown eyes nodded at the story, her dark wine-colored dress neat and proper as she looked at her laptop in front of her as well. An attractive woman, but one would say the scar that ran across her face from her right side didn’t sit well to be a news anchor on television.
“Thank you for the report, Gojo,” the woman thanked as she turned to the camera. “Reports have also stated that when defending against these attackers, they seem to not feel any pain. Right now, the Prime Minister is ordering a strict curfew of 6 o’clock pm, starting tonight. All after school activities are canceled for the unforeseeable future.”
The camera panned back to the white-haired man, Gojo.
“Thank you for sharing that, Iori,” he then thanked. “Authorities are encouraging everyone to follow the curfew and only leave their homes for essential items. Limit going outside for the time being until these violent attacks are subdued.”
“We wish you all a safe evening,” Iori said to the camera.
The news station’s musical theme played overhead as the lights darkened over the two news anchors. A bell rang overhead as all the lights came back on.
“That’s a wrap!” shouted the producer. “Good job everyone!”
Gojo sighed as he loosened his tie, clearly annoyed. “Man, how have they not nipped this already…?” he grumbled. From his suit jacket pocket, he pulled out his pitch-black sunglasses and placed them over his sensitive eyes.
“If you want it to end so bad, go out there and take care of it yourself,” Iori scoffed at him.
“Utahime, I can’t risk Japan’s most attractive news anchor like that…” Gojo pouted, his lip overdramatically extended as he pressed a hand to his own chest.
“Stop being an egotistical baby, Satoru,” Iori growled at him as she stood up from her chair. She straightened her dress as she walked away from the table and cameras, her black heels clicking on the floor.
Gojo got up from his chair as well, a grunt escaping him as he stood. He was glad that he no longer did field work and was strictly an anchor. The reports that were flooding in were enough to make him almost vomit.
Bodies torn apart beyond recognition. Families suddenly being attacked at the once peaceful parks. Hospitals were being flooded and overrun by thousands of people, each one reporting similar attacks.
Bites, scratches, and flesh being ripped from them.
It sounded as though it was coming from an old black-and-white horror film, or some videogame from the nineties. It was ridiculous and illogical.
Gojo walked past the other members of the crew, putting away mics and cords, giving him a light wave. He made his way to the kitchen/breakroom, grabbing a bottle of cold water from the fridge, thankful for the liquid soothing his parched throat.
“Hey, Satoru, how did you like what I gathered from the field…?” a familiar voice asked him. A man nearly as tall as himself, his silky black hair tied up in a messy bun. As the man did field work, he was wearing a causal light green polo and plain jeans.
“Suguru, I think you’re deranged for still liking field work and looking at all this gore,” Gojo groaned, his glasses slipping down his nose.
Suguru Geto entered the news world that same time that Gojo did. They did their field training together, often being stuck standing in terrible weather conditions or trying to interview people during an event. While Gojo was promoted to full-time news anchor with the occasional on field interviews for charity events, Geto stayed on the field to obtain the truth from witnesses and the scene.
“You call it deranged, I call it actually getting the news,” Geto snorted. “All you do is talk about what I find.”
“Field work is boring and sometimes depressing,” Gojo stated levelly, his mouth in a deep frown. “I can either interview an old lady who was sad that her cat was stuck in a tree, or I could interview a mother who is hysterically crying because her kid was run over and killed by a drunk driver. There is no in-between.”
Geto frowned, his violet eyes narrowed. “You still talk about it though,” he pointed out,
“There is a difference between talking about it and being there where the emotions are high,” the white-haired man gruffly replied. He took another swig of his water. “Right now bodies are being eaten… that's terrible.”
Geto took out his phone, scrolling through messages. “My buddy at one of the precincts thinks it’s some new drug that got leaked by dealers,” he mentioned.
Gojo groaned, “You still talk to that ass-hat…?” His brushed through his hair with a free hand. “You know he's shady as hell…”
“Hey, Sukuna gives me good underground information with certain things,” the raven-haired man retorted.
“The guy has been in court for abuse of power as much as I've been laid,” Gojo grumbled.
“So, what, three?” Geto quipped with a smirk.
Gojo threw his empty water bottle at his colleague. “You asshole!”
Geto only laughed as the plastic bounced off him. “You are so wound tight right now, when is the last time you got laid?”
“Wouldn't you like to know…”
“Quite frankly, no, I don’t,” Geto replied with a huff. He then pocketed his phone. “You up for the get together tonight at the usual bar?”
Gojo waved him off. “No, I’m good, I’m actually gonna listen and stay home,” he informed. “Besides, a bar was attacked last week. Place was filled to the brim with blood.”
Geto gave a shrug. “Eh, I’ll tell the group you said ‘hi’.”
“Thanks.”
With that, Gojo left the breakroom and made his way to the office he had. It was on the smaller side, but he didn’t mind. Minimalist with black and white furniture, a sleek black desk and his personal laptop sitting on top. He sat in his large, black leather chair, and sighed as he opened his laptop.
