Chapter Text
Schlatt drove through the ruins of the city, humming some random song that he used to play in the background when he did his work. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping his guard up just in case.
He hadn't driven through his part of the city in a few years at least, ever since that mob of zombies tried to attack him. But, it seemed awfully peaceful today.
He shrugged. If it meant he didn't have to put up with any more bullshit today, he was fine with it.
His eyes shot open at the loud sound of loud beeping. He looked behind the wheel, seeing the little needle was on the 'empty' symbol. Schlatt groaned as the mower he was driving came to a stop, sputtering a little bit before falling silent.
You've heard right folks. Mr. Jschlatt himself is driving a lawnmower during an apocalypse. But honestly, can you blame the man? All the good cars were either torn apart for parts or wheels, leaving only scraps and junk behind. He can't ride in that. It wouldn't look good for his brand.
Plus, he also conveniently lived right next to a Home Depot.
"You have got to be shitting me..." He muttered, rubbing his eyes with two fingers. He pulled the keys out of the mower and shoved them in his pocket, hopping out. He grabbed one of his hand pistols just for safe measures, gripping it tightly in his hand.
"Where the hell is the nearest gas station from here?" He spoke out loud, looking both ways. He frowned, climbing onto some rubble and looking down the street. He noticed some overturned cars in the distance, the paint that was once on them now turned to rust.
It was an option, yea, but the chances of there actually being gas in them? Slim to none.
He turned on his heels, a few small pebbles falling down the mountain of rocks when he did. He looked the other way, seeing a long, cracked, worn-out road ahead up him. It stretched out into the distance, far beyond his vision.
He turned back around and hopped off the rubble. He'd just go both ways. He'd check the cars for anything useful, then start his journey down the long road.
It was foolproof.
-
Schlatt looked around, trying to see if there were any old gas stations in the distance. There had been nothing in the cars except an old gas can, which was empty. He hadn't known how long he had been walking for, but the sun was starting to set.
He had passed a few signs a while back saying that there was a gas station nearby, but how far away had been scratched out with either stickers or spray paint.
He frowned, not exactly happy about leaving his lawnmower unattended in the middle of a random town. All of his shit was on there.
He looked back in front of him, seeing a huge sign in the distance. Schlatt perked up, a smirk growing on his face.
"Fucking finally!" He said, walking faster than he was before.
Now, although there might not be any gas in the gas tanks, there might be some in the storage rooms, for whatever reasons. I mean, he had found some there before so he could only guess.
The broken graphite of the road crumbled under his timbs, the white lines that were usually in the middle faded away.
He inched closer to the gas station, growing more uneasy as he did. The last time he had been to a gas station had been...
A long time ago.
He didn't really like gas stations anymore.
Schlatt shook his head. He needed to get gas before someone tried to hijack his mower.
He walked as fast as he could, eventually reaching the entrance of what used to be an active gas station. He walked past the tanks that had dents and holes drilled into them from previous loots.
He neared the door, seeing a few shelves knocked onto the floor and broken jars. He tried to push one of the doors open, but it didn't budge. He tried once again, this time with more force. Again, it didn't budge.
Schlatt left a frustrated breath out through his nose, starting to kick at the door. It scrapped against the marble floor, eventually swinging open.
The smell of rotting flesh instantly flowed out of the shop, Schlatt instantly recoiling and throwing a hand over his nose and mouth.
"Jesus Christ!" He spat, looking around to see if he could find the source of the smell. There wasn't a zombie or a dead body in sight.
He cautiously stepped inside, keeping his gun in hand. He stepped around the fallen shelves, going straight for the storage rooms.
This time the door opened with ease, swinging slightly from left to right. He looked around in the room, seeing that some of the roof had caved in. In the corner was a tarp that was laying over something with multiple bumps.
He made his way over to that, a chill going up his spine.
It felt like someone was watching him.
Schlatt tried to shake it off, but before he could do that something in the room clattered. Loudly.
He turned on his heels and saw a zombie next to a now broken shelf. It hissed at him and tried to get up, but had no luck as Schlatt simply shot it in the head.
It fell backward, hands twitching for a bit before eventually going lifeless. Schlatt scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning back around and yanking the tarp off of the pile.
Schlatt smiled, seeing three big containers of gas cans. He started picking them up, all of them being empty. He was about to cut his losses and go back to what was left of the city, but a mismatched tile in the corner caught his eye.
It looked like it had shifted a bit while he had been moving the cans, as a small crack was now present. He crouched and grabbed the title, pulling it off with ease.
