Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - Lapse
It was a moment of complete clarity when it happened, covered by joy and euphoria, by happiness at their success, at how far they had come.
How harmoniously they worked together, how unexpectedly well they complemented each other.
He had always thought that when… no. IF one of them bit the dust, it was in the midst of a grim struggle, heroic, giving one life to save another.
But this, this wasn’t heroic.
This was raw, macabre reality.
What resonated in his ears was the sound of squashing flesh between two rows of blunt teeth, a sound too quiet to be heard in battle.
What he heard at that moment was the sound of tearing sinews as the screwdriver dug into the undead's eye socket and his jaw loosened with a final gurgle. Fresh, untainted blood was already seeping into the fabric of his jacket as he held the wet, glistening bite up to the warm sunlight in disbelief, with the barely comprehensible knowledge that his hours were henceforth numbered.
And all the happiness in his world shattered like hollow glass when he looked over and their eyes met like countless times before.
Day zero - Monday - on the outskirts of the small town of Bosco
It was the last warm day before the summer vacations when it began. Insidiously, unseen and out of ignorance. No one knew exactly where it came from or for what reason, but in the early morning hours of that day, more than 1,000 people had already been infected in the nearest major city. Because the number of infections increased so suddenly and in such a short period of time, it was almost impossible to keep accurate track of the numbers, so many people simply didn't know how dangerous the situation was until it was too late. The news did what it did best, obscuring the seriousness of the situation with false reports for as long as possible.
That morning, as Izuku calmly strolled to his locker before class to put his jacket and a few superfluous books inside, the worrisome phenomenon had already spread to his immediate neighboring town. Apart from reports of mass demonstrations and serious traffic accidents, there was nothing in the news yet. But no one paid much attention to such events, no one read between the lines or followed the camera movements as they zoomed in on the rioting crowds.
By the time the bell tower in the market behind the school rang for lunch break, the infection had reached Izuku's town almost unnoticed. The public only became aware of it, however, when a paramedic attempting resuscitation was suddenly bitten in the carotid artery - by a man who had been pronounced dead. From then on, it was no longer possible to reconstruct the sequence of events.
At the end of the break, about twenty minutes later, more than 50 people were already staggering uncontrollably through the streets, entire streets were already clogged with fleeing people and cars, and the easternmost part of the city had been declared a restricted area.
Now quite officially, from this moment also in the news. The official bulletin of the city announced safe zones and places from which to evacuate. But the website was overloaded in no time due to the numerous hits.
It wasn't until an announcement at 1 p.m., during afternoon classes, called for students to assemble immediately and directly in the gym that no one could ignore the flood of information on the Internet. There was a flurry of activity as nearly 20 classes streamed out of their rooms simultaneously. Although carrying a phone was prohibited at their school, Izuku heard vibrations or ringing in the hallways every second. Students crowded close together and were just a millimeter away from panicking as countless of them focused their eyes on the screen in front of them.
Half of the students didn't even make it to the gym. A large portion of the students skipped school because they still couldn't believe the news, while the other half were on their way home to their worried parents.
Izuku, nerd and deputy class president, had up to this point dutifully resisted the temptation to look at his constantly vibrating cell phone. After all, he was a role model. But it also hadn't escaped his notice how the excitement around him was growing in the face of the news. He squinted his eyes and tried to understand what the teacher was saying on the stack of mats, but the murmuring around him was too loud. He couldn't make out a single word and pursed his lips in frustration. He lifted his head, looking for Iida's shock of blue hair, wondering at the same time why the students hadn't fallen silent yet, but he didn't spot it. Nor did he spot his best friend's striking two-tone hairstyle. Ochako was generally too small to recognize her in such a crowd.
Finally, he discreetly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked the official news first. The hashtag #zombie was on everyone's lips, followed by countless, rather disturbing videos. He also had one message from Shouto, four from Ochako, and three from his mother, who asked him in each message to come home immediately. She never called him anyway because talking on the phone was too exhausting for her weak ears. She wasn't completely deaf, at least not yet, but wearing her devices hurt because they couldn't afford high-quality hearing aids.
He made a decision and turned away without another glance at the people around him, leaving the gym with his eyes downcast and muttering thoughtfully. So many students had already left, and if not even Tenya was in the gym, no one could blame him for leaving the school as well. He walked past three boys who were watching one of those disturbing videos with their mouths open, and left the gym through one of the side exits. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice a pair of haunting red eyes following him, nor did he notice more students joining him outside by the second.
Izuku refrained from getting his jacket to save time, it would still be hanging in his locker after the summer, and crossed the street right in front of the school to wait for the bus two streets away. He paid no attention to the fact that not a single car passed him, as he was still constantly following the live ticker of the situation on his cell phone. According to his city's news agency, there were problems at the hospital in the eastern district. He nibbled his thumb and tapped on the article. Too many people with unexplained seizures, too many injured, low capacity. He frowned. Quarantine and evacuation. Mass panic. And again, the word zombie. His feet carried him to his destination on their own, as they had all those years before, and he nervously raised his hand and fiddled mindlessly with his collar as he flipped through pages about fictional zombie apocalypses with an uneasy expression. Not that he gave any more credence to a hashtag than the government, which was still reporting an uncontrolled mass panic rather than a mob of rampaging zombies, but somehow.... he wanted to be sure. He was loading a page on how to stock the fridge most wisely, and even took a screenshot of the list, when his internet crashed. He wiped the page aside, opened a new tab, but all to no avail. He closed the Internet and tried to reach his mother via video call, but that didn't work either.
"That can hardly be possible. We live in the twenty-first century, everything is sterile, you'd need..."
Suddenly, the back of his neck began to prickle as if to forewarn him, and he looked up hesitantly, just in time to duck his head far enough away from one of Bakugou Katsuki's infamous quick left hooks at the last second. He let out a startled cry.
The white shirt of his uniform was rolled up past his elbows, and his tie was missing altogether, leaving the top buttons casually undone. His long legs were tucked into a pair of tight black jeans, and on his feet he wore his typical combat boots, their laces only half-knotted. Izuku looked up and was met with insidious glittering red. "Hey fucker, not in the mood for school anymore?" the blond growled, snatching the cell phone out of Izuku's hand in a flash, looking at the screen and laughing dryly "So, did your mommy answer? Were you able to chat a bit?"
