Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One more piece. It’s always just one little piece, one last thingy. You build a huge gizmo out of hundreds of parts, and at the end you’re left searching for that tiny little thing that’ll tie it all together. This was the fourth trash can he had rummaged through tonight, and still he couldn’t find it. Wakko rubbed the sweat off his brow and continued on. There was one spot that always gave him what he needed.

The lot was strangely silent this evening. The sun had just disappeared below the horizon ten minutes ago, but it already felt like it was nearing total darkness. He could tell it was gonna be one of those moonless, pitch-black nights. It gave him the creeps. He’d been out with his siblings on these kinds of nights, but never had the courage to go it alone. Wakko quickened his pace. He’d just check this last dumpster and then go back to the tower, whether he found the piece or not.

This dumpster was in the alley between two soundstages. People outside of the movie business could never grasp just how much weird and interesting stuff gets tossed out in Hollywood. While it was the most likely to yield results, it was also one of the furthest from the tower, which meant Wakko tended to look here last. Having finally arrived, he planted his feet in front of the container. Much too tall for him to look in normally- he’d have to go in. With one swift leap, he found himself on top of the cover.

After taking the time to fish out a flashlight from his gaggy bag, the Warner boy was all set. Gingerly, he opened one of the dumpster covers and peered down into the darkness. Shining his flashlight in, he could barely believe his eyes- there was the exact piece he was looking for, sitting right on top of the garbage pile! He wasted no time reaching in and grabbing the little knob. As he was pulling his arm out, though, he felt something strange. A vibration from below. A ruffle from inside the trash. And then, finally, a low groan. Was something alive in there?

Perplexed, and a little freaked out, Wakko stashed the knob inside his sweatshirt pocket and let the cover slam shut. The loud bang caused another series of sounds from inside the dumpster. The Warner considered his options. It could just be an animal, like a raccoon. These noises sounded different from just any animal, though. They almost sounded like a person. Could he really just walk away without at least giving it a look? No, he wouldn’t let his fear get the better of him. There could be someone that needed help.

Slowly, Wakko crawled over to the other side of the dumpster and lifted the other cover, much more cautiously than he had for the first one. He stared into the dark inside, too on edge to shine his flashlight in just yet.

“Hello? Anyone in there? Anything in there?” He called out, in a near-whisper. No sound came in response. Finally, he gulped and turned his beam of light down into the dumpster. In what could only be described as a twisted version of the sight he had seen under the other cover, this object, too, revealed itself immediately. It was a hand.

It. Was. A. Hand! Wakko put his own hand to his mouth to keep himself from screaming. After he managed to regain his wits, he examined it more closely. He could at least tell it wasn’t severed, as he originally thought. It was just buried in the trash. There was something else noteworthy about it, too. It was covered in brown fur, and clearly drawn with ink. Whoever that hand belonged to was a toon!

“I can see your hand.” Wakko explained, trying to establish contact. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing happened for a few more seconds, eerie silence filling the air as the chilly October night continued to darken. Wakko was about to speak again when he was startled by a sudden groan from the trash, as well as movement from the hand. It was grasping the air, repeating the motion over and over again. Clearly, whoever it was was alive and in need of help. Wakko held the flashlight in his left hand while he reached down with his right. The hand reacted strangely when he grabbed it- it didn’t really grab onto his, but instead seemed to claw at his arm a little bit. He kept pulling anyway, using all his strength to help get the buried toon out of there. Little by little, more of the arm appeared, until finally the body it was attached to began to surface, along with the side of its head. The next sequence of events happened too quickly for Wakko to process. Just as the toon’s face emerged from under the trash, he felt a sharp pain on his right arm and instinctually pulled it away, letting go of the stranger’s hand in the process.

The middle Warner inspected his forearm, hoping no one nearby had heard his yelp of pain. Shining his flashlight at the wound, he could see that his sweater was completely ripped through, and the flesh underneath was torn. It was clear that it was a bite mark, but it didn’t look like it came from any animal. Whoever did this had flat and wide teeth. Nothing like those of a predator. It was an ugly sight all around, made uglier by the thick ink now beginning to seep out of the cut. Wakko tried not to think about it- he didn’t have much experience being badly wounded. In fact, he had long thought it was impossible for a toon to be legitimately injured, which is why he was so willing to reach in the trash can in the first place. Looking at the wound now made him feel lightheaded. He grabbed onto it tightly and shined his light back in the dumpster.

“Hey, what gives?” He chided. “I was trying to help you!”

No response came. While Wakko was examining his injury, the other toon had used the time to pull the rest of its body out of the garbage. They were now bent over, facing away from Wakko while they worked on freeing their left leg from the trash.

“I’m talking to you. Hello?” Wakko continued to prod. He was now quite angry, the growing pain in his arm triggering a drastic downturn in mood for the normally sweet-natured toon. All he wanted to do was help a stranger in need, but what he got in return was a bite, and not even any good reason for it!

Finally, the stranger toon freed its leg and stood up, though its body seemed to be locked in a hunched over position. Now getting a better look, Wakko could barely believe his eyes. He knew this toon. It was-

“Skippy?” He mouthed quietly, now more bewildered than ever. Upon hearing his voice, the toon turned around and confirmed Wakko’s suspicions- it really was Skippy Squirrel. For a moment, the two boys just stood and looked at each other. Skippy seemed to be far from his normal self, his face wearing a menacing grimace and his fur looking very disheveled, with the hair having fallen out completely in several areas. Wakko wasn’t sure what to do. Why had his friend bitten him, and how had he made it so painful? Was it even on purpose? He did look to be quite out of sorts-

Suddenly, Wakko was startled by a lunge from the squirrel, which knocked the Warner onto his bottom in shock. He quickly rolled off the dumpster as Skippy climbed on top of the cover where Wakko had previously stood, shouting loudly but forming no discernable words. Wakko backed away cautiously towards the alley’s exit. The two toons continued their stare down the whole way.

Wakko’s mind was now racing, trying to figure out what possibly could’ve made Skippy do this. His jumbled thoughts were scrambled even more by the pulsating pain continuing to emanate from his wound. It was getting worse by the second, but he didn’t allow himself to look down at it again for fear that Skippy might run at him while he wasn’t watching.

Finally, the answer hit him. Skippy had told him weeks ago about his super realistic Halloween costume, and now Halloween was only a few days away. He must have set this up to see if the costume was good enough to fool other toons. As for the biting, he must have assumed, like Wakko, that it wouldn’t do any actual harm. Why it had done actual harm Wakko couldn’t say, but he felt a lot more secure now that the obvious answer had finally slammed him in the face. He felt pretty silly for letting himself get so scared in the first place.

“You got me good, Skippy!” He yelled into the alleyway. The squirrel was still standing next to the dumpster, eyeing Wakko with a mean expression. “Really, you can give up the act. I figured it out.”

When Skippy didn’t say or do anything in response, Wakko felt his heartrate increase again. Then, he mentally slapped himself. That’s exactly the reaction Skippy would want! He wasn’t going to give it to him again. Never breaking eye contact with the other toon, Wakko took the final step out of the alley and back into the open studio grounds. Skippy only left his sight when he turned the corner and began walking back to the tower, though he continued to walk backwards for a little bit to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He didn’t want to let Skippy set up another scare.

It took a few minutes until Wakko was calm enough to turn back around and start walking normally. The sky was now almost entirely dark, the last vestiges of sunlight barely holding onto the horizon. This, of course, meant that Wakko was left in almost complete darkness himself. To make it all worse, noises kept coming at him from all directions. He knew it was probably his mind playing tricks, but there really did seem to be more commotion than there usually was after-hours. Metallic clangs, footsteps in the distance, indistinct howling and yelling from far away. Wakko really wanted to get back to the tower. Situations like these were frustrating because the tower could be seen from everywhere on the lot, but that didn’t mean it was close by. He was left desperately eying his home while he knew there was still a lot of walking ahead.

