Dreamnotfound - Zombie Apocalypse AU

I panicked, ok?

Prompt/Inspiration: The zombie outbreak started 2 years ago now you find yourself cornered by a decaying zombie when you do the unthinkable and bite it first when it falls to the floor and grows its skin back and sits up and asks what is going on.

"Dream, Dre-please, please, no!" George sobbed as his back hit the wall. Dream-what was left of Dream stumbling towards him.

They'd done so well, checking for bites every night, using only long-range weapons like those metal poles they'd found a few months ago.

Dream had somehow still gotten bit while they were fighting off a small horde, only three zombies. George was cornered by two and Dream swooped in to save him, per usual. They checked afterwards but they must've missed the small bite on the junction between his shoulder and neck. The festering wound was obvious now as in the throes of the first wave of sickness Dream had ripped his clothes. (Thankfully leaving a majority of it intact but most of the upper shirt was shredded.)

It started with a low grade fever. Neither of them thought anything of it. Of course they both entertained the idea because they'd seen enough of their friends die to zombification. But neither of them thought it would happen to either of them. Especially not Dream.

As one of the best fighters George had ever seen, he'd seemed untouchable. Whirling through the ranks of zombies silently, quickly delivering a second death.

The bite became a small itch on his shoulder.

/Dream laughing off scratched knees from "parkour" while George cleaned his wounds and gently chastised him for being reckless. Dream's wounds always became itchy and were constantly a problem as he would pick off scabs drawing blood then attracting zombies./

An overwhelming heat that originated from there and spread to his whole body.

Summer sun beaming down on them as a group of them and their friends lounged on a beach near the ruins of Disney World. Quietly talking and laughing at the other half who chose to play in the surf.

Dream had chosen to mess around in the water for a few hours but soon retreated and flopped on top of George (who complained vehemently), refusing to move. Their body heat combined with the harsh sun--already amplified by the broken atmosphere--and made it more uncomfortable than the joke was worth, but after awhile George stopped complaining and Dream didn't move.

A final guttural yell for George to run before he ripped half his scalp off and started grabbing for his own flesh. A sick ripping sound as muscles and skin were pulled off bone. Blood dripped down his hands and arms from multiple gouges in the flesh. If George had seen this before the apocalypse he definitely would've thrown up, he was already close to heaving up the small breakfast they'd had less than an hour prior.

An even less pleasant memory of Bad and Skeppy's death.

A few days after the beach and while they were making plans to keep in contact and meet up again, the alarm sounded. The conversation immediately lulled as they listened. Their small base in the abandoned Peter Pan ride had three openings and each one had a different alarm system in order to prevent confusion.

Everything was fine, everyone quietly gathered their things and found their traveling groups already reviewing their individual routes to the rondevu for emergencies such as this.

Everyone had packed up quickly and were ready to run or fight. Everything was supposed to be fine.

Except when they got to the second exit it was blocked by more undead. Which was ok, there were three exits. There was no way they could be totally surrounded, and it they were, their group was large enough to fight them off.