Chapter Text
Tommy was at school when the apocalypse began.
Tommy had noticed that another student seemed to be sick all morning in his homeroom. He just sat still, hunched over his desk. Occasionally he seemed to shiver a bit. Tommy didn’t know the kid and figured that everything was probably fine. After all, if he was really sick, he wouldn’t have come to school. So, yeah. It’s probably all good.
That was, until the other student stood up, walked a few steps, and promptly collapsed.
The entire class fell silent, all eyes on the student. The teacher was out at the moment, and none of the students knew quite what to do, so they just… stared.
Finally, one girl approached, crouching next to the student on the floor and lightly touching his shoulder. “Jake? You okay, man?”
No response. The girl shook him a bit. “Jake. C’mon, you’re freaking me out. Can you hear me?”
Jake – which was, apparently, his name – groaned a little. Something about it made Tommy shudder. It seemed almost… inhuman. Guttural. But the girl didn’t seem to notice that. She even smiled. “There you go! Come on, wake up, mate.”
At that moment, a scream echoed from somewhere else in the school. Tommy snapped his head up, as did most other students in the classroom. “What was that?” someone whispered.
Another scream – but this time, in their own classroom. Someone screaming a name. Someone screaming, “Jake!” Tommy jumped backward in shock, looking for the source. That’s when he finally saw it. Oh, holy fuck.
His mind didn’t want to comprehend what he was seeing. He couldn’t understand it at first. Where was the blood coming from? What was Jake doing? Was this some sort of weird prank?
Someone else yelling in fear snapped him out of the trance, and he finally fully saw the scene before him. The ‘sick’ student was pinning down the girl, and it looked like he was… biting her shoulder. But not in a stereotypical-horny-teenager way. This was a deep bite. There was blood on the floor, and, oh gods. Is that her fucking collarbone?
Students started running from the classroom. Tommy looked up and saw the halls flooded with students, almost all of them yelling or crying. Some of them looked to be chasing the others. Some even had blood all over their faces. He watched one student fall right in front of the window. His hand went up, trying to grasp the wall, grab anything, but he only left a bloody handprint on the glass before being pulled back down. People getting trampled, teeth sinking into flesh, blood-curdling screams echoing through the halls. Blood. Blood everywhere.
Tommy turned back to the scene in his own classroom. He was the only one left now, besides the attacker and the victim. And the attacker’s eyes were now squarely trained on him.
He took a quick glance around the room. The hallway was obviously a no-go. The window? He was only one story off the ground. He could survive that, right?
There wasn’t time to ask any more questions, because now Jake was charging at him, rage and hunger in his eyes. And now Tommy was diving to the side, scrambling to his feet, he was running to the open window – thank the gods for that one student who always insisted on having a window open – and now he was falling, falling –
Tommy landed back-first in a (somewhat) soft bush. He wheezed, trying desperately to catch his breath. Maybe he can take just a minute to recover…
No, I don’t have time to wait around. I have to hide!
Tommy clambered out of the bush, wincing at the stinging scrapes from the branches. Still, he could be a lot worse off. A few scrapes were much better than a torn-out windpipe.
The highschooler ran to the wall of the building, deciding it’d be best to stick to the shadows. But… where should he go? The gym? Home? No, that isn’t good. I should go somewhere quiet.
“Psst!”
What’s that noise?
He heard it again. “Psst! Oi, Tom!”
Tommy looked to his left and saw someone peeking out of… a dumpster?
Right! Yesterday was trash day! The dumpsters should be empty!
Not wanting to wait around and get eaten, Tommy sprinted to the dumpster. The person inside opened the lid just wide enough for Tommy to dive inside, then slammed it shut.
Tommy crouched and took a deep breath in – then immediately gagged. Right. The dumpster’s empty, but it still fuckin’ stinks.
Who let him in here, anyway?
Tom looked up, but it was too dark to see. He fumbled for his phone, which somehow wasn’t broken, and turned on the flash.
The person flinched, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes. “Goddammit, man, a little warning next time!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Tommy’s eyes adjusted to the light, and he suddenly realized who he was with. “Oh – oh, gods, Toby! Your face!”
Tommy’s best friend, Toby “Tubbo” Underscore, was crouched in front of him. The right side of his face was all sorts of messed up. Parts of skin seemed to be peeling off, and his eye was swollen shut. Part of his ear even seemed to be missing. “What the fuck happened to you, man?”
Tubbo gave a half-hearted smile, though only the left side of his face seemed to move. “Oh, you know. Got a bit trampled in the hallway. It’s not too bad, though, is it?”
“Oh, it’s bad, Tubs. It’s bad. Holy shit…” Tommy sat back, allowing his legs to relax a little. He’s starting to feel the pain in his back now; probably from how he landed in the bush. A moment’s silence. “I need to call my parents,” he suddenly realized.
Tommy turned off his phone’s flashlight and unlocked it, going to his contacts. He found the one named “Muuuum” and pressed the ‘call’ button. It left a bloody thumbprint on the screen. His hand must be bleeding from the branches he landed in.
Tommy put his phone up to his ear and listened to it ring. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Four. On the fifth ring, it cut out: “I’m sorry, the person you’re trying to call has a voice mailbox that has not been set up yet…” “Shit,” Tommy whispered. He hung up and immediately called again. I always told her to get the fucking voicemail set up!
Finally, on the third ring, the call went through. “Hello? Hello!?” Tommy was practically yelling into the phone.
“Tommy! Oh, honey, are you okay? Are you safe?” His mother’s voice.
A wave of relief rushed over him. He relaxed slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, Mum, I’m okay. What about you? What about Dad?”
“I… I’m okay, sweetie, but… your dad… I’m so, so sorry.”
As quickly as the relief came, it was gone. Tommy’s stomach dropped, and he felt his face begin to go numb. He was silent for a few moments. “… What?”
“I… I’m hiding in the bathroom right now. Your father was out in the yard, and he… I’m sorry.”
No.
“Mum, no. That can’t be-“
"I'm sorry, Tom," his mother murmured into the phone. Tommy felt his throat close up.
No. Please, not Dad.
"Mum, you must be mistaken, you-"
“Wait- shh! I think… I think they’re inside.” His mom’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
Tommy stiffened again. “Mum – mum, you have to get out of there. The window!”
“I can’t fit through the window, you know that… I have a knife with me, but… Tom, if it doesn’t work-“
“No, Mum! Don’t say that. Just – get out of there! I’ll meet you there!”
“Tommy, they’re right outside the door! I… I don’t want you to hear this."
No! Stop!
"I’m sorry, Toms."
Stop apologizing!
"I love you, okay? I love you.”
Click.
“Mum..? Mum!!” Tommy hurriedly pressed the redial button. It rang a few times, then went to the non-existent voicemail. He rang again. Still nothing. He called again, but… it didn’t even ring. It was like she couldn't respond anymore, like... her phone had broken.
Tom’s hands were shaking so much that he couldn’t even keep his grip on the phone. It slid out of his hand and bounced on the floor of the dumpster with a metallic thud. The light of the screen just barely illuminated Tubbo’s face.
“Tom?” Tubbo murmured. “You good, mate?”
Tommy bit back tears, his hand brushing through his hair. A few leaves and twigs fell from his head. His brain was blocking out the trauma, refusing to allow the pain through, refusing to let him experience this. “I… what the fuck is going on?”
“Well, Tommy,” Tubbo started, “I know it’s hard to believe, but… I think we’re in a zombie apocalypse.”