Chapter Text
Ivan looked away from his bright phone screen, bringing his body up to catch his knees that were quickly brought back down. The couch let out a light creak from the change of position.
The television blasted some random nonsense that he wasn't even listening to, it was there for background noise, nothing more. He looked back down at his phone, scrolling away notifications from apps he rarely even touched.
Ivan put his phone down on the couch arm rest, stood up, and stretched his shaky arms and legs out, before walking over to his messy kitchen. He hasn't cleaned it in months, so he almost tripped over takeout boxes that should've been thrown out weeks ago.
He opened his fridge, immediately hit with a horrid and rotting smell. Ivan sifted through old moldy food to find a Bloxy Cola located at the back, pulling it out. He closed the fridge, putting his Bloxy Cola down at the only spot on the counter that wasn't surrounded by dirty dishes or trash. He opened the can, taking it to his cracked lips and taking a long sip of it.
The television's channel changed from some random cooking show to a national alert. Ivan knew this from the distinct black and green colors and ear-splitting alarm. He dropped his Bloxy Cola back onto the counter, and rushed over back to the living room.
A monotone yet feminine voice filled the apartment. "Warning, The United States Government has issued a civil warning for all citizens of the United States. This is not a drill, and this is not a test."
Ivan froze, but the warning wouldn't give him any time to adjust.
"Six days ago, a viral outbreak started in New York City that has continually started to spread across the country. At first, it seemed that it might have been another strain of the common disease—Covid-19, and was being treated as such, but it has become apparent that this is NOT Covid-19."
The voice continued. "It is a fast acting viral strain that affects the host immediately. Upon getting sick, the infected will show these symptoms:"
A list of symptoms appeared, along with diagrams of what the infected may look like.
"Coughing, fever of over 105°F (40.6°C), shivers and chills, increased aggression, and excessive sweating. Once these symptoms are shown, there is no reversal state, as the host will have a seizure before dying. Around 15 minutes after death, the infected will begin to move again, but have no pulse or any signs of being alive. The infected will start to become extremely aggressive, and will attack any non-infected in sight in an attempt to pass on this disease."
"If someone you know has any of these symptoms, get away from them immediately. If this is not possible, then you may need to neutralize the infected yourself." Ivan panicked. His mom. Is his mom okay? God—
"It is advised to stay in your homes and to not leave under any circumstances at all. The national guard has been deployed in all states, and have been tasked to kill every infected that they may come across. Once we have more information, we will set out another alert.”
The alert turned off and went back to the shitty cooking show Ivan was watching, but he couldn't move. His mom— Andrew. No, he didn't matter anymore, right? Ivan erased the thought from his mind the second it popped up. The alert said to stay in your home, but Ivan was in a bad spot. If he stayed, the infected would inevitably reach him, but if he left, he could get mauled by a horde. None were good options.
He decided on leaving. Ivan got up from the couch, walking to his bedroom and into his closet. He knelt down, inside was the same shirt and pants, but with a bit of digging he found a backpack he used in high school. He dusted it off and opened it so he could start putting supplies inside. He stuffed a couple pairs of clothes inside, filling up some of the largest pockets. He got up from the floor, and went to the bathroom so he could grab as many First aid supplies as possible.
"Fuck..." Ivan murmured to himself. He thought zombies were just in the movies, that's what everyone told him. He let his back hit the wall, sliding down into a sitting position. He took his phone from his pocket, texting his mom.
"hey mom, are you ok? did you also get the alert?" Read, 4:07 PM
"Yes honey, I am okay. I got an alert about the virus. I haven't seen any of the infected from my house, I am safe, but I don't know if it will get worse from here. Are you okay, Ivan?" Read, 4:07 PM
"yeah i am" Read, 4:08 PM
"This can't be good. Stay safe, I hope we can make it through this together, I love you." Read, 4:09 PM
"ilyt mom" Read, 4:09 PM
That made him feel a bit better at least. His mom was okay, thank God.
Ivan stood back up, taking band-aids and whatever he could find from his bathroom. He filled up the smaller pocket with all of the supplies he found, zipping up the section. He peeked outside the bathroom, looking for anything else he could bring. Ivan didn't really ever have any food, which made him furrow his brows in annoyance. He rushed to his kitchen to check.
He opened his cupboards, reaching inside. He pulled out an old box of cereal, and Ivan had his hopes. He looked around for the expiration date. It expired three weeks ago.
Well, he had that or moldy cheese in his fridge.
Or maybe get food while looking for a safer place. That could work. Ivan pulled the backpack around his shoulders, deeming himself ready for the streets.
The plant. What about Andrew’s plant?
A figure started to come into his vision, black strings attached to it, leading up to nowhere. Ivan instantly remembered who this was.
The Tumor.
“You should’ve forgotten him by now.” It said, voice barely holding in merciless laughter.