Normally he took the news he announced with a grain of salt, but the footage that was captured and the pictures… it haunted his mind while he tried to sleep. It was straight up terrifying, and he hoped others have the same plan.
👮♂️ 👮♂️ 👮♂️
“All officers available - this is dispatch. We have another 911 call coming from FamilyMart off Sakura Dōri Street and Yaesu Naka Dōri. Reports of deranged men attacking – already five wounded and counting.”
A low rumble escaped the broad-shouldered man, him running a large hand through his dusty pink hair. He has been on so much overtime because of this crisis, it was difficult for him to do his undercover work as they keep dispatching him to God knows where. With an irritable huff, he grabbed the receiver to respond.
“This is Ryomen, on my way,” he said clearly into the receiver. He hung it back on its cradle before flipping on the lights and sound.
Putting the car into gear, he sped off from an alley he was parked in to head to the scene. He wasn't too far from the FamilyMart, it was a four-minute drive. As he approached the corner there was already three other cop cars and ambulances were pulling up and getting the injured on quickly before another one pulled up.
Sukuna Ryomen was a decent cop – he knew who was guilty of something or if they’re innocent just by looking at them. Some people say he's rough, but that was guys complaining, he was always nice to the women, unless a woman decides to pepper spray him. Then it was on.
Sukuna was an amazing undercover cop as well, with his large size and tattoos, and his cocky attitude to boot, gangs and drug dealers were more open to him. He would weasel his way in, earn the trust of the boss, and arrest them at the right opportunity.
The large man pulled into the first open area he could find and got out of the car with blinding speed, his hand already to his side to retrieve his gun he kept holstered. Screams filled the streets along with loud crying. People were gathered outside the shop clinging to their wounds as they waited for more ambulances to arrive and take them to the hospital.
As Sukuna approached the shop, he saw that the glass from the windows were shattered. More screams were heard from inside along with gunshots. He sprung into action, hopping over the broken window and avoiding glass as his black boots crunched beneath him as he landed.
Gun held up defensively, he looked up and down the aisles of the shop, his dark maroon eyes narrowed with concentration. A scream as a woman busted through the back stock room, her work skirt ripped, and legs covered in blood.
Slowly, Sukuna made his way to the door the woman came out off. There were more screams on the other side along with deep moaning. With a steady hand, Sukuna turned the handle and swung the door wide, gun aiming at whatever may be in front of him.
Standing in the doorway was a man that was balding, his skin a sickly gray and almost peeling away. His eyes were dark and soulless, yet they still said one thing: Hunger. But it wasn’t the dark eyes or seemingly rotting skin that got Sukuna, no.
It was the large “smile” the man had.
Large teeth, stained crimson from fresh blood, was twisted into an animalistic smile, like a starving lion ready to strike their prey.
“What the fu-” Sukuna couldn’t even finish his sentence as the man lunged at him, mouth snapping vigorously trying to take a chunk out his flesh.
Sukuna managed to hold the man back, the jaws dangerously close to snapping around his forearm. With a grunt, he pushed the man back and watched him stumble off balance.
“Freeze asshole!” Sukuna ordered, gun aimed and steady. “You will back down or I swear I’ll pop your ass!”
A screech escaped the man, jaws widening as he lunged again.
There was no hesitation – Sukuna fired the gun.
The bullet pierced the man’s neck, blood spurting from the wound. He kept coming forward, each step he got closer as Sukuna took steps back. Another round was shot, this time piercing the cheek. The man still kept lunging forward.
“This mother fucker…!” Sukuna finally shouted, taking his aim slightly higher.
With a loud screech, the man once again lunged, arms extended, to Sukuna. He pulled the trigger, and the bullet shot cleanly though the man’s head.
A falter in the man’s steps before he finally collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
Breathing heavily, Sukuna stepped toward the body, kicking it gently with his foot. It made no sound and no longer moved.
He then decided to continue forward through the stockroom, wanting to get to the source of the screaming. The stock room was medium sized, tall racks filled to the brim with product. The lights were off, and when Sukuna tried to mess with the settings, they didn’t turn on. He pulled out his large, heavy flashlight and turned it on, the concentrated LED beam sweeping.
As the light reached more to his right, a face appeared in front of him, just as deranged as the first man. Jaws open wide with stained teeth, eyes blown wide, and skin flaking off, it tried to sink its teeth into Sukuna’s neck.
Filled with adrenaline from his previous encounter, he ducked down flawlessly, letting the figure trip over him and collapse to the floor behind him. Rapidly, he moved his flashlight over every nook and cranny, seeing if there were more attackers. A couple of bodies lay on the ground in the corner, blood pooling beneath them.
“Hey…! Are you conscious…!?” Sukuna bellowed as he stepped forward. His movements were halted as the person that tripped suddenly grabbed at his boot. “Damn it!” he shouted. Without hesitation, he whirled his gun toward the woman, her face twisted in rage, and she was trying to bite at his ankles. With another pull of the trigger the bullet pierced her in the head.
