Chapter Text
Things may be better in Seabrook but they're not perfect. Human and zombie relations have definitely improved but not everyone's quite on board with the monster equality movement so there's a lot of eyes on the school, the most progressive place in town, to see whether the inclusion of zombies is a good idea. Luckily Zed's pretty awesome and has raised the bar more than once across the board, especially on the football field. And while it's tough, being a part of the team has always been worth it.
Normally the practice drills are a breeze, Zed barely breaking a sweat while his teammates struggle to keep up.They hated it to start with but it turns out chasing around after a souped-up zombie helps build strength and agility and the whole team has been playing better as a result.
Today is different. If Zed zombies out then people will get hurt and without his zomboost he's the one struggling. Everyone's bigger and faster than he remembers, easily running rings around him, and knocking him to the ground with every play.
Coach isn’t helping, making a comment every time Zed hits the floor. Zed's trying to ignore it, he really is, but little by little it's chipping away at him. Coach only wants what’s best for the team; he knows Zed's better than this and is confused why the zombie is failing. He doesn't have to be such an asshole about it though.
Zed eats dirt for the fiftieth time and a low growl rumbles deep in his chest, surging up and trying to push past his teeth. Smacking his hand over his mouth, Zed barely manages to keep it in. Self-control he didn't know he has is all that keeps him from screaming at the top of his lungs.
Fingers twitching, he fights the urge back, barely swallowing it down again as he shakily pulls himself to his feet. Bonzo needs to get here now.
“Come on Zed!” Coach calls out again. “Stop holding out on me!”
Something flickers behind tired eyes, anger snapping in his mind, and before he can think, Zed reaches for his z-band, powering it down. Blackened veins spider their way across his rapidly paling skin; his eyes flash with rage, the skin around them darkening; bones cracking as he jerks and twitches in place. The miniscule remains of Zed's rational thoughts crumble away.
He shifts, his stance widening, fingers clenching and flexing as he glares across the field. A deep breath fills his lungs and Zed screams. Long. Loud. A guttural roar that echoes across the campus. Everyone hears it and Seabrook High shivers. It’s been a long while since they’ve heard a real zombie scream.
Eliza is trapped, Wyatt's fingers gripping tightly around her arm so she looks to Bonzo. He's skidded to a stop but is agitated, looking panickedly between Eliza and the front doors.
"Go!" she shoos him, pointing when he hesitates. "Find him!"
He doesn't wait to be told again, Bonzo running full speed towards the North end of the school. He doesn't want to leave her but Eliza can handle Wyatt and Zed needs him right now.
Wyatt gently tugs on her arm, pulling Eliza's attention back to him.
"What's going on? What was that?" Wyatt can't tell which direction it came from but the pain in that cry was unmistakable.
"I don't have time for this." she tries and fails to pull herself free, Wyatt only tightening his grip.
"Not until you tell me."
See zombies usually don't run, they lumber; steady uneven steps filled with purpose that rarely speed up for anything except fire. Which is why the sound of two zombies running down the hallway caught his attention, even before the zombie scream.
Another attempt to free herself fails, the werewolf unsurprisingly strong as he tries to hold her in place. There's a look of determination on Wyatt's face, a wish to help but a lingering anger at being in the dark. Eliza's unfazed, Wyatt doesn't scare her, but not getting to the field in time does. She pins him with a fierce glare as she pulls again.
“I have to go!”
“Go where?!”
“To help Zed!”
Shock and confusion cross Wyatt's face, his brain seemingly stuttering in surprise and giving Eliza the perfect opportunity. Tearing her arm from his hand, she doesn't wait, taking off as fast as she can after Bonzo. They don't have time for this.
Wynter's waiting at the edge of the field, the rest of the team having long since scattered. She made the team last month, to the surprise of no one. The whole school saw her take down those guys who were twice her size who had the smart idea to try and cut her in the lunch line on Pizza day.
Out in the center of the field, Bonzo is walking backwards, arms outstretched and talking calmly in Zombie. Zed keeps moving towards him, slow, hunched, angered and swiping at Bonzo but never landing a blow.
Eliza runs up, Wyatt not far behind, the two of the them stopping beside Wynter and staring in shock and horror at Zed.
“He doesn't look okay." Wyatt observes.
An understatement. Between his darkened bloodshot eyes, pale deadened skin, and the growling, Zed's practically unrecognisable. When he usually zombies out he doesn't look anywhere near this bad.
“It’s not his fault.” Wynter insists. "Coach wouldn't let up."
Eliza's mind is racing. Every problem has a solution and they are swiftly running out of time to figure this out; still as she watches Zed and Bonzo on the brink of fighting, she's got nothing.
“They never took out the zombie alarms." she mumbles, remembering the darker days, before zombies were even allowed in school. Scattered across Seabrook, they were activated whenever a human got so much as a whiff of a zombie, "One nervous human hits it and this place will be swarming with soldiers. If they see Zed like this, they'll take him away.”
Yellow eyes flare while lips curl into snarls baring sharp teeth as both Wynter and Wyatt's moonstones glow bright against their chests.
“They'll try.” Wyatt growls.
Zombies and werewolves may not always see eye-to-eye but Zed is a member of their pack. Anyone who takes so much as a single step towards Zed will have to go through them. Wyatt turns to Wynter.
