Chapter Text
The Silent Ones.
Life Saver
I never asked for this.
All I ever wanted was a peaceful life, with a nice family, and a successful career with no danger.
But I never asked for this.
All that echoed in the abandoned super-market was the sound of my hurried footsteps that slid across marble tiles as I ran for my life. My roughed-up sneakers squeaked as I slid across the tiles, making a turn for a dark, stranded aisle. I hid behind a rack of cereal boxes, my breath ragged.
The only light bulb that dangled from the ceiling kept flickering on and off. I kept a hand over my mouth to make less sound as possible. I crouched as low as I could.
I heard a clang. Then some boxes fell. My breathing stopped
I heard a deep, almost hungry rumble. It echoed through all the aisles.
I was shaking terribly. Sweat trickled down my forehead in thick beads. Don't see me.
Thud. Thud.
I heard the scratching of sharp nails across marble.
The light flickered, and then died. Darkness engulfed everything from my sight. My heart was racing.
I heard the deep rumbling and growling come from behind my aisle; like a tiger’s growl, except this one was louder, bolder, and set in the fear of Death in anyone who heard it.
I screwed my eyes shut, trying to be as insignificant as I could. Don't see me, please don't see me.
With every thud, it came closer. I could practically feel its sinister presence somewhere near me. I hoped beyond all hopes for it to ignore me and just doesn't fucking see me.
Please God above don't let it see me please no no n-
I felt - not just heard - its snarl right over my head. Its damp breath fanned across my hair. I froze all over; dread crept in to me like a cold weight on my shoulders.
Fuck.
Just as I looked up, I saw its ugly distorted face making a humorless grin. It hung upside down, right over me. It was so fucking close. There was practically no light, and even then I could see its grimy, yellow teeth, black from the edges. I could even breathe its unclean, rotten stench. My eyes were wide. I dared not move an inch.
In a second, it screeched at my face, strings of saliva sticking on my face. I was screaming, and just at that very fucking moment I instantly got up and made a run for it. I ran towards the center of the super-market, where only one tube-light was lit. I felt as if I were flying; I was running so fast.
It, on the other hand, was cackling with a high-pitched voice. I turned, not daring to stop. But I saw it just stand and laugh. It was not even moving; just standing, mocking me with its grimy, yellow teeth, glistening under the dim light of the super-market. Was it giving me some sort of a fucking head start or...?
I cursed the thought, because right then, it looked at me with a dead stare teamed with the same creepy smile, and fell on all four limbs. It started to fucking crawl. It crawled on the shelves and galloped from one shelf towards the other, laughing with the same voice. The screeching of its nails across cement and metal resonated across the stranded area.
I let out a whimper, and turned down an aisle. I ran as fast as I could. I dodged abandoned trolleys and pieces of broken jars. The floor was a mass mess of carts and broken items left abandoned in the hurry of evacuation.
I swung a trolley at it to slow it down, but it only head-butted it, and sent it flying across the other corner of the room. It fucking crawled upside down on the ceiling, and kept of cackling in that sick, gravelly voice it had. I didn't even look back. As I turned in to another aisle, it jumped off the ceiling, and almost caught me, letting out a shriek that made my eyes water. I dodged its claw-like hands, and ran in to another aisle. I didn't care to look back.
I never fucking asked for this.
I ran at the speed of a fucking mile per second. I could not hear it anymore. But I didn't slow myself down. Rather, I ran faster.
I tried to find the back door. I saw it at the end of the aisle. I ran to it, and turned the knob. It did not turn. I pulled at it hard, but it did not budge at all. In frustration, I punched the door. I pulled the knob harder. I kicked it, but it would just not fucking open.
The kick I aimed at it created a fuck-ton of noise; big mistake. I stood still as I heard the same wet, hungry gurgling noises of its breathing come from behind me. I turned slowly, and yes, there it was; giving me the most hideous look it could muster with such a distorted face. It ran towards me with such speed that it didn't take even two seconds and before I knew it, it aimed a fucking round-house kick at my chest. I was hurled to the other corner of the aisle, back hitting the edge of the metal shelf.
