Chapter Text
In some ambiguously located city, a hoard of unstable and rotting looking individuals is chasing after a person with insatiable hunger. This person seems to look more alive in terms of appearance, compared to the group of dead looking corpses pursuing him while they stumble around.
These creatures are zombies. Or, what the people called them, at least. Sunken eyes, greying skin, blood-soaked, wanting to eat brains. It's practically what the stereotype is. Although, their eyes glow an ominous yellow, almost golden color.
Back to the running survivor, he's sporting a flowery top with beige pants along with some boots and a satchel. Most importantly, he has a red bat, although looking worse for wear, is still a weapon. Yet for some reason, he's stubbornly not using it to defend himself.
This man is called Avery.
He's quite the tough cookie. Avery likes to think he's very good at this surviving thing, ignoring that he is being hunted by 11 zombies through the open street because he decided to start a fire in the middle of the woods. The fact that he's keeping his distance throughout the chase should be commendable, right?
“frAFAGGGHHGG—!!!”
“JESUS CREEPERS—”
A zombie separate from the hoard had almost snagged him by the outer layer of his clothing, which he thankfully batted off with his…well, bat.
In a moment of self back-patting, he failed to realize his number one enemy; his stupidity. Avery barely registered the harmless looking puddle on his path that he's about to step on. He didn't think much about it other than wanting to splash on it for fun…until his feet slipped backwards against the slippery ground, sending his body into the rough concrete, and the puddle that ended up being car oil. He immediately scrambled to get back up because he's still being trailed by the undead.
Avery has realized two things upon going back to a sprint.
He's covered in smelly oil, and he has rolled his ankle when falling.
“Ow. Ow. Fuuuhreeaakkk… Ow.”
In Avery's humble opinion, an injured ankle seems to not be an ideal thing to have while running from a bajillion flesh eating monsters. Right. This is fine, he has survived 3 years in this world-ending apocalypse. He's not going to die because he stepped on oil. It's not like the zombies are going to catch up in a short moment of time.
“bHgRaAAAinnnN…!!”
THE ZOMBIES ARE CATCHING UP IN A SHORT MOMENT OF TIME.
The space of the cement road suddenly seemed so wide, and the sun was shining too brightly. Avery can't tell the thumping in his ears was from the undead pursuing him or his own increased erratic heartbeat.
This is worse than bad. He can practically smell the blood and desperation coming from his assailants behind him. And maybe they can smell them from him too. His own leg seems like it might buckle any moment but he can't afford not moving during a chase. He can't die like this. Not yet. He promised that he would live.
Shuffling painfully with a wounded ankle, Avery spots a run down supermarket (weirdly with its lights on) that's not far from where he is right now.
It's the perfect place to seek refuge and possibly resupply. If Avery's lucky, there would be a usable sofa or mattress as well. He's been sleeping on the itchy grass for some time. Ooh, maybe even a shower if the water isn't that tainted.
No, no. Bad Avery. Stop daydreaming, focus on the life threatening moment right now.
Gathering up all of his remaining strength, Avery makes a dash towards the building in hopes of safety, ankle throbbing painfully with each step he takes. Shit, it hurts.
Bursting open the double sided glass doors, Avery immediately used the remaining of his strength to push a nearby empty shelf to completely block the entrance he came from. He attempted to double the safety with a run down freezer but the exhaustion and pain overtook him, shakily making the man fall to his ass when trying to push it.
The injured man hissed in pain as the pain fully set in, no longer fueled by adrenaline. The banging of the zombies trying to get inside can be heard. Avery has found comfort knowing that zombies generally have weakened physical strength than the average human due to their rotting nature.
So maybe he didn't need to push that heavy shelf to block the entrance? No, scratch that, it's better to be safe than sorry.
He sighed in relief, catching his breath. He's safe now. He took off his left boot and winced at the bulging ankle that's already bruising. That's going to take awhile to heal.
Avery wonders if ice is availab—
CLAAANGG!
Avery jolted at the sudden loud noise. He raised his head to look around and spotted a figure standing in the dark corner of one of the aisles. Metal thingamabobs scattered on the floor around the person standing there with a single visible yellow eye. Their body language indicated they're as surprised as he is.
