Work Text:
When the dawn broke, the morning light, impossibly soft, laid against Cale’s back. He opened his eyes, and saw its rosy hue dye the white wall in front of him golden pink. For a moment, he simply breathed, staring at it, taking in the situation at hand.
He was still alive. There was no pain radiating from his neck, no bite mark, no tacky or wet blood. Roksu was still in his arms, his head tucked under Cale’s chin. The burning heat from the night had abated.
For a moment, Cale felt his eyes water with a heady mix of joy and disbelief.
“We’re alive…Roksu, we’re alive!” Cale looked down. “We—”
The words died in his throat. His pupils constricted. His blood froze.
Roksu was looking at him.
But there was something wrong. Roksu’s skin was a sickly pallor, dark veins snaking beneath. His fingertips were also darkened—deadened, cold, like frostbite. But unlike frostbite, the nails did not peel away from the flesh, but rather appeared slightly longer, thicker, and more curved than usual. His eyes were slightly out of focus, the whites stained yellow from jaundice.
Roksu was a zombie.
Cale’s stomach dropped sickeningly.
Cale felt his heart thud with a sudden spike of dread, his breath stuttered, his vision blurred and greyed before half a coherent thought forced itself into his brain,
Why aren’t I dead?
If Roksu was a zombie, Cale should be dead or also a zombie. Possibly both, they weren’t entirely clear on if the zombie virus or fungus or whatever it was truly killed you before puppeting your body around. What they did know was that zombies attacked anything living on instinct, driven to mindlessly spread their infection as far as possible. They also knew that as soon as a person turned, they began to have the urge to bite. They’d been forced to take out a freshman girl who’d tried to leave and stumbled back in, bleeding and crying and gnawing on her own hand. He blinked away the memory.
With all that in mind, what was this?
Why—how was Roksu still lying here in Cale’s arms, well within biting distance, seemingly perfectly content to do nothing but stare at him?
“…Roksu?”
Roksu slow blinked but showed no other reaction.
Cale took Roksu’s wrist. His eyes widened.
Although the skin was cold, he could feel a pulse. It was sluggish and weak, but it was a pulse. But…you have to shoot a zombie in the head. They didn’t care if they lost their heart.
Cale dipped his head to press an ear to Roksu’s chest and…he couldn’t hear a heartbeat.
…what? A pulse with no heartbeat? How was that even possible?
While Cale’s head was pressed to Roksu’s chest, he felt Roksu shift slightly. Cale froze. Roksu slowly pressed his face into Cale’s hair. Once he was settled he…purred?
Cale felt his head go blank from confusion. At least, it was mostly confusion. There was a small, cruel part of him that sung with joy at the indication of affection, no matter how misplaced it was on a human. Once he recognized it, it made his stomach flip with disgust. How selfish could he be?
Cale quickly pushed himself away, his breathing ragged. Roksu simply looked at him. Cale felt his hands shake. He closed his eyes and pushed down the slight sick feeling in his stomach.
Cale breathed, trying to get his thoughts in order.
He had already decided that if Roksu were infected, he would follow Roksu into death.
But was this death?
For some strange reason, Roksu was…different. Not agressive. Rather…affectionate?
A zombie should not be affectionate. A zombie should not quietly content itself with laying near a living person while doing nothing. A zombie should not slow blink and purr at its name. A zombie should not be completely calm and still while someone caresses its cheek and pulls back its upper lip to check its teeth.
Roksu had the appearance of a zombie—the ashen skin, dark veins, hardened nails, unfocused eyes, even the poisonous yellowish saliva—but none of the mannerisms. Even when Cale stood and pulled him up by the arms out of bed, Roksu followed without complaint, just standing there and staring at him.
It was odd.
Odd enough to give Cale a traitorous spark of hope.
Maybe…maybe this wasn’t the end? Maybe Roksu would continue to be different? Maybe god or fate or something had made an exception for him? Maybe, like this, even if its not in the same form as before, Roksu could live?
(Maybe, one day, Roksu could get better?)
Cale sighed, held Roksu’s hands, and leaned his forehead against Roksu’s. Then, he tilted his head slightly, and planted a kiss on Roksu’s forehead, right in the middle, where anyone they met on the road would surely aim if they saw him like this.
“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely.
Roksu did not reply. But, he curled his blackened fingers around Cale’s hands and purred. And Cale could not stop even that possibly mindless, but still infinitely caring gesture, from painfully squeezing his heat. He screwed his eyes shut, but sobs built up and tore free from his chest, and he cried. Leaning on Roksu, as he had for months, he cried.