As with the first “thing" that Sukuna had shot, the woman laid there unmoving as dark red blood, almost brown, pooled beneath her.
An almost rotting smell hit Sukuna's nostrils, almost making him gag. It was a familiar smell as he had gone on in scenes that reported of found bodies. The body smelled like a rotting corpse.
How!? That asshole and bitch were trying to kill me!
Trying to only breathe through his mouth, he stepped forward to the other bodies in the corner. The two looked to be teenage girls, probably no older than his nephew. Both girls were covered in blood, one with a ripped stomach with her intestines pulled out, and the other had a chunk of flesh ripped from her neck and shoulder.
They were already dead – Sukuna didn't even need to check for a pulse.
He went back through the main part of the store, seeing how all the shelves and racks were tipped over, spilling the consumable goods onto the ground. The other cops that had owned the cars parked up front, entering the building, flashlights aiming directly at Sukuna.
“Yo, Ryomen, everything good…?” the one officer asked. Sukuna recognized him from his division from the precinct, but the name escaped him.
“Four dead,” Sukuna replied as he holstered his gun. “Two teenagers, female, DOA. Two I shot and killed in defense as they were trying to take a chunk out of me.”
The officer lowered his gun. “Okay… make sure to type up a report for it,” he reminded.
“Yeah, I know.” He approached a paramedic that was trying to find out who was the most injured through triage. “Hey, letting you know when you transport those bodies… they’re… rotting… unpleasant smell.” He then clapped the paramedic on the shoulder and made his way back to his car.
A long, tired, yet shaky sigh escaped him. He had been in some deep shit in the past – undercovers almost being blown, so much illegal explosives that he was almost blown up, and he had been shot more time he’d like to admit. But this… this was something different. He looked at the clock on his dash, noting that the time was almost four.
Sukuna grabbed his cellphone that he had left in the car, thumb scrolling to a familiar contact name. He put the phone to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.
“What, Uncle Sukuna?” the irritated voice of his nephew answered.
“That’s disrespectful, Brat!” Sukuna growled. “That is not how you answer the damn phone!”
“With you, yes, it is.”
Sukuna had to resist the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel. He loved his nephew, but the kid sometimes acted too much like himself when he was that age – it was like looking into a time-warp mirror. “Are you home?” he then asked. “You know the curfew starts tonight.”
“I’m at the train station with Fushiguro and Kugisaki, we’re about to get on to get home.” There was sudden screaming on his end of the line. “What the fuck… Dude, get away from us, I don’t have any spare-” There was another scream, a feminine scream, as there was a sudden crack! sound, as if the young man on the other end dropped his phone.
“Yuji…!? Yuji! You better not be pulling some bullshit here!” Sukuna screamed into the phone.
The line went dead.
👩⚕️ 👩⚕️ 👩⚕️
“CODE: Triage. I repeat – CODE: Triage.”
The P.A. system had blared overhead for what seemed like hours. A new code was announced every other minute it seemed, often repeating itself as more and more people came in with chunks of flesh torn off.
“CODE: Grey in Emergency. I repeat – CODE: Grey in Emergency.”
An average height woman with dark brown hair past her shoulders rushed from bed to bed in the Emergency Room. She had no proper sleep in the last two weeks due to the sudden explosion of patients being admitted. She adjusted her lab coat to reach her stethoscope to get a quick blood pressure on a patient that was being wheeled in from the ambulance.
“Blood pressure dropping,” the woman announced. She put her forefinger and middle finger on the patient’s neck, ignoring the spewing blood from a deep bite wound. “Pulse is weak and thready – patient may go into shock from blood loss. Pressure on the wound – STAT!”
“Dr. Ieiri!” a nurse shouted, completely overwhelmed by a patient who was straining against straps. “This patient is trying to attack us…!”
“Inject him with fentanyl to knock him out!” Dr. Ieiri barked her order. “Monitor for signs of respiratory distress!”
“Yes, doctor!” the nurse affirmed.
Dark bags were deep under Dr. Ieiri’s eyes, her skin pale from lack of sunlight the last couple of weeks. Her hands were nearly twitching, practically begging to have a cigarette in between her fingers.
But more patients rolled in. There weren’t enough staff to try and treat whatever was going on! Dr. Ieiri not only did the Emergency Room, but she worked in surgeries as well – the number of necks she desperately tried to close, or reattach limbs, or try to stuff intestines back in the thoracic cavity she had done in the last two weeks met a lifetime quota.
However, most of the patients died on the spot. Died on the table, died in the ambulance, or died in the bed while trying to treat them. The morgue was filled to the brim, they had no choice but to store bodies in the cafeteria on a whim. No matter how many people died, double the amount would replace them within a few minutes.
A few of the staff have passed too. A brilliant doctor in dermatology ended up getting bit on his hand while trying to investigate the rotting flesh on a patient’s skin. The bite wasn’t as deep as the ones Dr. Ieiri had seen, but the man had flu-like symptoms within the hour. By nightfall, his own skin was beginning to flake and peel, his eyes glassy, before he went and attacked one of the nurses that was assisting him. They both ended up dying before the clocks struck seven, and now they were another body in a mass grave that was the cafeteria.