I coughed from the impact, already tasting the metallic taste of blood. I quickly scrambled to my feet, trying to ignore the shooting pain I felt in my chest and back while doing so. I just had to fucking get out of there.
I turned to the aisle next it, surrounded by jars. A single bulb only dangled and flickered from the ceiling, giving everything that I cast my eyes on a sinister look. I ran with only one note in mind: I have to get out have to get out have to get out have to-
Fuck.
It led to a dead end.
I turned, and saw the zombie, standing at the other end. Its arms hung limply at its sides, and clothes tattered from everywhere. In the dimly-lit aisle, all I could see were its large, lidless eyes, with too much white around them, and the iris completely black. It looked at me with its dead stare. Its mouth slowly opened. Its tongue fell out of its jaw, the tip dripping with some black slimy fluid, all the while smiling. It was humming a merry tune in a grainy, dreadful voice that made me grit my teeth.
I felt dread creep in my limbs, brain, and heart, everywhere. My eyes stung with tears. Maybe some fell, I could not tell. Was Death staring at me right now? Should I call these years of pathetic idleness I had spent my life?
I never asked for this.
All I ever wanted was a peaceful and long life.
Not this.
The zombie took a step forward. I closed my eyes, preparing for the brutal impact. Did life have to be so cruel?
Just as the thought flitted through my mind, I heard a gritty squeal, that made my ears hurt. The other second, I heard a sick, wet CRUNCH of bones breaking under flesh. The instant I opened my eyes, I saw a hooded figure fling the now-broken zombie across the alley almost flawlessly. The person smoothly walked towards the scrambling zombie, a bloody scythe in one hand. The person leveled himself with the corpse on the ground. The guy mercilessly dug his scythe in to its guts, and forcefully turned it, letting out a loud squelching noise that made me nauseous. The stranger - he, apparently - gave me a swift glance, and all I saw were hard, amber eyes under the darkness of his hood.
This time, he slammed the body in to the alley of jars in front of him without even a grunt. A hundred jars crashed on to it. The crashing and crushing of glass shards was deafening. I shielded myself from the shards flinging everywhere. As the cascading stopped, he dug around in the heap with his foot. He reached a gloved hand in the heap, and lifted the now-bloody and beat-up zombie. It still managed to make a sick grin, made of broken and black, bloody teeth. It breathed raggedly.
He just stared. Then, in a split second, he lifted his scythe and slashed its head off in one go. The black blood that sprayed everywhere managed to meet me across the alley. It landed on me, some sprayed on my cheeks.
A sudden sort of silence filled the atmosphere. I think I had forgotten to breathe. When I did breathe, all I breathed in was the horrible stench of gore and zombie guts. It instantly made me throw up. I turned my head and puked out everything until nothing was left.
Panting, I wiped my mouth. I looked up to see the stranger with his hood still over him, his mouth covered with a black mask that had a set of skeleton teeth. He took off the hood, showing his brass-colored hair roughed up, with a dark-brown undercut. He took off his mask as well, and wiped the black blood off of his cheek with an almost bored sigh.
He looked at me. He approached me hurriedly, crouched down, and lent me a hand. I couldn't even bring myself to blink, let alone hold his hand; I was in deep shock.
I stared.
He snapped his fingers in front of me. "Hey, hey! C'mon! Stay with me here! More are gonna come here, so you're gonna have to get up! Hey, guys! He's gonna fucking go out, we need back-up -"
He was screaming something behind him, I wasn't even sure. I was trying hard not to lose my sanity.
"Back-up's coming, don't go out. Got a name?" He asked, quickly checking my wallet for my I.D.
"Uh... M-marco."
"Good. I'm Jean Kirschtein, and you're welcome for saving your ass back there." He said, checking my eyes as some doctor would.
I vaguely remember letting out a wheeze-of-a-laugh, and instantly blacking out.
I think I owe you an explanation for why zombies were chasing me in a super-market.
And I’ll tell you.
Ours was the proud city of Trost, with the best-of-the-best people, and basically a place that never slept. It was so, until zombies eventually attacked it. Not plain zombies; the kinds that turned you in to one by biting you, if you weren't fast or wise enough.
Almost the entire world was attacked by this mass of the un-dead; they were everywhere. No place was considered safe on Earth anymore.