They settled into a new routine.
After the hoard lost track of them and dispersed, Cale set out for the alternate route, two miles south, pulling Roksu along.
Before they left the more urban areas, he snagged some clothes for Roksu. A long sleeve jacket, a cap, a mask, and gloves. It was getting colder, so it wouldn’t be too suspicious. Plus, it was common sense to leave as little exposed skin as possible. Every little bit helped in preventing a bite or scratch. Though, for Roksu, the true purpose of the clothes would be to delay anyone from recognizing that Roksu was a zombie.
Not knowing how other zombies would react to Roksu, Cale had tried to get Roksu to stay in a safe place when Cale went to try and get supplies, but this Roksu evidently did not understand the concept of “sit and wait and do nothing.” Which, granted, neither did normal Roksu, in spite of his self-proclaimed “best talent.”
So, Cale ended up tying their wrists together with a length of silk, dragging Roksu along with him whenever he ventured into urban areas for water and food.
Luckily, zombies didn’t have a good sense of sight, and ignored Roksu even when he stood completely exposed. Zombies did have a decent sense smell, but being near Roksu actually seemed to give Cale a bit of camouflage in that department. There was a time when Cale had accidentally found himself on the same floor as a zombie, and he was sure he would be sniffed out, but after he dampened his breathing, the zombie simply wandered away.
Cale made sure to mutter his thanks.
Roksu, for his part, was…odd. He mostly just silently allowed him self to be dragged along wherever, not bothering to hide from the other zombies, seemingly completely dispossessed of any sense of danger. Or maybe the other zombies were never a danger to him in the first place.
Roksu didn’t need much in this state. He didn’t sleep, didn’t drink, though he did sometimes hunt for food. (It was a bitter blessing, since Cale had to carry all of their supplies himself. Fewer supplies for Roksu meant less stuff to carry.) Cale would never forget the near heart attack he had when he first woke up to Roksu dragging him though woods, utterly confused, before Roksu stopped dead and waited until a rabbit got close enough for him to, in one swift motion, grab it and start tearing into it with his teeth and bare hands.
Cale undid the tether when they stopped to rest after that.
When he hunts, Roksu suddenly sits up straight, stands, and goes off into the woods without a sound. He also seems to recognize that the gloves keep him from using his claws, and takes them off at some point. If Cale’s lucky, Roksu will take them off close to the campsite, but after having to replace a few pairs, Cale started taking the gloves off for Roksu before going to sleep, just in case he decided to go hunt in the night.
Roksu always dragged his larger kills, the ones he couldn’t finish off in one go, back to the campsite, wherever they were, and no matter how big it was. He once dragged back a whole boar up a flight of stairs. He was also a messy eater in this state, and Cale had since given up on keeping his clothes un-stained.
Roksu had clearly grown physically stronger since the infection. If he could drag a boar around, then, if he wanted to, he could easily fold Cale in half…but for whatever reason, Roksu didn’t hurt him. He didn’t do much of his own volition, but he also didn’t try and stop Cale when Cale changed his clothes, wiping away the remnants of last night’s meal.
Keeping himself alive and Roksu clean was, frankly, an exhausting job.
The zombies were active at all hours, though they were most active during the day. They may have had poor eyesight, but that didn’t stop them from being able to make out movement if they had the light for it. Using a flashlight was a bad idea for the same reason. Going into infested areas was best done at early morning or late evening. Moving outside, skirting the populated places, could only really be done while it was light out, unless Cale wanted to trip over tree roots and eat dirt every five minutes.
Sleep was a luxury largely confined to the late night, one Cale could never get enough of. Every other waking hour was walking, looking for food, looking for water, washing their bodies, and washing their clothes, in a never ending fight to and keep their dead giveaway scents to a minimum. His hands were chapped. He had a headache more often than not. It was too easy to be panting for breath. There was a light tremor in his fingers that hadn’t gone away in days.
Cale could pick up rations here and there, but often he still went to bed hungry, lacking the stamina for long searches. He was tempted to try and cook some of the unfortunate wildlife that Roksu kept managing to find, but he worried that a fire would draw unwanted attention. Either from zombies…or from humans.
By now, they’d run into a group of humans once. At night, when Cale couldn’t sleep, he lay awake and thought about it. It should have been something joyous and spectacular. And it was. It was! It was confirmation that others had lived, and that Cale and Roksu weren’t alone.