“Shut up.” Ivan snapped.
“I shouldn’t shut up if it’s true. He’s long gone. Andrew? He hates you. Do you remember what he said? He’s never coming back, and he’s probably forgotten you now, too. So don’t tell me to shut up.” It laughed in his face.
“SHUT UP! I-I DON’T CARE IF HE’S GONE!” The Tumor inched closer. “You do care. You’re eyeing that plant.”
Ivan went silent, covering his ears in an attempt to block out its voice. “You can’t block me out no matter how hard you try. I’m in your mind too.” The voice didn’t even get a fraction quieter, in fact, it almost felt like it got louder.
“If you’re in my mind, then you aren’t real.” Ivan retorted.
“But you still can’t block out something that’s fake. Pathetic.” It said, before finally disappearing from his vision.
The Tumor left Ivan shaking. He attempted to steady himself, forcing his mind onto something else. The axe, maybe—no, definitely. That would defend him from… those things. He went out of the kitchen to his bedroom. He looked at the axe that was sloppily mounted on the wall. Ivan reached his hand out and took it. Thank god he remembered it—
A groan.
Ivan froze. It was outside of his door, maybe human, maybe not. Ivan tried to convince himself it was human. The noises after completely changed his line of thought.
Scratching sounds were maybe a couple doors down, followed by abnormal banging. Holy shit. Maybe he should leave soon—now. His neighbor's door was blown down mere seconds after the banging, a woman’s scream following. If Ivan wanted to survive, he had to leave fast, and based on the fact that whatever was happening was maybe a couple meters away, he couldn’t stay forever, but…
Maybe just a leaf from Andrew’s plant. Wouldn’t hurt, right?
Right?
He didn’t let himself dwell on the thought, retracing his prior steps back to his dining table. He carefully plucked a leaf off, taking his bag off of his back, quickly placing it on the table to put the leaf into the backpack’s pocket with the least amount of items. Ivan put the bag back on shortly, axe in hand, terrified. He slowly walked away from the ‘comfort’ of his apartment, reaching the front door.
Cautiously peeking and checking the hallway right to left, Ivan feasted his eyes on an absolute disaster right by apartment #403.
There were dark claw marks tearing the hallways cheap wallpaper—definitely not human. Blood was arranged in a circle like a form of twisted art, and a dead body that was torn to shreds, its organs following the red circle of blood. Even though Ivan didn’t see anything, he knew something was there.
Ivan didn’t have much of a choice, already packed up. Now or never, Ivan!
Silently praying to Jesus that he would survive, Ivan took way towards the elevator that was down the hallway on the left. He passed numerous apartments, some with claw marks from who-knows-what.
Stepping into the elevator, Ivan spammed the button to go downstairs. He knew that because of the shelter‐in‐place alert, there would be at least less of a crowd and wouldn’t have to worry about being trampled.
The elevator's floor level slowly descended. Ivan, anxious and scared of what is to come, unknowingly tightened his grip on the axe. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator doors opened.
Ivan stepped out. The receptionist was nowhere to be seen—good for them. He took the opportunity of being ‘safe’ to peek outside.
It was arguably worse than what was in the hallway. He couldn’t spot any infected, but who knew how many smarter infecteds that were hidden. He almost had to cover his eyes due to how much blood was everywhere. Even on his car, which he was upset about, but by God he was focused on… surviving.
At least there weren't too many of the… infected? No—zombies.
Ivan took a cautious step out of the apartment complex. He pondered using his car to leave—but—the amount of noise would definitely attract attention to him, and, if he were to run out of gas… who knows what would happen.
Deciding to just walk until he was in an rural area, he took way towards the exit of the parking lot. When Ivan made it to the exit, he decided left would be better. Since he knew the city like the back of his hand, he knew the fastest way out was to the left.
Ivan quickly glanced to the right to make sure nothing snuck up on him from behind. After checking, he started to walk to the left, fidgeting with his left hand—the one without the axe—and he was equally alert as he was nervous. Thirteen miles to walk to at least get out of the city. That was a lot, but he would do whatever it took. Ivan didn’t really watch much zombie media, but at least knew that going to a rural or countryside area would improve his chance of survival tremendously, so he kept walking.
After ten minutes and a maybe half‐mile walk, Ivan’s calves started to ache. It wasn’t like he was fit, he didn't really ever work out, or eat much as a matter of fact. He wasn’t anywhere close to being out of the city. It would take days without a car, and even with a car, it would draw triple the amount of attention, but at this rate, walking twelve‐and‐a‐half more miles felt impossible, but Ivan was going to attempt that impossible.
Ivan couldn’t really get a car from where he was. He had a couple options which included: hitchhiking (definitely not), pray to find a car with its keys nearby (unlikely), go back to the apartments, or just walk the thirteen miles. None were good options, but the most possible one was to walk the thirteen miles—wait.
