Chapter Text
LIAM AND NIALL
They were at Uni, before.
Liam and Niall were friends and not well off, but they went to a nice community college, the nicest one in the state, with Liam working part time with his dad at the body shop on 4th Street, and Niall bar tending at his mom's pub and grill, playing guitar, and laughing so loudly and happily at any given moment.
It was the tail end of August when it started and they were celebrating Liam's birthday.
News stories had been weird for the last couple of days--brutal and eerily supernatural attacks in Florida weren't unusual, but those popping up in Madrid, in Shanghai, in Brisbane, in Dublin and Dubai, had set off quite a few alarm bells. Something was definitely not right.
They were drinking at the bar and watching a match against Arsenal and Manchester City when the mood shifted in the stadium on screen. Screams were heard over the normal volume of a football crowd, and the players stopped running, but none of the cameras switched to the commotion. It could have been a fight between fans, or something equally risqué to not put on television.
As the screen steadily followed the reaction of the players and their timid easing into the center of the field at the sight and the commentators' unsure narrating, the entire bar is moved to a trickling silence.
It happens suddenly: there are curses clear through the mic and the entire stadium erupts into an unsettling chaos. Liam assumes the cameras are abandoned, the broadcast left uninterruptedly on a shot of the stands and people tripping over themselves to the exits.
It's almost the same time that the broadcast cuts out completely that the screams from outside the pub start.
Liam and Niall glance at each other, and Liam sees the uncertainty in Niall's eyes, the unmistakable fear and hesitance, wondering if Niall can detect that same apprehensiveness in his, and he forces himself into action, grabbing Niall's arm a bit too tight to lead him out and into the streets.
It's verging on chaotic. No one really knows what's going on, but there are screams spouting randomly enough to cause disorientation and people stopping to react, both curious and frightened, but it's like nothing is even happening, as the scene is both calm and disordered.
Liam doesn't necessarily want to stick around to find out, so he and Niall start up the street towards Niall's apartment, its location purposefully and thankfully within walking distance of the pub.
There's a girl dragging a suitcase out of the door as they walk in, voice shaky as she tries to calm someone down on the phone, "I know they've said to stay indoors. Please don't worry, Ma. I'm not going to just leave you alone. I'm--I'll be fine. Just don't open the door for anyone but me, all right. Promise me. I'm on my way."
Liam and Niall are silent as they watch her hurriedly unlock her car before they run up the stairs to Niall's apartment.
Niall has the tv on in seconds.
It's funny, Liam thinks, how every channel is going on about the end of the world.
///
HARRY
Before, Harry Styles was doing a double business and advertising degree with a minor in psych, he was wealthy, coming from old money, attended a private university, and was, in all honesty, a bit of a brat.
When it happened, he was out with a group of grad students, the part radio and part J-School crowd.
He was drunk, but self-proclaimed tipsy and stumbling against Nick on their way back to their apartment--or rather, Nick and Daisy's apartment that Harry's been crashing at for over six months, letting his mom and stepdad unknowingly pay the rent on an apartment near campus that Harry hasn't actually seen in months--after freshly blowing through the recent monthly check his folks sent him in some childish act of rebellion.
Their block was usually quiet, but there was something off that night as they walked past more people than he's ever seen in the streets.
He blamed it on his inebriation--the intense volume of the streets, the rush of people shoving last them without sparing so much as a glance or apology. It was Friday night, it wasn't a big deal, he thought. Until it was.
He hasn't talked to his mother or sister in months, but the first thing he does is call her and tell her he loves her. More than anything and he's sorry. He's so, so sorry. For everything. For being so difficult, for being disrespectful and selfish and mean and manipulative and self-absorbed. He's sorry and he wishes he could take it all back.
He listens to her cry and call him her baby boy as he sits on the edge of the couch with Nick beside him nursing a bottle of wine Harry knows for a fact he's been saving for the right occasion, the two of them staring at the news as it broadcasted the end of the times.
Harry is, despite their recent differences, hushed arguments in corners of parties, silent treatments for days, petty and deliberate disregarding of pet peeves that end in things thrown at the walls and out the window, despite their distance, Harry is glad (or maybe he's lucky, maybe it could have been anyone) that he's not alone, that they're in this together.