The group had been moving in the opposite direction. A salvage mission for something in the city, Cale didn’t remember exactly what. All he remembered was the directions they gave for heading towards Rain City, and the overwhelming panic drowning out every other emotion in his mind as his thoughts spun on an endless loop of please don’t notice please don’t notice please don’t notice how am I going to explain please don’t notice please don’t notice don’t hurt him don’t hurt him please—
(Even as days turned to weeks, Roksu had never once tried to hurt him. Cale was not going to let anyone do anything to him.)
Whether it was a miracle or a simple acceptance that not every survivor was going to be the talkative type, they never demanded that Roksu say anything, and the pair escaped the interaction with the group being none the wiser. Cale and Roksu resumed their trek to Rain City, safe in the knowledge that the city was indeed more protected. And maybe, just maybe, Cale would be able to leverage his family's name to tell someone there about Roksu in a way that didn’t immediately get them both killed.
As they went, picking through a few more deserted urban areas, following the instructions of the group, Cale was also awfully tempted to pick up a case of beer…but when he thought of how Roksu needed him to stay awake and steady on his feet, he managed to pull himself away. He at least needed to be awake enough to clean Roksu in the morning if he went hunting again. And he would do it as many times as he needed to, no matter what kind of viscera stuck to his skin, or how the process made it glaringly obvious that Roksu was only growing less and less human, because, as he worked, Roksu would do nothing but sit there and stare and purr. Like Cale was welcome. Like Cale was somehow still precious to him, in spite of everything.
And sometimes, the exhaustion would catch up, and Cale’s hands would shake just a little too much, and he couldn’t help but take just a little too much comfort in that rumbling sound, and Cale would fall asleep with his arms around Roksu, his ear pressed against Roksu’s chest. There was no heartbeat, but Roksu purred as if to make up for the sound, and like that, Cale could pretend that everything was okay. He could pretend that his eyes stayed dry.
As they went, every now and again, Cale would talk to him.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way, Roksu?”
“Those fuckers sure were stubborn, weren’t they, Roksu?”
“It shouldn’t be long now, Roksu.”
“Be careful out there, Roksu.”
“Tch, motherfucker, who taught you table manners? And don’t say some tragic shit like ‘no one ever bothered,’ you unlucky little bastard.”
“God I need a drink.” A sigh. “This is the part where you scold me, Roksu.”
“Is your hair still growing? Should I cut it, Roksu?”
“This tastes like shit, Roksu.”
“I’m fine, Roksu.”
“…I’m just a bit tired, Roksu.”
“Roksu…hm, it’s nothing. Just…wanted to say your name, I guess.”
“You’ll wake up soon, won’t you? Roksu?”
“Come on, we’re nearly there, Roksu.”
Cale did not have Roksu’s photographic memory, so, after getting a bit lost, it was more than two weeks since they set out when Rain City finally came into sight.
They were tantalizingly close. Like the salvage group had said, Rain City’s barricaded settlement appeared mercifully intact, buildings standing tall, some lights visible beyond a wall that was probably erected months ago. They hid in the woody undergrowth that grew wild several dozen paces from the wall. The brush quickly gave way to a wide plain, making a straight shot to the city. But of course, between them and safety, there was a whole field of zombies. That, and, the checkpoint.
The checkpoint was brightly lit, armed sentries posted on the walls, looking down below taking shots at any zombie that wandered too close. But the zombies were generally kept away by layers of barriers and what appeared to be poles with a light at the tops. Perhaps some technology that Cale didn’t understand.
With a gate that secure, there were also certainly guards posted just inside to screen anyone and anything trying to enter. There was no way Roksu would get by undetected. But how else were they supposed to get in? The walls were much too high for Cale to get over, even if Roksu had been in any state to help. Maybe Cale could drag Roksu in and just use his family name to get the guards to shut up and not say anything useless?
As he was mulling over his options, suddenly, Roksu stiffened and looked up to stare at a random point in the undergrowth.
“Roksu, no!” Cale hissed, grabbing Roksu’s wrist. “You can’t go hunting right now! What if they see you?”
Contrary to his expectations, however, Roksu did not attempt to pull away. Instead, he simply continued staring at the one point with single-minded focus.
“…Roksu?” Cale glanced between him and the trees, but he couldn’t see anything. “What’s wrong?”
Slowly, Cale became aware of a low, rumbling sound bubbling up from Roksu’s chest. It was different from the comforting purr he often gave Cale. If anything, it more of a…growl?
Suddenly, Cale heard a shifting in the undergrowth. He tensed, looked over, and saw a zombie slowly shuffle in their direction.
Cale cursed and unhooked the crowbar from his backpack.
