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There wasn't much to say at this point. The world had gone to shit when the outbreak of a so-called Zombie virus started sweeping the continents. Most of his friends were dead, and half of the dead are alive. The virus had spread so rapidly that no one was fast enough to figure out how to stop it, or even slow its progress.
It's shit, Steve thinks, that it couldn't be a regular ass videogame type virus. You know, smash the head and kill the zombie? The luck of humanity isn't that good though, so of course the only way to kill the zombies was to absolutely make sure that every cell in its body was completely destroyed and burned until it could no longer regenerate.
Regenerating zombies. When the news that a virus was killing people within hours and replacing their cells with something unheard of before it caused a panic. Everyone started treating it like a Covid situation, bunking down and going no contact. Problem was is that this virus was very much extraterrestrial. There was no way it wasn't. It was able to spread in ways that it shouldn't. Airtight specimens in lab rooms and biology classes, that haven't touched air or been opened in years, were suffering effects of the virus and being revived into near unkillable creatures.
With the rapid spread rate, came the rapid decline of science and now, if you were immune to this virus, you were either killed by the zombies or died of natural causes. The Earth's population was down 97%, and there seemed to be no clear indicator for what makes a person immune.
As far as Steve could tell, he might be the only living person in all of Los Angeles.
The internet still works for now, but he, like other survivors, don't really use it lately. It's a bit of a mood killer logging into a social media website where everyone you know is dead and you quite frankly don't want to make the attempt to contact people to see if they just happened to be part of the living 3%. The rapidity of the death toll sort of made it easier to block it all and ignore people than to make an attempt at contact with the dead. Even if the hope that at least somebody you know is alive still lingers even if it's between only 3 rotten weeks since the start of what's now known as The End.
Besides, the survivors Steve had met were all dead now. Immunity from a virus can't immunize you from a gruesome death by Zombies.
Steve's been tempted to message friends just to see if any are still kicking, but the chance that they'll still have their phones is a bit low. That being said, Steve made sure to hole up somewhere with electricity and his phone because fuck surviving his final days without his goddamn music. It's not like power is down or anything, like it is in the movies. Zombies aren't breaking into power stations to switch everything off and shut it all down, so if Steve wants to waste away listening to shitty music and watching dumb YouTube videos, then he fucking will.
He's halfway through a video of lady cooking some kind of dish foreign to him when, for the first time in two weeks, a notification that wasn't an automated send-out appears on his screen. He stares at it dumbfounded until it disappears, and he hurriedly pulls down his notification wall to click on it.
That motherfucker was alive and hadn't even bothered to contact anyone! Steve ignores that he also chose not to but brushes the thought aside as he stares at an image Apollo has just posted to Twitter.
It's an image of him in his fursuit, with the caption 'To any aliens that come to see Earth in the future: archive this as what humanity looked like.'
Steve snorts. It's stupid. Maybe the stupidest thing Apollo's ever said, but he's got to cut him some slack. Poor bastard is probably trying to entertain himself, preaching to a dead audience. With a grin on his face, he quickly types out a reply.
'What, like you think they're not behind this whole catastrophe?'
He thinks his comment is a bit 50/50 on whether Apollo would laugh or not, but his back up was 'they won't want it unless you get your cock out' and he's not sure how well that would go down given recent apocalyptic events.
Surprisingly a reply was nearly immediate. Steve had kind of assumed Apollo would have tossed the phone after making that post, not expecting any feedback.
'At first I thought holy shit you're alive man, but then I had to wonder how much you were holding back some kind of joke about red rockets.'
Steve throws his head back and laughs quietly. Still grinning, he types out;
'Can I call you or are you not in a safe spot right now?'
'You can, I got my phone on vibrate anyway.'
He feels a rush of euphoria as he swiftly goes to his contacts and hits call on Apollo. It's been weeks since he's talked to someone, and even longer since feeling this kind of joy. It doesn't even ring a second before Apollo's voice makes its way to Steve's ears like a blessing better than any music. Like the hymn of angels.
"Steve!" Apollo's voice, albeit tired sounding, is excited too.
"I cannot believe we both fucking made it." Steve says quickly, "I mean I thought for sure we'd die instantly."
"Honestly- yeah I figured natural selection would be out for us first." Apollo says, then his tone gets softer, "But... you know, it sucks too. Like why us? Why not people who had access to things that could have helped stop all this?"
"Don't think like that." Steve says sharply, "If you start thinking like that, you're going to go down a dark hole we don't quite have the resources to fix."