But it's Nick who, months into the End, let outsiders into their group, two siblings and three stragglers they'd met along the way--and Harry was so naive then, maybe he always has been, so friendly and open and welcoming. And not but what must have been a week after, when Harry finds himself injured, he overhears the brother, the one who'd taken a liking to Nick and an obvious distaste to Harry, talking and successfully persuading Nick to leave Harry behind with the best promise of returning for him after he sprained his ankle and is immobilized.
The thing is--the thing is, Nick doesn't even tell him the truth, and Harry shouldn't have been surprised. He just says they're going to look for more food, yes, love, all of them, safety in numbers, and he gives Harry everything edible he has on him. Tells him to stay and rest and get better m, they'll be back soon, it'll be all right, you trust me, yeah? and places a lingering kiss to his forehead.
Harry never sees him again and he's not surprised.
His leg got better within two excruciatingly lonely and emotionally draining weeks that left him virtually empty but determined and he gathered everything in his backpack and went on his way. He needed to move.
He found the sword wrapped around a decapitated walker, and swung it over his shoulder without a second thought. He didn't kill many before he met Louis. He always avoided them, knew how to sneak around them, figured out how to blend in with them, smearing blood and guts of the dead over his clothing, his skin.
But when he did kill them, it was easy and it got easier. The first time, though, he stabbed one in the chest and expected it to go down. But then he remembered the heart wasn't beating and that it was only the brain that was animated.
His first decapitation had him hunched over and puking on the sidewalk until his head started throbbing, his vision blurring to the point where he'd have to climb into the backseat of an abandoned car and desperately try sleep the migraine away with his hand clenched around the handle of his sword.
He got better with the it over time. He gets better at sensing walkers when they don't make that awful sound. He gets better at knowing when to run away, at knowing when it's safe to risk his life for food, for water, or for a roof over his head at night.
When Louis finds him, he's nearly being pulled into a group of walkers, kicking weakly at their snapping teeth, and he drags him away by the strap of his backpack like he weighs all but ten pounds.
Louis'd stared at him when he righted himself, having been dragged into the bed of a waiting truck, "Were you just going to lay there and let them eat you?" He'd sounded angry, but only managed to look disappointed.
When he'd been in the midst of the group of walkers, Harry had accepted that he was about to die, and maybe that was a good thing, he wasn't cut it for his, no one should be, but after meeting Louis, brave and full of so much life and hope, he's rather glad he didn't.
At that point, they had a camp set up just outside of town. Danielle's friend's parents had an RV, and Louis was in a truck that reminded Harry a lot of the one he used to have--the one he'd deliberately crashed into a streetlight at 18 after fighting with his mom about where he was going to go to university.
Louis and David had been out on a supply run--food and weapons, first priority--when they came across an unusual amount of walkers circled around one area and Louis, despite David's assurance that he'd be too late, refused to just watch them kill him, so he risked his life and saved him.
And it just happened that they became inseparable afterwards to the point where Harry would only go on a run if it were spearheaded by Louis because he knew best and there was no one he trusted with his life more.
They coordinated and had each other's backs in a way that none of the others could even come close. They built something so special and strong so quickly that Harry often thinks their meeting was akin to fate and naively liked to think they were destined to be in each other's lives, whether the world went to hell or not.
///
LOUIS
Before the end, Louis was in graduate school pursuing a masters in secondary education and he had a perfect, cushy, sitcom life, with the perfect girlfriend, and the adorable and quirky family.
He was asleep when it started, but woke up to Danielle shaking his shoulder and urging him sit up to watch the television. He'd been dreaming of asking her to marry him, of the ring hidden in the very top shelf of the cabinet in the kitchen that neither of them can actually reach, but he woke up to the sound of people screaming and rushed voices coming from the news.
They were set to leave to spend the weekend with Louis' mother and sisters the next morning, but airports were shut down, trains weren't running. Cities were backed up with traffic, with people going anywhere. Away from the madness, to to somewhere safe.
Louis wasn't sure if there ever will be anywhere safe anymore. They spent time speaking with their families, not saying goodbyes, but see you soons, and I love you's before they pack up their things silently with the news playing in the background. Seek shelter. Arm yourselves. Aim for the head.
They shack up in David's parents' RV with Melissa and Cam, another couple from Uni whose folks were in different countries entirely.
Louis learns how to shoot a gun. He learns how to defend himself in the event of an attack and how to stab a walker in the head. He learns how not to let grief affect his will and ability to survive.
And he learns how to lead.
After they lose David's dad, and David loses his head for awhile, it's up to Louis to keep them all together, to keep them sane and safe, and keep them fighting.
