Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zuko  had often been told he was too dramatic, and too short-fused. He got that, really; over the years he'd learned screaming and throwing things around when you were mad was not only unproductive, it got on people's nerves. 

Right now, though, he really wanted to scream. And throw something. Not necessarily in that order. 

Instead, he crouched in the closet, every limb and muscle frozen, his hand clasped over his mouth and nose to mask his breathing. 

Can that...thing even hear? he wondered. Surely it can see. And feel. He shivered involuntarily at the memory of those long, bony fingers dragging through his hair. What a way to wake up. 

He shut his eyes (not that it made a difference in the darkness), straining to hear the creature's shuffling movement over his own pounding heart. 

Swish. Creeeak. Swish. Creeeak. Was that creaking the floor under the thing's weight, or the creature's joints as it moved? He shivered again. 

It was getting closer to his hiding spot. Zuko hoped that thing couldn't smell his fear, or the cold sweat pouring down his face. And he prayed it couldn't open the door.

Of course it can, how the hell'd it get up here if it couldn't? Zuko's bedroom was on the fourth floor of the apartment building, there was no way that thing had gotten in the building, much less Uncle's apartment, his room, without opening a door. 

Another shuffling, creaking footstep closer to him. Maybe the latch will get stuck again and it won't be able to get me. 

And I'll waste away in here. Slowly dying of hunger or — no, thirst, thirst is faster. The urge to scream was suffocating. Please just go away, just be a nightmare, please, I don't want to die —

CRASH!  Zuko's heart threatened to leap put of his chest, his eyes flying wide open. He might have screamed — it wouldn't matter if he had, the next sound he heard drowned it all out. 

A horrible, ear-splitting wail, that was somehow gurgling and dry at the same time, and fast, pounding footsteps racing away from the door on more legs than there should have been. 

And in the distance, more footsteps coming up to meet them. 

Zuko let out a hysterical laugh into his palm — it didn't make a difference now anyway, he was going to die no matter what. Of course it couldn't just be one. 

The steps drew closer. Zuko shut his eyes, hoping the end would come quickly. Maybe he'd see Mom again —

CRACK. The sound echoed like a home run in an empty stadium, and next there was a loud splat! right outside. Zuko felt something wet oozing under the door, and was immensely glad he hadn't eaten yet. (Hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, because Uncle was supposed to be back by dinnertime but he wasn't, and Zuko hadn't been able to eat out of worry after he'd called the shop and nobody picked up.)

Slowly, his brain caught up. Whatever that...thing was, he didn't hear it anymore. There was something else out there — something had gotten it. 

He pressed his ear to the door — his hand was still in the puddle of stuff, but he couldn't think about that — and listened hard. 

All he heard was the building's normal creaks and — breathing? That thing hadn't breathed. He'd know, it was two inches from his face when he woke up.

Taking one of those leaps of faith (in his time living with Uncle those had become less and less literal thanks to Azula no longer chasing him off roofs), he reached for the doorknob. 

It didn't turn; just made a horrific screech as the inner workings ground together. Outside, he heard a sharp breath. 

"Who's there?" 

Zuko froze, before elation took over. There was another person here. He wasn't going to die alone. 

"I'm in the closet! The latch is stuck, can you let me out?" 

A dry, quiet laugh, like the person needed to drink some water. "Uh, no? I don't need to fight another one of those things." 

Zuko's elation was quickly fading, irritation taking its place. "They don't talk, stupid! And why would one be in here?" 

"Prove it!" 

Zuko growled in frustration. "Just open the door!" 

"Tell me who you are first!" 

He rested his forehead against the door, forcing himself to take a deep breath and drive all thoughts of strangling his maybe-savior out of his mind. 

"Zuko," he said, in a voice that was embarrassingly shaky now that he wasn't yelling. "I live here with my uncle." 

Slow, cautious footsteps came closer to the door. Under his hand, the doorknob shifted with a groan of metal on metal. He pulled his hand back as the door swung open. 

The light in his room was on now, and it hurt his eyes a little. With the light behind them, and his eyes not adjusted yet, Zuko couldn't see the face of the boy who'd saved him, but he was tall and lanky; sweatpants and a t-shirt hung off his frame, and in his left hand — the one not holding onto the door — was a hammer, dripping a blackish-red ooze onto his hand and the floor. 

He was not a zombie-thing, which was a relief.

Zuko scrambled to his feet, almost smacking his head on the low closet ceiling, and knocking a number of wire hangers off the rail and onto the floor. He cleared his throat, attempting to brush the cobwebs off his pants; and then he remembered the gore all over his hand, and decided he'd just burn the pants later. 

"Thank you for letting me out," he said. "I thought that thing was gonna — where are you going?" 

The guy had already turned to walk away, twirling the hammer around like a baton. So much for me being dramatic. "Hey, wait!" he called, stepping over a pile of oozing flesh (don't think about it) and running after him down the dark hallway between his room and the exit. "Do you know what that thing was?" 

"How should I know?" His rescuer looked over his shoulder. "I'm not really an expert on disgusting monsters." He ducked into the kitchen, and the click of the light switch preceded light flooding out of the doorway. Zuko frowned, following him inside. 

The first thing he noticed was what a terrible mess the place was. Uncle Iroh is going to kill me, he thought, staring in disgust at the bloody tracks across the floor. 

Next was that the stranger — this person he didn't know — was scrubbing blood off his hands in the sink like he lived here or something. 

"What are you doing?" 

He flinched, turning around as he scrubbed his hands with a paper towel, and dripping gross, murky water on the floor. "What's it look like I'm doing? Cleaning up."

"Who even are you?" Zuko asked.

"I'm Jet," his new nuisance said, and if that wasn't the most bullshit, trying-to-be-cool name Zuko had ever heard — "Do you have any bandages? That thing got my arm."