"You know the answer." He replied dryly, well aware that his counterpart didn't give a damn about his answer, let alone his opinion. His phone disappeared into Katsuki's jacket pocket and he exhaled in resignation. It felt like one of those days when Katsuki bugged him all the way to his front door and at worst tripled the time it took him to get home.
"It's nice that we run into each other before the holidays. Because I have a present for you." Bakugou continued to purr, oblivious to his answer, rubbing his hands together in joyful anticipation.
"Really?" A gift? Perplexed, Izuku watched this mischievous gesture and immediately began to doubt. He loved gifts, but he felt really bad about the way the other's lips stretched across his sharp canines as he grinned so broadly at him. Izuku was about to take a cautious step back when Katsuki's left hand, strong and unyielding thanks to years of kickboxing, grabbed the ugly tie of his school uniform and pinned him firmly in place. Sensing danger, he instinctively pulled his shoulders in and raised both hands to appear harmless, but that had never saved him from the other's blows.
"A souvenir," he specified, "for the summer, so you won't forget me."
"Ah ... And what is it?"
With growing discomfort, he watched Katsuki's right hand clench into a fist, and he twisted his entire torso to gain momentum. Then, with far too much fun in his voice, he replied, "A broken nose, you jerk."
But before Izuku could even blink, two things happened at once: a loud scream rang out across the street, so shrill and full of anguish that Izuku didn't know if it came from a woman or a man, and he immediately got goosebumps. And second, Katsuki reluctantly stopped his movement, turned his head to look behind him, and then lowered both hands. Izuku, barely able to shake off his daze, took a step to the side to get a clear view of Bakugou's broad back across the street, then clasped both hands in front of his mouth in horror.
A huge pool of blood had spread on the grey asphalt in front of the waffle shop. It dripped ruby red over the kerb, flowed through the dirt of the street and seeped into the ground. Next to the trickle, in the middle of the puddle, lay an elderly woman, her eyes closed, her throat torn. In one hand she held a crepe, the other buried under a shopping net full of oranges. Izuku had never seen anything like it. At least not in real life. In Grey's Anatomy maybe, or in a movie, but never in real life. The wound was so deep that it filled with red fluid before it overflowed. It looked fake, the blood far too light, more the colour of cocktail cherries than red wine - the fatty tissue yellow and plush. Another scream rang out from the shop behind the woman, a man ran confusedly against the half-open shop door, then tripped over the shopping net on the floor and finally ran screaming down the street. The body on the ground slid to the side, rolled over the kerb and finally came to a stop, leaving her face staring blankly towards the bus stop, directly at them.
"Holy shit," the blond whispered in disbelief.
Izuku's stomach began to cramp. His destination was the trash can, but he couldn't take a single step before he threw up his half-digested egg salad sandwich on the bus stop bench. Bakugou turned around briefly, but still seemed too shocked to say anything else. He stared at the woman lying on the ground. She was twitching. Was she still alive? More screams sounded in the distance, and from the store came the unmistakable sounds of lots of breaking glass and panicked people. A siren could be heard in the distance.
The twitching stopped as abruptly as it had begun, then one arm jerked cramped to the side, palm resting on the floor, fingers bent. The crepe flew into the gutter. Two fingernails broke from the flesh as the woman tried to right herself in a single movement. Her head slumped forward as soon as her torso left the floor, eventually half the tendons in her neck were missing and her entire cleavage glowed ruby red, as if she had completely smeared herself with currant jelly. The dripping web of oranges still dangled like a pendulum from her thin wrist.
As she took the first step in her direction, Bakugou grabbed Midoriya rudely by the collar of his shirt and yanked him ungently to his wobbly feet.
"We're leaving," he ordered, but shock still held Midoriya in its grip; he hadn't even managed to wipe the spittle from the corners of his mouth.
Wet gurgles drowned out more screams, but the air was full of them by now. Another man staggered out of the store, his lips torn open, the teeth of his lower jaw exposed to the gums, his eyes bleary and bloodshot. Close on his heels was a student whose uniform was stained with blood and something that looked like chocolate ice cream. A good chunk had been torn from his upper arm.
Beside Katsuki, Midoriya suddenly broke free of his grip and tried to climb onto the trash can with trembling hands and knees.
"What the hell are you doing?" he growled impatiently without moving his lips, for the squeak of Deku's sneakers on the metal of the trash can had earned them the attention of every dead eye on the entire street. Fear sprouted in him. He didn't know what to do except get out of here as fast as he could. But Deku obviously had other plans.
"Hurry up!" the shorter one shouted, peering once more over the roof he was already holding onto with both hands, "they can't get up here!"
Bakugou's eyes widened, and in two steps he was with him, pulling him back down by his knees.
"Hey-!"
"Have you lost your mind?" he grabbed the handle of Deku's childish yellow backpack and pulled hard, "that's a fucking serving tray up there!"
Izuku, who was desperately struggling to keep his balance, looked at him angrily before pulling free from his grip.
"You've lost your mind! Are you going to stand here and wait for grandma to chew your guts out? I thought you were smart!"
Bakugou gave him a puzzled look and then looked over at the elderly lady who had already made it to the middle of the street. The man from the supermarket was a little faster. It had to be the age, even as a zombie.
"We have to go," he repeated matter-of-factly to the huddled figure next to the trash can.
"Then go! No one's stopping you, least of all me!" Izuku already had one foot back on the ledge when an entire window shattered across from them and three girls their age rolled into the street. Immediately, two of them fell on top of the screaming third, gurgling and groaning, and both boys averted their eyes, distraught. Grandma remained fixed on them. Izuku shook his head in revulsion, still struggling to comprehend what was happening around them.
"They're getting more and more, you asshole. And when you're the last piece of meat up there, they'll pile up like in Worldwar Z and you'll be history."
At these words, Izuku paused, bit his lip thoughtfully, and then looked over his shoulder at Katsuki.