Under it was a backpack, a few bottles of water, and a full gas can.
In a post-apocalyptic world, he had just won the lottery.
He quickly grabbed everything out of the hole, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. He placed the empty gas can he had bought with him in the hole, placing the title back before putting the other three cans back where they were.
He turned around and saw the zombie on the floor, wondering if he should do something with it.
Schlatt shrugged. It wasn't his problem.
He made his way out of the storage room and to the front.
Now that he had gas, he could get the fuck out of this hellhole.
-
Surprisingly, by the time Schlatt had gotten back, the sun had still not set. He had no idea what time it was, (since time was pretty much irrelevant during an apocalypse.) but he knew he had to get going before those things started to crawl around.
He looked up from the ground, instantly stopping in his steps.
There was some random ass stranger sitting on top of his mower. He had dirt all over his face, and his clothes were muddied and ripped. I mean come on, just because the world had ended didn't mean people had to become animals!
"Hey!" Schlatt yelled, furrowing his brows. The man looked over in Schlatt's direction, a wave of relief washing over his face. "What the hell do you think-"
"Oh thank god, another person!" He weakly smiled, interrupting Schlatt. "I was starting to think this city was completely abandoned!"
"It is," Schlatt responded, unamused. "I'm just making a pit stop, then I'm getting out of here."
"O-Oh!" He scrambled to get off the mower. His accent was very apparent, which meant he probably wasn't from around here. "W-Well, uh, I was planning to do the same thing!"
Schlatt frowned. "Great. See you around."
He pushed past the taller, walking over to the lawnmower. The brit sucked in a breath and turned on his heels, awkwardly tapping his ripped jeans.
"That's the funny thing, really, since we probably won't see each other around.." He began. "So, I was just, you know, wondering if you could maybe help me with something?"
Schlatt lowered the can a little, looking over to the brunette like he had grown a third eye.
"I know it's a crazy request, but I promise I'll be as helpful as I can!" He spoke. "I got separated from my family and I just need help finding them."
"Listen whatever your name is-"
"Wilbur."
"Listen, Wilbur, I'm not helping you." Schlatt scoffed, lifting the gas can up once again.
"Please!" He begged, practically on his knees by now. "I'm really good company! I've been told so by multiple people!"
"Were those people your Mother and Father?" He let a small exhale escape through his nose.
"It was my Brother and Father!" Wilbur spat, crossing his arms. "I can also make your mower drive much faster! I'm surprised you've even made it this far on that thing..."
Schlatt slammed the gas cap closed, placing the gas can on top of the mower. He looked over at the brit next to him, scowling.
"You're just asking for me to run you over, huh?"
Wilbur gulped.
"W-Well, before you make your final decision, let me give you a list of reasons why you should help me!"
Schlatt looked behind him, seeing the sun lowering more and more by the second.
"...I can sing, I can fight, I can cook..."
He started to hear crashing coming from inside the buildings, then groaning.
"...I can make a makeshift prosthetic, I can make your mower faster as I said, I was one of the top players on geoguessr..."
'Shit.' Schlatt thought, looking back at Wilbur who was still listing things. He groaned, dragging his hands down his face.
"Fucking- Fine!" Schlatt yelled. "I'll help you if you just shut the fuck up! But if you make one noise I'm feeding you to the zombies!"
Wilbur's eyes lit up as he silently nodded, running over to the lawnmower and climbing onto it. Schlatt followed after him, hopping into the driver's seat and turning the key.
The motor stalled. He tried again, but the motor still stalled.
"Uh, hey Yankees cap man, what's taking so long?" Wilbur questioned, starting to get uneasy.
"First of all, my name is Schlatt." He scoffed. "Second of all, what do you thinks happening genius? The motors stalling."
"What?!" Wilbur looked around, starting to see Zombies crawl their way out of their daytime hiding spots.
Schlatt was also uneasy, he just wouldn't admit it. He continued to turn the key, the motor stalling each time.
"Oh come on!" Schlatt hissed, jerking his head up. Multiple zombies were dragging themselves over to the two, foul-smelling saliva dripping from their mouths.
Out of frustration, Schlatt started to hit the top of the motor, hoping this would work. He twisted the key one last time, the motor finally starting up.
He smirked, slamming his foot on the gas pedal. The lawnmower took off, running some of the zombies over.
Wilbur yelped, holding onto the front for dear life.
They both zoomed out of the remains of the city, leaving a trail of dust behind them.