Coffee… I need coffee.
Making her way in a crowded hall, she stood in a line that formed in front of the shitty vending machine that spout out “coffee”. More like it was dirt and water as a sludge that admittingly surged the body with the faux energy that was craved. As she put her couple of yen in to make herself a cup of sludge, a man that was in a hospital gown was banging his head against the wall next to her.
“Um… are you okay?” Dr. Ieiri asked, her voice pitching in uneasiness. “Do you need help…? Need some meds…?” Ignoring her cup of sludge, she slowly approached the man.
Patients always get wound up tight at hospitals. They’re ill, hurt, and they’re terrified. Dr. Ieiri made sure her steps were slow, yet deliberate. She has had her fair share of violent patients that threatened her at syringe-point in a desperate attempt for addicting pain killers.
The man continued to bang his head, a trail of blood slowly dripping down the wall.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Dr. Ieiri pulled the man off the wall, but before she could say anything to him or even get a look at his face, he went back at it again. This time, it’s harder.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Slow and steady, like a metronome keeping time.
“SIR! PLEASE STOP THIS!” Dr. Ieiri screamed as she forced the patient off the wall again. A loud gasp escaped her as she looked at the beaten face as she took a few faltering steps back.
In front of her was the dermatologist that had died a couple of nights before. His forehead was sunken in from the constant banging, blood seeping through the wound and dripping to the floor. A rotting smell emitted from him, his jaw going slack.
His eyes, which were once glazy from illness, were dark with a rage and burning hunger. As those soulless eyes burned into her, the slack jaw tightened, baring teeth as if he were a feral animal. A loud screech bellowed from him as he lunged at Dr. Ieiri, arms extended, desperately clutching at the sleeve of her white doctor’s coat.
“GET THE HELL OFF ME!” the doctor screamed at the top of her lungs. She tried to kick him, but he then grabbed her leg and threw her off balance. “AUGH!” the scream ripped from her as the back of her head slammed onto the floor.
Blurred vision and dizziness occupied her mind, but there was a small part of her mind that was screaming at her.
Run.
Desperate, she tried to flip herself prone, her survival instincts telling her to get away. As she tried to crawl, the former dermatologist grasped her leg with inhuman strength. A shocked exhale escaped her as he began to drag her towards him.
Weapon…! I need something…!
The only thing she had were her pens that she used to chart on patients. Dr. Ieiri’s hands went into her coat pocket, ignoring the pack of cigarettes she desperately wanted, and grabbed her favorite pen.
The pen was heavy, a metal barrel that gave the pen a luxurious feel. She has thrown it a few times at interns when they were idiots, them getting bumps and bruises on their heads. Dr. Ieiri clicked the pen, the point sharp.
A final tug from the insane man and his snapping jaws were trying to get at her neck. With a grunt of effort, Dr. Ieiri thrusted the pen into the eye. A sickening squish! filled her ears as aqueous humor, vitreous humor, and blood gushed from the wound.
Feral screams and roars ripped from his throat, his hands desperately trying to grab Dr. Ieiri’s face, fingers gnarled as though they were talons. With her free leg, she managed to lift it and kick the pen deeper into the eye of the former physician – the pen piercing brain tissue and bone.
The darkness faded from his eyes, a flash of humanity, before he fell on top of Dr. Ieiri as dead weight, unmoving as blood trickled from the wound.
Heart pounding, vision blurred, the sounds from the P.A. system and screams from staff and patients alike only a low hum against her tympanic membranes in her ears. Desperate, she closed her eyes, scrunching up her face, before forcing them open again.
It’s not a nightmare…
The screams became stronger as the sounds of spilt blood began to fill the hospital. The doors that once led to the cafeteria were now wide open, beings crawling out of body bags or shuffling through the open doors with surprising speed.
Nurses, doctors, assistants, and even patients were being dragged to the floor, jaws biting into their faces like delicate fruits. The once white floor was now stained red. The once sterile environment was nothing more than the world’s largest morgue.
Panic laced Dr. Ieiri’s limbs, a cold dread hitting her like ice water in her veins. She was going to die. The people in the hospital were going to die. She was going to die.
I’m going to die.
👔 👔 👔
The sounds of click-clacking from numerous keyboards filled the office space.
Occasionally phones rang, the murmurs of people answering them starting to fill the silence. Then, like clockwork, a state of emergency alarm from J-Alert. Alarms blared from cellular phones, computers were opened to the broadcasting system automatically with no prompts.
Kento Nanami, a blonde man with chiseled features and what some people would say the sternest hazel eyes, was sitting in his cubical, glaring at his computer screen and side-eyed his phone, both blaring the J-Alert. The news lately had been stating that there were random attacks and people were being torn apart or eaten alive.