"You watch zombie movies?" he asked suspiciously, but lowered his foot back to the ground. Before answering, the blond took a few steps toward the trash can and past the green-haired boy to put some distance between himself and the approaching figures.
"Only if I'm doing housework, now come on!"
Izuku refrained from making a foolish remark and followed the blond hesitantly. He was reluctant to leave the bus stop, as it would probably be the first and most obvious point where his mother would come looking for him, if she left the house at all. He had even thought of going back to the school and waiting there. But a glance at the front gate made him swallow fearfully. Several bodies were already lying on the ground, some were twitching, and a handful of figures were stumbling toward the gym without any body tension, because that's where most of the panicked students were, causing quite a racket.
Vulgar cursing sounded behind him, then a dull thud. Bakugou tried to smash the window of an old black VW Polo with his bare elbow, to no avail. His gaze slid beside him and he spotted a large glass water bottle in the trash can.
"Kacchan!" he called in a whisper as he lifted the bottle out of the trash can and threw it in a high arc in Kacchan's direction. The blond turned to face him in time, grabbed the bottle by the slender neck, and let the thick end crash against the window with full force. Involuntarily, Izuku winced at the sound. And at the thought that they were probably about to steal a car.
The glass immediately gave way, he knocked some more glass out of the frame with the bottle, then unlocked the car and yanked the door open. Izuku was with him in three big strides, panting, Katsuki deftly jumping over the gear stick in the middle, Izuku staying in the passenger seat and frantically opening the glove compartment in search of something that might help them at the moment - but Wham! was not helpful at any time of the year.
Beside him, the blond ripped off a cover Izuku didn't even know existed, pulled out an entire wiring harness, and began tying various ends together. Through the windshield, he saw that despite the noise they had made by smashing the window, they were no longer the center of attention. Students were running through the streets like headless chickens, panicking and screaming, and twitching, lifeless hands reached out to them with interest. He watched it all strangely detached, unable to comprehend that he was about to become part of a zombie anarchy. He looked rather resignedly at the person next to him. His prize in the lottery of fate for possible salvation through the apocalypse was none other than the person whose greatest hobby was to harass him. A barely audible sigh escaped him.
"We need to take the others with us," he voiced his indirect desire for other company, "Ochako, Shouto, Iida-"
"No time," Katsuki nagged back, impatiently ripping more cables from the cockpit of the car.
"No time?" repeated Izuku hysterically, "What are you-how can you?"
"Shut up, Deku."
This made him fall silent in frustration, he bit the inside of his cheek and raised his hands shakily to the handle of the cart. He felt glass shards the size of grains of sand on his soft palm, but that didn't stop him.
"I can't just leave them behind." He whispered softly, more to himself, and his mind raced as he tried to find a way to stay safe and find his friends with nonexistent facts. But he didn't even know where to start looking. The school itself didn't seem like a safe place anymore, and if his friends were still alive, it certainly wasn't there.
Then the car suddenly came to life, and Izuku couldn't even bring himself to ask the blond how long he had been able to drive, because he suddenly saw three girls in his rearview mirror. One of the three was limping, as she was missing a large part of her calf. He wondered if he knew one or even all three of the girls, if they were above or below him in class, when Bakugou unintentionally drove the car half a meter back instead of forward, right next to the small group of zombie girls.
His mouth remained open, because - he wanted to greet them in a well-mannered way - and he looked up at them in amazement, as they looked down at him through the broken window pane, expressionless and without any barrier. He froze in his seat as a manicured hand almost touched his cheek, and he could already feel a scream breaking through his chest, but the blond beside him finally put the car in first gear, growling, and drove off. The arm slapped against the frame like a dead fish, and then the girls got smaller and smaller until Katsuki turned the first corner - in the direction where his home just wasn't.
"Wait! Turn around!" he ordered immediately, nearly wrenching his neck as he stuck his head out the window to catch a glimpse of their street.
"No," was the reply, and Izuku was about to reach for the steering wheel when Bakugou continued after glancing in the rearview mirror, "We'll take a side street, it's less busy."
"Huh? And how do you know that?"
"Do you have eyes?"
He glared angrily at the boy behind the wheel, but Bakugou did not dignify him with another word. For a minute.
"The eastern district is closed..."
"I know!"
"That's why we can't-"
"...Use the main road, you already said that. So which way do you want to go?"
"I was thinking of the footpath through the park."
At that, Izuku fell silent and bit his lips without taking his eyes off the blond. The plan sounded good and relatively reasonable, but dissolved into thin air within 15 minutes of trying more than three different ways to get to their houses. All roads leading to the eastern districts of the city seemed to be closed or blocked. Some by empty cars standing in the way, some by deliberately positioned black SUVs with tinted windows.
Every time they tried another road, Izuku was excited, and every time his eyes fell on another clogged road, frustration grew within him. He wanted to get out and walk the last few hundred metres, but Bakugou kept stopping him. The other man's insistence that he stay in the car for safety's sake was almost a little scary, when he thought about how just an hour ago, he had intended to break his nose for fun. Why was he doing this in the first place?
"Do I have any added value for you?" he therefore pondered aloud and looked to the side. Bakugou frowned and looked at him mockingly, "Any what?"
"Are you going to use me as a human shield? Or am I your food supply in case all else fails?"
"Oh, are you serious?" he quirked the corners of his mouth in disgust, "You're really asking me that?"
In response, Izuku just shrugged, showing little interest.
"I get sick just thinking about putting anything of yours in my mouth," he furrowed his mouth and eyebrows, "not to mention...trying to eat you. Gross."
He pretended to throw up in the footwell between his knees, and Midoriya watched him make an exaggerated fuss. A question sprouted in him.
"What part did you have in mind?"
"Huh?"
"When you imagine putting something of mine in your mouth, I wonder what part you were thinking of."
For the second time that day, he managed to dodge a quick hook, this time a high right whose swing was finally stopped by the steering wheel.
"Shut your stupid mouth already!"
"It's not even a mile from here. Why don't you just let me..." but an abrupt full stop ended their bickering. Izuku, who wasn't wearing a seatbelt, slid forward in the seat and his ribs hit the glove compartment with full force. He groaned and doubled over as Katsuki stepped on the gas pedal again and drove on. He fumbled for the seat and writhed under another wave of pain.