Those electric scooters that nobody used, parked on the side of the streets, like the city’s last attempt to take any money you had left. You had to pay to use them—of course—but it could work, work better than walking, that's for sure. The only thing Ivan had to do was find one.
The scooters were normally at random areas in the city, half broken and its lock not any better. Ivan had a little amount of knowledge on how to ride a scooter, since he learned when he was a teenager, though still enough to know how to ride.
A chipped painted object caught his eye. Perfect timing, or just good luck?
Ivan didn’t push away the oppurtunity—he sprinted (to his best ability) across the street—and got on. Its lock was broken, as expected. Good for him, he didn’t have to break it and attract attention.
He put his right foot on the sidewalk, his other planted on the deck. Ivan pushed his right foot off the ground, gaining enough momentum to place it on the deck. He was going at least three times his prior speed.
The scooter was fairly efficient and quiet, just as Ivan needed it to be. He kept his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him, focused.
Ivan’s thoughts drifted to his plans. Once he made it out of the city, where would he go? He was thinking of making a base somewhere either deep in the woods, where no one would go, or in an abandoned city—resources, but zombies.
Maybe stay the night in someone's house. Knock door to door saying that he had nowhere else to go? It was… kind of true. He could go somewhere without having to hope for them to say yes, but those were both risky options, especially when he had limited food and weapons.
His best option was when he made it out of the city, Ivan could find a group to stay with, temporarily, that is. A group with maybe a few people, one maybe a fighter? Another one as a medic? A jack‐of‐all‐trades type person?—
His balance twisted, his center of gravity going over the handlebars.
A loud crashing sound echoed across the silent city. Ivan rolled onto a dusty, empty road, catching his fall. His hands immediately scraped and his jeans ripped slightly on the impact. He let out a soft grunt, taking out and clutching his axe that was shoved into his pocket.
If anything alerted the zombies, it was the clearly audible crash. And well, it did.
A slow, pink zombie emerged from an alleyway. Ivan stood up and brushed himself off, his adrenaline levels spiking. He could almost feel it coursing through his veins.
The zombie approached fast. Too fast. It was maybe a few feet away once it charged, and Ivan had mere nanoseconds to react. He swung his axe onto its head, delivering a blow of enough force to imbed itself in, and to knock the zombie to the ground, killing it. Its blood splattered over his hands and the axe, creating a puddle on the ground.
Something was odd. Its blood was pink. A vibrant, hot pink, nothing like the crimson he saw in the hallway.
Taking the bloody axe out of the zombies skull, Ivan looked down the intersection he fell at. A Jeep speeding down the road towards him. He got out of the road, watching it come closer.
A girl's voice called out to him from the Jeep.
“HEY! You alright?!” She yelled, seemingly not caring if anything heard them. She halted to a stop next to Ivan. “I saw you fend off a zombie. You okay?” She spoke, dark brown hair falling off her shoulder. “I… er… no?” Ivan was hesitant. A boy peeked out from beside her. They were definitely both teenagers, maybe seventeen at most. “Do you need help?” The boy spoke, slightly worried but a hint of surprise in his tone.
“Yeah, I would appreciate it.” Ivan said, glancing over his shoulder to check his sides. “Get in, we’re trying to help survivors.” The girl said. Ivan wasted no time, opening the back door, sitting down and taking his backpack off, setting it on the ground.
The girl locked the car, before turning around to look at Ivan. “My name's Kierra, by the way.” She held out a hand to shake. “And you are?” He took her hand. “Ivan.” She smiled softly, turning back around. Kierra playfully elbowed the boy next to her and whispered, “Introduce yourself!” The boy turned around as well. “Arlo. I’m Arlo.” He didn’t bother to shake his hand. “I saw you kill that zombie earlier. You’re good at that, especially since the apocalypse just happened.”
Kierra started driving again, blowing past stop signs and street lights confidently. Ivan looked out the window while Kierra started to talk. “So, Ivan, where do you need to go?”
“Out of the city. A rural area.” Ivan responded. Kierra nodded. “Would you like to stay with us? We have a base of survivors set up a couple miles away.” Ivan had to think, his plans could either be fulfilled or changed entirely. He went for a safe answer. “How many people are there?” Kierra paused for a moment.
“23? 24?—” Arlo cut her off. “23.” 23 people, damn, that was way too many. “I… uh…” Ivan started. “Would you be upset if I said no?” Kierra didn’t pause, answering instantly. “No, no, it’s your choice, don’t feel pressured into saying yes.”
“I still want to leave the city.”
Kierra hit a sharp turn left, seemingly used to this. “Alright! I was on that route, our estimated time of arrival is…” She pulled out her phone. “In 9 minutes. If you need to go anywhere else, let me or Arlo know. We’re here to help.”
“Okay.”
Maybe he did have a chance at survival. Or at least, for now.