(EDITING) #StillAlive [Jikook/Zombie AU]

1.

Jungkooks P.O.V.

How long has it been now? A month or two? I really don't know. Well, time and date in today's world seemed to be the smallest problem.

Instead I should worry about my almost empty storage. If I live by half a ramen box a day, I would have food for another week, maximum. On the other hand, there were only three small water bottles left. Nonetheless, my fathers collection of expensive alcohols is still untouched and I could for sure drink them. He wouldn't mind, I hope.

Hope. There it was again. The gut wrenching feeling. Are they still alive? My family? My friends? I could have been with them right now, but how could I have known that two years later, after I moved to another city, an apocalypse would break out?

The last audio I received from my father before the internet connection failed humanity was: "We love you, son." Screams in the background. My father himself sounded shaken, afraid.

A sigh leaves my mouth, starring at my phone in hopes the internet would magically connect again. In hopes to get another text that would ease my worry and fear.

The radio and TV signals shut off a while ago. I am completely cut out of any communication. I don't even know if the military still searched for survivors. I don't know if there are any living and breathing people in this town or in the whole country. But I hoped.

And I will continue on doing just that. Sitting in my apartment with the fridge barricading the front door after one of those bitches literally kicked it down. I mean it. It was the only time I had to fight a zombie. I wasn't ready to die yet so I kind of threw its body out off the balcony.. It was either kill or get killed and I choose to go against human morality.

If the same would happen again, I don't know if I would fight for my life. Yes, hope was big but let's be realistic. The chance of the people I love being alive is very slim. If I die, nothing would change. I would probably turn into a zombie myself and then? I wouldn't have to worry anymore. I wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

It's scary but I give up. Every day a little more.

I felt the familiar wetness on my cheeks. Life seems to be in an endless spiral of misery. I want to wake up from this nightmare but it won't stop. If this is reality, I don't want to live in it. I miss my father, my mom, my brother. God, that annoying brat. I miss fighting with him over stupid stuff.

The memory of us yelling at each other over the last slice of pizza, just for dad to secretly snatch and eat it, smiling at our dumbfounded faces.. it makes me break out into a light chuckle.

That's until the pain in my chest grows bigger and a broken sob fills the silence of my apartment.

"Please.." I beg to no one but, if in any case the lord really exists, then I beg to him.

I grab the camera on the coffee table, turn it on and face the lense on me.

"Hi, it's Jungkook again. I lost count of the days. If anyone sees this, I will probably be dead by then." I sigh with a small smile, the tears evident.
"Food is getting low. Water too. I don't know how long I can survive. But I think within the next month I will be dead. Good afternoon, I hope the world will be okay one day again soon."

I shut off the camera and place it back down on to the table. It became somehow a routine to record myself once a day. Maybe one day I will be able to look into the camera with a big smile and say: "We did it! We survived! We won!"

As I said, hope.

My phone silently gave the daily alarm. Every six hours one gulp of water. Sounds less. Oh believe me, it is. My mouth is dry like a desert. Yet, I have no other choice. The tabs aren't going to magically work again so I could fill my bathtub with water and drink from it, no?

I take a gulp of the half empty bottle and even though my body and mind are screaming at me to drink more and more and, god damn, the whole rest of the bottles content, I couldn't. Thanks Dad for teaching me self discipline. It definitely pays off.

I groan and enjoy the fresh liquid in my mouth. Who would have thought water could taste this delicious? Not me. Now I do.

My eyes fall again on my phones screen. The post I left on any of my social media accounts before the service went down was still giving me hope that someone would come and rescue me.

It was the early beginning of the apocalypse. The times where the military was still fighting the zombies, screams and bombs were a non-stop noise on a daily basis. People went on their social media, posted a picture of themselves, holding a paper in their hands which had written "My name is xxx and I'm #StillAlive". They would caption their post with their name, address, city and of course the hashtag "StillAlive".

When I saw the first people doing that I thought it was stupid. Don't ask me why, I don't know either. But the more people did and the more hopeless I felt, because defeat was written clearly in the stars for the human kind, I did it too and weeks later, I am still in my apartment, hoping they would pick me up in a fancy limousine and treat me like royal for making me wait this long.

Yeah yeah, I know. Stupid, but I can still hope, no? Every day is the same and boring, so I can imagine some good events to keep me sane, right?

Well, same and boring until I hear the grunts and growls of the monsters outside.

This time the sounds didn't come from the streets, rather I think they come from the complex halls. That alone made my anxiety spark. My hands instantly are sweaty, my heart rate rises and my mouth drys again.

I had to be quite. Any sound and they would know I am in here, living and breathing. A perfect meal for their hungry mouths.

My hand instinctively goes to the big knife on the table, grabbing it tight in a fist just in case I would need it.

My ears listen to any sound. Silence. Then again a grunt. Silence. Growl. Rattle. Silence. Gru- wait? Rattle? That's new.

I stand up on shaky legs, walking to my front door and looking at the massive fridge blocking it. Everything seems quite again. The noises stopped. The thing outside probably gave up and walked away.

That happens rather often. They come, sniff the air like a dog and then go away again. Nothing special. Nothing to worry about.

I sigh and turn around, feeling tired and drained, even though my daily life consisted of doing literally nothing.

That's until I hear my door crack open with a loud noise. There it was again. The violent grunts and growls, hungry for fresh meat. For me.

The air in my lungs starts to choke me as I see my fridge shaking. It would fall down any moment and I would be exposed to that beast.

A rotten, bloody arm sticks it's way out between the fridge and the wall, trying to grab whatever smelt so delicious.

My brain seems to shut down. I don't know what to do. Is this reality? Or am I still sleeping? What can I do?!

But I wouldn't be a Jeon if my senses wouldn't kick in in the moments I would need them the most. Fight or flight.

The fridge was about to fall when I reached it in time, pushing it up again and try to keep it up, so the zombie couldn't get me. It's arm was disgustingly squeezed between the fridge and the wall, but I didn't care.

It would surely give out any moment. Well I hope so because I don't think I have enough energy left in my body to keep the fridge standing.

One thing more. Those monsters are insanely strong. That or my body has gotten weaker over time. When I sensed my legs giving up under me, I had to jump away or I would have been crushed under the weight of the fridge and would be an easy meal for my unwanted guest.

I screamed and watched in horror as the zombie pushed the fridge to the ground, growling at me as if he was angry his meal put up a fight with him.

"Shit." I whispered.