Zuko sighed. What even is my life anymore. 

He closed and locked the apartment door. If there were more of those things, they wouldn't be getting in, he hoped. He even added a couple kitchen chairs as a rudimentary barricade. Then he went back down the hall, flicking on the light and opening the medicine cabinet.

Bandages were easy to find; there was a plastic tote of gauze and band-aids on one shelf, and medical tape in another. He also grabbed a tube of antiseptic ointment from the top of the cabinet, and went back to the kitchen. 

Jet was sitting at the table, picking at his nails, a zoned-out look on his blood-smeared face as he looked around the kitchen. He snapped to attention when Zuko came in. 

"You need to clean that cut before you bandage it," Zuko said, dropping the totes on the table and tossing the ointment on top. He tore his eyes away from the bloody fingerprints on the white plastic lid and went to the sink to wash his hands. 

When the sink shut off, there was silence again; outside the building, Zuko could hear an owl hooting in the trees. The clock over the sink read three in the morning. He sighed. 

"Hey, could you help me?" Jet asked.

Zuko turned around, meeting Jet's surprisingly earnest look. 

"I can't wrap this with one hand," the boy said, holding out his arm, where his hand was holding a pad of gauze in place. Zuko grabbed the tape and wound it around the gauze, securing it in place. "Thanks," Jet said with a small smile. Zuko huffed, dropping into a chair. 

"Why are you in my apartment?" 

Jet's smile dropped. "I was chasing that thing, trying to find out what it was."

Zuko's stomach turned. "It looked like —"

"I know." Jet sighed, scratching at the blood on his face. Now that he was closer, Zuko could see dull lines through the mess — tear tracks. "I live on the floor below. It..." He swallowed. "My parents went out to see what all the noise was."

Zuko's eyes widened. "Oh. I'm sorry." 

Jet shrugged nonchalantly, turning his face away, though Zuko saw him rubbing his eyes. "Not the first parents I've lost," he said with a watery chuckle and a sniff. "Sorry about your uncle." 

Zuko instantly tensed. "My uncle is fine," he said. "He wasn't even home when that thing got in. He probably had a date or something, and I just missed the call, but he's not dead." 

Jet scoffed. "Whatever. I'm going home." He stood up. "I'm gonna go to sleep and pretend this was all a —" A loud THUNK cut him off. 

His head turned, looking at the window. "That was from outside, right?"

Zuko went over to the window, pulling back the curtain. Another THUNK as something hit the glass startled him, and he reared back. He shoved the glass pane up, leaning out. 

"HEY! Cut that — OW!" 

"Sorry!" 

Zuko frowned, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead where the chunk of gravel hit it and squinting down at the ground. "Jin? What the hell?" 

"I can't get into my building!" she called. "I saw your light was on, so..." 

He groaned. "Just knock on the door next time!" 

"Can I come up?" 

Zuko glanced over his shoulder at the mess all over the kitchen, the trail leading out into the hall. He grimaced. 

"I don't know if you want to, but..."

"Alright, I'm coming!" The tiny figure in green raced around the side of the building, disappearing. Zuko thought he saw another shape following her, deep in the shadows, but it might have just been the light. He slammed the window shut and closed the curtains. 

Minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Zuko moved the chairricade (chair barricade), and let Jin into the apartment. She looked around with a frown. 

"Wow, you really wrecked the place, what happened?" 

Zuko sighed, the weariness of the morning's events catching up to him. "It's a...really long story. What are you doing out?" 

"We were out of —" She paused, frowning, and brushed her thumb over his cheek. "Zuko, what's all over your face? And who's that?" She leaned around Zuko, pointing into the kitchen, where Jet was still standing. He gave a jaunty wave. 

"That's Jet," Zuko sighed. "He killed a zombie in my room." 

"He whated a what where?" 

"I told you it was a long story."

Jin sighed. "Can I please just borrow your phone and call my parents?" 

Zuko stood out of the way so she could get to the phone in the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, gaping at the mess. 

"Zuko, please tell me that's jam." 

"It's jam," he lied. 

"Because if you killed someone in here —"

"I didn't kill somebody, okay? Just make your phone call." He grabbed the phone off the wall, pushing it into her hands, and sat down at the table, tuning her out as she talked on the phone. 

How the hell was this happening? There was no way all that was real, but the blood was still on the floor, and Jet was right in front of him, picking at the edges of his bandage, and if Zuko walked back to his room he'd see that thing on the floor in there. 

He sighed, lowering his face into his hands. He wanted Uncle. He wanted Mom. He wanted to wake up and find out this had all been a nightmare. 

There was a snarling sound from outside the apartment, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Jet had heard it too — his hand had gone to the hammer laying on the table in front of him. 

"It sounds like more this time," he said.

"More what?" Jin asked; she'd put the phone down, and was looking frantically between the wall and Jet. "What was that thing?" 

"A zombie," Zuko said tiredly. 

"Why is there a zombie?" 

"How should I know?"

"Alright, guys, just shut up." Jet stood, picking up the hammer. There was a loud thunk and a rattling sound as the things zombies crashed into the door. "Zuko, is your door gonna hold up to those things?" 

"It didn't before, but I don't know if it was locked." Zuko grabbed the metal ladle from the pot rack, giving it a couple of practice swings. Hopefully Uncle wouldn't mind getting a new one. He tucked it into his waistband. 

"We should try and barricade the door so they can't get in," Jet said. "That'll give us time to come up with an actual plan." 

"I need to call Mom again, this is ridiculous." Jin sighed, picking up the phone. Zuko thought maybe he should try calling Uncle. If he didn't pick up, though...

It was better not knowing. 

"Help me move the table. It's the best thing we can block the door with." 

They got to work. Outside, the snarling and screeching grew louder. 

Zuko couldn't help thinking this was pretty typical of his life.