Nanami wasn’t the type of man to do things after work. Work was exhausting, so he usually goes straight home to unwind with a glass of whisky and a good book. He only started watching the news, his eye twitching when he recognizes his old high school classmate on T.V., due to the radio stations blaring about the “Cannibalism” haunting the country.
There was no way things like that were happening… it sounded so surreal and deranged.
It must be some underground group thinking this was just a harmless prank.
It was only logical to think like that. There was no way that people with inhumane strength were eating people. It sounded as though it was from stupid old movie or video game.
Preposterous.
Nanami tried clicking off the alert on the computer screen, but it wasn’t letting him. Everyone else was trying as well, however grunts of frustration escaped them all. His desk phone then rang, causing Nanami to answer it within two rings.
“Hello, Nanami speaking,” the man gruffly greeted.
“Hey, Kento, did you get the same alert that I did?” The voice on the other side was none other than his high school best friend, Yu Haibara. While Nanami worked in finance, Haibara worked in marketing two floors below.
“I did,” Nanami affirmed. “I’m sure this is all being blown out of proportion.”
“I hope so… I read that the FamilyMart by here got attacked…” Haibara’s voice was laced with worry. “You always go straight home, right?”
“I do,” Nanami once again affirmed.
“I’m gonna go check on my sister… she’s a nurse at the hospital closest there…” Haibara mentioned. “I know this is childish to ask, but, uh, can you come with me…?”
During their high school days, Haibara was the energetic of the two. They both took martial arts classes together and even aikido. While both of them know self-defense, Haibara asking what he did almost reminded Nanami the time during their school days.
“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” Nanami informed, a small smile on his face. “I’m sure Satsuki is fine, but I know the hospitals are being overrun right now.”
“Thanks, Kento, I’ll let you know when I clock out.”
The sound of the phone hanging up was Nanami’s sign to see if he is even able to work. His computer was still blaring the J-Alert.
The PA overhead then clicked on.
“Staff. Please clock out for the day. Due to the state of emergency, we are asking you to clock out and head home. If you are able to work from home, please continue for the rest of the week at normal scheduled times. Thank you, and we hope you get home safely.”
A frown etched on Nanami’s face. They had never have been asked to work from home if able. The computers turned off automatically, most likely the people in IT cutting them, so that workers were able to gather their things and leave.
Nanami checked his watch, and it was a little past four. He normally worked until six, but the curfew was at six. They most likely ended the workday early so that they would have enough time to get home.
His cell phone, now free of the J-Alert, buzzed signaling a text message. Nanami finished packing up his items in his briefcase and grabbed his phone.
YUU: Meet me in the lobby and we can head out.
Kento: Sure. I’m heading for the elevator now.
He clocked out and made his way to the elevator, internally grimacing as it was higher capacity than usual. Nanami forced himself in, squished between a female colleague and the co-worker that was in the cubical next to him.
“I know, I’m heading home now, dear,” the woman said into her phone. “Make sure when the kids get home that the doors are locked.”
People are really on edge…
The elevator descended, stopping on other floors but no one could join as it was at max capacity. As soon as the elevator landed on the ground floor, the people rushed out of the building. Haibara was waiting for Nanami by reception, him bouncing from leg to leg as his black suit and tie were wrinkled.
Nanami approached his friend, a sigh of exhaustion escaping him. His friend noticed him and a large smile etched on his face.
“Hey, Kento, really weird they’re sending us home early, huh?” Haibara mentioned.
“It is…” Nanami confirmed with a hum. “Now, which hospital is your sister at?”
“St. Luke’s International Hospital,” Haibara replied. “Doesn’t Shoko work there too as a doctor?”
“She does, I hope she’s getting rest during all of this…”
The two made their way out of the building and headed toward the underground parking structure near there where their cars were at. They opted for Nanami’s car as it was better on gas milage, and it had a little more space if things were so bad that Satsuki could come home.
The hospital was roughly a seven-minute drive from the business park that they worked in, and traffic was starting to get heavy due to many offices and workplaces letting their workers out early due to the curfew. The normal seven-minute drive turned into twenty.
As they approached the hospital, they noticed the extremely heavy traffic and random cars just stopped in the middle of the street. A grunt of annoyance escaped Nanami as he pulled over to the nearest parking lot, which was for an elementary school about a half-block away.
Deciding to finish their route on foot, they noticed that more people were running the opposite direction of the hospital. Some people were heavily limping, deep wounds into their arms, legs, or sides.
“I’m gonna call my sister and see if she answers…” Haibara murmured, pulling his phone out and dialing her number. A frown appeared on his face as he noticed it went to voicemail. “I get she’s a nurse… but this is getting crazy…”
The two made it to the hospital, seeing that there was a police barricade by the entrance. Screams could be heard from the inside of the hospital, and there were smears of blood on the windows. Patients, doctors, nurses, and others would randomly show up at a window, desperately banging before they were yanked down by some unknown entity.