"You're stuffed to the ears with shit! We drive by one of these mutants every half minute and you think going to your house and your stupid mother is a walk in the park?"
"Don't call her stupid," he gasped, his face contorted with pain, and heaved his torso back into the passenger seat. "Don't you want to see if your parents are there, too?"
"In the middle of the day, on a Monday? No, Deku. My parents are at work."
He slumped into the seat, buckled his seatbelt ruefully, and crossed his arms in front of his throbbing ribs.
"The only thing worth driving to my house for would be the garage."
"Why is that?"
"That's where my father stores all his hunting rifles. But since we can't get there, we have to get the rifles somewhere else."
"We? I don't want a rifle. I want to go to a supermarket and then to my mother's."
He looked out the window and his gaze lingered on a baby carriage sitting alone at a stoplight. A white cloth hung out the side, fluttering in the wind, and in a particularly strong gust, Izuku realized that the bottom half was dark red.
"Kacchan..." he began, until his eyes fell on a woman standing not far away. Her face was completely disfigured, but a string of colorful marbles hung from the corner of her mouth. Beside her walked another woman dressed like a nun, and behind her two shuffling policemen, and behind them.... And behind them... there was no end to it. He rubbed his face in frustration as his eyes began to burn.
And gradually it dawned on them both, as they sat wordlessly in the car and the destruction grew left and right, that this was real. That their lives were in danger as soon as they stepped out of the car onto the road. Anytime, from now on. For who knows how long.
Green eyes darted over to the driver's side and captured Katsuki's tense face. He recognized no emotion in it, neither worry nor fear, only concentration and determination. The other had always been a mystery to him. Wild and unpredictable, a freak of nature. It had happened before that he had turned to him angrily in class, and Izuku had expected the worst, only to find an easier solution in the end. But it was just as possible that he would break his nose on a spur of the moment impulse. The latter had never happened before, but he could say with a clear conscience that they were not friends. But for the term enemies ... it was not enough for that either. They were connected by an early failed friendship and apparently a preference for zombie movies, about which he still wanted to ask Katsuki, but nothing more.
Izuku was still considering whether to get out when the car stopped to avoid running over a screaming woman and her dog. Then he saw the three zombies close on the woman's heels and closed his eyes in disgust.
His life went more smoothly without Kacchan. He didn't need to rely on him. On the other hand, he wouldn't get his driver's license until after summer vacation. He knew the theory and had passed the test the first time, but he had only had six driving lessons so far. And walking around town also sounded like the words of a madman to his ears.
But he had to make it to his mother. She was still at home. She knew he had to leave school soon and would surely be waiting for him. And she was helpless in this situation because she was hard of hearing. He had to get to her. Urgently.
"Can you give me my phone back?"
He received a shake of the head in response, but he had expected nothing less.
"Can we go to the supermarket for a moment, please?" he asked politely.
"No."
He rolled his eyes "Then I'll put it another way, we're going to the supermarket now."
"No." Came the reply again.
"What do I have to do to get you to let me go to the supermarket?"
"What do you want in this damn supermarket?"
Izuku looked at him incomprehensibly from wide eyes.
"To buy groceries? What-"
"Don't fuck with me!"
Izuku looked at him open-mouthed. Was he serious about this? That was the most important thing at a time when the fabric of civilization was in danger of crumbling. Stock up while you can!
He felt angry red eyes on him, but stubbornly looked out the window. Katsuki obviously had a plan. A destination he was going to. At some point, he would leave the car. And Izuku would follow him, heading straight for a supermarket.
"Fine, whatever," he winced as Bakugou spoke to him, "But first, we're going to the gun store. And you're coming in with me. If we have to, we'll both fight over 2-3 weapons, understand?"
"No."
"That wasn't a question, asshole. Got it?"
Izuku kept silent and just looked out the window again until the car turned into a shopping street a few minutes later, continuing at a walking pace so as not to attract too much attention.
The city center was deserted as they rolled their car unseemly through the market. Newspapers flew around under the benches, in circles across the marketplace and over the fountain into nothingness. There were no bodies lying here. It was unnaturally quiet for a Monday afternoon, and Izuku couldn't quite believe that they had been the first to think of stopping by the gun store. He glanced across the empty sidewalk and saw that the store door was ajar.
"I don't like the fact that there's no one here." Katsuki spoke his thoughts and wedged himself behind the wheel, trying to spy as much of his surroundings as possible from the protection of the car. The leather of the seat creaked with each movement and Izuku shrugged.
"That's good, isn't it? The fewer in line, the faster we get there," his hand settled on the handle and he looked out through the broken window. He thought for a moment. "Maybe we can borrow another car. One with the windows still intact."
The blond puffed at the word 'borrow' and then got out at the same time.
He cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck muscles, and Izuku felt like someone handing out water in a boxing match, next to him. He watched him frown for a moment, then tightened his own shoulders and entered the store shortly after Katsuki, arms folded.
He had never been in a gun store before, and the most striking thing wasn't even the selection, but the smell in the air. It smelled like firecrackers, oil, and cleaning supplies, and he decided at that moment that he would never enter such a store again unless he was forced to, as he was now.
Katsuki jumped over the counter to take a closer look at the weapons before picking them up at random, and Izuku shook his head disapprovingly. He hadn't even checked to see if anyone was there.
"Hello?" he called in the direction he assumed the store was. "There are customers here!"
"You're incorrigible," he heard the comment from behind the cash register, as the blond was by now rummaging in the drawers for ammunition for the two rifles dangling over his shoulder.
"What are you going to do if the owner comes back now?"
A head popped up over the counter. "Pay up, you idiot. But nobody comes here anyway." And the head disappeared again. "Take a small-caliber pistol. Or two, from the shelf next to the store window. And see if you can find a holster."
"I already told you in the car I didn't want one-"
"Just be as selfless as ever," his voice was sweet and dripping with cynicism, "and just take it for me, Deku."
Izuku muttered an unheard " dumbass" and made his way to the entrance of the store and did as he was told, then his eyes caught a motion in the street. His hands paused in their movement and he ducked behind a pillar behind the shop window.