Chapter Text

Jet's day was off to a freaking great start. 

First thing in the morning — 2:46 in the morning, in fact — he'd awoken to screams that were still bouncing off the inside of his skull and making his stomach turn somersaults. Eight years, passing through homeless shelters and six other foster families before this one, he'd seen some shit; yet he still wasn't prepared for waking up like that. Not again. Lia and Shan's voices had been hushed, worried, through the thin walls, and the front door creaked as it opened and they went out.

Jet didn't know what was happening. Didn't know that the next thing he heard would be Lia's scream, that next time he saw her she'd be facedown in a pool of her own blood, with tracks leading away. That he'd only be able to recognize Shan by the broken glasses lying next to him. That in ten minutes' time he'd be covered in blood and grime wrestling with a twitching, rotting thing that looked like it used to be dead. 

He could still feel those nails raking down his arm. It sent a chill down his spine to remember; he'd lost what was left in his stomach trying to dig out a nail fragment that had gotten embedded in the cut. He hoped that didn't get infected later. 

Now, as he stood in the hallway of Zuko's apartment, blocking the door with a table so those things wouldn't get in, he wondered, really, how this was his life. There were a lot — a lot — of times he'd thought someone had to be playing some kind of sick game with him, but never more than right now. 

"Think that's gonna block it?" Zuko asked, as if Jet had any more experience than Zuko did. Jet shrugged, adding another chair to really wedge the table in place. 

"This can't be happening," Jin said.

There was a loud bump! against the door. Jet put his hand on the table; it didn't move. The door was secure for now. "It's happening," he sighed. 

Zuko leaned tiredly against the wall, flinching away from it when his hand went in a trail of black goo. "Eugh." 

"We should definitely clean this stuff up," Jet said, looking around. "There's no telling what's in it."

"What about the thing in my room? I don't think it's gonna fit in the garbage disposal," Zuko said. 

Jet couldn't tell if that was a joke or not. He managed a laugh anyway. "I'll take care of it. Just get me a garbage bag, I'll clean up." 

"What about the people in the other apartments?" Jin asked. 

"If they're smart, they'll have already locked their doors, and they should be fine. If not..." Jet trailed off, preferring not to finish that thought. "Come on. One of us should go through supplies, too. No telling how long we'll last before we run out."

"Hold on, you're not staying here," Zuko said incredulously. "I don't even know you." 

Jet stared at him for a second, taken aback, before letting out a stunned laugh. "Um, I don't know if you picked up on this, but I kind of don't have anywhere else to go. The whole 'going home' idea was nice when there weren't like nine of those things running around, but it's just not happening now."

"I —" Zuko paused upon receiving a frown from Jin, and sighed. "Fine. I guess. But you're taking a shower, alright? I don't want zombie slime on my couch."

Jet was kind of covered in zombie slime, he guessed. "Deal. Where's —"

"Down the hall. Past Uncle's room," Zuko said curtly. 

"Can I borrow some clothes?" 

"Knock yourself out." 

Jet felt like Zuko didn't just mean in the figurative sense.

"Well, see you later," he said. He took the proffered garbage bag from Jin (along with a pair of purple gardening gloves, which was a thoughtful gesture), and headed off to clean up some zombie slime.

Jin didn't ask for any of this. She'd just wanted to get some ibuprofen, get rid of her headache, and get some sleep without the threat of being eaten. 

And yeah, normally two out of three would be good, but not when it involved helping her friend scrub what looked, smelled and felt like Death 2.0 off of the walls. Down the hall, she could hear that other guy — Jet, what kind of name was that? — whistling as he cleaned up whatever the hell was in Zuko's room.

"You haven't seen Uncle, have you?" Zuko asked in an undertone, scrubbing away at his section of the floor; his quiet tone almost masked the shake in his voice. Jin was puzzled by the question — she had assumed Iroh had run out to get help with the whole zombie situation — but thought she'd better answer. 

"Not since yesterday morning," she said. "I stopped at the tea shop before school, remember?" 

"Of course I remember. I was there," Zuko snapped. "He didn't come home last night," he said, softer. "Or answer the phone."

"Oh." Jin looked down at the puddle of water collected at the bottom of the wall. "Maybe his phone died. He always forgets to charge it, remember?" 

Zuko nodded slightly, but didn't look comforted. He picked up his bucket and brush and moved to scrub elsewhere. 

Jin sighed. She dropped her brush into the bucket at her side and stood up, surveying the apartment. The grimy rugs from the kitchen and hall were piled up on the table in front of the door, and the walls and floor were mostly clean. 

Outside the apartment, those things were still growling. It sounded like there were more of them now, and Jin couldn't help glancing nervously at the barricade. If it didn't hold, they were all sitting ducks in here. 

Maybe she'd just wake up and find out this was all a sick nightmare. Until then, she needed to change out of these clothes (and probably burn them), try and figure out how she was gonna explain this to her parents, and find a zombie-proof place in the apartment to sleep through the night. 

Zuko didn't go back to his room; he didn't feel safe, after that thing had gotten in earlier. He couldn't bring himself to go to sleep in Uncle's room, either, and the couch was taken up by Jet. So he resigned himself to guard duty — wasn't that important, anyway? Someone should definitely be awake in case those things got in again. 

So he paced in the hallway, until the sun peeked between the buildings outside enough to shine through the kitchen window. The snarling outside didn't stop, but it did die down, like some of the zombies had left. Zuko sincerely hoped it was because they'd given up on finding prey in the building, not because they were lying in wait — or had found easier pickings elsewhere. 

Jet was awake first, stumbling into the kitchen and helping himself to the coffee Zuko had put on. Normally, Zuko wouldn't have dared — the previous owners had left the coffee maker, but Uncle Iroh had forbidden its use until such a time as he could get rid of it. Zuko figured he could be forgiven just this once for using it. 