Officers were barking orders for citizens to stay back. People were demanding to see their loved ones, or some were injured and needed medical attention. The officers would not relent, some even using batons as force to make sure people wouldn’t cross the police line.
“BACK AWAY!” an officer shouted in a megaphone. “I REPEAT! BACK AWAY! WE WILL USE FORCE IF NECESSARY!”
A shrill scream from a woman could be heard over the megaphone, her pointing at the large glass window that showed into the hospital lobby. Faces that looked deranged began pounding on the glass, the glass vibrating from the force. Cracks began to spiderweb across the glass until finally…
It gave out.
Glass exploded as people rushed out of the hospital, covered in deep bite wounds, torn clothes, and flesh hanging off the bone. Immediately, they began to tackle the officers, who were so surprised they couldn’t even draw their guns. Absent gunshots went off, someone that was in the crowd yelping as a bullet pierced their stomach.
Like a beacon, the hospital residents raised their heads as though they smelled gourmet meat. Eyes widening in panic, the person tried to scurry away, but was tackled to the ground by a group of four or five people.
Are they even people at this point!?
Nanami watched in horror as the group began tearing into the gunshot victim. The man screaming in a combination of pain and fear. Intestines were ripped from the victim’s stomach, a deep bite into his throat as the being pulled violently, blood spouting from the wound as tendons, arteries, and other vessels hung from their mouth.
Sickening slurps and rips from the body filled the streets before screams took over. More people were tackled to the ground as flesh was torn. Whatever officers were able to fend off the monstrous people tried to shoot, but their bullets pierced the hospital patrons, but also the innocent people in the crowd.
“Augh! FUCK!” a hiss of pain erupted from Haibara as a bullet had shot through his leg. “Damn it! I think they’re just shooting blindly!”
The hospital patrons raised their heads once again, sensing the fresh blood.
“Oh, fuck…! We have to move, Yuu!” Nanami shouted at his injured friend, before grasping him by the arm and forcing him to run.
Desperately, they began to run, forcing their way between people that were also running. More gunshots rang, and more innocent people were shot at and collapsing to the ground as their flesh began to peel from their bones.
The smell of blood filled the air, and Haibara was beginning to falter in his steps, the adrenaline slipping away. “K-Kento, man, I’m just slowing you down… Go!” Haibara shouted, his voice pained and fatigued.
“Are you fucking crazy!?” Nanami shouted back at his friend. He turned his head, ready to force his friend to continue running, however his eyes widened when he recognized a young woman in a nurse’s uniform grabbing at Haibara. “Satsuki…!?”
She looked not like herself… her face that was so normally filled with life was now gray and dulled, her eyes dark and glassy, and her teeth were borne and blood stained. A loud screech emitted from her as she lunged at Haibara, her hands outstretched toward him.
Haibara only gave a grim smile before forcibly pushing Nanami away from him. “GO!” he then shouted again as he was forced to the ground.
Nanami had tripped over something, a torn apart body, as he watched in horror as his best friend’s own sister tore into his leg like it was the most delicious piece of prime meat in the world. Screams tore from Haibara’s throat as Satsuki crawled up further, her teeth biting into the side of his face, blood spraying onto the concrete.
Slowly, the light from Haibara’s eyes dimmed as his body went limp, Satsuki continuing to tear into him as if her life depended on it. Once she was done, her eyes glared up at Nanami, who had managed to get to his own feet, a low, feral growl escaping her. Staggering, she forced herself up from Haibara’s corpse as she lunged toward Nanami, who only ducked out of the way and watched as she tripped over the same body as he had, watching as she fell to the ground, her arms twisting and breaking in an unnatural way from the impact.
Bones pierced her skin, but it was like she didn’t care. Satsuki forced herself once again, her hungry eyes resting on Nanami once again.
Giving Haibara’s body one last look, he turned and ran, performing his late friend’s dying wish.
👩🏫 👩🏫 👩🏫
The news breaking out on the country-wide curfew was annoying to say the least.
You were just getting ready to inform the students in the second to last class of the day about an upcoming test that was scheduled when the P.A. system crackled overhead.
“Attention students and faculty – we are ending school early. Please make your way out of the building as soon as possible. Students who take public transportation, please look ahead now for departure schedules.”
The sound of chairs scraping against the worn linoleum floor filled the classroom. Students were murmuring to each other in confusion, and some were sounding scared as they got their phones out to call their parents.
You oversaw the students leaving the classroom, stating that you will put everything in the digital classroom online for them to complete assignments from home. There was no questioning it, no groans of teenage rebellion.
The last three in the class, the trio of students you called the “HP Trio” as they always got into trouble like the famous book characters, were staggering behind as two of them waited for their pink-haired friend.
“Sorry, Miss Y/L/N, we’ll be on our way out shortly!” the pink-haired young man apologized as he finished stuffing his backpack.
“Sorry that Itadori is too stupid to know how to pack his backpack,” the girl of the trio quipped, her flipping her dyed ginger hair over her shoulder.
“Kugisaki, that is not nice to say about your friend,” you say to her.