"Kacchan, there are people coming."
"How many?"
"More than us."
"How. Many?"
He pressed closer to the column, the pistols heavy in his hands despite their small size. "Eight, maybe more." he replied, and then he spotted a heavy wooden baseball bat in the display window directly in front of him and reached for it as well.
He heard the rattle of a zipper, then Katsuki stepped out of the checkout area, a thick duffel bag over his shoulder.
"How far away from us?" he asked in the next second, standing next to Izuku at the pillar to take a look at the group of young adults whose destination was undoubtedly their current location. They were now separated only by the narrow part of the market. When Izuku raised his head, the other's chin was level with his forehead, and the myriad glass cases reflected in his pupils, and Izuku immediately lowered his gaze when he superfluously noticed that his eyelashes were also blond at the ends in the light.
"What now?" he pressed out breathlessly.
"We run to the car," Katsuki said, "right now."
The sounds they made as they ran sounded alien to his ears, and he couldn't slide his weapons into the back seat fast enough as he climbed back in.
The barely there interaction with the others was absurd. He knew they had spotted them, one of them made a quick sprint in their direction, but then let it go. Presumably they assumed they would disappear faster than they could catch up with them. Or they didn't think the loot they were carrying was valuable enough to dare a confrontation.
Before Bakugou slid into his seat with a glance at the group, he tipped the duffel bag onto his lap and Izuku caught it with a heavy groan. This duffel bag weighed more than his aunt's twelve-year-old German shepherd. He slid around on the seat until he could bring the duffel bag to a stop behind his seat, and then covered it with a towel that had been lying in the footwell. The baseball bat lay within reach next to his left knee and was the only item he could do anything with.
Katsuki, a man of his word, then drove them to the supermarket without another comment.
Of course, chaos had already spread here, Izuku thought, as countless people ran in and out like maniacs, across the parking lot and through the store. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, still watching the goings-on from a safe distance.
"Can you make it?"
Shrugging, Izuku replied, "I don't need much."
"I'll go get gas."
With a roll of his eyes, Izuku looked out of the car and across the crowded parking lot to look around. The running people made him nervous, but no matter how many faces and bodies he looked at, he saw no blood on them. No zombies. Just real people in a real panic. He rolled up the sleeves of his school uniform and hesitantly opened the car door.
"Deku, by the time you get out, the gas prices will have changed," the blond nagged, roughly shoving an index finger between his ribs, making him groan in shock and pain. "And bring a damn jacket, who knows where we'll sleep tonight."
Izuku gave him a wordless, distant look, rubbed his side sourly, and, after getting out, paused briefly with one leg in the car before grabbing his backpack. He cleared his school supplies into the footwell and put it on wordlessly.
"What are you doing?"
"I need something to carry stuff?" he almost thought the blond would tug him back by the backpack like a petulant toddler, but he didn't. Instead, he cracked his knuckles in annoyance.
"They have shitty bags at the checkout counters for this sort of thing."
"Go bitch at the gas station attendant." he replied, slamming the door. He heard Katsuki's yelling through the open window and watched as he drove one-handed to the gas station, holding his raised middle finger out the window the whole time. The gas station was similarly chaotic as the supermarket, with gas cans everywhere and the ground shining from all the spilled gasoline. He pressed both thumbs into his fists and sent up a push prayer that no one would drop a lighter or match while the blonde was in the gas station lot. They didn't like each other, but he didn't wish death by fire on anyone. He rubbed his hands together, slumped his shoulders, dodged a teenager who stumbled past him, and tried to force himself to calm down.
To say he was uncomfortable would be a gigantic understatement. To beam away now and have food delivered would be his greatest wish at this moment. He looked across the street again at Katsuki, who was holding someone by the outstretched arm as he calmly filled his tank, into the supermarket. He tightened the handles on his backpack and stepped into the vestibule, grabbed a hand basket, then walked through the sliding door. The sounds inside, straining his eardrums, were a mixture of insults, arguments and name-calling, and he automatically pulled his head lower between his shoulders as he walked along.
He had to climb over a fallen shelf. An overturned shelf. Climbing.
The fact alone gave him no peace; after all, not a whole day had passed since that morning, and it frightened him how little time it took to tear the perfect world from its seams. He bent down for a double pack of toothbrushes and tossed them into the basket at his elbow. Then he paused, took the pack back out and, in an unseen moment, placed the basket next to one of the rearranged freezers. He felt foolish with the basket. The toothbrushes slid into the side pocket of his backpack, and he ducked under the remains of a broken glass door, nearly slipping on the myriad frozen peas on the floor.
The next shelf was a good one. He found couscous, rice and baking powder, but also pasta and honey. The shelf with the protein bars was empty as he passed it, but he was hoping for the checkout area. He didn't look around any further, because at the moment he had everything he needed and was faced with the dilemma of whether or not to pay at all. A woman ran past him and bumped him hard with the basket she was pushing in front of her. He gave her a sour look.
"Hey you-"
But no sooner had he addressed her than she was grabbed by two adolescent men and dragged past him back to the cash register. He watched what was happening, too bewildered by the dynamics unfolding before his eyes: "Let go! What are you doing? Let go of me!" as one of them slapped her face with the flat of his hand and she looked at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. His grip on the backpack tightened as he took an indecisive step toward the three people.
"Order must be kept, lady," the other said, lighting a cigarette on the side and not waiting for the woman to get back on her feet before continuing. A fourth person joined them, mindlessly clearing the full shopping cart. Izuku pursed his lips and anxiously followed the fading voices. His biggest goal at that moment was probably to not attract attention. For heaven's sake, not to stand out, to quietly pack his backpack and disappear like the people before him who followed the rules. Because in the end, the woman was simply dragged through the checkout area and pushed out the door. He had already imagined all the horror scenarios and was unspeakably relieved that apparently only self-appointed law enforcers were at work here. Izuku pursed his lips again, felt for his wallet and felt just as bad that he had put his shopping basket away.
