Zombie Apocalypse AU
Platonic Syndisparklez (Maybe hinting? I wrote it as platonic soulmates)
Length: 1327 words
Tom is infected and abandons Jordan. ‘I can’t lose you. Not when I’m like this.’
-- Sometimes when I'm tired I look at the black, blank ceiling and think of you. There's nothing up there. There's nothing that matters up there, except for the thin layer that keeps the rain off of my face and the chill out of my bones. I am old. I should not be this old, and yet I am. I should not have such wisdom in such a young man's body.
I’m scared, Jordan. I know I don't say it, but I am. I am all the bloody time. I’m scared that the magic will leave me while I'm in the sun and i'm not covering my skin, I’m scared that you'll mix me up with the others and kill me, I'm scared I'll lose myself completely and I won't come home
I can't lose you. Not when I’m like this.
But what if I'm the one who hurts you, yknow? What if I fall completely and i h What if something really bad happens and it ends up being me? I can't lose you to any of them but goddamn I can't lose you to me either.
I hope this finds you well, sparklydick. And I'm fine. Keep fighting off those dumb mindless zombies for me until I come home.
Yours and only yours,
Tom
--
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
Their numbers in this area were decreasing. The occasional one wandered its way through the trees, out of the city to this fortified cottage, but they were easy to deal with. Don't draw attention, don't get in trouble.
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
His heart ached every time he passed the room. Everything was layered in dust. He hadn't stepped foot in there since the night after.
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
The letter was golden at the edges from age, now. Letter. Note. Whatever it was. The ink had faded but the words would stick in his mind for as long as they needed to.
'Until I come home'.
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
The way the sun hit the orange-brown leaves like fire was truly stunning. He always loved this time of year. No - loves. He was still out there somewhere.
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
He had to still be out there somewhere.
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
Tend to the crops.
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
He had to be.
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
He had to.
Snow. Thaw. Sun. Fall.
Please.
--
A decade is a long time with nobody to spend it with.
Jordan knew who he was to the locals and passers-by: a slightly out-of-it, lonely man with a crossbow and a cat; a fresh meal and a place for the night if you were kind, perhaps some supplies for the road if you had information he needed.
He knew people made things up for him. He could tell. But one thing in the stories was always the same: tales of a zombie who didn't attack.
A zombie that didn't look quite as dead as the others. One that spoke, if you were nonthreatening enough. One that would even protect the most vulnerable from its own kind. One with a light behind its eyes that none of the others had.
Always, across these years, new stories. Perhaps some were folklore at this point, but since when did doubt stifle raw hope?
He would go and search, but if Tom returned home while he was out, he'd assume Jordan was dead.
Until he came home, tinkering kept the man occupied. Contraptions and wiring and just things that were useless but he couldn't help it. He couldn't. He'd trade some for goods, but that was the farthest he'd ever go from his home. Their home.
As the enemy population in the area dwindled, the people became bolder. They built a small marketplace in an old, abandoned barn a couple of miles away. He had been there once or twice. Everyone there knew him - the madman all alone - and they recognised him. He didn't care to be the same towards them.
Meat. The rabbits were doing poorly this year, and frankly, he was sick of corn. Someone over there had to have something he could trade for. He packed a few smaller contraptions and some vegetables, and went off to market.
He knew those stares. He knew those whispers. He didn't care anymore. His bag thunked down on the table opposite a woman who had a chest freezer full of cow parts.
"Well, hey there, Jardon~! What can I do ya for?"
He was tired of correcting them. "What'll you take for half the round?"
"That's a lotta meat for one man."
"How much?"
She sighed, giving up on conversation, and named her price. He handed over what he had, and took it, wrapped up neatly.
"Oh, one other thing." Her voice grated on his ears. He didn't care. But, out of nothing if not what was left of the kindness in his heart, he lifted his head expectantly. She smiled and gestured. "Donnie has a letter addressed to some guy 'Sparkly'. Wouldn't happenta know who that is, wouldya?"
His heart stopped for a moment. Before he knew it, he was shoving the joint in his bag. "Where."
"Huh?"
"Where's Donnie?"
"Oh, uh.." She blinked and pointed towards a small group. "Black hat, can't miss 'im."
Jordan just nodded and took off. He felt eyes on him. He wouldn't stop. The envelope was out in his hand, the people around him trying to decipher who it was for.
"What does it even mean 'the cottage' like man? Do this guy even know how many there are? Wh-"
Jordan. Didn't. Care.
He snatched the letter out of his hands and tore it open, yanking the paper out and dropping the envelope without a care. It crumpled lightly in his hands.
‘Dear Sparklydick,
It's been a while’
He couldn't keep reading. He fell to his knees, in front of all of these people, and sobbed.
--
He'd read it every single day since it had arrived.
'Dear Sparklydick,
It's been a while, hasn't it? I'll be honest, I don't actually know how long it's been. But I'm glad I left when I did, cause.. Well, I lost it.
One more month or so and that would have been you. Your blood on my hands.
I'm so sorry I did this to you. I hope it hasn't been too long. I was lucky enough to be picked up by this guy who wants to work on a cure. They say I might have some antibody which is why your 'magic' worked for so long. Crazy thing, morphine, huh? Coulda told me that at the time.
I'll be home soon. Keep my dinner warm.
Love,
Your's.'
--
Nine months. Snow was settling, birds chirping their way innocently through the frosted branches. Jordan would have let nature be, but he recognised those slow, meandering, dragging footsteps anywhere.
He grabbed his crossbow and locked his cat in his bedroom.
The figure was slumped at the end of the front path. It was batting the hedgerows as if trying to get to something. It lifted its dumb, maggoted head towards him.
No mercy. Fire.
It fell into the snow, groaning as the bolt penetrated its brain. It'd take some serious dismemberment to stop it getting back up. He growled, setting the crossbow aside, but the bush moved. A figure burst out, slamming down their axe and slicing its head clean off.
"What the-"
Blue eyes met brown.
A decade, and he would know those eyes anywhere. His skin was still tinted, but he looked alive. *Alive*. There was a hint of red to his cheeks and meat to his bones.
"... Hey, Jordan."
In another world, more words were said. In another world, they were quiet, whispering comforts to each other.
In this, they collapsed into the snow, holding each other closer than what could be thought possible. And they refused to leave each other's side for days. And weeks. And months. And lifetimes.