He meets Harry and takes him in and he knows what he has to do. He knows his place in this new world and it's to help others find a reason to keep living.
"Safe and sane," Louis breathes. And it becomes his mantra.
///
ZAYN
Before, Zayn was finishing up his last year in graphic design too far from home, which is, undoubtedly what he will always regret.
He'd had to beg his mother to let him leave home that first year, had to stop his younger sisters from crying, and convince them all he was just a Skype call away.
Before shit hit the fan and he found out all modes of transportation were cut off, he video chatted with them, like he always promised. The connection was spotty and Zayn was glad that he'd gotten through in the first place, and he told them to be safe and that he loved them and he would get to them somehow, he promised. Even if he didn't quite believe it.
He'd been living with Perrie and he'd heard her crying through her bedroom door and he'd gone in to lay with her until it was clear that they needed to go. They weren't safe there. The sounds of chaos were barely masked through the walls of the apartment.
Perrie spoke to her family back home, but couldn't get ahold of Leigh-Anne or Jade or Jesy for a long while (it was a blessing that they'd found each other some months later).
They get by, just the two of them, sticking to underpopulated areas, immediately leaving the city once it all starts. They have blankets in their bags, and use their bags for pillows. And for a good while, they lock themselves in a tiny shoe store outside of town, and light a candle as they sit and split their daily snacks and meals behind the checkout counter.
Sometimes, Zayn hears Perrie cry at night, but doesn't move to comfort her. Words won't make the dead stop rising.
They find Louis and the group four months into the End, and Perrie finds Jesy who got split up from the others.
Zayn quickly becomes Louis' confidant, displacing Harry and having a certain detachment that Louis needs that Harry claims to have--but it's obvious that he can't properly separate his emotions from it all and instead of using it to clear his judgement, it engulfs him, but Zayn can detach himself easily (that is, until Niall comes along and he accidentally falls in love. Louis sees it happen--sees the softness in Zayn when he's around Niall, the light in his eyes, but he thinks it only makes him stronger, want to fight harder for something other than himself).
Their group had started off small, too small, and it grew over time and then they lost some of them to stupidity and bad luck and were lucky to find someone like Zayn. Zayn who was so capable and clever and resourceful and mentally strong that he'd probably survive on his own better than with the group, but no one wants to give him any ideas.
///
LOUIS (AND ZAYN)
They find a prison, Zayn and Louis, during a run on a day that turns up rainy when they're just far enough away from camp to not turn around. But it gets pushed to the back of their minds.
But once they found Leigh and Jesy and Jade and Susan and David and Freddie and Robert and Jude and Rachel and Henry and V, they devise a plan to clear out a homestead.
The prison seemed more a practical and sure decision when the winter season was nearing than attempting to set up a perimeter around a neighborhood. It would have taken twice as long as it did to clear out the prison. He and Zayn have talked about a specific gated community a few miles away, but Louis hopes they won't ever have to resort to it. Even if living in houses is significantly more appealing than being locked up in a prison, there's bound to be double if not triple the amount of walkers to clear out. Louis doesn't want to expose these people to that kind of risk. They'd barely came out unharmed when there was an attack on their camp. Louis has lost so many in the past, he doesn't think he can handle losing anymore. At least not if he can help it.
So they have to fight for it, Louis knows, as he and Zayn stand at the chain fence and watch the walkers move about the dreary basketball court.
It takes a village and it takes days. They start outside -- clearing the court and the open field Louis imagines building a garden in.
When they move inside, it's a slow process. Zayn single handedly takes out an entire cell, something pent use inside raging out throw his bow.
Louis and Zayn both watch Harry disappear again into a group of walkers in the gym only to see him emerge, chest heaving and bloody, from the fallen dead and casually adjust the bandana tied around his head.
When it finally becomes theirs, there are at least twenty people safely occupying Blocks A, B, and D. And Louis wants it to keep growing. He wants to build a place for people to feel safe for as long as they can manage. He and Zayn make plans to start recruiting runs--calls anyone up who would like to join them, begins to make teams of two or three.
Harry doesn't actually like the idea because of what went down before Louis found him at least a year ago--a story that Zayn doesn't know and that isn't Louis' to tell. But Louis reminds him that they'd found Zayn and I they'd found Perrie and the girls and they'd found others just as trustworthy.
It takes a walk and talk with Zayn around the perimeter one morning for Harry to approach Louis and volunteer himself for recruiting, if only Louis promises to always stay behind.