"How'd you sleep?" Jet murmured over the lip of his — actually Uncle's — cup. He took a sip, wrinkled his nose, and immediately dumped in what looked like half of the sugar bowl.

"I didn't," Zuko said, swirling the remains of his coffee around to pick up the sugar that hadn't mixed in. "You?"

"Eh. On and off." Jet picked at a chipped spot on the cup. "Kept thinking I heard something."

He probably had, but Zuko kept that to himself. He downed the rest of his coffee and put his cup in the sink, figuring he could wash it later. In the meantime, he should probably get some breakfast. 

Jet had no clue what Zuko was trying to cook, but from all the smoke, it wasn't going well. He shook off his concern and headed to the hall to check on their zombie situation. 

The corridor outside was suspiciously quiet, only a few muttery snarls breaking the silence. Jet climbed on top of the barricade table and peered through the peephole. 

What he saw made him lose any appetite he might have had before; splatters and smears of red and purple-black decorated the wall across from him. Scratch marks dug deep into the wood of the neighbors' door, and Jet was glad he couldn't see the other side of this door. He got back off the table, shuddering. 

Jin was in the kitchen when he got back in there, drinking what looked like straight black coffee. Her braids were frizzy, and there were dark circles under her eyes. 

"Morning," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Jet returned the greeting and sat down at the table. The itching in his arm was back, deeper than the skin, and the earlier worry of infection returned. He probably should have followed Zuko's advice and cleaned it better before he bandaged it. 

"We should go through our stock today," Zuko said, pulling Jet out of his thoughts. "Ration what we have."

Jet had said the same thing last night, but he didn't bother to bring it up. It was Zuko's apartment, after all. "Good plan," he agreed, tapping his nails uneasily on the table as a crash echoed in the hall.

"I'd still like to know what's going on," Jin said. "This is bound to be on the news, right? Someone has to know what's going on." 

"Worth a shot," Zuko murmured. "We can find out after breakfast." He opened the oven, smoke rushing his face; he coughed, backing away, and Jet and Jin both cringed as the smoke alarm blared through the apartment. 

Fantastic start for the day, Jet thought. Wonder what we'll get next. 

"This is Joo Dee of the Ba Sing Se News Network, covering the shocking deaths of more than ten Lower Ring residents in what some are referring to as an apocalyptic incident. One eyewitness reports seeing, quote, 'a shambling mass of rotting flesh', unquote, climbing a fire escape of a Lower Ring apartment building. Officer Long Feng, head of the Ba Sing Se police force, had this to say..."

Zuko sat on the couch, stirring his cereal as it slowly got soggier. He didn't have much appetite right now. 

He wished Uncle would come back, or call, or — anything to know he was okay, and alive. He hated the thought that the next place he might see Uncle could be on a list of victims. He was still holding out hope, but the longer he went without any word, the thinner that hope got. 

Jet and Jin sat on either side of him; Jin picking at the threadbare armrest, Jet chewing on the pen he was supposed to be writing a list of supplies with. Both their bowls sat untouched on the coffee table. 

"Everything is under control," the Chief of Police said on-screen. "The police are working closely with scientists from Ba Sing Se University to find a solution. I would advise citizens not to panic; we will get to the bottom of this." 

"Thank you, Long Feng. Our next story, President Kuei speaks on the rising fuel pri—"

Zuko turned off the TV. At his side, Jet scoffed. 

"He means Upper Ring citizens shouldn't panic," he muttered. "The police don't give a shit about the Lower Ring." He stood up, glaring at the TV set. "I'm gonna start inventory."

He stormed out of the living room. Zuko sighed heavily, putting down his bowl. 

"We should go help him, right?" Jin said. 

"Probably," Zuko agreed, not really wanting to. 

They sat in silence for a couple more minutes. Finally, Jin got up first, taking the cereal bowls with her. "I'm putting these in the fridge," she said. 

"Go ahead." Zuko sighed, getting up. "I'm gonna help Jet."

"Good luck," she said, grimacing. She disappeared into the kitchen, and Zuko took a deep breath before following.

Chapter Text

"Items ranked, in order of importance," Jet said around the toothpick he'd stolen from the box on the counter. "First, clean water."

"There's two gallon jugs in the pantry, and a case of bottles," Zuko told him, thumbing through the multiple-page list. "The tap water's been weird lately, so we don't drink it. Uncle thinks there's some kind of deposit in the pipes, but he hasn't been able to get the landlord to look at it."

"Probably a good call, but it's gonna make the supply run out sooner," Jet said. "We'll stretch out what we have, make it last. Any other drinkables?"

"Not a lot. There might be some sports drinks left in the pantry too." 

"Nice, we can add those to the stock. I'll see if I can get to my apartment later, there's gotta be stuff there we can use."

"Why not just set up your own base there?" Zuko asked; Jet got a queasy look on his face, but it vanished after a moment. 

"There's safety in numbers," he said, turning away and opening the pantry. "So — two jugs of water, plus a case of bottles and..." He rummaged on the shelf for a moment. "Four large sports drinks. Write it down."

Zuko rolled his eyes and uncapped the pen, writing down the tally next to the sloppily written 'Water' on the list. "Next?"

"Nonperishable food. Do you have canned stuff and, more importantly, a can opener?" 

"In the drawer," Zuko said, gesturing to the cabinets under the island. "All the canned stuff is in the pantry too."

"What about dried fruits or vegetables?"

"Hell if I know. There might be raisins in a cabinet or something."

"Rice?"

"Obviously we have rice," Zuko gritted out. "I don't have every item memorized. Why don't you go through it yourself?"

"I don't usually go through people's stuff without an invitation," Jet said, rolling his eyes. "But fine. Just check things off, alright?"

Zuko glared at the other boy, and continued doing just that.

