Chapter Text
it’s sunday, 6am. june 3rd, thirds day of the zombie apocalypse. yoongi’s made up his mind. the carefully enunciated words over the radio tell him to stay put, but he needs to get out. if this is anything like the zombie movies taehyung likes to watch, he knows that staying in the city any longer is a bad fucking idea.
the radio speakers repeat that the city is in lockdown, that everyone will be safe if they confine themselves to their homes, bolt the doors and cover the windows. the troops would be there within 24 hours to bring the residents to safety. bull-fucking-shit, yoongi thinks.
afternoon of the day before yesterday, as yoongi was lounging in namjoon and jin’s apartment, there’d been a commotion on tv about some bizarre, violent attacks taking place in public areas. the reports about the incidents vanished an hour later, and a few hours after that, the sirens went off and the city was put on lockdown. everyone with a cell phone received an emergency alert text to stay inside due to a serious health concern. there’d initially been a commotion in the apartment building among the residents who’d just been enjoying their lazy saturday, but everyone eventually obeyed the announcement to return to their apartments, dim the lights and lock their doors.
yoongi had gone on facebook to see reposts of a status describing one of the attacks, which included in it the word “zombies” in bold. a very disconcerting video followed it. that video was quickly joined by other shaky phone videos witnessing what appeared to be the undead, their eyes dull and mouths gaping as they stumbled into live bodies, sinking teeth into flesh. yoongi considered leaving town at that point, but the incidents had happened in the city center, while yoongi was currently situated in one of the quiet, outermost districts, cat-sitting for jin. however, this false sense of security was short-lived. at around 8 pm, the wifi suddenly cut off. a quick glance to his phone showed that there was no cell service either. by then it was getting dark, so yoongi closed his laptop with a clammy hand, took a shower, and let the dissociative mixture of artificial calm and intense vigilance wrap around him enough so he could get a good few hours of sleep. day two, no new information was provided and yoongi locked himself in the apartment and hoped it was all just a dream. but by night, yoongi snapped out of his wishful state and decided to hightail it out of there as soon as the sun was up again. it was best, yoongi thought, not to travel in the dark.
so here yoongi is at the asscrack of dawn, squatting in namjoon and jin’s cozy little apartment while they’re off on a bromantic holiday in the south, and the apocalypse is in session. jin’s cat, mochi, stares at yoongi from her spot on the couch with two large, reflective eyes. yoongi shuts off the radio with a frustrated huff; every channel is playing the same announcement. yoongi’s gut is telling him to run, though he hasn’t personally seen any of these zombies yet and the neighborhood is eerily calm. his gut is usually right.
he really has no other friends in this city besides taehyung, who happened to take the train to the coast for the weekend to visit his grandparents, so yoongi just needs to take mochi and go. he hopes taehyung’s sweet, seaside town hasn’t been touched by whatever the hell is going on in their capital.
“gotta pack,” he mutters to himself. for the next fifteen minutes, he stalks around the apartment mumbling the names of objects out loud like he has a screw loose. mochi watches him curiously but doesn’t move.
knife. scissors. pants. bug spray. socks. more socks. a lighter. first aid kit. water bottle. simple toiletries. cat food. mochi’s leash (weird, yoongi knows. but mochi’s a weirdly chill cat with a weirder owner who likes to walk her around the neighborhood like a dog). mochi’s blanket, mochi’s brush, mochi’s treats. yoongi takes his cat-sitting duties seriously, especially when he is repaid in free meals and free access to namjoon’s memory foam mattress. to be honest, yoongi’s lucky he isn’t stranded in his own apartment for the zombie outbreak. he stocks little to no food in his own fridge, while jin oversees a full-blown pantry.
the survival necessities go into a large backpack he filches from namjoon’s closet, and the rest- extra clothes, canned and dry food items (thank you, kim seokjin)- go into his own duffel bag.
“alright, mochi,” yoongi says. “let’s go.”
mochi doesn’t move from the couch, obviously, so yoongi walks over to the couch to pick her up and usher her gently into her carrier. on his way out, he snags a too-large raincoat from the coat closet, just in case. there’s something final about the way the door clicks as it’s locked. the jingle of the car keys on yoongi’s belt becomes an anxious chime, accompanying mochi’s intermittent meows down the few flights of stairs.
“hush, honey,” yoongi says to the cat as they enter the underground carpark. he startles when he sees the silhouette of a few other people in the dim lighting, loading bags into their car.
“woah, dude,” one of them calls out when they notice his presence. “are you getting outta here too?” upon closer inspection, they’re a group of three guys, around yoongi’s age.
“yeah,” yoongi says, standing awkwardly with bag and cat carrier in hand.
“is that a cat?” another guy asks, when mochi meows.
“oh!” says the first guy, who looks far too chipper in his skintight tank top for the impending apocalypse. “is that mochi?” he saunters forward and leans down to coo at mochi, who meows again. yoongi thinks distractedly that mochi’s vocalizations may be a liability in the game of survival.