Apollo stays silent for a bit, before sighing and saying, "Steve- I think I've been in that hole since this all started. Been fighting that hole back before too."
It's an admission Steve's never heard Apollo really talk about before, and deep conversations like this aren't really either of their forte but it's all circumstantial in the end. They could die at any time from a zombie attack, so holding back thoughts now is ridiculous.
"I hear ya'. I'd give you a big old hug if I could." Steve says softly, "God knows I think we could both use it."
"That... yeah. Fucking hell that would be nice." Apollo mutters, "You know- before all this I couldn't give a shit about stuff like that. But now, suddenly, everything's so lonely."
"I've been wasting away in this stupid building watching YouTube and eating canned beans." Steve says, "At this point I'm almost willingly to brave travelling if it means I can meet up with you."
"We'd never make it if we tried." Apollo sighs, Steve can hear him shuffling around in what sounds like water.
"Yeah, it's a bit far." Steve frowns, "Are you in a pool? Why the fuck are you splashing around so much?"
"Basements flooded. There was some heavy ass rain the last few days, I'm trying to fish out my clothes from this mess. Not like I've been using a hamper, who the fuck am I trying to impress? I'm probably the only idiot left in this state." Apollo explains.
"You aren't worried about what could be in the water?" Steve says in surprise, "Honestly, I think I'd just cut my losses with those clothes."
"Nah, it's fine. This place is a death trap. Nothing gets in or out, I'd be fucked if there was a fire." Apollo says, amusement laced in his voice.
"How the hell did it flood then?" Steve asks.
"Vent is busted outside. Got hit by something and is basically no longer above ground." Apollo says, "Plus it's not deep, it's like... ankle deep."
"I see, I see." Steve nods, despite Apollo not being able to see it.
Under normal circumstances this type of idle chatter does Steve's head in, but it's a welcomed break to the usual sounds. It's nice to just be able to talk to someone. Someone actually alive.
"So how have you managed to survive this long if you're holed up in your apartment?" Apollo asks.
"I could ask you the same question." Steve snorts, "But as for me, my Neighbours all fled and probably died. My wimpy ass thought fuck it and shoved everyone's tables and chairs down the stairs. Literally would have to climb out the windows and shimmy down the side of the building to get out."
"What about food?" Apollo asks.
"Well, that's where I got really lucky." Steve grins, "You see, there's a lady who lived upstairs and she went on holiday. I think to visit her parents, it was written on her calendar. But guess what? She's a hoarder. But like... a doomsday prepper type hoarder."
"So, we're talking thousands of toilet paper rolls, and a million cans?" Apollo says, "Fucking hell, you did get lucky."
"I'm set for at least a year at best. Maybe. I was looking a little forward to not having any responsibilities but..." He trails off as he realizes Apollo isn't going to be in the same position as him.
He's going to outlive Apollo. He'd already gone through the accepting and then subsequent ignoring of the fact everyone died but now he's got someone who is alive, and he's going to have to actually deal with his death when it inevitably comes.
"Are you ok? You've gone weirdly quiet." Apollo says softly, the splashing sounds stop as he focusses on their call.
"How much supplies do you have?" Steve asks.
There's silence between them for a bit.
"Is that what's on your mind?" Apollo asks gently.
"It is now." Steve mutters. "Fuck."
"Do you really want to know how much supplies I've got?" Apollo asks, and he waits as Steve has to think about his answer.
"I think... I'd like to know now and be able to prepare mentally for-" He can't bring himself to say it, so he doesn't, "well, I guess it's better than suddenly not having you reply."
Apollo steels himself with a deep breath, "I probably don't have all that long."
"How long." Steve says, feeling a heavy sickening weight settling on him.
"With what I've got with me right now, I'd say maybe a week before I'm out." Apollo says, "I've already taken from the houses nearest me, but I've not gone further than the street corner. I'm in the suburbs, I can't risk going too far. I collected all of it the first week of the virus. Everyone was rushing to leave and there were explosions and shit, it drew the zombies away for a day or two. That's when I went looting."
Steve swallows back the urge to cry that tensed his throat and jaw. "Oh." He mutters, but it's weak sounding, even to him.
"I'm sorry." Apollo says.
"What? Don't apologize, it's out of our control." Steve mumbles, "But fuck- man, I'm... this shit isn't fair."
"It sucks." Apollo sighs.