Yet, even though he wanted to, he couldn’t force his body to start running. The pangs of pain from his arm had now turned into long, cold bursts of sensations that he could feel running from his wound to his brain. It felt like someone was sticking a metal wire into his arm, forcing it up to his head, and then repeating the action every few seconds. It was starting to give him a headache. At the same time, his entire body felt fatigued, like he had just sprinted a mile down the street. He kept looking down to his arm to see how bad the injury had gotten, but he could barely see anything in the low light. Left with no other choice, he continued to put pressure on it with his other hand, hoping that it would stop more of his ink from leaking out.

By the time Wakko reached the tower, it was completely dark. He wasn’t sure exactly how long the walk had taken him or what time it was. Mostly, he was just happy to be home. Before heading up the tower, he noticed some sort of movement ahead, just outside of the studio gates. He squinted his eyes to get a better look, but the pain, his headache, and the darkness prevented him from seeing anything concrete. Dismissing it as a random late-night wanderer, he pulled a trampoline out of his gaggy bag and jumped up to the tower balcony.

Finally having a moment to breathe, Wakko burped up his phone and took a look at the screen. It was only 8- the walk must have been longer in his head than it really was. Hoping his siblings wouldn’t make a big fuss over him getting home late, or his injury, Wakko opened the door.

It only took a second for him to find his sibs- Yakko and Dot were sat together on the couch, their eyes locked on the TV screen. While they would usually be watching a good action or comedy movie at this time of night, their faces were strangely tense, with Yakko’s brows furrowed in consternation and Dot’s eyes open wide. They didn’t even look at Wakko as he came in.

“Hey Wakko.” Yakko greeted, clearly distracted.

“Hi.” Wakko said back, circling around to the back of the couch. He was a little upset that they hadn’t noticed his arm- though he didn’t want Yakko to worry, he did want some big brotherly comfort as the pain continued to fog up his mind. “What’s on?” He asked, now standing behind them.

“The news.” Dot replied, her voice low and serious. “You might wanna look at this.”

The middle sibling stepped forward to get a better look at the TV. His vision was starting to get a little fuzzy, randomly going out of focus, but eventually he was able to read the headline on the screen. It wasn’t good.

“’ZOMBIE’ TOON OUTBREAK LEAVES LA ON EDGE”

“That’s gotta be a hoax, right?” Wakko asked, giving a nervous chuckle.

“Experts have confirmed this is not a hoax!” The news anchor yelled, as if in response to the Warner’s question. “The outbreak is thought to be caused by a new toon disease, discovered only a few short weeks ago, which leaves toons braindead and hungry for the flesh of their fellows. The infection is spread by the bites and clawing of contaminated toons, leading their victims to follow in their footsteps in as little as a couple of minutes, depending on the severity of the attack. The similarity of the symptoms to Hollywood’s classic depiction of the undead has caused the general public to dub this a ‘zombie toon outbreak.’”

Though his siblings couldn’t see, Wakko’s eyes were now wide in fear, his mouth hanging slightly open. For a moment, all he could hear was the ringing of his ears as the shock of the revelation set in. He looked down at his arm and removed his hand, getting his first good look at the carnage. There was ink everywhere.

“A cure has yet to be found.” The anchor continued. “As far as we know, toons affected by this outbreak are permanently doomed to their fate. Fortunately, these so-called ‘zombie toons’ do not seem to target humans, nor do they pose us any danger in the event of an attack.”

“Thank goodness for that.” Yakko lampooned. “If the humans were affected, I don’t know what we’d do.”

Wakko looked up from his shaking arm and stared at the back of his siblings’ heads. It was too much to take in. For one, Skippy, one of his best friends, was apparently an undead zombie with no hope of being cured. Worse, he had bitten Wakko, seeming to doom him to the same fate. Tears filled his eyes. Was this really the end? He never thought there would be an end.

Looking back and forth between his cut and his sibs, more worries flooded into Wakko’s mind. If they saw the wound, it wouldn’t be long before they pieced together what happened. And then… they would kick him out of the tower, or worse. The thought of being all alone, transforming into a hideous monster with no one to comfort him in his final moments- it terrified him. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lose his siblings. Not now. He needed them.

So, he turned around and began to run.

“Where you going, little sib?” Yakko called out, finally looking over the back of the couch in his direction. “I know it sounds scary, but we’ll be alright. There’s no way any ‘zombies’ can get all the way up here.”

“I know…” Wakko said weakly in response, not turning his body. “I just have to… potty emergency! Yeah, I have a potty emergency.”

“Uh, ok. Go ahead.”

Wakko nodded and continued his jog into the bathroom. Behind him, Yakko and Dot shared a look of confusion.

“He just has to potty emergency?” Dot echoed. Yakko shrugged.

It was a total mess. His gloves, his sweater, even his hat, all stained in ink. Wakko inspected himself in the mirror. It was a good thing his siblings didn’t look at him when he came in, because they would have noticed immediately that something was wrong. He was a sight for sore eyes.

He wanted so badly to run to Yakko, tell him what had happened, get a big brother’s treatment and comfort. He knew he couldn’t do that- but that didn’t mean he was ready to give up hope just yet. He thought back to all his medical knowledge. There wasn’t much he knew of, most of it coming from what he had seen in movies and shows over the years. What could stop a zombie infection from spreading all over his body? He opened the cabinet and was pleased to see a full bottle of rubbing alcohol inside. With shaking hands, he popped the cover off and poured all the bottle’s contents onto the gash in his flesh. It stung like hell, but the pain didn’t compare to what he had felt with the wound untreated. The laceration now bubbled wildly, the alcohol interacting with the ink wherever it had splattered, and Wakko took that to be a sign that it was working. Now he had to cover it up. Looking back in the cabinet, he found a roll of bandages and began to wrap it tightly around his forearm. When he was done, he was quite pleased with the results. There was some lingering soreness, but it felt much better than it had before. He could think more clearly now.

Next came the matter of hiding it. With how torn and stained his sweater was, he knew it would have to go. Same with his hat and gloves. Wakko quickly removed all the garments, careful not to aggravate his injury too much, and then summoned identical replacements from his gag bag. He examined himself once again in the mirror. With fresh clothes and a treated wound, he looked mostly like his normal self, besides the darkened skin around his eyes that made it look like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Nothing he could do about that. Physically, the pain from his arm had now mostly subsided, but he still felt off. Still fatigued, and now there was a strange tingling sensation he felt everywhere on his skin. Like an invisible buzzing forcefield surrounding his whole body. He noticed that the fur on the back of his neck was sticking up and pulled his turtleneck up higher to cover it. It was time to go back out there. Could he face his siblings, knowing the truth of what had happened? Could he avoid breaking down in tears? One thing was certain- he couldn’t hide in the bathroom all night. With a deep breath, he opened the door.

Yakko and Dot were now seated at the kitchen table, talking idly while they waited for their brother to join them. It was time for “second dinner,” a nightly tradition in the Warner household where Wakko got another meal and his siblings sat with him, crunching on light snacks. When he saw his brother shuffling toward him, Yakko had to stifle a gasp. The little guy looked totally exhausted.

“You feeling ok, Wakko?” He inquired as his sibling took his seat at the table.

“Yeah, just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“You slept ‘till eleven.”

“It was a rough night.”