It was just one, but if they fought here, it could draw unwanted attention. They had been so lucky this far, too. If Cale didn’t know better, he would almost suspect the zombies had been avoiding them.
But their luck was bound to run out at some point. Might as well be when they were within sight of their goal.
Cale swallowed and readied his stance. As he faced the zombie, he couldn’t help but take note of its appearance. It used to be a woman, by the looks of things, with long, matted black hair, a torn, grey robe like some nun’s, and an emaciated appearance. She probably starved for a while before succumbing to a zombie’s bite. He was somehow reminded of the freshman girl they killed back at the vacation house. They’d smashed her skull in with a vase.
He shook the memory away. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. In the first place, they had no choice. This was a fight for survival.
Speaking of which, why hadn’t the fight started yet?
The grey-robed zombie had stopped a few paces away, staring at them, also growling faintly. After a few moments, it opened its mouth, baring sharpened, yellowed teeth, dripping with poison, and the growls grew louder.
Cale’s eyes widened as, in response, Roksu moved in front of him. Completely of his own volition. As if Roksu were…trying to protect him.
Roksu’s growls also became louder, to match the strange zombie’s. In response, the zombie snarled, and Roksu snarled back.
What was this? Cale had never seen such a thing before. It was almost like they were…arguing with each other?
Cale was reminded of videos he’d seen of territorial animals rearing up and making all kinds of strange noises at each other before fighting. But…zombies just roamed wherever? They didn’t fight each other, nor did they have “territories” to get defensive over, right? Did they?
Unless…was this grey-robed zombie also “odd?”
The tension was thick…but if “she” was also “odd,” then maybe this didn’t have to end in a fight?
Hesitantly, Cale tugged on Roksu’s wrist while observing her reactions.
“Come on, let’s just leave.”
No luck. She snarled louder and stepped forward, and Roksu pulled his hand free to put Cale more behind him. Cale quickly undid the silk band to prevent himself from getting dragged around in what was looking to be an inevitable fight…between zombies.
Slowly, they two began to circle each other, the grey-robed zombie growling and snapping, while Roksu continued at a low, steady rumble. Cale followed Roksu, keeping Roksu between himself and the other zombie and bitterly wishing there was more he could do. But Roksu was already several times stronger than him, and he didn’t want to take his chances getting close to the strange zombie should she also posses the ability to turn Cale into a pretzel.
Suddenly, like there was some unspoken signal, the grey-robed zombie lunged.
Roksu deflected the blow. He threw his own punch, but was blocked by…a shield?
Cale stumbled back, unable to believe what he was seeing.
There was a translucent, silvery shield around the strange zombie, blocking Roksu’s attacks. It was about the size of a manhole cover with a slight curve, not large enough to cover her completely, but large enough to be difficult to work around.
“What the fuck,” Cale couldn’t keep himself from saying, because seriously, was was this?! He’d never heard of zombies being able to use—what, fucking magic?
Still, Roksu really was amazing. Even with this fucking cheat, he didn’t take too many hits, and even managed to land a kick to the strange zombie’s legs. Cale heard a definite crack and inwardly cheered. He knew his Roksu wouldn’t lose so easily!
But then, like the world was playing some kind of sick prank, Cale saw the leg almost instantly right itself, the break healing like it was never there in a matter of seconds.
Again, what the fuck. Zombies couldn’t do that.
They were resilient bastards, sure, but they did not heal that quickly, if at all.
As if Cale needed a goddamn demonstration of that point, the strange zombie got a good bite on Roksu’s arm, tearing out a chunk of flesh and greedily swallowing it down.
“Fuck!” Cale tightened his grip on the crowbar, but he couldn’t find an opening to get close. Despite the injury, Roksu was still fighting fiercely, claws and fangs bared, and both of them had quick, powerful movements, their feet leaving divots in the dirt.
Still, the noise and smell of blood (even the sluggish, black blood of zombies) drew in a few more zombies from the field. Luckily, they were slow and weak, so Cale was able to hold them off with the crowbar, but when would it end?
The longer this went on, the more zombies would gather, and the livelier they would get. And Cale was already beginning to tire. It was always like this. Only having enough stamina to get half of what they needed, only ever strong enough to save himself…if he wanted to make it to the checkpoint, Cale needed to make a break for it now. But…
He glanced back at the fight, still vicious and snarling, with cuts and broken nails both, though the grey-robe’s injuries quickly healed.
…he couldn’t just leave Roksu. Not now. Not when they’ve come this far.
“Shit—”
A lively one came up on his side. Cale managed to dodge and bash its head with the crowbar, but it was a close call. His hands were shaking, his breathing harsh.