The fucked-up government thought that by fencing up Trost, we could ‘slow’ the mass spread of zombies from reaching any other place. This so-called strategy was made ‘to work for the greater good’, as they fucking put it. Like that, they and all other wealthy fuckers left Trost and stayed in some bunkers they built for themselves, while the common people of Trost suffered and tried to desperately keep themselves alive.
I’m Marco Bodt, one of the few remaining survivors of Trost; possibly the last now, hopefully not.
I saw my loved ones, and other innocent people die at the hands of these creatures that plagued our survival and sanity. I myself was about to suffer the same fate.
I could have died myself. I had given up all hope back there at the super market.
I could have, if it weren't for Jean Kirschtein.
*
“He’s still out?”
“Mm-hmm.”
A pause.
“What kind of zombie was it this time?”
“An Abnormal. This one could sing, apparently.”
I heard some laughter. That was what woke me up. I cracked an eye open. I didn't recognize the dark-blue ceiling, and I didn't recognize the red draping over the bed I laid on, like at a hospital.
This time I opened both my eyes, and stared at the ceiling, trying to make some sense of why every fucking part of me hurt like some boulders kept on my chest. It took me some time and a few blinks to remember it all.
My eyes tore wide open. Panic rose within me like a bubble, and I sat up straight as a bolt. Well, at least I tried to, because suddenly my whole torso burned with such fucking pain, that I let out a loud, broken grunt. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming. I lay down again, and lowered the dark sheets over my chest. My whole chest was covered with white bandages, having some splotches of dark blood here and there. My lower lip quivered.
My eyes burned with tears, and I was shivering all over, even though sweat bordered my hairline. The guys must have heard my struggling noises, for three people entered in a hustle. A short lady with short ginger-colored hair came to me and inspected my wounds.
As she did so, I looked at the other two men. One was a bald guy, cleaning his nails with a dagger intently. The other one had a leather hood over his head. All I could see in the dim light of the cramped room was his hard, amber gaze.
I think I had recognized him just fine, and it was amazing how it took me almost no time.
I didn’t even notice for how long I was staring at him, because the lady had already finished checking my wounds. She looked at me with a kind stare, with her large, hazel eyes.
Before I could even ask my question, she answered it for me, “There is nothing critical to your condition; just a few broken ribs and a concussion, nothing more.”
She said ‘nothing more’ as if it could have gone way more fucking worse than it already had. The mere prospect of ‘worse’ made me gulp through my dry throat continuously.
“Hey, at least you’re alive here,” she reassured. “Most aren’t that lucky.” She shrugged, helpless. “I think we should introduce ourselves.” She stood up, squared her shoulders defiantly, and said:
“I’m Petra; Petra Ral. I’m, you can say, the caretaker of all recruits here. They get a scratch or a bruise, they come to me.”
The bald guy piped up from behind, “I’m Connie; one of the recruits from the Corps.” He waved his hand – with the dagger.
“It’s your turn, Sour-puss.” she called to the hooded man standing at the corner.
He turned, and glared at her, “He knows who I am. I’m the one who saved him. And besides, we had our fair-share of exchanges back there, didn’t we?” He turned his sharp glance at me. I practically flinched. I nodded quickly.
Petra chuckled, turned to him, and said, “Sure thing, Sourpuss.” Connie laughed at the back.
“Don’t call me that.” He mumbled.
“Fine, fine; I won’t. By the way, that lovely man back there is Jean. You’re gonna see a lot of that if you stay here with our recruits for long.”
Jean, apparently, snapped another angry glare at her. She totally seemed unfazed. It could have been their thing, for all I knew.
“What are these ‘recruits’? Recruits for what…?” I asked uncertainly, but she cut me off.
“You’ll know that soon enough. We are gonna leave in a while for the headquarters. Besides, we aren’t in a particularly safe place. They've got something really important to talk to you about.”
Things like these are what I don’t want to hear - let alone face - after being chased by a zombie, I’ll give you that.
Seeing my hesitation, she started reassuring me. “They will explain everything; you don’t have to hurry with all this. Dwelling and worrying over it won’t do any good. Just rest here; Connie and Jean will give you company.” She almost explained it in such a motherly tone, that I instantly felt better. But even still the slight anxiety was threatening to grow hard and fast.