The older sibling sat back and frowned, suspecting that Wakko was lying to his face. That was one thing he didn’t tolerate from his sibs. However, Wakko did look extremely tired, and it was hard to think of anything that could make him this way besides a lack of sleep. So, Yakko decided to drop the issue. For now.

Wakko, meanwhile, was now staring down at his plate. It was a heaping serving of roast beef, usually one of his favorites because of how filling it was. Right now, though, it looked completely unappealing. Bland, dry, and… lifeless. He wouldn’t have felt any different if it was a pile of tasteless grey mush on his plate. He just had no desire to put it in his mouth.

“So, did you find the thingy you were looking for?” Yakko spoke up, much to Wakko’s relief.

“Yeah.” He grabbed the knob with his good arm and held it out in his palm. “I found it in a… dumpster.” He gulped as memories of the event came flooding back.

“Are you gonna put it on?” Dot joined in. “Can we finally see how your gizmo works?” She sounded eager to see it. Wakko looked down at the piece and shook his head.

“Sorry, guys, but I’m not really feeling up to it tonight. Maybe tomorrow.” He put the knob back in his pocket.

Dot let out a disappointed “aww” while Yakko narrowed his eyes and began tapping his chin. Something weird was definitely going on here.

Knowing the suspicion it would cause if he didn’t eat, Wakko focused back on his food. He was no more eager to eat it than before, but was determined to try. Instinctively, he brought his right arm up from under the table to grab his fork. When he saw how much it was still shaking, though, he quickly grabbed it with his left arm and pinned it down to the table, producing a loud bang that left his siblings staring at him with strange expressions. He smiled bashfully and tried to laugh it off. It was a few more seconds of awkward silence before anyone said anything.

“Alright, Wakko, I’ve seen enough.” Yakko spoke sternly. “I’ll ask one more time. Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Just tired, like I said.”

“Uh huh. You won’t eat, you don’t want to finish the gizmo you’ve been obsessing over for a week, you just did whatever that was, and you look more exhausted than Harrison Ford at a Star Wars convention. The jig is up.”

The middle sibling felt his breathing quicken. All he could see was Yakko and Dot staring at him, all he could hear was Yakko’s accusations. It felt like he was on trial. This was exactly what he was afraid of. For the first time, he felt like the hideous monster he might be turning into. On top of that, his headache had returned, twice as bad as before, and his entire nervous system felt like it was aflame, with pulses of pain travelling up and down his every limb. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the sudden pressure from his sibs, or if the infection had just progressed to its next stage. Whatever the cause, he knew he couldn’t bear sitting around here any longer. He pushed out his chair and stood up.

“Wakko, wait.” Yakko spoke, using a softer tone than before. “Don’t get mad. I just want to know what’s wrong with you. You know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah, I’m… a little sick.” Wakko forced out in response, barely able to think. “I’m just gonna… lay down for a while.”

While his two siblings watched from behind, Wakko began to uneasily make his way to his bed. His muscles were so stiff that he walked like a marionette, turning his whole body just so he could put one foot in front of the other. Each step was harder than the last, as his feet began to feel like fifty-pound weights. He started to breathe heavily, like he was at the end of a marathon, and his pulsating, head-splitting headache left him unable to remember exactly where he was or where he was going. He had barely even reached the kitchen counter when he felt his knees buckle. Suddenly, his whole upper body felt like it was made of lead, and he began to tip over. With nothing but a whimper, Wakko fell face-first into the ground, unable to even move his arms to cushion his fall. The worried cries of his siblings were the last thing he heard before blacking out.

The next time he opened his eyes, he found he was in a bed, but not his, nor anyone else’s he knew. He could tell he was still in the tower, and above him he could see the wooden underside of their bunkbed. That was when he realized this bed was sitting in the same place Yakko’s ball pit usually was. His siblings must have set it up for him.

Speaking of his siblings, he could hear their voices in the distance. He couldn’t hear exactly what they were discussing, but they sounded concerned. He tried to sit up, immediately failing as he found he was still too fatigued to move much. The slight movement got his sibs’ attention. They ran over to him.

“Wakko, are you ok?” Dot asked, grabbing his left hand.

“I feel better than I did before.”

“Your forehead was burning hot when you collapsed.” Yakko interjected. “Seems like you’ve got a pretty nasty fever.”

Wakko nodded his head weakly and took inventory of his body. While he was weaker than ever, his headache had subsided a bit, at least allowing him to be aware of his surroundings.

“You seemed fine before you left.” Yakko continued. “Did something happen out there?”

The younger brother looked down to his arm, which was hidden under the blankets, and thought deeply.

“Please, Wakko. Don’t try to hide anything from us. I can only help you if I know what’s wrong.”

“I… got bit.” He finally blurted out.

“Got bit? By what?”

“Skippy. I think he was… infected. And now I think I am, too.”

“Infected? Wait, you don’t mean…?”

Once again, Wakko nodded his head. Both at once, his siblings reacted, Yakko’s jaw dropping and Dot covering her mouth in shock. Wakko pulled his arm out from under the covers and pulled up his sleeve, showing them the bandaged area.

“The bite is right here.” He explained, and then he bowed his head. “You guys can throw me out if you want. I understand. I don’t want you to get hurt and end up like me.”

He was on the verge of tears, tipping the brim of his hat to hide his face. Yakko and Dot continued to stare at him, sad looks on their faces, until Yakko kneeled down and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Wakko looked up at him, surprised.

“Is that why you were hiding this from us? Because you were afraid we’d kick you out?” He questioned, gently. The middle sibling nodded. “Wakko, don’t be silly. When I say you can tell me anything, I mean it. We stick together no matter what.”

“Yeah, we’d never abandon you like that.” Dot added. Wakko returned a weak but genuine smile. Gingerly, Yakko grabbed the injured arm and began to unwrap the bandages. He frowned when he saw the ripped flesh. Wakko frowned, too, upon seeing that it had run dry of ink. He didn’t like to bleed, but this couldn’t be a good sign either.

“I’m gonna fix this cut up properly, and then I’m gonna make a call.” Yakko spoke in a confident tone, and, for the first time all night, Wakko felt like things might be okay. He couldn’t believe he had been so afraid of telling the truth. “And, Wakko, you’re not going to turn into a zombie. Not on my watch.”

“You promise?” Wakko asked, still looking unsure. Yakko considered the question before breaking into another brotherly smile.

“I promise. Us Warners haven’t let Mother Nature get the better of us yet. Plus, have I ever let you down?”

“Well…”

“Ok, let me rephrase that. Have I ever let you down when it comes to the matter of possibly life-threatening injuries?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Exactly. You’ll be fine, brother sib. I’m sure of it. Now, let me get some fresh bandages.”

After the wound was wrapped back up, Yakko gently felt his brother’s forehead again and decided to remove his hat, granting some relief from the burning heat. He then got on the phone with the local toon medical clinic while Dot stayed by Wakko’s side. They had guessed that the main reason for Wakko’s collapse was not his infection, but rather dehydration from all the ink he lost. Dot held a full glass of water, trying to make her brother take a sip. He refused.

“It just doesn’t look good. I feel like I’ll throw up if I drink it.” He complained.

“You have to try, at least. Put up a little fight against the infection.”

The Warner brother cocked his eyebrow skeptically, but soon relented and took the glass from his sister’s hand. He stared at it for a long time before putting it to his lips. Before he could tip the water into his mouth, though, he started gagging and handed the water back.

“I told you! My body won’t take it.” He said, as soon as the gags had died down.

“Please, Wakko, don’t just sit there and give up. Drink some, for me.” Dot was now begging, putting on big puppy eyes. Wakko couldn’t tell if they were real or fake, but he couldn’t resist his sister when she looked like this. He retook the glass and quickly poured some of the liquid down his throat, not allowing himself time to think about it. It seemed to go down, at first. It came back up about ten seconds later.

