Chapter Text
The sun had long since risen above the horizon, spreading light on this side of the earth. Birds had been tweeting merrily for some time now, and most people had long since rolled out of bed and gone to work. One of Tony Stark’s eyes cracked open and glowered at the sun streaming in brightly from his window. He rolled over onto his stomach and squinted at the clock on his nightstand. It was 11:47 am. For a moment Tony closed his eyes. There wasn’t really anything to do, he reasoned, nothing important anyway; he could just close his eyes and sleep longer, maybe forever. He was drifting off to sleep when a thought occurred to him.
It was almost noon on a Monday, and he was still asleep. He hadn’t been disturbed once. Normally, if he slept in much past 8:00 am on a weekday, his personal assistant Pepper would come and wake him up as he had asked of her several months before. He stared at the clock for a long moment before he reached for his phone and opened it, sitting up as he went. He forced the anxiety that had started to build in his chest down. Maybe Pepper had called in sick and he’d missed it. Maybe she had taken a vacation day. He stopped. Had she taken a day off? He thought he would remember something like that. Then again, he also thought he wouldn’t remember something like that.
He turned on the screen of his phone to be met with nothing from Pepper; no new messages, no missed calls, nothing. But that wasn’t to speak for what he had from other people. His phone was overloaded with messages, calls, and voicemails. He stared at the screen for a long time, frozen, unsure of where to start first. His first thought was that his anxiety had been right--something had happened to Pepper. In a panic, feeling useless leaning over a small screen, he started reading the messages he had been left. He would check the voicemails second, he reasoned. Most people would leave a text message if he didn’t respond to a call.
He had messages from various people he worked with, or knew casually, asking him if he had “read the news” or “heard about what’s going on.” He glossed over these and opened the messages he had from the only person who had messaged him that he cared at all about.
HAPPY: Tony, are you okay? I’m sure you have seen the news. What is going on?
HAPPY: Tony, if you are okay please answer this message immediately.
HAPPY: Is Pepper with you? She won’t answer any of my messages, either.
HAPPY: I’m on my way over.
Tony winced as he read the last message. The time stamp was 10:00 am, almost two hours ago now. If Happy had been leaving to make sure he was okay, he would have been here by now. But why hadn’t he made it? What was going on?
None of the other messages he had received explained what was going on. They all merely had the common thread of something happening that had been on the news that morning, something that would have somehow threatened Tony’s well-being. Unsure of what else to do, Tony opened his internet browser and simply typed in “news.” His fingers were moving slowly, his mind even slower. He couldn’t think of any other way to check the news all of a sudden, though in the back of his mind he was sure there must have been a better way.
In the instance where a local event had taken place, Tony never would have been able to find what he was looking for. In this case, however, he wouldn’t have been able to avoid it.
Countless articles showed up under the “Top News” section at the beginning of the search results. Every news source one could possibly conceive of had an article posted, all within the last few hours, all concerning the same thing: Zombies.
Tony scoffed. Zombies? For a moment, he considered he might still be dreaming. He looked down at himself, but he was still wearing the same briefs and tank top he had fallen asleep in, and he had the right number of limbs, fingers, and toes. He scanned the room around him, looking for any inconsistencies or anything he didn’t remember. As far as he was concerned, everything seemed to be as it should be. He turned back to his phone. He picked an article whose title did not include the word “zombie” and started to read.
It was titled “Countless dead in sudden pandemic outbreak”:
"Some time last night, people started disappearing at rapid rate. Missing people reports skyrocketed at an unprecedented speed. Countless calls have been made to police forces all around the country regarding people getting attacked and even bitten by others. The attackers have been described as deranged, cannibalistic, and undead. Many accounts have come from people claiming that their family members, friends, or even strangers, had been attacked and killed, only to seemingly come back to life moments later. Police have been struggling to respond to these calls, but many stations have already reported loss of contact with forces that have been dispatched. Around 4:00 in the morning, military units have been contacted and released across the country in an attempt to stifle the mad attacks still being reported."
Tony stopped. The article didn’t say zombies, as most of the others had, but it certainly sounded like zombies. He got to his feet, threw on a pair of pants and a jacket, and headed out his room door. He dialed Happy’s number as he went, his mind racing. He would need some kind of weapon, he realized, if he was going to leave the relative safety of his home. His cell phone rung in his ear, but the sound seemed like it was miles away. He hesitated as he stood in his kitchen. It was clean and untouched, almost peaceful. He gazed outside the windows at the land surrounding him. Should he leave? So far, he had been safe here. Perhaps the sheer isolation his home offered would be enough to protect him from what was going on outside. Standing there, it was hard to believe anything had happened at all. The only sign that anything was different was the absence of Pepper.
Happy’s voicemail picked up. Tony cursed. He called Pepper too but to no avail. Without any sort of response, he would be unable to trace either of their phones. He had no way of knowing where either of them had ended up, if they were even alive at all. He shook his head to try and expel the last thought. If he didn’t see it for himself, he decided, he would never believe it. Especially this early on. He had to try and find them.
If Happy had been trying to get to Tony, he reasoned, then he might be able to find some sign of him on the route between their houses. Tony headed towards his basement, his feet tapping lightly on each step as he descended. His father had quite the collection of firearms as Tony grew up. Though most of them were locked away elsewhere, he still kept a safe of a choice few of these guns downstairs. It was left unlocked, and yet the handle had countless months of dust buildup on top of it. He disturbed it now, tossing the small door open. Inside was a small revolver, a 12 gauge shotgun, and an old hunting rifle. Next to each of these was a small supply of bullets and a leather holster for the revolver. The shotgun had its own strap connected to it; however, the hunting rifle had nothing of the sort. Tony was a little surprised by the seemingly measly weapons his father had left in this particular safe. Maybe he had put the one with all the super cool, fancy gear somewhere else. Tony pushed the thought aside; really, it didn’t matter.
Tony tossed the shotgun over his shoulder and slipped the holster onto his belt. He grabbed as much amo as he could and turned suddenly to look around. He would need some sort of backpack, he realized, and food. In his haste to try and find his friends, he had completely forgotten about his basic needs. He rushed back up the stairs, holding the bullets carefully in his arms. In reality, he hadn’t forgotten as much about the fact that he needed to eat as he had forgotten that he might not be coming back. He didn’t let the thought live in his head for long. He was going to go out, find Happy and Pepper, and return here. He felt it would work as a pretty good base of sorts.
He found an old blue canvas backpack and tossed the bullets in there. On top of that he added a couple sandwiches, water bottles, sodas, beef jerky, bread, peanut butter, a couple items he thought might be useful, a change of clothes, and his laptop. He also grabbed a pocket knife out of his bedroom and tucked it into his jeans. He found a pair of old combat boots that seemed to fit the occasion and he donned those as well. They were old, but didn’t show much for it; the shoes looked as if they had been bought yesterday. Indeed, they had never been worn. He grabbed his wallet, his phone, a charger, and hesitated. He stood in the foyer of his home, looking back. He wondered if there was anything he had forgotten.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said aloud to himself. “I’ll be back before too long.” Despite these words, he still waited. He let his eyes scan around around all of the house he could see, as if he was taking it all in. Once he was certain he hadn’t forgotten anything, he tossed the backpack over his shoulder with his shotgun and turned towards the door. He tapped his smartphone in his pocket, “Let’s go, J.A.R.V.I.S.”
From his pocket, his smartphone screen lit up. A stifled British voice spoke from it, “Of course, sir.”