She picked her surgical instruments, and left us three alone in the room. I rested against the pillow under me, just trying to guess how my life has spiraled all the way till being chased by a fucking zombie.
Ten – maybe twenty – minutes passed, and even then no such carriage came to take us to the ‘headquarters’. My hands felt clammy and sweaty, and my breathing became labored as I waited for the ‘news’ Petra promised me with brutal anticipation.
Jean visibly looked uncomfortable too; he kept glancing at his wrist-watch, and tapped his foot impatiently. He and Connie paced the room. They were waiting anxiously too – as if something would definitely happen if they weren’t fast enough.
All of a sudden, a mixture of howls and screams and screeches erupted from outside. They were so loud, that all my hair stood on their ends, and I resisted from gritting my teeth. Jean and Connie stopped, and made their way to the window nearest to the right side of my bed.
They pushed the curtain aside a little, and peeked. Immediately, their expressions went from inactive to these hard expressions of determination and hatred combined.
“Fuck.” Jean swore.
“They’re everywhere.” Connie completed for him.
“Connie, go and tell them to fucking bring the goddamn truck already, we’re running out of time.”
“I’m on it.” With that, Connie ran for the door, and left in a hurry.
I instantly knew what ‘they’ were. Even I recoiled at the thought.
“Zombies?” I asked, matter-of-factly.
“Mm-hmm. Not just one.” He pulled the whole, and I could see what he was talking about. I pushed myself a little upwards to get a better view. Even when I knew what they were, the sight still shocked me.
They were swarmed around the round-about. They started a huge fire around it, and began howling and bawling in horrid and gritty voices again. They were far, but even then I could make out some of the details; they threw their hands up in the air, some with one or both of their hands missing, and some with their tongues lolling out of their mouths.
“They’re multiplying, no matter how much we kill.” Jean licked his lips uncertainly, and removed his hood. Once more, I saw his brass-colored hair, with a dark under-cut.
He continued, “Not only that, they’ve been shouting like that for a long time too; as if they’ve fucking won something. And that is what scares us.”
He sighed, rubbed his face in exhaustion, and popped a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it as instantly as he put it between his teeth. He took one long pull at it, and breathed the heavy smoke out, calmly
“So, how did you end up there alone?” He asked, exhaling a plume of smoke.
I didn’t even know myself. I vaguely remember going in there for something to eat, or maybe drink, or…
“I-I don’t know…” I sighed, rubbing my face. I was just fucking tired. He offered me his cigarette when he noticed my hesitation. I just gave him a blank look that clearly read ‘Really’
He smirked with one corner of his mouth, and went on smoking. He said, “Now that old cliché ‘Life’s too short’ makes perfect sense, y’know? Life is literally numbered now. Nothing’s gonna fucking stop me from smoking, when I can possibly die in so many other ways.” He laughed.
I seriously wanted to tell him that that was a fucking weird ideology, but I couldn’t stop myself from nodding. He was right at the ‘numbered’ part.
There came a two-minute pause. Then the door opened in a rush and a slam. It was Connie, and some other tall man with full gear, strapped with leather. He wore a gas mask that hung loosely around his neck. Both had these horrid expressions of doom, with that same steely look of determination I saw earlier.
Connie nodded to Jean, and they just seemed to talk through expressions.
Jean threw the butt of his cigarette, and turned to me, and said, “It’s time. Let’s go.”
The three took large guns, strapping them behind their backs. Two men – Connie and that other guy – dragged me out of the building. Some thuds and a fuck-ton of grunts of pain later, we came to the ground floor. It looked like an old apartment. It was abandoned, that I could tell, from the peeling wall-paper and turned-over furniture in the way. Some walls were splattered with blood, at which I paled all-over.
“Don’t you dare go out on us right now, man.” Connie grunted, as he saw my color change.
We crossed the reception area, which was also empty, with a layer of dust over everything, and nothing but smears of blood – black and red – splattered on the floor and walls. I tried to not lay eyes on those.