“Okay, I can see what you mean.” Dot relented. She looked totally dejected. “Let’s just hope Yakko gets through to a doctor. I’m gonna go see if he’s made any progress. Okay?”

Wakko gave a single nod, and his sister gave him another sympathetic look before walking over to the kitchen where Yakko was pacing back and forth. Once her back was turned, he laid his head down on the pillow and let out a deep, emotional shudder. They were trying so hard to help him. He could tell how desperately they were clinging on to hope. He, on the other hand, had run out of that stuff a while ago. The news anchor was clear- there was no cure. There was no stopping it. What did Yakko think a call with a toon doctor would do? He looked over at his older brother, who was frowning at the ground with his phone held up to his ear. His expression only changed when Dot reached him and leaned against his side. She looked up at him with cautious optimism, and he put his arm around her back.

“Yes, I know you’re very backed up.” Yakko spoke into the phone, exasperated. “Yes, I know there’s a zombie pandemic going on. I just want to talk to someone so I can save my little brother.”

A brief silence filled the air as Yakko listened to the person on the other end. His expression became graver with every second.

“No, you listen to me!” He yelled, his anger now on full display. “I won’t hang up. I’m not going anywhere until you let me talk to a doctor. My brother is in danger- I won’t take no for an answer!”

In a snap, Yakko turned his body around and walked to the back of the tower, leaving Dot standing alone in the middle of the floor. She didn’t move, simply staring at him as he continued to yell. Her expression showed she was losing faith just as quickly as he was.

A sharp pain pierced Wakko’s skull, forcing him to look away from the scene. The headache was back. With his mind clouded, his throat dry as the Sahara, and a strange numbness spreading all throughout his body, he couldn’t help but feel that the end was getting near. He looked down at his arm and roughly pulled his glove off, having lost most of his fine motor skills already. His hand was a pale grey, a far cry from the stark black color that usually covered his whole body. He had lost so much ink that his color was fading. It reminded him of how Skippy looked earlier. Lifeless, a shell of his former vibrant self.

Thoughts about Skippy quickly morphed into other ideas. His siblings had refused to throw him outside, just because they loved him so much. He was grateful for that, but was it really the right decision? He knew he was on the verge of turning. Surely, once that happened, his siblings would find themselves in danger, too. He was still scared of dying alone, but these thoughts scared him even more. He envisioned the near future, an image of his monstrous corpse biting and eating the flesh of his own sibs. It made him feel even sicker than he already was. He never wanted to hurt them. He shouldn’t let himself hurt them. If they couldn’t make the tough decision, he would have to make it instead. While they were engrossed in Yakko’s angry conversation, not taking much note of Wakko at all, he threw off his covers and swung his feet to the floor.

It was hard, of course, almost impossible. Every step was like running a whole marathon. He could barely keep a straight course as his vision blurred and bobbled, his entire sense of balance having been totally lost. Somehow, though, through pure determination, through pure brotherly love, he persisted. The door grew closer with each second. They hadn’t noticed him yet. It was just a few more steps, now. Just a few more steps before he could swing that door open and jump over the railing, sparing his family the same horrible fate that befell him. Tears filled his eyes. He realized he never got to say goodbye, get one last hug from the people he cared for so much. It was too late to stop. If they saw what he was doing, they’d grab him, restrain him, put themselves in danger. He couldn’t let it happen. Just three more steps. Two more… The door was in reach. He put his arms out as far as they could go, leaning forward to grab the handle. Just as his fingers grazed his target, the lights went out. He fell.

The next few moments were a blur. He couldn’t see anything, could barely hear anything. By the time he regained his wits, he realized what had happened. He had failed. He fell just short of the door, his siblings saw him, and now he was back in bed, Yakko and Dot overlooking him. Didn’t they know what they were doing? Didn’t they know how dangerous he was about to be? Couldn’t they let him live his last moments as he wanted, saving the only people he loved?

A bright light shined from beside his bed, and it was only then he realized that it wasn’t his eyesight that had given out, but the electricity in the tower. Someone was shining a flashlight on his face. He also heard muffled words from above. The ringing in his ears blocked them out. They came again, and this time he could understand.

“Why’d you do that?” It was Yakko’s voice. “Wakko, can you hear me? What were you thinking?”

“I… couldn’t let me… hurt you…,” he croaked out, “you should have… let me go.”

It took Yakko a moment to understand what his brother was trying to say, but when it clicked he couldn’t help but feel a wave of despair wash over him.

“No, you can’t think that way.” He grabbed Wakko’s shoulders. “You hear me? You’re not going to die. I promised you that.”

“I know, but… you can’t work… miracles.”

“Yes, I can. We can. We can teleport, shape shift, do anything we want. We’re Warners. We’re toons. I’m not going to give up. And… even if you did turn, which you won’t, we’d want you here until your last moments. There’s nowhere else a Warner should be.”

Wakko didn’t say anything in response, perhaps too weak to move his lips anymore. He did look over at Dot, though, whose face was illuminated by the flashlight she’d placed on the bed. She nodded and smiled in an endorsement of her brother’s words. Once again, Wakko laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He opened them when he felt a peck on his forehead. Yakko had kissed him.

“Now, you’re going to stay here with Dot while I make another call. The clinic couldn’t help, but I know another doctor who might. Hang in there, little bro.”

Wasting no time, Yakko pulled out his phone and left the room, going out onto the balcony to make his call. Dot continued to kneel beside Wakko, watching him sadly as he rested. It was clear he was in rough shape, and that mad dash to the door seemed to have drained the last bit of stamina he had left. Now, he just laid with his eyes closed, his labored and wheezy breaths going in and out. Taking that combined with his red, sunken eyes and his pale, faded look, Dot knew that Yakko was being too optimistic. Their brother didn’t have much time left.

She tried not to cry. That wouldn’t help anything, and if Wakko got emotional with her it might speed up the process. Instead, she moved up and laid her head on her brother’s chest, right above his heart. His heartbeats were sluggish and a little irregular, but she could still hear them. She wanted to listen to every last one.

Feeling the pressure on his body, Wakko wearily opened his eyes and looked down at Dot. He wanted to scream at her to get away, to save herself from his upcoming wrath. He also knew that it would be wasted energy- she wasn’t going anywhere. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to lift his left arm up and lay it gently on her head. In response, she opened her own eyes, looking him right in the face. They both smiled.

After a few seconds of the siblings just gazing into each other’s eyes, Dot began to softly speak.

“Wakko, I’m not sure how much time you have left. I hope it’s a long time. But, if it isn’t… well, I’m gonna miss you, a lot. I hope you know that.”

Wakko nodded his head weakly.

“Good.” She continued. Then, suddenly, she began to look unsure, her next words coming out slow and uncertainly. “And… I know we don’t like to do mushy stuff, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. We’re the Warners, after all. But this might be my last chance to say it, so I will. I love you.”

She looked up to him, unsure what his reaction would be. There was a single tear falling from his eye, probably the last water in his whole body. And then, surprisingly, he opened his mouth, and began to speak. He could only do it in short, low bursts, and it wasn’t anything more than a raspy whisper, but Dot could make out the words.

“I… love… you… too… baby… sister.”

