Chapter Text
The trigger was pulled and the monster collapsed to the ground, writhing and curling up around itself for a moment before it stopped moving completely. Michael sighed and kicked it out of his way as he continued walking down the main street of the town he’d taken up residence.
He hadn’t seen another person for so long it was ridiculous. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been since he’d been separated from his family. He didn’t even know if they were alive. He doubted it. They were probably zombies by now, trapped in their own heads but not in control of their bodies. Typical.
He smashed the window into a family restaurant; he slightly surprised raiders hadn’t gotten to it yet. After a week of the outbreak the government gathered all the citizens they could and moved them somewhere else. Michael wasn’t sure where. He was one of the many to be left behind. Anyway, people went insane and stole and destroyed everything they could. Gangs and colonies surfaced, wars amongst them making the already treacherous world even more dangerous.
Looking through the fridge he found a large cheese wheel. It wasn’t in too bad condition. A little moldy on some of the edges but otherwise looked good enough to eat.
His stomach growled and he dropped the cheese onto the counter, taking his hunting knife and cutting off a piece for him to eat. It was really, really good. It was probably made even better because he’d been living off of canned beans and stale bread for two weeks now. Cold, somewhat fresh cheese was a blessing.
A crash sounded from the front of the restaurant and he gripped his shotgun tightly, waiting for another zombie to charge him. Instead, he nearly fell down when he heard a distinctly human, “Hello-o-o?”
He blinked, and his heart started pumping. Another person could mean a companion or a gang in town. Ducking down behind the island, he held his breath when the door to the kitchen swung open and footsteps could be heard. Curling his head up to his chest he waited while the footsteps stopped. His hand reached out to grip his knife but he realized he left it sunk in the cheese up on the counter.
Damn it.
“Cheese!” the person exclaimed, and they sounded so excited about it too.
Michael rolled his eyes, but then realized that this person would be taking his find with him. There was a shuffling noise and then the person was chomping away at his food. He growled and before he could think about what he was doing he stood up and aimed the barrel of his gun right between the man’s eyes.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?”
“Oh, sausage…” he said and ducked his head so it was beneath the gun. “Hello, there.” He leaned his elbows on the counter, his head in his hands. And he was smiling.
There was cheese around their mouth, crumbs in the thin beard he wore on his chin, and his eyes were sparkling. Michael dropped his weapon to his side and huffed, “Obviously you’re not as big a threat as I thought you were.”
“Hey!”
Michael glared at him. “Don’t touch my cheese.”
The man grinned. “We could share!”
Michael took a moment to really study the man. He was taller than he was, but had a lanky, slender frame that looked like it could be blown away from the slightest gust of wind. His hair was a mess, though Michael couldn’t say anything better about his since he hadn’t taken the time to really brush it for weeks now. His voice was accented—English?—and there was this goofy lilt in his words like he wasn’t living in the zombie apocalypse. He wasn’t ugly, in fact he was quite attractive, but there was something about his oblivious, carefree gaze that irked him.
“Hell no. Get away from me.”
The man pouted, but bounced back up immediately. “My name’s Gavin. What’s yours?”
Michael took the wheel of cheese and stuffed it into his bag, and looked for his knife, groaning when he found it in Gavin’s grasp. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
“None-a,” he said, and Gavin’s eyebrows drew together as he thought about it. “As in, None-a Your Business.”
Gavin’s bottom lip jutted out and he crossed his arms against his chest. “That was stupid.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “So are you. Now if you’ll excuse you, some zombies have a reservation with the blade of my knife.” He held out his hand for the blade Gavin held and the man shook his head.
“Not until I know your name, they don’t.”
Michael’s scowl deepened. He really, really wanted to murder this guy. “I swear to God I’ll fucking shoot your head off if you don’t back off.”
Gavin shrugged. “Oh well.”
Michael observed him shortly, trying to size him up and tell if he was going to attack him. Then, he began gawking and said, “You don’t even have any weapons on you? How the fuck did you get here?”
Gavin blinked rapidly, dumbly, then his mouth quirked upwards into a lopsided grin. “Of course I have weapons, you ninny!”
Michael lifted his gun again and pressed the barrel to his jugular. “Drop them.”
Gavin’s eyes widened just slightly, but he reached behind him and pulled out a revolver from a holster, then down the back of his left thigh for a hunting knife strapped to it. He set them carefully on the counter along with Michael’s knife. He held up his hands, backing away from the gun.
“That it?”
Gavin nodded. “All I have on me. The rest’s in the car.”
Michael stared down at the gun, then at the knife. “You know how to use those?”
“I’m alive, aren’t I?”
Michael almost smiled, but looked back up at Gavin and sighed. “I’m Michael.”
And just like that, Michael had a companion again. And just like that, he immediately regretted even revealing himself in the first place.