We made to the back-door, and carefully made our way outside. The air was strong, and cold. It bit and stung in to my wounds, and I almost screamed. The other guy covered my mouth. Everyone went instantly quite, as we all leaned against a building.
I heard those zombies make the same howling noises. My eyes watered; the noise was so fucking sharp. Jean slid towards the edge of the building, where the dingy alley opened to the main road. As he looked out, he leaned back in, and swore.
“Fuck. They’re too many.” He looked back out again, and backed away again. He turned towards the stranger, “Where’s the wagon, Franz?”
“It’s not that far away. We have to cross the road, though. There.” He said, in a deep voice. He pointed towards another alley, just across the street. If you squinted hard enough, you could make out a shape of a van in the end.
Jean stood still for a minute. Then he spoke fast, “There isn’t anything else we can do but run. Fast. They won’t notice if we don’t make much noise. We’ll wait for them to make some noise then we will run; that way they won’t hear us. And don’t stop, at any cost. You two, “he pointed at Connie and Franz “-drag Marco there. I’ll cover you guys from the back; any questions?”
“No one’s gonna die, will they?” Connie asked uncertainly.
Jean looked at him, and smirked, which was extremely sly and evil, but with enough tenacity. He answered, matter-of-factly:
“Not if you’re fast enough.”
-
The zombies made those shrieking sounds again after five minutes. With that, Franz and Connie dragged me across the road, in to the open. I tried walking too. Not much help though.
As I turned my head, I saw Jean come in behind us, his heavy firearm in his tight grip, as he walked backwards. He kept a close eye on those zombies, who hadn’t stopped their ruckus. He wore the same skeleton-teeth mask over his mouth, as he stood tall. Bravery and determination literally radiated from him.
We safely crossed the road, and were in the alley by now. We were all grunting, and went to the wagon. It was definitely not a wagon; it was huge, with an opening on the top, and a machine-gun on top of it. At the moment, it was empty. The back-doors – made of heavy metal – were open and an Asian girl with cropped black hair was violently motioning us to hurry the fuck up.
They heaved me in the wagon, and after Jean entered too, they slammed the doors shut. Someone in the front revved the engine. As it started, it created a lot of noise that echoed through the vacant street.
All at once, the zombies’ commotion outside ceased. An eerie kind of silence filled the atmosphere. We waited. Nothing was heard except anticipated breaths.
All of a sudden, growling, hungry sounds came. They were hungry.
And hundreds of zombies just fucking heard us.
“Ymir! Just fucking DRIVE!” A guy with large, frightened green eyes inside the wagon screamed to the driver. And in the same second, the wagon revved loudly and we were shot straight ahead. We made our way out on the road. We did not stop accelerating.
I inched a little upwards to see from the small windows on the doors. Immediately I regretted the decision.
My eyes grew wide as I saw; a whole fucking army of hungry zombies were behind us, all running at full speed.
“Mikasa! Gun ‘em down!” The driver – Ymir – shouted at the girl with short black hair. Without another word, she stood, opened the latch of the roof, and made to fire the zombies.
In a split second, I heard the constant spewing of bullets on the zombies trailing us. I saw one after the other fall, and the others trip over the fallen, as she effortlessly shot them down without a single bullet going to waste.
She continued this until the bulk finished. As the crowd finished, she got down. She did not even break a sweat, although she was panting, and had a wild look in her wide, grey eyes.
We were relatively calm now, as Ymir continued driving. We felt safer.
All that was to go down the drain, as a huge dent was slammed in the door from outside in a fucking second.
Looking through the window, I saw one remaining zombie, who had latched itself on the railings. It wasn’t letting go.
Jean stood, and opened the door with one hand. The zombie instantly charged at him.
But Jean was quicker. He punched it, and stomped on its hands, which were holding the railings. It let a loud shriek of pain. He picked his scythe, and dug it in the zombie’s guts. He fucking picked the scythe – with the zombie hooked in to it. He made a snarl at it, whereas it was looking at him with a dead expression.
He grunted, and lifted the body. He threw it in the air, and then sliced it in to two parts, from the middle. The bits and pieces fell on the road, which was going further and further away.