“Find Zed’s dad, get him here. Quick.”
Wynter nods, pulling her jersey over her head and tossing it aside as she runs. It'll only slow her down.
Wyatt steps out onto the field, reaching up, stretching as he walks. One way, then the other, rotating his shoulders while his eyes are laser-focused on the zombie ahead of him.
"What are you doing?" Eliza calls after him.
"I'm going to keep him busy." He turns to face her, continuing to walk backwards. "While you figure out how we fix this."
“Are you stupid? Do you have any idea how strong he is right now?”
Oh he's aware. Wyatt's seen Zed take out quarterbacks like they're nothing, sending them flying. And that's been when he had some kind of restraint. Wyatt's under no delusion. He knows this is going to hurt.
It would be a lie to say Wyatt has never considered who would win in a fight between a zombie and a werewolf. Naturally the answer is werewolf; in strength, resiliance, and determination there's no contest.
Now fifty years ago it might have been different; modern zombies barely compare to their ancestors. Over the years they've become kind of domesticated, controlled by their z-bands, and suppressed by humans while constantly chasing their approval.
Wyatt's grandmother used to share stories of exactly how dangerous they used to be; feral, brainless, single-minded monsters with no sense of self-preservation. No matter what was thrown at them they never gave up. EVER. A smart wolf was one who knew to keep their distance.
Luckily Wyatt's smarts are frequently in question.
“I'm open to better ideas!”
The silence in response is what he expected. With enough time there's no doubt Eliza would figure out a perfect solution where no one gets hurt, but time's a luxury they really don't have so the simplest plan it will have to be.
Zed's focus is entirely on Bonzo, movements intensely angered but slow; eyes hollow, lifeless, and blazing with rage. He's completely unaware of anything else around them, which gives Wyatt an opening.
Swiftly he moves, one foot in front of the other until he's running full pelt at the zombie. Clawed fingers curl while his eyes flash and moonstone glows. They collide with force, the speed and lack of balance sending the pair to the ground.
Zombie scream mixes with werewolf roar as they tumble over and over. Zed tries to hold on but Wyatt pries him off with ease, shoving himself away and rolling further across the grass. When he stops, he's swiftly on his feet, crouched low in defence, guarded and ready to fight again. His ears are ringing and the left side of his face is sore. Seems Zed caught him across the face with some force.
Zed wasn't as lucky, his jersey covered in scratches, though its hard to tell if Wyatt's claws broke skin. It doesn't seem to bother him, Zed slamming one fist against the ground, while the fingers on his other hand dig welts into the dirt. Slow but deliberate, he drags himself up, eye's locked with Wyatt's the entire time. The werewolf has got his attention.
With a yell Zed launches forward. Faster than before but still slow. Wyatt steps aside, grabbing Zed's outstretched arm, pulling him forward and with a hand to the back of Zed's head, pushing him down. Zed trips, falls and hits the ground again.
Distraction, not destruction; that's the goal. Zed may be strong but he's slow and unbalanced. If Wyatt can keep him from getting his bearings, keep him down, then they should both come out of this relatively unscathed.
Wyatt's leg erupts in agony, as Zed's cleats make contact with his shin. The pain drops him to his knees, with an anguished cry. Zed draws his foot back ready to strike again. Throbbing pain shooting through his ankle, Wyatt has to think fast, rolling out of range before the second strike can land. He wasn't expecting a change of attack. He forgets; the cogs may turn slowly, but they're still turning.
With his prey out of reach, Zed starts to slowly push himself up again.
Wyatt shifts, trying to assess his injury. It's agonising and already starting to bruise, but there's no blood and doesn't seem to be broken. Struggling to his feet, he manages to stand. His ankle won't take most of his weight, leaving him unbalanced.
"Eliza!" he calls out.
With this, he's lost his speed advantage. Without speed, this is about strength and Wyatt isn't sure that's a fight he can win.
"Pin him down!!" comes the call back.
Zed's on his feet and there's no time to question it. Every second waited is another the zombie has to make the first move.
With everything he has, Wyatt launches himself forward, aiming for Zed's middle. He wraps his arms around him and drags him to the ground, making sure to land on top of him.
With the wind knocked from Zed's lungs, Wyatt has maybe three seconds which he makes sure not to waste.
Zed's yelling, jerking and flinching as he tries to break free. Wyatt shifts, throwing his whole weight on top of the zombie, while grabbing for his arms.
Seconds tick by, Wyatt and Zed face to face, one roaring, the other screaming until a familiar sound cuts across and the zombie falls silent. Life weakly flickers back into Zed's eyes, almost immediately overwhelmed by exhaustion.
Zed's limbs go slack, dropping to the ground as all fight drains instantly. His eyes dart back and forth taking everything in. Wyatt on top of him; the football field against his back; aching muscles; heart racing in his chest; throat agonisingly sore. He turns. Eliza's knelt on the ground next to him, her fingers tightly gripped around his reactivated z-band. Angry tears threaten to pour over her cheeks as she glares daggers at him. She doesn't say anything but she doesn't have to; the 'I told you.' and 'I hate you' are loud and clear on her face.
Zed lets his head fall back against the mud.
"Fuck."