Wakko watched silently as Dot broke into tears, taking his hand off her head and giving it a tight squeeze. He couldn’t have returned the gesture no matter how hard he tried. Having run out of energy, his body had now truly given out- he had no control over any of his limbs. His headache clouded his thoughts, and he barely even knew where he was. Everything he heard sounded muffled, like his ears were filled with water. It had taken all of his focus just to hear and understand what his sister was saying. His eyesight had deteriorated to tunnel vision, big black rings blurring most of his field of view and pulsing red flashes covering up the rest. He could only barely make out Dot’s features even as her head sat a few inches away from his. He closed his eyes again, simply because he couldn’t keep them open any longer. With his last few thoughts before unconsciousness, he tried to put the rest of his lifeforce into a single wish. A wish that his sister would get away. A wish that she wouldn’t fall victim to whatever he was about to become. A wish he could only hope wouldn’t be ignored.

After her brother’s eyes closed, Dot squeezed his hand again and buried her face into his sweater, wiping off her tears the best she could. He was so warm. She knew that was only due to his sickness, but it reminded her so much of all the times she and her brothers had cuddled under the blankets late at night, falling asleep on top of each other. Those were the best nights of sleep she ever had. What she wouldn’t do to experience it one last time…

Emotional exhaustion turned to real fatigue, and Dot felt her thoughts slowing down, becoming more distant. She could stay here. She felt safe, laying on top of her older brother. Only God knew how much time she had left to feel that comfort. Without even realizing it, the Warner sister dozed off.

“I am sorry Yakko. I just don’t know how I can help.”

The oldest Warner leaned on the railing and looked at his phone in anger. He wished Scratchansniff could see his face.

“Please, Scratchy. I’ve called the clinic. No one there can help us. They didn’t even try. I just want you to take a look at him, see what you can do.”

“There’s nothing I can do. Surely you’ve seen the reports- even the world’s top toon scientists cannot find a cure. It would be pointless.”

Yakko felt his body begin to tremble. Out of nowhere, he was overtaken by a blinding rage.

“My baby brother is dying, Scratchy!” He screamed into the phone. “He’s dying, and all you can tell me is that you refuse to help?!” Only silence came from the other end. Yakko began to sob, feeling his anger melt away into hopelessness. “Please, do something. Anything. Even if it’s pointless, give me hope. I just… I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

“Yakko… I do not know what to say. It is a horrible situation. I wish I could do more, with all my heart.”

“Yeah…” Yakko’s voice was now quiet and reflective. He sniffled as the tears kept running down his face. “We all have our wishes, doc.”

“Once again, I’m sorry. I wish you and your siblings good health, but that’s all I can say.”

Yakko considered his next words. What could he say, with his final ray of hope shattered? Nothing. He hung up the call.

There was a large horde of toon zombies gathered at the base of the tower. They were scratching and clawing at the metal support beams and chewing on electrical wires, no doubt the reason for the tower’s power outage. He would have told his siblings about it, but there wasn’t enough time. Why did they want to get in so badly? Did they smell the living, or the dying? Maybe they just gathered at the most famous landmark they knew, their sense of nostalgia still driving them in some way after death.

He had done his best to hide his emotions. He couldn’t break down in front of his siblings, but deep down… he knew. How little hope there was. This had all happened so quickly. Just a few hours ago he said goodbye to Wakko as he left the tower in search of his final piece. Then, a zombie outbreak. He figured his brother would be fine. How stupid of him- you can’t take that much risk when there’s a life involved. He just never thought it was possible. He’d been with his siblings for so long, it truly seemed like they were immortal. Maybe he was entitled. 90 years of living happily with his family. That’s more than most get.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was responsible. If he had been a little more careful, gone out to find his sib and bring him safely home, all this could’ve been avoided. They were in the safest spot in Burbank, but the infection found its way to them by chance. How could he ever-

A scream. There was a scream, from inside the tower. Dot. In that instant, nothing else mattered. All his emotions, rage, guilt, loss, all replaced by big brotherly instinct. He nearly ripped the door off its hinges, sprinting inside. It was pitch black, the only light coming from the flashlight that had fallen from the bed to the floor. Yakko ran over and picked it up. No one was around the bed anymore.

“Dot? Wakko?” He called out. A few seconds passed, and then another scream, followed by panicked words.

“Yakko! Yakko, help! Yakko!” She yelled in desperation. Her voice echoed around the tower’s interior, making it hard to tell exactly where it was coming from in the darkness. There was a crash. Yakko did his best to follow the sound to its source.

By the time he got there, the air had grown strangely silent. He shined the flashlight around aimlessly, looking for any sign of his siblings.

“Sibs?” He called again. His words pierced through the silence, and in an instant all the sounds returned. Crashing, banging, screaming. And, something else. Groans. Terrible, animalistic growls that sounded just like…

“Yakko!” Dot yelled again, and this time her brother was able to pinpoint her location. Yakko shined the flashlight, finally allowing him to see Dot, cowering against the wall as a shadowy figure approached her. He stepped back and shined the light over his sister’s pursuer. At this provocation, it turned around, and Yakko’s heart dropped to his feet.

Wakko. No, not Wakko- different. It had the same features, with the blue sweater, white gloves, tongue hanging out limply. But the other things, the things that made him Wakko Warner, the things Yakko always saw when he looked in his brother’s eyes- they were gone. The inventive spirit, the gleeful wonder, the sweet, loving soul, all gone, all replaced by an empty husk with no desires other than to gnaw on living flesh. Even the flesh of his own sister.

“Wakko, please, no! Please, stop! It’s me, Dot, your sister.” Dot pleaded as Wakko’s corpse restarted its menacing march in her direction.

Hearing this, Yakko allowed his feelings of agony to be overtaken by anger. No one hurt his little sister. Not even his little brother. Acting quickly, he jumped over the zombie and grabbed Dot, running as fast as he could to the other side of the room. Gently as possible, he set her down on the floor behind him.

“Stay here, Princess.” He ordered. She looked up at him, an indescribable mix of emotions on her face.

“Yakko, I… he…”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me later. I need to keep you safe.”

As fast as he could, he formulated a plan. It was risky, and maybe a little crazy, but that’s how he operated best. First, he tried to get the zombie’s attention away from Dot by running up close to him, just out of range of his swipes and bites. This eventually aggravated him enough to get him to start following him instead. Next, Yakko positioned himself in front of the open bathroom door, still using the flashlight to find his way. Enticing Wakko with a lot of arm-waving and yelling, he managed to get the creature running at him as fast as it possibly could. At the last second before being taken down, he jumped up high, watching the zombie run under his legs and straight into the small room. When he landed, he slammed the door shut and locked it from the outside. He heard banging and angry-sounding grunting, but it didn’t seem like Wakko could get back out. They were safe.

Catching his breath, Yakko walked back over to his sister, sitting down next to her. His adrenaline prevented him from thinking too much about the situation, so he didn’t become emotional again. Dot, on the other hand, was crying.

“Hey, we’ll be ok.” He comforted, or at least tried to.

“No, we won’t.” She insisted.

“Wakko might be… gone… for now, but maybe there’s a way to turn him back. We just have to keep him captured until more research can be done. Plus, you’re safe, and that’s all that matters to me right now. I couldn’t handle losing you, too.”

“Yakko…”

“What?”

“He got me.”

“Wh-what?”

Dot turned her body and moved her hand, revealing a large gash on her right shoulder. Yakko stared at it in horror.

“Bit me, right on the shoulder. I… didn’t see it coming. I fell asleep on top of him, and then… he… he turned, and bit me before I woke up.”

“N-no. No, that can’t be…” Yakko muttered to himself. “That can’t be right.”

“Well, it is. I’m sorry. It was stupid of me.”

“No, not both of them…” He whispered. He moved his eyes away from her shoulder and began staring off into space, unable to process any of this. His sister, too? How could he lose both siblings in one night, when for all the decades prior they seemed indestructible? He wasn’t prepared for this. He couldn’t ever be. The world seemed to tighten around him, making his breathing hard and rapid. Everything was falling apart. His siblings, they were his entire world, and now his whole world was shattered.