"Do you think there's a chance at all that something might happen that could stop all this shit? Make it safe to go out and start again?" Steve asks. He knows the answer, but it feels like if Apollo says it'll happen, he'll listen even if he doesn't believe it.
"I think that whatever started this in the first place doesn't plan to let it be safe to return to life once the zombies are gone." Apollo replies.
"Dumb it down for me." Steve says, "Give it to me plain."
"There's no chance we get to live through this." Apollo says it straight.
"In that case..." Steve pauses, "I want to offer a choice."
X
They're both laughing, Steve clutching his side as he cackles. Apollo's laughs echoing around the room through the loudspeaker on Steve's phone. They're facetiming each other; Steve has a stale pack of crisps on his lap and crumbs on his chest. Bottles of alcohol littered the messy unmade bed he's lying on. He's flushed from the alcohol and dizzy from laughter. A scented candle is burning on the bedside drawer.
On the other side of the call is Apollo, resting on his couch, drinks cover the coffee table and few cans of food lay half eaten. The phone is propped up against a glass bottle, facing Apollo's face as he lies down on the couch, face smushed into a pillow in an attempt to stifle his laughter.
Steve gasps to catch his breath, "And you- you really said that!?" He laughs again.
"I did." Apollo grins and turns to face Steve in the camera. "And he said yes."
"After that!?" Steve laughs so hard it's silent, broken by the occasional wheeze. "Dude, that's insane."
"Yup! And that's the story of asking out my first boyfriend." Apollo is grinning as Steve laughs and laughs.
"That's so funny." Steve gasps, wiping an errant tear from his eye.
There's a comfortable silence between them after all the laughter. Steve returns to idly stuffing stale crisps into his mouth, keeping eye contact with Apollo as the other man swigs down a mouthful of alcohol.
Eventually Apollo breaks the silence, "Are you feeling it yet?"
Steve nods, "Oh yeah. It's hitting me hard. Very dizzy." He grins at Apollo before letting himself slip into a serene smile. "The crisps are starting to taste like chemicals."
"It'll do that to you." Apollo snorts in amusement.
"My drink is starting to taste like lament for life." Steve sighs.
"What're you lamenting?" Apollo asks.
Both their voices are starting to slur from the drinks.
"I dunno man. All of it? Shit that could have been?" Steve waves a hand in the air for emphasis.
Apollo hums in agreement. "If all this didn't happen, where did you see yourself in the future?"
"I don't know. At some point I stopped making real big decisions for the future. Wanted to figure out what I wanted to do; you know? Trial shit." Steve explains, "I thought by at least 31 I might have something figured out."
"I think I got to where I saw myself." Apollo mumbles, "Maybe because I didn't think I could reach further, or maybe because when I was younger just achieving this was something that seemed impossible."
"You got your house. That was pretty big." Steve smiles, "Was pretty proud of you." He slurs his words, feeling tired.
"I felt pretty fucking proud of myself." Apollo grins. His body feels exhausted. They've both been up all night talking and drinking with each other over facetime.
"Do you ever think about it?" Steve mumbles quietly, "Life after death?"
"I try not to. But I like to think we'll get to see everyone we've ever loved and liked there." Apollo confesses, "Especially nowadays. Wishful thinking."
Steve hums, "I'm sleepy."
"Mm, no you're Steve." Apollo drawls, he's feeling it hard now.
"Shut the fuck up." Steve laughs softly. Silence for a moment and then, "Do you think we'll see each other?"
Apollo pauses to process the question. "I hope we do." He says honestly.
"I think if we had time..." Steve takes a breath to steady his heart, "I might have asked you out one day."
"You have a crush on me?" Apollo asks, he's too tired to really think about it though.
"I don't know. I think about it sometimes." Steve mumbles quietly, Apollo almost doesn't hear him.
"I've thought of it." Apollo says, he lets his eyes shut, not wanting to fight keeping them open anymore. "Ask me out."
"Now?" Steve murmurs.
"Yeah." Apollo says.
"Will you go out with me?" Steve asks.
"It's a date." Apollo huffs a quiet laugh.
"Yeah." Steve smirks, "We on a date right now?"
"An E-Date." Apollo confirms.
"Come on man don't call it that now." Steve chuckles lightly, "What happened to dying peacefully?"
"We are." Apollo says, "... I'm really tired."
"Same here." Steve replies.
"Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow and we can go on a real date." Apollo says breathily. He can't fight the blackness back anymore; it's gripping his mind too much.
"I'll see you then." Steve slurs his words again, "Goodnight Dumbdog."