“uh, yeah.”
“you’re namjoon’s friend, yeah? he mentioned you were gonna catsit for him and jin this weekend. we smoke together sometimes,” tanktop guy says. “i’m jackson. from the fifth floor.”
“yoongi,” yoongi says. “so where’re you headed?”
“don’t know, to be honest,” jackson shrugs. “we suspect the highways are blocked off so we just need to get out of the capital first. we were thinking we’d head to springhill, since it’s the next biggest town nearby. see if we can figure out what’s going on. i gotta give my grandma a call, she’s still on her farm by herself.”
“makes sense, i was thinking about doing that, or going directly south to the coast.” jackson nods.
“would you want to hop in with us?” jackson asks, “there’s still space in our car.”
“i think i’ll take my own car,” yoongi decides, “but thanks, man, really. we could stick together though, at least until we get out of the city? having two cars is better than one.”
“sounds good,” jackson grins. “the more the merrier. we’re gonna try and see if the highway is open. if not, jinyoung knows some local roads that should work. i don’ t know how familiar you are with this area.”
“not very, my apartment’s in the mid-districts,” yoongi admits. “i’ll follow you then.”
normally, yoongi doesn’t follow or trust strangers. but jackson is namjoon’s weed buddy and these are special circumstances. also, if they end up having to build some remote forest settlement like they do in zombie movies, having three robust young men around may be helpful. god knows yoongi doesn’t ever make it to the gym.
. . .
as suspected, the highway is a no-go. those who had tried to flee last night must have encountered trouble, whether it be zombies or barricades put in place by disease control operations, yoongi isn’t sure. the only evidence remaining is a huge traffic jam of empty cars, and the few undead walking among them. yoongi wonders where the survivors had fled. the zombies look sluggish and unaware, and a part of yoongi is grateful to see they have dull senses, but the other part is curious…
thankfully, yoongi only ever flirts when in a particular mood, and he’s never in the mood to flirt with death specifically, so he stays put as jackson’s beat-up red honda makes a u-turn to pull up near him.
“what the fuck,” yoongi can hear jackson hiss repeatedly from the passenger seat as their car’s driver-side window rolls down. the guy at the wheel, jinyoung, appears a little shaken but manages to give yoongi rough directions to the local road leading out of the city, in case they become separated.
with one more glance at the silent pileup of cars on the highway and the few slow, unsteady figures weaving in between the jammed vehicles, yoongi rolls up his own window and follows jackson’s beat up red honda with his own beat up, secondhand metal matchbox, as namjoon likes to put it.
it’s 7:32 am and the streets are strangely quiet. the only other cars on the road are parked by the curb. the 24 hour convenience stores are closed, and yoongi notices a familiar subway stop that’s been shuttered, with chains holding the metal grates closed for good measure. yoongi can’t help glancing side to side, feeling hyperalert. mochi lies awake but silent in the carrier on the passenger seat.
they pass by capital no.1 athletic secondary, the famous high school for athletes and a landmark noted by jinyoung. as a boarding school, it’s quite likely the students are hunkering down somewhere in the gated campus. it feels strange to imagine thousands of kids in there while yoongi is outside, attempting to flee the capital. he wonders if they feel safe or trapped within those walls.
this question is answered, partially, just three minutes later.
. . .
yoongi does a double take at an intersection while in the process of running a red light (special circumstances: the apocalypse). he can’t help but slow the car to a stop, with a worried glance at the red honda driving off ahead.
this is a bad idea, yoongi thinks, but his conscience has him putting his car into reverse and lurching back to get closer to the kids he’d seen on the sidewalk.
“fuck,” he whispers once he realizes that there are two boys in the street, one in a blue and white school uniform beating the hell out of another person- no, a zombie- with a baseball bat and another boy in jeans and a hoodie clutching a lacrosse stick.
the thing about stressful moments is this: time either slows down to the point you’re registering everything happening around you in terrifying hd, or everything happens in a numb fog and then you come out of it with no knowledge whatsoever.
yoongi sees this one in slow motion hd from his twisted position in the driver’s seat, parked around ten meters away from the situation.
baseball boy delivers a vicious blow to the zombie’s head, which sends the body crumpling to the pavement. lacrosse boy sights yoongi’s car and points, gesturing to his buddy, who responds by taking lacrosse boy’s hand and sprinting toward yoongi’s car. yoongi unlocks his doors. lacrosse boy’s shiny orange hair flops in the wind. the whites of their eyes frame pupils dilated with fear as they bang heavily on the windows and pull on the door handles. baseball boy stumbles backwards when the door flings open, likely not expecting to be let in so easily.
mochi meows in distress when the orange-haired lacrosse boy opens the passenger door.
“get in the back, both of you,” yoongi snaps with a nervous glance backwards at the dark lump of the zombie, which seems to be moving now.
the kids pile in, shoving the duffel bag to the side and slamming the door closed just as yoongi changes gears and puts his foot on the gas.