"Alright. We've got a decent stockpile. We should get it organized into rations — going by expiration date and size. If we end up having to bug out, we'll wanna take a lot of smaller portions rather than one big one."

"'Bug out'?" Jin whispered, leaning over to Zuko. 

"Military slang," he whispered back. "Means to evacuate quickly." Louder, asked Jet, "Why would we need to bug out?"

"This place isn't exactly fortified," Jet said, rolling his eyes like it was obvious and shifting his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "Those things get in, we're better off taking what we have and splitting." 

Jin didn't really like the sound of that. Apparently, neither did Zuko. 

"And go where?" he asked. "It's not like anywhere else in the city is gonna be safer." 

"Who says we're staying in the city?" Jet asked. "You ask me, we're better off as far away from here as possible."

"My Uncle is in the city. So is Jin's family."

"Zuko, if your uncle's smart, and still alive, then he's either hiding out, or ditched this place a long time ago. Our best bet is to do the same." Jet knelt down, picking up a can. "Are you gonna help me with these or what?"

While Jin helped Jet sort through the food, Zuko went to gather other supplies. The wound care stuff was already out, courtesy of Jet, but they needed bags, batteries, flashlights, and a whole host of other things Zuko hoped he had in the apartment. 

He dug out the batteries from the hall closet, and hunted down the flashlights from his and Uncle's rooms. He also grabbed the whole tote of candles, just in case, and the camping lantern Uncle bought that was still in its box. 

His school backpack was still full of books, despite school letting out over a week ago. He dumped it out on his bed, adding the bag to the pile, and dug his duffel bag out of the back of his closet. 

The silence in this side of the apartment was deafening. Even with his bedroom door wide open, he couldn't hear anything Jet or Jin were saying. With only the foggy light of the just-arisen sun coming through the window to illuminate the place, it felt cold, and all too empty. Zuko shuddered involuntarily, and made his way back down the hall. The light and noise from the kitchen was almost welcoming. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. 

"...So obviously I didn't go out with him again, but, y'know, we've been good friends ever since," Jin was saying, gesturing with a can of soup. "Sometimes his uncle lets me take home whatever pastries are left in the shop at the end of the day, since they'd be tossed out otherwise. City regulations and all." She wrinkled her nose, reading the label on the can and setting it beside her. "Anyway, how do you know him?"

"Oh, I, uh...don't," Jet said, putting down the box he was reading and looking up at Zuko. "Oh, good, you're back. What all'd you find?" 

Instead of listing everything, Zuko just put the stuff on the table. "Anything else we need?"

"Well, clothes, for one. Bedding. If you have sleeping bags or tents...?" Jet looked up at him, expectant. "Plus, any other medicine you have."

Zuko was starting to get irritated. "How come you're the expert here?"

"Experience," Jet said sharply. "When you're living in a bad situation, you figure out what you have that you can use, what's hard to come by but good to have, and what's useless in the long run."

Zuko huffed, and turned around. He was pretty sure they still had a sleeping bag from that camping trip last summer — if so, he hoped it wasn't the one that had poison ivy all over it. 

The evening news was more of the same as it had been in the morning; the reporter showed a grainy photo of one of the things, found on a victim's camera roll. The police urged people not to panic, and claimed they would get to the bottom of it. 

"I bet they're the ones who started it," Jet muttered, glaring at the screen. "It'd be just like them to have their hands in this kind of thing."

"And how would they do that?" Jin asked. "You think they're somehow behind a zombie apocalypse?"

"It makes sense," Jet defended. "They were messing in some kind of genetic experimentation or whatever, it got out of hand, and —" he gestured to the grainy picture, sitting in the background while the reporter spoke to a representative from the Ba Sing Se University labs. "What else could it be?"

His question was met with silence, and Jin and Zuko exchanging embarrassed looks. 

"I hadn't really thought about it," Zuko admitted. 

Jet sighed. "Well, regardless, I can guarantee you that Officer Long Feng isn't actually gonna do shit about this, unless it's to keep his own ass out of prison. Until the problem gets to the Upper Ring, he's gonna take his sweet time figuring out any solutions." 

He put down his empty cereal bowl, getting up off the couch. He paused by the window, looking out; the streets were eerily vacant, with none of the usual traffic and bustling pedestrians. Just a handful of brave (or stupid) stragglers. 

"Wonder how many of those things there really are," he said. "How it works. Whether it can spread." The thought of those things being able to do that — infect people with some kind of virus, turn them into that — made his skin crawl. "Whether there's anything to stop it."

"Hitting them with a hammer seemed to work," Zuko pointed out. "They're killable."

"That's true," Jet acknowledged. "Hey, any chance you've got a shotgun in this place?"

Zuko shook his head. "No, Uncle doesn't like guns."

Jet sighed. It was worth a shot. "Sledgehammer?"

"No. There might be an axe with the fire extinguisher." 

He shrugged. "Better than nothing." Dropping the blinds, he went back to the couch. "I'd certainly feel safer having something with a little more reach than a hammer."

Jin moved her legs off the middle seat, making room for him to sit down. He folded his legs under him, watching the screen as the reporter signed off. The program changed to an announcement for the true crime special coming up, and Zuko shut off the TV. 

"We should get to sleep," he said. 

"It's barely evening," Jet said, before remembering that Zuko had been awake before him this morning; he probably hadn't slept much last night. "You can go. One of us should probably stay awake. I'll look for that axe you mentioned."

"The idea of you with an axe is not going to help me sleep," Zuko said as he stood up, and Jet didn't know whether that was supposed to be a joke or not. 

"The trust is heartwarming," Jet said. "Sleep tight. Don't let the —"

"Don't even!" Zuko called as he left the room. "The last thing we need is you jinxing it."

Jet rolled his eyes, beckoning to Jin as he got off the couch. 

"Come on, I'm not going back through this place alone."