Roksu glanced back at him, and the strange zombie cracked a blow across his jaw with the shield. Roksu howled in frustration and Cale felt his own heart constrict in pain.
“Roksu!”
Roksu glared at the strange zombie. Then, he retreated a step, picked up a rock, and vanished.
Cale blinked.
In that time, Roksu had already reappeared behind the grey-robed zombie, and brought the rock down on the back of her skull with a sickening CRACK!
She dropped like a sack of potatoes, her skull missing a chunk and portion of the pink-tinged flesh inside pulped and splattered across the ground. Even so, she wasn’t quite dead. Cale saw the brain matter in her skull squirm, trying to reform itself as her limbs twitched and convulsed.
Roksu sat on her back, pinning her as he dug one hand into her soft grey matter. Cale didn’t even have time to be shocked or baffled before Roksu pulled out what looked like a shining, silvery rock, pulsing with light like a heartbeat, and ate it.
Roksu ate the strange zombie’s brain rock.
…what?
While Cale was trying to process that information, another zombie snuck up on him. But before he could foolishly meet his end, a silver shield appeared behind him, stopping the zombie’s gnawing bite and uncoordinated scratching.
Cale swung his crowbar, then blinked and again tried to process what just happened.
Did…did Roksu just use the shield?
“Roksu, what the fuck was that?”
Cale turned toward him and froze.
Roksu was barely standing, swaying on his feet. He was covered in numerous gashes that definitely weren’t there before he’d picked up the rock and vanished from the spot. Even though Cale could see them being healed, the healing was more sluggish than it was for the strange zombie. Or maybe the damage was too much? Either way, it wasn’t good.
Roksu’s eyes slid closed, and he slowly tilted to the side.
“Roksu!” Cale wasted no time in rushing to his side, taking the limp, bony frame into his arms. “Roksu, no, please, fuck—”
The weaker zombies were still around, and Cale felt his breathing pick up as he tried desperately to figure out a way to get to safety while protecting Roksu.
But, strangely, the other zombies…weren’t coming near him? Or maybe…
Cale’s breathing stopped.
…maybe they weren’t coming near Roksu.
At that moment, he saw a blur of black out of the corner of his eye, and in the next, the zombies nearby were blown back or outright disintegrated.
Cale flinched, some of the gore spattering his jacket, as the blur of black pulled to a stop in front of him.
Looking down on him was a young man, maybe a bit older than Cale, with a sword and a terrifyingly cold aura.
The young man looked at Roksu, then at Cale, then back to Roksu. Roksu may have just acquired some kind of super healing factor, but Cale had also just been shown a demonstration of how it was 100% possible to circumvent, and this young man (who didn’t appear to be one of the “odd” zombies?) had just completely obliterated half a dozen bodies.
“I-I’m a Henituse!” Cale hastily attempted to keep the young man from doing anything reckless. “I know he’s a zombie, but he’s not dangerous, I swear! We’ve been together for weeks! He doesn’t bite people! J-just let us in to see my father, he’ll understand!”
Cale had no idea if his father would actually understand.
“A-an Aberrant?”
A voice that very much did not belong to the young man piped up. Cale saw another young man with silver hair come up behind the black-haired youth.
The black-haired one nodded, a bit of the cold aura around him dissipating. “It seems like it.” He held out his hand. “Come on, we’ll get you both to safety.”
Cale looked at the glove, zombie viscera still clinging to the creases.
The disgust must’ve shown on his expression, because the swordsman actually pulled his hand back with a sheepish expression, briefly glancing around as if looking for something to wipe it on.
Cale simply stood on his own and then made a valiant effort to haul Roksu up as well…but Cale’s legs shook with exhaustion and he instantly stumbled. Luckily, before he could drop Roksu like a pile of laundry, the silver-haired youth ran to his side and lifted Roksu on to his own back.
“It’s fine, it’s fine!” The young man assured him. “I’ve got your friend!”
Cale tried to tamp down on the instinctive anxiety of seeing someone else get close to Roksu, not helped when he got a jolt of fear the moment it registered that he didn’t have the silk band on his wrist tying them together.
Cale rubbed his empty wrist to try and calm his rabbiting heart and managed to stammer out a, “O-okay, um, thanks…”
The swordsman nodded, looking at Roksu. “If it’s an Aberrant, then we need to let Rosalyn and the others know…and if it’s you…” the swordsman’s eyes landed on Cale again, “If you’re really Cale Henituse, then we need to let the family know. They’ve been looking everywhere for you.”