“No, she’s right,” the raven-haired boy then murmured. “Itadori doesn’t know how to do basic tasks accordingly.”
Leave it to Fushiguro to join in…
“You three get home safely,” you inform them. “You guys live in the same neighborhood, yes?”
“Yes,” the trio replied in unison.
“Kugisaki, remember to call your grandmother,” you tell the young woman. Kugisaki only groaned as she nodded. “Fushiguro, you have to actually speak to your guardian, okay?” The young man nodded, although grumbling that he didn’t want to deal with “that white-haired idiot”. “And Itadori, let your uncle know that classes ended today,” you then remind him. Itadori nodded as he finally closed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
“Yes, Miss Y/L/N,” they replied in unison.
You waved them off as they left, the three murmuring to each other. Once they have left, you begin to pack up your stuff as well, knowing that the school wanted the faculty to leave as well. Making sure you had your laptop, phone, keys, and the few books you brought were safe in your messenger bag, you left as well.
The hallways were littered with scrap paper and a few open books. Students were straggling out of the school, some walking home, some getting into their cars, some going on bikes, and like the trio she just seen off, some were heading toward the nearest train station.
Ironically, you took the same train line toward home as the HP Trio, even though your stop was two after theirs. You tried to keep some distance, making sure it didn’t seem creepy or odd that you were “following” them. Rarely did you get on the train at the same time as they do, but it was one of those times that Itadori noticed that she was behind them.
“Oh, Miss Y/L/N, did one of us forget something?” Itadori asked curiously.
“No, Itadori, I just happen to go on the same train line as you three…” you murmured in embarrassment.
“Oh, then you should walk with us!” Kugisaki offered with a smile.
“Not gonna lie, with the J-Alert suddenly appearing on our phones, it would be better for to be in groups, so we’re not attacked or something…” Fushiguro then added.
The trio looked apprehensive, so you knew that they were serious about you walking with them. They did get into trouble yes, but it wasn’t “suspended” or “expel” worthy, just typical teenage shenanigans like getting into a couple of arguments with other students or being late and such.
“If you three don’t mind…” you then said with a small smile.
From what you knew, just like the trio, you had to take at least two different train lines to get home from Shiba Commercial High School, which was annoying, but it had to be done. Entering the subway station that was underground, the air felt sticky and tense as so many people were also waiting for the train.
As you waited with the trio, Itadori’s phone rang. He saw who it was and groaned.
“What, Uncle Sukuna?” the pink-haired asked irritably into his phone.
You knew that Itadori and his uncle had a somewhat rocky relationship. The older man took Itadori in during his first year of junior high when his grandfather had suddenly passed. Sukuna Ryomen, who was Itadori’s uncle through his father, took him in on a whim.
There was the sound of someone yelling on the other side, it was loud enough for Itadori to move the phone away from his ear.
“With you, yes, it is,” the teen deadpanned into the phone’s receiver.
A pause as Itadori listened.
As he was on the phone, you noticed someone staggering toward you four. It seemed like they were drunk as they wobbled on their feet and looked incoherent.
“I’m at the train station with Fushiguro and Kugisaki, we’re about to get on to get home,” Itadori explained into the phone.
A scream from a nearby patron pierced the air as the staggering person knocked a woman to the ground, her dangerously close to the yellow line and therefore close to the train’s railway. You nearly gasped at how hard that woman had fallen, a train blaring past without stopping, her purse disappearing.
The drunkard got near the four of them, Fushiguro and Kugisaki tapping Itadori on his shoulder to get his attention. At that point the drunkard was practically on top of them. The smell hit your nostrils that nearly made you gag – the smell of something rotting.
“What the fuck… Dude, get away from us, I don’t have any spare-” Itadori began to say, clearly irritated that this drunkard was in their space.
Kugisaki suddenly screamed as the drunkard lunged at her, jaws open wide, and hands extended. Itadori didn’t hesitate to drop his phone and let it crack onto the ground. He rushed to his friend’s side and did a perfect front kick to the drunkard, sending him staggering back.
People around them gasped at the suddenness of it all. However, the drunkard got up, legs twisting oddly as though they were broken. When someone tried to help them up, the drunkard sunk their teeth into the helper’s arm. A scream tore through their throat, desperately trying to yank their arm back, only for the flesh to tear from them.
You put your hand over your mouth at the sight. Blood pour from the wound and the person was tackled to the ground, the drunkard tearing into their throat.
“Kids, we need to go, now,” you ordered as you touched each of their shoulders to get them grouped closer together. You then pushed them toward the stairs so that you three could go back street level, the feral growls and screams of terror echoing behind you.
Once you were at street level, there was more chaos. A car drove off the road and slammed into a running pedestrian, their body nearly exploding from the impact as they were pinned to a building. Kugisaki screamed behind her hand, her orange-brown eyes wide with horror.
You grabbed her shoulder to pull her away from the scene, but it was then that both Itadori and Fushiguro pushed you both away as they jumped backwards. Another car had gone off road and would have crashed into you and Kugisaki if the boys hadn’t intervened.