Jean sat down heavily next to me. He didn’t even look at anyone – he just stared down, still panting. He pulled his mask over his mouth, and still didn’t look up.
“Is it fucking gone yet?” Ymir asked.
“Yeah, it is. Just take us to the headquarters already.” A short, blond guy said, releasing a calming exhale. She laughed, and accelerated the wagon. I completely zoned out after that.
The rush of energy and fear was still heavy over me.
-
The rest of the ride was relatively peaceful. After around 15 minutes, we reached our destination. The wagon stopped, and Connie and Franz once again dragged me out the wagon. They led me inside this huge building, completely covered with metal. Heavily-suited guards bordered the building, and some were on the rooftops. It was hidden within trees, far off from the city.
As we entered inside, I noticed almost everything was fucking made of metal; the walls, floor, everything. I was led to a narrow hallway in the far left. By now, only Jean, Connie and Franz were with me. I was escorted to a door, labeled with bold letters:
“HEADS OF THE SURVEY CORPS.”
I gave a quizzical expression, but that would be for later, for I was dragged inside it. It was colder, and quieter from the outside. A wooden desk stood in the middle. A blond, stern man sat there, with another shorter man leaning against the desk. He had black hair, with an undercut beneath it. His expression was hard as steel, with a rather bored expression. His eyebrows were knotted in the middle, in thought.
The blond man had his fingers clasped together, both hands under his chin. His blue eyes scanned mine. It was as if he were analyzing me; how I functioned, and how I could be broken.
I knew instantly I should not be messing with them.
Connie and Franz made me sit on the seat in front of the desk. Then they went on their way.
“Any casualties?” The dark-haired one asked, in a bored sigh.
“No, Commander Levi. They did attack, but we managed.” Jean replied with a stern, soldier-like expression.
He nodded. “You may go now.”
Jean nodded in return. Before leaving, he placed his hand on my right shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. Then he left, with a click of the door.
Only as I sat alone did I notice how tired and sore I was. I was hurting all-over. My chest was burning with pain even more. My head hurt, and I just wanted a long rest. But even I knew I had more important things at hand.
The blond man cleared his throat. He started, with a deep voice:
“Hello, Marco. I’m Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps, and this is our Second-in-Command, Commander Levi Ackerman.” He said, pointing at the black-haired one, who looked at me with grey, half lidded eyes. “We lead this organization called ‘Survey Corps’ to fight – and possibly end - the infestation of zombies.”
“The Survey Cor-“
“Don’t interrupt at the moment, brat.” Commander Levi snapped at me. I instantly shut up.
“Levi, you’re too harsh.” Commander Erwin said. Commander Levi just muttered a “Tch” under his breath as he rolled his eyes.
“There is a lot to explain, I know. We know what you went through, and we know there are too many questions in your mind at the moment. But it is better to cut to the chase. You can learn the rest slowly, in your own time.” Then a pause ensued.
“Cut to the chase with what?” I dared to ask, as the silence elapsed.
Commander Levi bowed his head, and turned to Commander Erwin. His hair fell on his forehead, but even then I could make out the worry creases on his forehead.
“You tell him, Erwin.” he said.
My throat went dry. What?
Erwin had a grave expression over his face. He leaned on his forearms on the table, and crossed his arms. He covered his previous expression with a more serious one. His blue eyes were now steelier. Levi looked over with his grey, stone-hard eyes.
“Marco, excuse me for putting this roughly, but I’m afraid… You’re the only one left besides us.”
I went still. I could process nothing what he said. I gaped in confusion.
I let out a nervous laugh involuntarily, as I asked, “I’m sorry, what?”
Commander Levi stood straighter, and folded his arms. He did not reply arrogantly, but did reply solemnly, as his eyebrows knotted in the middle of his forehead again.
He said, “He means that no one else survived. When we heard of your incident, we ordered our men stationed there to check the whole area. They did, thoroughly; they found no one else. There is no other person left in Trost. You’re the only one who survived.”
By that, I could not function. I froze completely, as I recalled my friendly, crowded and happy neighborhood; now empty and hollow.
Those words ran in my mind over and over and over again as reality fucking punched me in the face:
‘There is no other person left in Trost.’
‘You’re the only one who survived.’