She’s still here.

The thought came unprompted, like a flaming arrow through the darkness. With one eye, he looked at her. She looked back, concerned. He couldn’t let his mind break now. Not yet. His sister was still with him, still alive, still breathing. As long as she was, he’d be there, too. He turned his body and put an arm around her back.

“Did you… say you’re sorry? For falling asleep?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Dot, if anyone should be sorry here, it’s me. You did absolutely nothing wrong, and I don’t want you to feel bad for me. Let me see that bite.”

Wordlessly, Dot scooched over, letting her brother get a better look. Ink was now pouring out of the wound, just like it had for Wakko earlier. Yakko knew he could at least wrap it up, prevent all that ink loss and dehydration. Maybe it would have a different outcome this time.

Fortunately, he had brought the roll of bandages out of the bathroom when he redid Wakko’s bite earlier, and it still sat next to his sickbed. He went over to grab it, but saw something that grabbed his attention even more. Wakko’s hat. He brought both the bandages and the hat back over to Dot. She only glanced at the hat sadly as her brother sat down and set to work. Softly, Yakko used a towel to wipe up the ink that had escaped the laceration, and then he wrapped the injured area as tight as possible. Dot didn’t seem very concerned with any of it. She only stared at the bathroom door in silence. Bangs and groans could still be heard clearly from the other side.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone. Doesn’t feel real.” She sniffled.

“I told you, he’s not gone. There might still be a chance.”

“Come on, Yakko, I’m not dumb. If you thought there was any chance at a cure, you’d have picked me up and carried me to the hospital ten minutes ago.” Her brother didn’t respond, instead looking down and absentmindedly messing with a splinter in the floorboards. She continued. “I don’t know what Scratchy told you on the phone, but it couldn’t have been very encouraging.”

“No.” He finally said. “It wasn’t. Look, I don’t really want to talk about the negative things right now, Dot. There’ll be enough time for me to think about those.”

She nodded solemnly, knowing exactly what he meant. Losing one brother was hard enough. She couldn’t imagine being the only one left, feeling so alone. In a way, she almost preferred her own fate to his.

“I don’t like sitting in the dark like this.” Yakko continued, clearly trying to change the subject. Hearing no objections, he got up and silently lit candles all around the tower. It was still dark, but all the key areas could now be seen. When he was done, he plopped back down next to Dot. There was so much they could talk about, but neither one said a word. It stayed like this for minutes, the siblings sitting silently with their thoughts, trying to make sense of it all.

Out of the blue, Dot started to giggle. Yakko stared at her like she was crazy, but she didn’t stop. “You remember the time we were at the mall using the escalator, and when we looked back, Wakko was at the bottom walking the other way?” She spoke, her words interrupted by bursts of laughing.

Though it took a moment, Dot’s infectious laughter soon made Yakko start to chuckle as well. “Yeah,” he said, “he was always doing things like that. Like when he ate Plotz’s paperweight, got told to give it back, and said ‘you’re gonna have to wait awhile.’”

The two siblings were now lost in fits of laughter. They both had the same thought in the back of their minds- have we gone crazy, laughing at a time like this?- but they knew the answer was ‘yes.’ They’d always been crazy.

And so it continued, first for minutes, and then for an hour. Yakko and Dot exchanged stories, reminiscing over the good times and bad, having laughs and deep exchanges in equal measure. Over 90 years of hijinks were laid bare, the siblings stopping for the first time in their lives to just look back over it all, view all their experiences as a complete image. All the while, the invisible clock kept ticking. Dot’s laughter slowly diminished along with her energy. Her head burned just like Wakko’s. Her voice faltered, exhaustion leaving her unable to say all the thousands of words she wanted to say. By the end, Yakko was left doing what he did best, yakking away while his sister could only offer the occasional one-word comment. Despite the pain, they both wished it could go on forever.

“…I thought it was a great performance, but you did forget Bea Truman.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Dot tried to play it off sarcastically, but she was interrupted by a coughing fit. Yakko put his hand to her forehead again, his soft smile breaking, replaced by a frown. Knowing there wasn’t much time left, he decided to pick his sister up and let her lay in his lap. She didn’t protest. “Yakko,” she rasped, looking him straight in the eyes, “tell me…”

Another cough prevented her from finishing her sentence. Yakko tried to help.

“Tell you the story?” He asked, his voice tender.

“No, not that cheesy thing. I want you… to tell me it’s gonna be alright. I just… want to hear it, from you.”

Upon hearing the request, Yakko broke eye contact and began staring into space again. After a few seconds, he shook his head.

“No, Dot, sorry. I already lied to one of my sibs tonight.”

“Then… at least… tell me you love me?”

“What do ya mean? You already know I do.”

“Yeah, but… you never… say it.”

He sighed. “Ok, if that’s what you want. I love you, Dot.”

“I… love you… too, Yakko.” She smiled, and then her eyes closed. Yakko quickly became concerned.

“Dot, are you still awake?” He asked, a bit of panic breaking into his voice. After another second or two, her eyes opened back up. Yakko let out a long breath.

“Yeah,” Dot wheezed, “I just… thought… I might pass out after saying that, or something.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re still here. I thought I’d be more prepared, after we had this long talk, but I don’t think I will be.”

“Just… be strong… you don’t need us… to be happy.”

“Yes, I do. I really do.” Yakko tried to pretend he wasn’t crying. “I can’t believe these are the last few minutes I get to talk to my sister. At least I took the time, instead of running around making useless phone calls like an idiot.”

“Wakko… wasn’t mad. You did… your best.”

“Thanks.” He tried to smile, tried to show that her words made him feel better, even though every dying word she spoke only made him feel worse. Though she was still talking, Dot looked almost completely checked out, her breathing rough and her eyes barely staying open. “You can rest now, sis. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, I’ll just… sleep for a while…”

Almost instantly after saying that, Dot’s eyes closed, and Yakko knew this was really it. Softly, he ran his hands over her ears before unclipping her flower and sticking it in his pocket. He didn’t want the zombie to go around wearing his sister’s familiar look.

He knew what was coming, but still couldn’t bear to set her down. What if she did wake back up, somehow, only to find he wasn’t there, that he’d abandoned her in her most painful moment? Instead, he held her tight in his lap, continuing to stroke her hair in time with her fading breaths. When the last shuddering exhalation came out, he stifled a whimper and set her on the floor, backing away to what he thought was a safe distance.

Soon, her eyes opened back up. They were glossy, staring up blankly into the ceiling. Though he knew exactly what was happening, Yakko could barely keep himself from running over and embracing his sister in a hug. She was awake. She was moving. And yet, she was dead. Out of all the cruel ways the universe could come up with to kill his siblings, this had to be the cruelest.

Slowly, unsteadily, like a stringed puppet, Dot’s corpse pushed itself up from the ground. Though pale, she still looked so close to living. No rotting flesh, no empty eye sockets, her fur still just as soft and luxurious as it had been when she finished her morning beauty routine. The only indication she was undead was the way she moved- shoddily and disconnected, her limbs all acting on their own to shamble closer to her living target. As hard as he tried, Yakko couldn’t convince his mind that this wasn’t really his sister, alive and well as ever.

With her joints still fresh, Dot moved with much more grace and speed than the average zombie. Yakko had to act quickly. He shook himself out of his ruminations and forced his brain to focus on his own self-preservation, sidestepping the quick assault of the unliving corpse. He looked around the tower, looking for another plan. There was only one option. He eyed the door to the bathroom, which was still bending every few seconds with another bang by the zombie inside. How could he get Dot inside without letting Wakko out at the same time? He’d just have to improvise.