Itadori rushed to the car that had then crashed into a half-wall, him trying to open the driver-side door. “Hey, are you okay!?” he shouted. “Because if you are, then FUCK YOU for nearly hitting us!” The door sprung open as the driver plopped to the ground, sounding squishy as though filled with water beads.
“Itadori, get the hell away from them!” Fushiguro shouted. “Obviously they are not sane!”
“I just need to know-” Itadori began, but he gasped suddenly as the driver grabbed his leg. “HEY! LET ME GO!”
“Itadori…!” you shouted as you rushed forward. You always kept a defense knife on your person, all because you were attacked so long ago that you just wished it could be erased from your memory, but at the moment you were glad you still had it to protect your student. You had grabbed the knife, ready to threaten the driver, but Itadori had kicked at the side of their head so they could let go.
Both your jaws dropped as the driver’s neck was snapped to the side, the crack so audible that you nearly threw up. Itadori’s eyes widened in horror as the hand that once grasped his leg laxed. The driver’s head was nearly ripped from their torso, dark clotted blood pouring from the wound as it was clear that the spinal cord was snapped from the kick.
“I… I didn’t even kick that hard…!” Itadori gasped, him nearly collapsing to the ground. “Is… Are they dead…!? Oh, shit, I didn’t mean to kill them…!”
As you observed the body, you saw that patches of their skin were rotting away. The hair was stringy as though the driver was just dug up from a grave and thrown into the car.
“I think… they were dead before you kicked them…” you explain to Itadori softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you were defending yourself,” you then added to assure them.
Fushiguro and Kugisaki had made their way to the two of you, Kugisaki taking one look at the body and gagging. Absently, Fushiguro patted her back, her then vomiting on the cement.
“What the actual fuck is that!?” the teenaged girl screamed. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?”
“Kugisaki, calm down!” Fushiguro ordered, his voice also began to panic. “We just… we just need to take a step back and think.”
“Think about what!?” Kugisaki demanded. “What should I season my arm with so its tasty for the next fucker!?”
“No, that’s absurd,” the raven-haired teen levelly replied.
You then took out your phone and pulled up your map app. “Itadori, the precinct that your uncle works at… it’s close to here, yes?” you then asked.
“Uh, yeah, it should be…” Itadori replied.
“Let’s head to the station,” you suggested. “The police should have some idea of what is going on.”
The pink-haired boy nodded, his honeyed eyes glancing back down at the person he had kicked. You gently grabbed his forearm and pulled him away from the scene. As he got close to his friends, Fushiguro patted his shoulder and Kugisaki gave him a sudden hug.
You couldn’t remember the last time you were this scared… well, except that night five years ago. But this was starting to become number one on your list of pants-shitting fear.
“Do you think that was a zombie…?” Itadori then asked, his voice murmured and soft.
“What the hell makes you think that dumb shit?” Fushiguro demanded harshly.
Itadori darted his eyes back to the driver’s unmoving body. “That guy at the station… he bit the one guy… then this guy grabbed my leg like he wanted to bite it,” he began to explain. “And when I kicked him… his neck snapped so easily, and once that was broken, he stopped.”
“You were playing that zombie game again weren’t you, dumbass!” Kugisaki shouted at Itadori.
“I was, yeah,” he admitted. “But from every zombie lore I have ever dealt with – movies, games, and manga – it’s that you destroy the brain, the spinal cord, or decapitate to truly kill them…”
Fushiguro rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me, man? You think we’re in some zombie warzone shit!?” he shouted, completely exasperated.
“Do you have a better idea!?” Itadori shouted back, his eyes narrowed.
“It could be that… that they’re sick or something!” Fushiguro reasoned.
“And dude, how many zombie movies and games started like that!?” Itadori challenged.
Fushigruo opened his mouth but then closed it. He had no rebuttal against that.
You got in the middle of three, trying to diffuse the situation. “Oi! Stop arguing!” you ordered, your voice firm with your “teacher” voice. “Let’s just get to the station, I’m sure there is some sort of plan in place!”
The three students looked at each other and then back at you. They nodded in affirmation as you began to lead them toward the station, your eyes going between the map on your phone and in front of you.
Trying to ignore the screams and screeching of cars, you decided that you can only focus on your three students to make sure they make it.
A/N: I would like to point out that I put A LOT of research into this. It may not be 100% accurate, but I spent HOURS looking up Japan's map to figure out where things were and how realistically some of them could travel.
I also discovered why it MAKES SENSE that "Resident Evil 2" the cop uniforms are what they are - they are based off of Japan's summer uniform!!!! LIKE DANG. I knew Leon S. Kennedy's uniform was based off George A. Romero's "Dawn of the Dead" SWAT uniform, but this was just interesting to see!
So, it's also funny to imagine Sukuna in this uniform! LOL. Unless you want to imagine him more in Leon's attire, that's fine too!
(left: RE2 1998. Right: RE2 Remake 2019)
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