He walked to the checkout counter, which incidentally didn't have a single bag, and was about to put his purchases on the conveyor belt when he noticed the protein bars. He grabbed two handfuls of them and was lifting them onto the conveyor belt when a heavy weight, a weather-beaten hand to be exact, settled on his shoulder.
"Hey buddy, I guess you were too lazy for a basket?" someone murmured to him from way too close by, and he winced violently.
"N-no. No, I had a basket," immediately the blood rushed to his ears just as he was thinking of using a white lie, but then again, this was probably the wrong place for concessions, "someone took it from me when I climbed over a shelf."
"How convenient," the man croaked, and Izuku immediately noticed the doubtful tone. And also that the man was trying to sniff him inconspicuously, "that you had a backpack with you. So you're a smart guy."
Izuku gulped as the guy, a head taller and shaved, wiped some dust off his shoulder. "That's a school uniform."
"Right. I came straight from there, and I got to see my mother. She wrote me that-"
"She wrote to you?"
The strange hand grew heavy.
"Yes, she-" he continued, but was briskly interrupted.
"Give me your backpack." He hesitated, but finally handed him the backpack, assuming the contents would be checked, and followed the man, who took it gruffly. They walked past the cash register and in front of a mirror, where he knew he could observe everything from the other side.
"Now, your cell phone."
"Uh," Izuku averted his gaze from the mirror, paused, and then looked in horror at the outstretched hand.
"Give me the cell phone." the man repeated firmly.
"I don't have it on me." He explained, pointing to his empty left pants pocket.
"No? Didn't you just say your mother texted you?"
He raised his hands as he had done to Katsuki when he had been falsely accused, and watched helplessly as the giant nodded to someone over his shoulder. "At school, yes. I lost it ... In all the panic," and suddenly he was admonished to stop, and then hands were feeling his legs with slow movements. His thoughts began to race into infinity. His ankles, the backs of his knees and thighs were palpated. This was not normal. His hips and chest and each of his arms. He breathed slowly so he wouldn't freak out.
The man across from him watched everything closely. Then he chuckled. And Izuku realized he was in trouble.
"I like how obedient you are." He explained matter-of-factly from the side, shouldering Izuku's backpack, which looked like a yellow floating buffer on his arm. Izuku looked out the window, over to the gas station, and the burgeoning fear after that dubious statement abruptly turned to panic. Katsuki was nowhere to be seen. He had taken too long, he was gone.
"Um," he whimpered again, tugging nervously at his collar to shake off the feeling of suffocation. The hand that wasn't on his backpack reached out to him, but he instinctively avoided it, completely undecided about what to do now.
"I should-"
"This way, we're going to the back storage rooms."
"N-no, I have to go. Thanks, but no. I need to see my mom." He spoke, his voice almost rolling over with nervousness. Inwardly, he talked himself into courage, motivating himself to remain friendly and politely decline.
"No," the man growled, and Izuku held his breath, "you don't have to do anything now but listen to me."
Again he resisted the grip, and suddenly two arms wrapped around his arms and held him tightly, just as the woman had been grabbed earlier. Only he realized he wasn't being carried out the door, but probably deeper into the store.
"Please, I can't stay here," he pleaded, turning around as he desperately thought of what else he could do.
"Oh, but you will"
"Please."
The hand that had barely left his body since he entered the checkout area closed around his neck without warning. His heart stopped for a moment and he began to sweat all over his body. A broad upper body reared up in front of him, and from this close proximity Izuku could smell the other's breath for the first time, and it reeked of alcohol and unbrushed teeth. As if out of the blue, Izuku's gaze met that of a girl his age, but before he could call for help, she had ducked her head and was running for the exit behind the man's back. He heard the doors open. And closing. He began to shake his head. The last thing he wanted was to become part of a group like this on the very first day. He wasn't stupid. He knew what those words meant. And he also knew how to understand those touches.
"Bring him here."
Just as he decided to take advantage of the fact that he could move his legs completely freely, a crunching sound rang out diagonally above him and, as if from nowhere, the tight grip around his neck loosened and the hunk in front of him went to his knees. Immediately he hastily jerked up his right elbow and let it crash against the chin of one of his captors, who jumped back yelping in response. Another dull thud of wood on bone sounded, for Kacchan had made good use of the baseball bat.
"Welcome to anarchy, motherfucker."
Never before had his body reacted with such a surge of dopamine to the other's sharp tongue as it did at that moment.
Never before had his body reacted with such a surge of dopamine to the other man's sharp tongue as it did at that moment.
Then, as the body in front of him crashed to the ground, he saw him, a wild tangle of blond hair in the crowd, snatch the backpack off the arm of the man lying on the ground. A sharp pain in his shoulder made him realize he had forgotten the man to his left for a second upon hearing Kacchan's voice.
His left arm was pressed behind his back, he was forced roughly to his knees, and then his heart sank again when he felt a blade against his neck. He cursed inwardly.
"Don't move now, blondie."
The man addressed raised his head and pulled his boot off the back of the man lying in front of him. Izuku caught the second Katsuki realized the gravity of the situation.
"What does a fucking bunch of losers want from someone like him? Fucking bedtime stories? A wet kiss on the forehead?"
It took everything he had not to say the other man's name in horror, but the knife under his Adam's apple stopped him.
"That counts for your mouth, too, or I'll stab Freckles right here and now."
The blond's face clearly showed the reluctance with which he suppressed a reply, and instead he grilled Izuku with a look of fury.
"Give me the baseball bat and I'll let little mousy go."
"No." NO?
"No?" Izuku flinched minimally as the blade moved, but more in shock than pain.
"You let him go, and I won't skin you alive if I catch you alone somewhere." suggested Katsuki, as if he was the one with the advantage at that moment. Which he wasn't. And slowly Midoriya was getting nervous.
"You won't."
Izuku wouldn't bet 10 euros on that, and the smug glint in the red eyes confirmed his suspicions.
"I won't repeat myself."
His forearm was pulled up at an unhealthy angle and he let out a small cry of pain.
Finally, Kacchan gave everyone facing him a withering look, including Izuku, and then hurled the baseball bat in frustration at the glass separating the sales floor from the checkout area.