Oh, he must've startled them for being here. He's going to apologize for intruding, but hopefully this person lets him stay until he recovers.
“...Hey there! Fancy place here, huh?”
Avery tried his best apologetic smile, but he's pretty sure it looks crooked right now.
“Sorry for blocking the door, but the zombies almost got my butt out there, you know how it is, right? Haha…”
An awkward silence stretches between them. Geez, this guy sure is not a talker. He gets it, small talk can be uncomfortable sometimes.
Suddenly, the figure makes a step forward. As Avery really focuses on who he's looking at, he takes in fully on the appearance of the stranger in front of him. A royal red jacket, a dotted skirt, and very mismatched socks and shoes. Clearly, not the best representation of fashion.
The one thing that stands out to Avery is what's on their head. They wore a rusted yellow bucket that covered their whole head, with eyeholes where the eyes would be. Avery mentally snorts as his brain makes a silly comparison that they look like a dollar store Roman knight.
They look like a mess. Their appearance looks more uncanny coupled with their glowing yellow eye—
Wait.
Where has he seen that shade of yellow before?
Although, their eyes glow an ominous yellow, almost golden color.
Dread filled his chest. He looks to see if he's seeing their eye color right.
Sunken eyes, greying skin, blood-soaked, wanting to eat brains.
This person wasn't a person at all.
These creatures are zombies.
THEY'RE A ZOMBIE!
The buckethead zombie slowly makes its way to Avery, hand outstretched to the living human in a way that makes Avery think they're going to attack him.
He raises his bat threateningly while shuffling away with his butt. Avery knows he can't fight the zombie off if they actually decided they wanted him as a meal. He stared daggers into the creature above him, hoping it gets the hint that he's willing to put up a hell of a fight.
‘Please. No. Leave. I can't die yet. Please.’
Thankfully, they seemed to get the threat and flinched back. They pulled their arms close to their chest and stepped away skittishly.
‘...Wow. I didn't think that would actually work.’
The zombie just stood there for a moment, staring at Avery, as if they're…thinking? They seem to be assessing the situation. Which is something Avery didn't think beasts like them could do. Although, calling this particularly scrawny looking zombie a beast would be an exaggeration.
And then it just…turned around and left. They disappeared into the darkness it came from.
Avery sat there, dazed at what just happened to him in the span of 10 minutes. Maybe he isn't cut out to survive like he thought. Not without his friends.
He shakes that thought away. He's alone now. With a zombie. In a closed off building. With more zombies outside. At least this zombie seemed more hesitant to kill him. Maybe even friendly? But, that's just wishful thinking.
Avery rumaged through his supply bag, finding a few bandage rolls, a bottle of disinfectant, a pocket knife, a lighter, and some junk food. He realized he had left some of his tools and supplies back at the forest when he started that fire recklessly. He didn't have time to grab everything when the zombies came attracted to the burning smell.
Fuck. He's going to die here.
It didn't really set in on how alone Avery is until now. The buzzing lights of the abandoned supermarket and the muffled sounds of zombies groaning outside makes him feel so lonely. Stupid zombies. Stupid apocalypse. Stupid Avery. You're supposed to be better than this.
If only they were still here. If only he wasn’t as dumb—
Shhhhhh
Avery flinched at the sound of something sliding on the floor. When he turned around from his self-wallowing he saw an ice pack on the floor and bucket zombie standing there tentatively from a distance, twiddling their fingers. Are they…nervous?
He looks at the ice pack and then at the zombie.
“Is this…for me? For my ankle?”
Bucket nods their head frantically, the up and down motion causing the head inside to thump against the bucket to make a rattling sound similar to a cowbell.
Avery can't help but snort at the display.
Bucket seems to be offended at Avery's disrespect.
“Sorry! Sorry… I'm not making fun of you or anything— Thank you for the ice pack. I didn't know ice was possible at a run down place like this.”
Bucket seemed proud of themselves. Once Avery had accepted their offering, they retreated back to wherever they were previously. Oh man, Avery didn't manage to ask if they had a name.
As Avery compresses the ice pack to his injured ankle, he thinks that maybe he won't be so alone after all. Even if that person preventing that loneliness might end his life.
Character Appearances