Chapter Text

Zuko didn't sleep deeply, but at least he slept; when he got up in the morning, the sun was still below the horizon, but he could already hear movement in the kitchen. Hoping it wasn't a zombie, he got out of bed.

It wasn't a zombie, though he wouldn't have known from the smell.

"What is that?" he asked, peering over Jet's shoulder at the pan on the stove.

"It was in the fridge," Jet said, poking at the greyish substance in the pan with a wooden spoon. "It was baked potatoes, but I mashed them since they were kind of...soggy. Added some garlic for flavor. I figured we should start on the cold stuff before the power goes out."

"The power isn't going to go out," Zuko said, rolling his eyes.

"It could. Either the city'll be overrun with those things and nobody'll be around to keep it on, or it'll get shut off when the bills are due." Jet gestured around the kitchen with the spoon. "I don't see anyone around to pay 'em."

"Well, could you at least pick leftovers that are edible? Those have been in there for days."

"Once it's seasoned, you won't even be able to tell."

Zuko had his doubts, and several newfound concerns, but didn't feel like arguing over it this early in the morning. "Any action last night?"

"Seems like they've quieted down. News said there were more of them spotted, though, so I wouldn't take any chances." Jet opened the spice cabinet, poking around until he found a jar of peppers.

Zuko left to check on Jin, before he could witness any more crimes against leftovers.

Breakfast was served in the living room. Jin sat on the sofa next to Jet, while Zuko leaned against the wall. For the first time, the sound of pounding against the walls outside had vanished, leaving an eerie silence. Jin tried to focus on her breakfast, which was a surprisingly good, if heavily seasoned, potato pancake. Zuko picked at his breakfast, staring out the window.

"Maybe we should go outside," he said after a moment. "We'd get a better idea of how big this whole thing is."

Jin shared a look with Jet, feeling uneasy with the idea. As eager as she was to get back home, the idea of leaving the safety of the apartment was...

"No offense," Jet said, putting his plate down on his lap, "but that sounds about as fun as screwing in a brush pile."

Zuko looked at him, wrinkling his nose. "A what?"

"A brush pile," Jet said. "You know, big pile of sticks and dead plants? Scratchy, poky, probably not an optimal place for —"

"Okay, okay." Zuko held up a hand to stop Jet, who was mid-obscene gesture. "Got it." 

"I think Jet's right," Jin said, pushing Jet's hands back down. "We're better off staying under cover. Much as I'd like to get home..."

"One quiet night doesn't mean we're out of the woods," Jet said. He sat back, picking up his plate again. "I'll see if I can get some stuff from my apartment today."

"Shouldn't more than one of us go?" Zuko asked. Jet's shoulders tensed up. "Safety in numbers, right?" Zuko pressed.

"...Yeah. Probably." Jet shrugged, looking unhappy as he bit into his pancake. "You don't have to go though. I'll be fine."

Jet had been serious when he said the others could stay behind. Apparently they thought he was just being polite or something; as if he would, because why even bother at this point? 

As soon as the barricade in front of the door was moved, he unlocked the door, pulling it open just enough to look outside. The carnage in the hallway was even worse than the little he'd managed to spot before, but thankfully nothing appeared to be moving. And, at the very least, it was all that black sludge, with very little real blood. Maybe the rest of the building managed to make it through. Maybe enough people were smart, kept their doors locked, didn't take any chances. 

He kept his hammer at the ready, one of Zuko's kitchen knives in his other hand. He had better stuff in the apartment, but the hammer had already been out, Shan had been fixing Lia's desk the day before — when everything was still normal. 

Ain't that a kick in the face? he thought. Exactly a week from today, Jet would have been with them a year and a half. Longer than he'd made it with any other foster family, aside from the first group home. Lia was helping him get his driver's license. Shan was looking at colleges. Now...well, the way things were going, there probably wouldn't be a college left to apply to by the time he was old enough. And anyone who still cared about licenses had their priorities out of whack.

Priorities. Right. He could dwell on his wrecked future later. They had zombie survival shit to do.

The hallway outside his own apartment was eerily silent. Jet carefully kept his eyes off the floor. There was blood on the walls too, so it didn't help. 

He didn't realize he had stopped walking until something touched his shoulder. He looked up, startled to see Jin standing close to him. 

"Is that your place?" she asked quietly, nodding toward the unlatched door on the left. He took a deep breath — bad idea, the smells of iron and dirt and he was not going to even think about what else were just pervasive — and nodded, numbly pushing the door open.

The living space was unrecognizable, papers and broken glass strewn across the floor, and everything covered in rusty brown and murky black handprints.

"Careful of the glass," he said, shutting the door once the others were inside. "Food's in there," he added, nodding toward the kitchenette. "You two start gathering. I'll get my stuff from my room."

Jin and Zuko both looked like they wanted nothing less than to leave, but they headed to the kitchenette anyways. 

Jet took a deep breath, bracing himself as he pushed open his door.

It was just like he'd left it. He didn't know whether to be relieved or angry about that. He settled on cold apathy as he stripped the bed, piling anything useful in the middle of the quilt.

As he hauled his bundle of supplies out, taking care not to let it touch the mess on the floor, he looked over to see how Zuko and Jin were doing. They'd laid out several garbage bags on the floor, creating an area where they could safely take stock of the supplies. The pantry stood open, almost empty. 

"We're gonna need a couple trips to get everything back," Jet said. "Maybe one of us should stand guard while..."

He paused. There, at the edge of the counter, laid a bloodstained pair of glasses, folded and set among the other detritus.

"Did you guys pick these up?" he asked, holding up the glasses.

Jin looked over. "Those were there when we got here. I thought you'd picked them up."

"No, I — those shouldn't be here." Jet looked down at the glasses. "These were —"

Shit. He grabbed his hammer, shoving the glasses in his pocket. Ignoring the others' questions, he pushed the front door open, stepping out into the hall; where earlier he'd avoided looking at the floor, this time he scanned carefully up and down the whole corridor. 