“fuck,” yoongi mutters. there’s no sign of jackson’s red car ahead. they must not have noticed he’d stopped. yoongi thinks he remembers the directions well enough to manage. cell service and google maps feel like a faraway luxury already.
“have you been bitten?” yoongi asks shortly, a montage of scenes from zombie shows running through his head. “fuck,” he adds, when he notices the splattering of blood on baseball boy’s face and neck area in the rearview.
“no,” the boys say nearly in unison, their voices surprisingly soft and sweet.
“prove it,” yoongi says.
“what?” baseball kid says.
“do you want us to strip?” the other kid asks calmly. “there’s not a scratch on either of us.” after he says this, he turns to his friend and whispers, “wait, are you- i mean, you didn’t get hurt just now, did you?”
“no, no.”
“okay,” orange-haired kid sighs, and the word is heavy with relief.
“wipe that blood off your face,” yoongi says eventually, as he shoves a box of tissues at them. “don’t strip.”
“where-”
“shut up for a bit and let me drive,” yoongi snaps, trying desperately to remember whether he was told to make a right or left at this T intersection. he doesn’t expect jackson’s group to wait for him, and he’s not upset they’d gone on ahead. they barely know each other. he gets it. he mostly berates himself for not remembering the directions more closely. or being the kind of idiot who picks up bloody, teenage idiots from the streets of district 24.
he chooses to turn right. it feels like the right direction. if not the right direction, then at the very least, the right direction. ha.
“so,” yoongi starts, “you kids in high school? adding zombie-fighting to your resume anytime soon?”
yoongi’s head spins a little from the adrenaline, but his voice is reliably steady.
“um,” baseball boy says, probably regretting his decision to enter this particular car.
“where are we going?” the orange-haired kid asks.
“didn’t your mother tell you not to get into cars with strangers?” yoongi quips.
“uh.”
“relax, kid. we’re getting out of the capital,” yoongi answers, “i’m thinking the southern coast, maybe. get some sun. go fishing. was there somewhere specific you two were heading?”
“no, we haven’t really thought about that yet,” baseball boy says carefully, “but our families are at the southern coast, we’re from port 7.”
port 7, the largest of the port cities creatively numbered one to eight.
“still a big city, then,” yoongi says. “well. i’m going to find us a way out of this fuckin mess first, and then we’ll see about a family reunion.”
. . .
yoongi gives himself a pat on the fucking back for successfully ending up on a local mountain road. the road weaves through the mountains, connecting villages and shrines here and there. according to jinyoung, some parts of it would be rough on beat-up cars.
“thanks for picking us up,” one of the boys says in a quiet voice, and yoongi looks into the rearview to see orange-haired boy staring earnestly. the two of them are occupying the middle and right seats to leave space for yoongi’s duffel, and they’ve both fastened their seatbelts. ridiculous. they look so young.
“you’re welcome,” yoongi grunts.
“um,” baseball boy says, “i can drive for a bit, if you get tired. i have a license.”
“sure,” yoongi says. “you’re old enough to have a license?”
baseball boy meets yoongi’s gaze with the most adorable wide eyes. maybe yoongi’s grumbly morning voice scares him, who knows. yoongi goes back to focusing on the road ahead of him.
“yeah. i- i’m nineteen.”
“oh? i though you were a high school student, with that uniform.”
“we’re in college,” orange-haired boy pipes up. “we were just back at sports secondary to visit. there were some cool events there this weekend.”
“sports secondary… that’s what you call capital athletic secondary?” yoongi asks.
“yeah, that’s what all the students call it.”
“so,” yoongi says. “baseball and lacrosse?”
baseball boy nods while the other one laughs. it’s a single, airy sound.
“i did gymnastics, but i’m a dance major now,” orange-haired kid explains. he raises the lacrosse stick lying across their laps, “this is for… self defense.”
“cool,” yoongi says.
“um, so what do you do?” baseball boy asks hesitantly.
“office job,” yoongi says, not caring to elaborate. orange-haired kid raises a dark orange eyebrow but doesn’t press. but he asks for yoongi’s name.
“yoongi," he says, "the cat’s name is mochi.”
“does she like to be pet?” baseball boy asks with the most enthusiasm yoongi has heard from him so far.
“uh, she might be a little shy around strangers but yeah, she does,” yoongi replies. “what’re your names?”
and goodness gracious. not even the zombie apocalypse will prevent that from being an awkward question. or maybe this is just yoongi’s problem.
“i’m jimin, it’s nice to meet you!” orange haired dance major says, as if they’re attending a freshman year icebreaker activity.
“i’m jungkook,” actual baseball boy says. he tacks on a ‘nice to meet you’ with none of the easy energy jimin possesses. yoongi can relate.
suddenly, yoongi chuckles to himself.
an ex-gang member, a baseball star, and a gymnast are stuck in a car. there’s no punchline, but … there’s a joke in here somewhere.