Izuku was then kicked hard between the shoulder blades, causing him to fall forward and bite deeply on his tongue. Then he was grabbed firmly by the fabric of his collar by Katsuki, pulled to his feet and pushed towards the exit. All in less than ten seconds. He felt miserable.
"Kacchan, I'm so-"
"Shut the fuck up. Get in."
"I didn't know..." he began again, but the other hissed at him over the roof of the car, "Get in, you stupid - asshole."
And this time, the insult combined with the sudden unspeakable pain in his back actually brought frustrated tears to his eyes. Yes, normally Katsuki's harsh words barely touched him. But this time, they pricked his heart like needles, as they hit the exact sore spot. He felt miserable, stupid and good for nothing. And that hurt. Speaking of pain, he put his hand on his shoulder to see if he might be bleeding as Bakugou sped out of the parking garage at excessive speed. Looking at his palm, he felt nauseous for a moment.
"Kacchan ...?"
The latter gave a curt sideways glance, looked at his hand, which was bloody from the carpal bone to the tip of his middle finger, and then at his face.
"I noticed it," his eyes softened a little and he looked back at the road, "put your hand on it, I don't know how deep it is."
Two crossings later, he couldn't take it anymore and pushed the seat back in pain. Katsuki, who had been watching his doings out of the corner of his eye, slowed down and lightly hit him on the upper arm with his fist. But instead of answering, he lowered the back of the seat and finally placed his sneakers on the dashboard.
"Are you about to ... pass out?"
Midoriya managed a half nod.
"Give yourself a slap on the cheek, or I'll do it from over here, but then without looking where I hit. And stay the hell awake, I can't carry this all by myself."
He raised a wet-cold palm against his cheek and slapped, but the effect didn't exactly knock his socks off.
"Put your head in the wind."
Even that helped only minimally. But on the whole, it served its purpose. Still, the car shook violently as Bakugou pulled into a parking space on a part of the road that wasn't actually a driveway. The car's underbody scraped tinny over the high stone edge and Izuku's eyes widened in surprise. Before he realized what had happened, Katsuki had jumped out of the car. His head was spinning, his brain made of absorbent cotton that dampened all quick reflexes.
"What ..." He licked his dry lips and half-heartedly straightened up to look out the window. The other, meanwhile, had reached the second trunk when he apparently found what he was looking for. A first aid kit. And a small bottle of water.
Both were thrust into his arms through the window, and no sooner had Midoriya blinked than they drove on. He waited until they had left the parking lot, then unscrewed the cap with clammy fingers and was about to take a sip when a cloud of chemical odor wafted toward him. He sniffed the water in irritation before setting it back down.
"This isn't water," he said disappointedly, holding the bottle out for the other to sniff.
"What is this? Windshield cleaner?"
"I don't know." Replied Izuku dejectedly, unceremoniously tossing the bottle out the window. "But hey, there's the hospital up ahead. Do you think we could ...?"
He saw a large hand tighten around the gear stick, then heard a humming sound of agreement. He swallowed hard and fought the gravity that began to pull his head down.
"My longest wait was almost eight hours." Started Midoriya hastily as his palms became wet again. "That time I jumped off the swing at the playground and landed wrong. I tripped and tried to catch myself in the flower bed instead of on the gravel, but it turned out someone had left a pile of swept up broken pieces in the flower bed." He raised his right hand, "For the first few seconds it looked like ..... I don't know. Meat salad. It wasn't that bad, but then .... well."
"Eight hours?"
"Yeah, they said it was just cuts and I couldn't bleed to death and there were worse injuries." He shrugged.
The hospital came into view, and Katsuki frowned, trying to see from a distance if their idea might be a failure.
"My mother would have blown up the whole ward if they hadn't taken me with injuries like that in the first place." He explained casually, taking the first entrance. A real one this time. For cars.
"I was fifteen, Kacchan."
"Oh, okay, no. That still sounds uncool, but not quite as shitty."
A smile stole onto his face and he too turned his gaze forward. The feeling of fainting had disappeared, and he realized that he had been talking to Katsuki Bakugou on a very pleasant level. For the first time in years.
The swinging doors of the emergency room were wide open, and it was still a scant 50 meters to the entrance, but the blond parked the car at an angle to the marked spot and turned off the engine. Then he looked over at him.
"Leave the door open when you get out."
He nodded and groaned as he pushed the door open and got out. He stuffed the holsters and pistols into his backpack as well and slung it over his uninjured shoulder. The heavy duffel bag was taken out and then lay casually on Katsuki's back, who also left his car door open while he dropped the keys into his jacket pocket. He was about to ask for his cell phone when something moved next to them and he turned his head to the side.
Immediately he tensed up and Bakugou's hand was already reaching for one of the weapons, but it wasn't zombies. It was an elderly couple running into the emergency room, supporting each other. Both were dirty and their clothes were torn. They didn't spare them a glance.
"We'll go in," Katsuki began beside him, not taking his eyes off the other two, "and see if they can help you, and if not, we'll leave."
"Okay." He agreed and they walked a little further, then Katsuki almost gently pulled the backpack off his shoulder.
"Give it to me."
"But you said you couldn't carry it all by yourself."
He earned an almost dismissive look.
"Well, by all, I also meant your limp sack of a body, would you be passed out now."
"Oh," he said.
"Yeah, oh."
Almost casually, his gaze wandered to the couple, who were moving a bit slower than before. Up close, they definitely didn't look fresh and chipper, and somehow he was glad that they would reach the bright entrance hall with some distance to spare.
Bakugou gasped at the sight of the empty waiting hall.
Izuku took a tortured breath, "No one here?"
"You've got to be kidding ... this is the damn emergency room." His footsteps echoed loudly as he strolled past the information desk and glanced down the next hallway. There wasn't a soul in sight. They took a few more steps and opened two doors, but they still seemed to be completely alone.
"Should we go back to the car?" he asked quietly, looking anxiously at the black stains on the floor under one of the chairs.
"I don't know."
He seemed to be weighing which move carried the least risk, then his gaze fell on Izuku. And the latter merely returned it, waiting.
"Turn around." He suddenly commanded.
"Okay."
He turned, and his hand was pushed away from the wound, and he heard Katsuki whistling behind him, drawing in air through his teeth.