No bodies; there were, however, trails on the floor where something had been dragged toward the elevator. And that was it — a trail of blood on the carpet. No pieces left behind, whether people, or...

Those things had made one hell of a mess out of Shan. Jet'd made one hell of a mess out of one of them before tracking the other one to Zuko's apartment. There was nothing here, though. 

Someone had been here. Someone who, for whatever reason, had taken the bodies — both human and otherwise — but left nearly everything else untouched. 

"Someone's been here before us," Jet said, slamming the door shut behind him. Zuko looked up, nearly dropping the box in his hand. A second later, Jet took it, shoving it into the bag they'd dragged over for collecting the food. "Come on. We need to go."

"Why?" Jin asked. "Whoever it was is gone."

"I really don't care. Who knows what they've set up in here? They could be — I don't know. I don't wanna stick around and find out." Jet picked up the bag and put it over his shoulder. "I'm going. If you guys wanna stay behind and get eaten, be my guests."

He walked out, kicking the door shut behind him. 

Zuko scowled, picking up a stack of boxes. "Come on. I'm not waiting around for the zombies to come back."

He grabbed the bundle Jet had left in the middle of the floor. It was heavy, but he didn't work out for nothing. Jin followed close behind him as they went back to his apartment. 

Jet was nowhere to be seen, but the bag of stuff was on the kitchen floor. Zuko left the quilt bundle there and headed for the living room.

Jet's messy hair was visible over the arm of the couch. Zuko circled around it to the corner where Jet sat between the couch and the cabinet beside it, holding the pair of glasses with more care than he'd taken with anything so far. 

"Go away," Jet said, his voice hoarse. 

"Jet," Jin said softly, coming up on Zuko's left side. She crouched down to Jet's eye level. "Are you okay?"

Jet set his jaw, turning the glasses over in his hands. "Those things killed my parents. Someone went in and took them away. I can't think of why they would do that."

"You can't leave bodies laying around where people live," Zuko said, rolling his eyes. Jet glared up at him. 

"They left plenty of other shit laying around. And if they cared about safety don't you think they'd have, I don't know, knocked on some doors, checked for survivors?" Jet put the glasses on the arm of the couch. "It had to have been some kind of — I don't know. A trap or a setup for something. I don't trust it and I don't like it."

"You don't have to go back," Jin said. "We'll get the rest of the stuff out."

Zuko opened his mouth to protest, but Jin glared at him. Jet sat up a little straighter, wincing as his elbow bumped the couch. His arm still looked red around the bandage, and Zuko wondered whether it might be infected.

"Thanks," Jet said. "I'm not gonna leave you guys out to dry, though. I figure I owe you."

Yeah, kind of, Zuko thought but didn't say.

"We can get the rest of the stuff later," Jin said, standing back up. "We need a break."

Zuko frowned. "We haven't been working that long —"

"We need. A. Break," Jin said. "I'm making tea. Anyone want some? Yeah?"

She walked off toward the kitchen. Zuko sighed. "Use bottled water!" he called. 

"Got it!"

Jet looked down at the floor, balling up his shaking hands against his knees. Zuko sighed and sat on the couch. 

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. 

"’S not your fault," Jet replied, rubbing his eyes. "I figured going back in that place would suck anyway. Then that...I don't know. It's too much, knowing there were people there and they didn't help." 

Something twisted in Zuko's stomach, hearing it explained that way. Whoever had come in and taken away the bodies hadn't been aiming to help, and the motive for taking them was a mystery. The more he thought about it, the more he unfortunately agreed with Jet. 

Jin came back minutes later with cups of tea. She sat down on the floor with hers, staring Jet down until he took a drink, and gestured for Zuko to join them on the floor. He did, somewhat begrudgingly.

"We can try and venture out again in the next couple days," Jet said, looking down at his cup. "Jin, you should try to go back to your family. They'll...they're gonna want you back."

Jin nodded slightly. "Will you guys be okay?"

"We're made of tougher stuff than most. We'll be alright," Jet said. Zuko huffed, resenting that Jet had felt the need to answer for both of them, but didn't argue.

"Tomorrow," Zuko decided. "We can get emergency supplies to the car in case we need to run, and we can take Jin home."

"Then it's settled." Jet put his cup down, his right hand shaking even though the left one had already stopped, and Zuko wondered again about his injury. "We'll make a plan and go out tomorrow."

"You should change those bandages," Zuko said. "Getting infected could really mess your arm up." Or kill you, he didn't add.

"Later." Jet pushed himself up. "We need to find the quickest route to Jin's place. Jin? Wanna help me draw a map?"

Jin shared a concerned look with Zuko as she got up, leaving her mug of tea on the floor. Zuko stayed where he was, watching the two bent over a piece of paper, pencils in hand. 

This is life now, he realized. It wasn't going away, this constant vigilance and fear. Even when he was living with his father, it had never been like this.

Jin's family might not even be there tomorrow; they could be the last three people alive, for all he knew. 

He really, really hoped not. 

Chapter Text

Azula looked down on the city from her vantage point atop the roof of her former school. 'Former' here meaning 'up until about an hour ago, when all the faculty and most of the students were brutally eaten alive'.

She took in the sight below her. What was once a sprawling city, turned a wasteland overnight.

"It's sad, isn't it?" Ty Lee said. "To think that we might be the only ones left in the whole city."

Azula scoffed. "We're not the only ones, Ty Lee." She pointed out a group of stragglers on a roof a block away. "How long that will last is another matter."

"I can't get a signal," Mai said, looking up from her phone. "Ty Lee, your phone's less garbage than mine, can you try and call someone?"