Yakko once again positioned himself in front of the bathroom door. He had to somehow get Dot close, open the door, and then shove her inside before Wakko could get out. Getting her attention wasn’t hard- as the only living toon around, he already had it. The zombie was quickly moving in his direction, moving at the pace of a quick jog, her feet shuffling unsteadily over each other. Just before she got in biting range, Yakko spun around and grabbed the doorknob, pushing it open a crack. Luck didn’t favor him. Instead of being on the opposite end of the bathroom, like he had hoped, Wakko was standing right next to the door. Yakko stopped in his tracks. Memories and emotions came flooding back as he stared, frozen, at Wakko’s face. He was even less recognizable than he had been an hour ago, bits of his fur and skin having started to fall off, but it was still clearly his brother. His dead, rotting brother, and it was all his fault he was like this, and-

In the same instant, both zombies attacked, Wakko clawing at his brother and Dot attempting to bite off a piece of his flesh. Miraculously, Yakko managed to avoid both, though he fell over backwards in the process. Now, his already flimsy plan was well and truly broken. Wakko marched forward, pushing the door open, joining his sister’s side in the pursuit of some fresh ink. Yakko rolled away from them before standing up, defiantly standing in their path. He glanced behind him. Should he just try to escape the tower? The growing zombie hoard was already too large for him to jump past, so he’d have to climb up to the roof, and then wait up there for help that might never come. Not to mention the risk of letting his siblings out of the tower when he opened the door, something he wasn’t willing to chance. He couldn’t let them get free, join the larger hoard. If there was ever gonna be a chance at curing them, he had to keep them contained inside.

He glanced behind him. The thick tower door was securely closed and locked. No zombie could get in or out. In front of him, behind the quickly approaching zombies, was the wide-open bathroom door. Finally, a new plan came to him. If the bathroom door had kept Wakko inside for all that time, surely it could also keep zombies out?

After taking a deep breath, Yakko ran to the tower door, getting as close as he could to the cold metal wall. When his zombie siblings were right in front of him, he jumped as high as he could, flipping over them and landing on his feet on the other side. He didn’t have time to look back and see if they were following him. He just ran, as fast as he could, his only goal being the open door ahead. There was something that made him take a detour- he saw Wakko’s hat sitting on the floor where he had left it and veered over to pick it up. Only when he reached the bathroom did he allow himself to look back, one last time, at the faces of his empty sibs. Slower than he probably should have, he shut the door. The bangs and groans of the zombies on the other side followed a second later. Yakko caught his breath and let himself fall back onto the floor.

None of it felt real. It was just like another of their sketches, where they’d get gussied up in zombie attire for some random gag. But it was nothing like that. His siblings were dead, more than likely gone forever. Their bodies lived, but their personality, their memories, he’d never get to experience them again. Why couldn’t he get his neanderthal brain to understand that? Just because their corpses still moved, his mind couldn’t grasp that they were really gone?

There was still the possibility of a cure, he reminded himself. This was only day one of the outbreak. Surely, they would find a cure eventually, he’d be able to get his siblings back, and then they’d be back to the good ol’ days. He thought back to them fondly.

Oh no. His memories, they weren’t right. He envisioned the good times, his garbage disposal of a little brother entertaining him with his ridiculous meals, but the face was all wrong. All he could see was that horrible, rotting flesh, the tears at the corner of his mouth, the nearly severed tongue, the random leaks of tainted ink. He thought back to Dot, too. Same thing- pale, lifeless, mean. Those weren’t his siblings. How had he already forgotten their faces?!

Trembling, he pulled his phone from his pocket and navigated to the photo gallery. He let out a sigh of relief as he pulled up the most recent image, taken just this morning, of he and his sibs posing in front of their newly carved jack-o-lanterns. Their faces were normal, and they looked so genuinely happy.

Those versions of his sibs were gone. That genuine happiness was gone. He continued to stare at the image, his face drooping. All he could hear were those infernal, animalistic groans. They came in his siblings’ voices, sounded just like them, but it wasn’t them. Just their vocal cords being used by a parasitic invader.

Just like earlier, the walls started to close in. The bathroom now felt incredibly small. For the fist time, he took a good look around. Fur and ink everywhere, smeared all over the floor, on the walls, over the toilet and shower. Now close to panicking, he got up to his knees and looked down, realizing that his clothes were now stained with that same ink. The ink of his dead brother.

His chest tightened, and suddenly he wanted to be anywhere else. At first he felt like he’d vomit, but all that came up were empty gasps of air. It was becoming hard to breathe. Emptiness. He’d felt it before, but never to this extent. There was always something to fill it in before. Now, there was nothing. No one to turn to. No one to trust. No one to feed, take care of, comfort, pamper, no reason to look forward to the next day. He clutched at his chest and yelled in pain.

It wasn’t real. He refused to believe it was real. How could the light of his life be extinguished so suddenly, so easily, as if it was never something substantial at all? This was all a cruel trick. A Halloween prank that had gone too far. He turned to the door and began banging in return, matching the zombies beat for beat.

“Alright, guys!” He shouted. “It’s over! I figured it out! Nice prank, but you can give up the act.”

No response but gargling and growling.

“Wakko, Dot, I’m serious! You got me, really bad. I was actually starting to believe you were really gone. I need you to stop now. You hear me? Stop! Stop the banging! Stop the act! That’s… I’ll ground you if you don’t. You think I won’t, but I will. Stop!”

He was yelling more harshly than he ever had at his siblings, and that only solidified the truth. They would never be this cruel to him. He backed away from the door. If this wasn’t a prank, it had to be a nightmare. Yakko walked over to the sink and ran the faucet, splashing water in his face. Nothing changed. He pinched himself as hard as he could. Still, nothing.

“H-how do you get out of a bad dream?” He asked himself. “Why am I trapped in here?”

With a good amount of force, he pounded his fist into his head. His brain was holding him hostage in this dream- he’d probably taken too much melatonin again. He hit his forehead again with his other fist, and then once more with the first one. When that didn’t do anything, he positioned himself in front of the wall and began to slam his face full force, over and over again. The pain almost distracted him from the tears.

A cure? He’d been delusional to ever hope for such a thing. Tonight had made it very clear just how little human doctors and scientists cared about the wellbeing of toonkind. Even if a cure was found, it wouldn’t work on long-zombified corpses like those of his siblings. The studio would probably just cut their losses and move on with new, reanimated versions. That wasn’t a reality he was willing to deal with.

Yakko dropped back down to his knees, now facing away from the door. All the commotion inside the small room had only increased the intensity of the banging from outside. Everything, the noise, the feelings, the guilt, was too overwhelming. Together, it all boiled up inside and released in a violent eruption. Yakko looked up to the heavens, clenched his fists, and screamed at the top of his lungs. The screech of despair, probably heard all around the lot, continued until he couldn’t yell anymore, eventually breaking down into deep sobs. Now, all he could do was weep, still occasionally hitting himself for good measure. No amount of physical pain could match what he felt on the inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the hat he had brought with him to the bathroom, and that made him remember the flower he had plucked from Dot’s head. He clutched them both tightly to his chest, imagining he was hugging his siblings like he had all those times before. What reason was there for all of this? Why should he even try to go on when his entire reason for living was gone? Had any of it ever mattered? Was his grief, his love, ever real, or was it instilled into him by an insane artist all those decades ago? Too many questions, too many emotions. It flooded his brain, filling it to bursting, and then-

Snap.