"Naaaah, we should treat that."
"All right."
His curt reply left the other skeptical and he looked questioningly into his face, "You're as white as the wall, dude. Sit down."
"No."
"No?"
"No. Just let me stand here. And go get some bandages, or some help."
"Don't tell me what to"
Sounds rang out from the waiting area, robbing Bakugou of any further words. They were the same sounds they had both had to hear at close range earlier today, but this time isolated and exposed to the echo of the room, making everything sound that much more haunting. A bloodcurdling scream rang out, and they both widened their eyes.
"Oh my..."
"Shit." Whispered the taller one, getting down on his knees, pressing his back against the wall and peering around the corner. "The fucking couple." He lowered his head to the wall, looked up at him briefly, then gazed thoughtfully back into the entry hall.
"Can we help?"
A soft plea was heard, then a sound that resembled the tearing of leather. His question had probably gone with it, and all colour drained from his face as the blond turned his head back, eyes closed and eyebrows raised, and his fingers began to tremble.
"Both of them?" he forced himself to ask, already struggling to move.
The word had barely left his lips when he heard the door of the entrance hall being pushed open again. It creaked on its hinges. There was another shuffle. The pleading had stopped. The slurping grew louder.
"Guess so."
He stood up, turned his back on him completely, the red of his eyes gleaming unusually dark in the bright light of the fluorescent tubes, and crept quietly over to him.
"Come."
But Izuku refused to be dragged further down the corridor, instead stumbling three steps to the side and pointing at the stairwell sign.
"Upstairs," he whispered energetically, "let's go upstairs and look for a room to lock up on the way."
"This is where you want to spend the night?"
"No." It wasn't a question of wanting to.
"Then let's get out of here while we still can?"
"I can't do it anymore, Kacchan. My-"
They both turned their heads to the side as the doors suddenly stopped squeaking. That meant they were no longer closing. Footsteps echoed dawn the hall. Many.
"How could that be? The car park was empty, wasn't it!" whispered Midoriya, overwhelmed and fighting fiercely with despair.
"I don't know!"
The lump in Izuku's throat returned and he clenched his teeth tightly. He could no longer run, his fingers were now ice cold and his back was soaked with blood up to the hem of his trousers.
Their time to converge was decimated to zero when the first creeping body peered almost curiously around the corner. It was missing an eye and Izuku frowned in fright. Then he put his hand on his wound as it dawned on him what was attracting these crowds at the moment. This time it was hardly their sounds, for the dead body moved tremblingly in a straight line past Katsuki and towards him. He could hardly believe his eyes.
He gasped as Bakugou silently lifted the fire extinguisher from its holder. Izuku, whose heart threatened to leave his body at any moment along with his consciousness, stood rooted to the spot in the middle of the aisle next to a bench, not moving a muscle except his eyes. They watched as the other put his index finger to his lips meaningfully and then pointed upwards before slinking towards the door to the stairwell. Three more figures shuffled around the corner, one of them faster than the others, and a low whimper escaped Izuku unintentionally. A multi-voiced chorus of disgusting gurgling was the response. He was barely two metres from the small group of ugly, deathly faces, and he decided - for both of them - that would have to be enough. He turned on the spot and, with one last burst of energy, ran across the hall to Bakugou, who held the door open for him before slipping through himself. But the one zombie who had actually been the last to turn the corner had suddenly overtaken the others, and Izuku was horrified to see the speed at which he could still run despite decaying muscles. Bakugou, who had also not expected such speed, closed the door a moment too late and trapped both rotting wrists between the door and the frame. The fire extinguisher landed clattering at his feet and rolled a little to the side.
"Shit." A dull crunch sounded, bone rubbing on bone as he tried to close the door by just pulling, but it didn't work.
"Run up," he groaned strained between his teeth, "as high as you can."
"But you-"
"Now, Deku!"
Another hand snaked through the slit. Then another. Green eyes looked from the wriggling hands that kept reaching into space to Katsuki, whose shirt was already sweaty under the duffel bag and under his arms. From a distance he could see the muscles and strength he had to thank for still standing here at all. He took a tiny step backwards, then resolutely jumped beside his companion instead of fleeing, and pulled firmly on the long handle as well. He lifted one foot and braced it against the doorframe, though his shoulder almost exploded with pain. No sooner was all his weight on it than Katsuki suddenly let go, grabbing the fire extinguisher he had dropped, and lashing out at all those reeking hands. For a moment Izuku thought he was doomed as three of the now countless hands pulled at the door and it opened a little - but Kacchan's merciless blows struck knuckles and bones, and the decrepit tissue gave way without resistance each time. It was by far the most hideous thing Izuku had ever seen and heard up close. Again his stomach rebelled, but he forced himself to avert his gaze and ignore the drops that splattered his face. The whole thing was certainly not very smart, because every time the blond missed, the heavy fire extinguisher hit the steel door and the sound spread down the hallway at least as well as it did behind them in the stairwell.
Katsuki's breath slid across his own clammy throat and a wave of gratitude seized him unexpectedly. In that second, he was so terribly grateful that he wasn't alone. He probably wouldn't have survived. He definitely wouldn't have survived it. Nope.
When the door finally slid shut with a slimy click, they both cursed with gasps of exertion and relief. Izuku dropped his head briefly against the handle and Bakugou put his head back to take a deep breath. Sweat stood on both their foreheads, both their faces mottled with reddish-brown old blood. A dull thumping was the only thing they heard for a few seconds, apart from their sharp intake of breath.
"I think I'm going to puke." Izuku whispered weakly.
"Do it upstairs."
Heavy footsteps moved away from him and he followed them instinctively. Staircase after staircase. Floor after floor until he ran past a large pink 4 in the semi-darkness of the stairwell. His blood circulation decided to stop working right at the top of the landing, and although he knew the other one probably wouldn't catch him, he hoped that at least he wouldn't be left behind.
Oh my god isn't this just awesome!? FANART. F A N A R T - I'm out of my mind. I'm so happy and sooooo thankfull!!!
It's the perfect ending fot this chapter. Alena's art is amazing, please take a look!!!