Ty Lee dug out her sparkly pink cellphone, grimacing at the shattered screen. When she tried to turn it on, it made an unpleasant whirring sound.

"I guess it cracked when I fell on the stairs," she said apologetically. "Sorry."

"What about you?" Mai asked Azula with an expectant look.

"What about me?" Azula countered. "I don't know who you expect me to call. You can't expect my father to drive through all this."

She gestured down at the streets, already cluttered with wrecked vehicles, unmoving bodies and oozing, shambling sacks of rotting slime. Ty Lee looked a little queasy.

"Azula." Mai's eyes didn't leave her face, her tone uncompromising. "Call him, or somebody to get us out of this."

Azula scowled. Mai knew full well that the only numbers in her phone were Father's, Mai and Ty Lee's own, and Azula's infirm aunts who had never driven an automobile.

Well. And the one they didn't speak of.

Sighing, she dug out her phone — the latest model, in a slim, shiny black case.

She tried Father's office — no luck, probably for the same reason they couldn't call the school if they wanted to. Father didn't pick up his personal phone, either; unsurprising. He was a busy man who encouraged independence in her. He didn't have time for petty matters. It would be embarrassing to need his help, anyway.

"Well, it appears Father is busy, so we can scratch that idea." She tucked her phone back into her purse — she wasn't putting it in her pocket where she could fall and crush it.

"Azula, I think you need to call Zuko," Ty Lee said. "You have his number for a reason."

Azula glared at her, shocked that she would suggest such a thing. "What?" she demanded. "There's no way I'm contacting Zuzu of all people! What good would he be in a situation like this?"

Zuko held tight to the handle of the fire axe, crouched behind a car parked on the street. On one side of him, Jin fidgeted nervously with the kendo practice stick Zuko had dug out of storage. On his other side, Jet picked at the dried gore on the claw of his hammer, watching the street.

"You two know the plan. Get over there, search for survivors. If we find nothing, salvage some supplies and get back to base."

"We're going to find them," Zuko said. "They'll be fine."

Jet scoffed under his breath, but Jin just nodded shakily. "They'll be fine," she repeated under her breath.

"Come on." Jet got up, bolting across the road (as if there were any cars to outrun). Zuko rolled his eyes, grabbing Jin's hand and running after him.

They made it inside the building with no complications. The lobby was empty, and the tracks on the floor suggested it'd been a while since anyone had been through it.

Jin headed for the elevator, but Jet stopped her, cautiously stalking toward it and pushing the button. The doors dragged open, slowed by the black ooze caked in the tracks. The elevator was empty, though there were scratch marks in the carpet and what looked disturbingly like the remnants of a decayed, squished finger stuck to the door.

"Whoever was in here managed to escape them," Zuko said. "The thing got caught in the door. It didn't get inside."

"Note to self; zombies took the stairs," Jet muttered. He stepped inside, gesturing for Jin and Zuko to follow. Jin shakily pushed the button for the third floor, and the doors dragged closed again.

The hall outside the elevator was clean. Like, bleach-smell-still-stinging-your-nostrils clean. Zuko wrinkled his nose against the itch.

"In and out, remember?" Jet said to Jin. She was already walking down the hall, stopping in front of her door to dig out her key before rushing inside the apartment. Zuko caught the door before it could close and lock behind her, going in after her.

"Mom! Dad! It's Jin," she called, dropping the keys on the table next to a half-empty bowl of cereal. "I'm alive, I've been staying at Zuko's."

She wandered out of view through another doorway, her footsteps clacking down the hall. Zuko looked around the apartment; no sign of zombies. That had to be good, right?

"Mom! Hello!" Jin called again from the other end of the hall. There was a rapping on a door, then a creak as it opened. "Where is everyone?"

Her footsteps came back up the hall, doors creaking open as she walked, then slamming shut again. By the time she reached the living area, she was gritting her teeth.

"I can't find anyone," she said, her face pale. "Maybe...maybe they all went to a neighbor's, or..."

"Jin? You need to come look at this."

Zuko turned around at Jet's voice. He was holding the door open, his hand on the piece of printer paper taped to it. On it, in bold letters, was printed:

FORMER TENANTS EVACUATED BY ORDER OF BA SING SE DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH.

THIS LOCATION HAS BEEN RULED A CLASS 3 HEALTH HAZARD. ENTRY PROHIBITED EXCEPT BY AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL.

FOR MORE INFORMATION VISIT
HHS-BSS.GOV/EVAC

Underneath, scrawled in permanent marker: 2/3 tenants accounted for. Third presumed deceased.

Zuko felt a pit form in his stomach. Jin pulled the paper off the door, trembling.

"They're gone," she said hollowly. Zuko put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"At least they're alive," he said, earning a glare from Jet.

"Yeah, alive fuck knows where." Jet scowled, looking around the apartment. "God. How much you wanna bet they had this place cleared out yesterday morning? Nice building with an elevator, no leaky pipes, rent's probably in the thousands. Couldn't leave any of those people to hunker down in their apartments."

"Jet." Zuko squeezed Jin's shoulder again when she gave Jet a wounded look. "Stop it."

Jet glared at Zuko, but shut up. Zuko sighed.

"Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can find anything useful." And then get the hell out. The emptiness and sterile smell of the cleaners was bringing up bad memories, and the sooner they left, the better.

Jin pulled away, trudging to the pantry, and begun to dig through. Jet joined her after a moment, leaning over to say something Zuko couldn't hear.

Zuko looked around the place. He had visited before, met Jin's parents. The place looked exactly the same, just...too eerily quiet.

He was glad Jin's parents were at least safe, for now. Hopefully they'd be able to catch up soon.

He had new hope for his uncle. Maybe he'd just evacuated too, and was waiting somewhere safe where Zuko could find him after this was all over.

If it will ever be over.

He grabbed a cloth grocery bag off the counter and joined Jin and Jet at the pantry.