He started to laugh. Drawn out sobs transitioned, one-by-one, into chortles, as Yakko looked back up at the ceiling and smiled. No, none of it had ever mattered. His whole life was a fabrication, his love put there only as a sappy character trait. Living, undead, there wasn’t really a difference. They’d been puppeted by parasites from the beginning. Once this was over, his siblings would be replaced without a thought, and, now that he realized the truth, he probably would be too. Replaced by some other poor Yakko that thought the same things he used to, felt those fake emotions as strongly as any living being ever did. His laughs grew louder, more carefree. He couldn’t stop them.

He didn’t know how much time it was until he finally started to come back down to earth. He didn’t want to know. The maniacal laughter eventually subsided, though, replaced by intermittent giggles. Yakko stood back up and turned around, looking at the door, and realized something that made him start to chuckle again. He still cared. Even after realizing the reality of it all, his dumb brain still cared. Suddenly, he remembered something, an important conversation he’d once had with his siblings. They all agreed that if anything ever happened to any of them, they all wanted to be together in the same place, no matter what it took to make that happen. Well, if he was still stupid enough to care, he was definitely stupid enough to go through with that. He pressed himself against the door, his hand hovering over the knob.

“Hey, sibs,” he called out, “you might have heard me laughing and screaming just now. I suppose I don’t have to explain myself. You already know I’m insane.”

He stopped to listen to what they might say. Only growling and groaning, of course.

“Dot, I remember what you asked me. To tell you it’s all gonna be alright. Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you when you still had your wits, but I will now. We’re all gonna be just fine.”

Once more, he paused. He liked to imagine he heard increased growling in Dot’s voice, in response to him talking to her.

“And Wakko, well buddy… I’ve got one more meal to give ya. It’s my most special one yet.”

With his goodbyes out of the way, Yakko turned the knob and pushed the door open. It took a second for the zombies to realize that the path was open. By the time they had navigated around the door, Yakko was already laying on the ground, a satisfied smile on his face. He eyed them as they slowly got closer, as they leaned down beside him. He didn’t say anything as he felt his flesh get torn apart, nor did he reminisce. As his body was devoured alive, all he could focus on was the strange new feeling, not just of real pain, but the one that came with it. Freedom. This choice was his. It wasn’t what the studio wanted; it wasn’t what anyone told him to do. Unlike every other toon which was now roaming the lot, undead and uncaring, he was going out the way he wanted. The ink loss quickly made him feel weak, but the smile lasted until the very end. For, as he closed his eyes for the last time as a living being, he rejoined the only ones who ever made life worth hanging onto. Why would he want it any other way?

Chapter Text

All was quiet in the Squirrel household. TV off, lights off, total silence. Slappy sat calmly in her chair, a shotgun laid across her lap. If the studio found out she owned and kept a real gun, she’d be thrown off the lot in an instant. She was no fool, though. She’d seen enough in this life to know you can’t always count on others to protect you.

When she saw the news earlier, she scoffed. Toon zombies? At least it was something new. Even though she felt like a zombie herself somedays, she wasn’t ready to kick the bucket just yet. Not under these circumstances. Not while her nephew was still out there.

God, she’d flay that kid when he got home. This wasn’t the first time she’d let him go out with friends, only for him to stay out far past his bedtime. He was probably out there gawking, sitting on a rooftop and watching the undead hordes shuffle by. It was the same exact thing she’d do, back in her younger days. Well, she wasn’t young anymore. It was her job to be crotchety and anti-fun.

There was a bang at the door. Seconds later, there was another, and then one more. They got more and more rapid, now knocking on every wall of the house, the sounds coming from every direction. Slappy sighed and pushed herself out of her chair, cracking her back on the ascent.

“You bastards want to step up to me?” She yelled, marching over to the front door. “Well, don’t say you don’t deserve what’s comin’.” Under her breath, she added, “And I ain’t stoppin’ ‘till I find Skippy.”

Slappy cocked the gun and kicked open the door, taking aim at the first zombie on the other side. When the zombie’s face came into focus, though, her eyes went wide and she stumbled backwards. It was Skippy.

“No…”

The gun hit the floor.

“It ended up being a pretty nice day, huh sibs?”

“When isn’t it nice in LA?” Dot retorted, looking up at her oldest brother.

“Yeah, it’s getting kinda boring.” Wakko added. “Sometimes I just wish it would snow or something.”

“Jeez, you guys’ll complain about anything.” Yakko shook his head in mock disappointment. “At least the streets aren’t flooded with zombies anymore.”

“You ever wonder what they did with all those zombies? The ones who couldn’t be cured, I mean.” Dot pondered.

“I dunno, probably locked ‘em up in some warehouse a million miles away.” He shrugged and then put his arm on his little brother’s shoulder. “Hey, Wakko, it’s getting close to showtime. You better go get those donuts you wanted.”

“Right.” Wakko nodded and peeled off from his sibs, running down an alleyway he had come to know as a shortcut to his favorite donut shop. He was about halfway to the other end when he heard a strange rustling noise to his left. Curious, he tilted his head and let his tongue hang out as he took a few steps toward the source of the sound. It happened again, and this time he could see the pile of miscellaneous junk the noise was coming from. He stopped and called for his siblings.

“Yakko! Dot! There’s something in the trash!”

It only took a couple of seconds for his siblings to appear at his side, following their brother’s line of sight to the moving pile of garbage.

“Probably just some raccoons.” Yakko guessed. He spotted a rake leaning on the alley wall and walked over to pick it up. As his siblings watched from behind, he cautiously approached the pile and poked it from a distance. Suddenly, a creature jumped out of the pile, and Yakko flinched. When he saw what it was, he couldn’t help but laugh. It really was just a harmless little raccoon. It quickly scurried away, out of sight.

“Heh, told ya, sibs. You got me freaked out for a sec-”

His speech was cut off when he felt a jerk on the rake, and looked over to see a ragged, gloved hand holding on to the other end. Yakko tried to pull it back in his direction, but the person on the other end was much stronger than him. It roughly pulled the rake away from him, causing him to fall forward and faceplant on the asphalt. Momentarily dazed, he could hear more ruffling from above, followed immediately by gasps from both his siblings. He felt a rough pressure on his left arm, and finally looked up.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Looming above, blocking the sunlight with his body, was himself. A different Yakko, an undead Yakko, missing so much flesh that almost all its bones were fully visible. It was standing on his arm, preventing him from standing up or crawling away. Soon, the zombie was joined by two sidekicks from the trash, unliving versions of Wakko and Dot. Their flesh was much more intact, but they still looked thoroughly rotten, like they’d been decomposing for months.

Thoughts raced through his mind, but no matter how hard he tried, Yakko couldn’t make sense of it all. Copies of himself and his sibs? Zombies, nonetheless? How could this be? He remembered clearly what had happened after the outbreak. Government officials told him they found all of them undead, roaming around the tower. Luckily, they had developed a cure and immediately administered it. They then sent them to be fixed up and reanimated at the studio’s animation department, which was where he woke up several months ago.

Wait, the studio’s animation department? Reanimated? His eyes widened, but he didn’t have time to think any further as he felt a strong grip around his neck, lifting him up off the ground and choking him in the process. He was brought to eye level with his zombie counterpart. He always thought zombies were supposed to be vacant, purely instinctual beings, but when he looked in the zombie’s eyes, he swore he saw nothing but pure hatred. Yakko squirmed, tried to break free of the grip, but there was nothing he could do. All his strength, all his toony powers, were met in equal measure by his foe. He watched, still struggling for breath, as the zombie opened its exposed jaw wide. He could hear the panicked cries of his sibs as the monster lunged its head forward. For a moment, all there was was searing, unimaginable pain, and then…

Darkness.