Mᴜᴛᴀɴᴛ Aᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘsᴇ: Dᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ's 200 Dᴀʏs ❪✘❫ 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝑃𝐿𝐸𝑇𝐸𝐷

03 || 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝗼𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Donnie stashed all he could inside his half-empty pack, stocking up on the food he needed for his well-being. Now that he is packed up on food, he turned his attention to the closet of the room. He slid the door open, finding nothing but clothes on clothing hangers.

Before he closed the closet, Donnie looks down at the floor and sees a dark blue duffel bag. He kneels down, unzipping the duffel and opening the flap to see he hit the ultimate jackpot. Don's jaw dropped at the sight of a ton of supplies-- medical supplies, in fact. "Got lucky today." He zipped the bag back up and lifts it from the floor to toss it over his shoulder.

Now that he didn't have to worry about medical supplies, Donnie was about to explore the rest of the house, but he heard a few noises coming from the open window that viewed the neighborhood street.

He came to the window sill and saw a few Stalkers wandering around the street. The croaking and shrieking are all he could hear from where he was. "These freaks, again," Donnie whispers, leaving the room as fast as he could. Don carried himself down the stairs and then to another set of stairs.

The survivor is making his way to the basement, making his way through the large room, and finding a slider that led to the backyard. Donnie slid the door open and felt the sun beat down on his face as he froze in place in the middle of the yard. All he saw was a garden a d a few children's toys.

Donatello could hear the Stalkers coming closer to the house and his reactions were becoming very slow and irresponsible. He gulped, unable to move with his pulse rising.

His breathing became erratic and deeper than usual and collapsing to his knees. He brings a hand to his chest as he hyperventilates, feeling it tightening, and sweat is drizzling down his temples. Donnie couldn't breathe, he was afraid-- afraid of being alone. "Come on!" He gasped, struggling to steady his breathing. "Breathe, Donnie!"

Don growled, snapping himself out of his first anxiety attack as a soloist. He got up from the ground and sprinted for the back fence of the house with his loot. He looks over his shoulder and saw three Stalkers climbing the side gate of the house. Now that he knows he has been spotted by those things, he moved quicker, leaping over the fence.

Once he was on the other side, Donnie stumbled down a small hill, gaining a few scrapes and bruises. He rolled over on his shell, which is beginning to heal its cracks, and can hear the Stalkers scratching at the fence of the backyard.

Donatello breathed out, getting to his feet and backing away from the neighborhood.

He got away from the area as fast as he could in hopes to avoid the infected people. Donnie didn't want to stop running, he kept his pace up until he felt his wounded side pound. "AH! Ah..." He slowed down, holding himself before leaning on a tree. "I better slow it down."

For some reason, he was getting so exhausted and Donnie didn't understand why.

He walked a little way farther away from the suburbs and found himself in yet another forest.

But it looked like he was going to get another break... Nature really just likes him right now. Donnie set his eyes on an abandoned path that hasn't been touched in a few months. And on that path is a large car that he can use to rest in.

He examined his surroundings, making sure there were no other infected wandering around and no intruders were snooping. Donnie heavily gulps, opening the driver's side door. The dirt embedded in between the door and the car fell at Donnie's feet.

There isn't much inside this vehicle besides a few tissues, pens, paper, but in the glove box is a cigarette lighter. Don smirked, shoving it into his pocket before hearing rustling in the bushes. He gasped, bringing out his staff and holding it firmly.

His eyes see nothing but trees, dead leaves, and shrubs. Don breathed in, suspicious of the mysterious noise. "Hello?" He says lowly. Then, a sudden flock of crows flew from the trees, starting Donnie out of his shoes. "Ah!" Don exclaims, watching the crows making all sorts of sounds as they flew away.

Donatello relaxed, pushing his glasses up on his face and turning his attention back to the run-down Cadillac vehicle. He took his pack off of his shell and set his supplies in the back before crawling inside the car.

He doesn't have any idea how far he has walked from where he first started his solo journey. The only thing Donnie knows is that he walked incredibly far from where he was.

Donatello sighed, closing his eyes as he thought about some very important people that haven't crossed his mind since he was left behind nearly 3 days ago.

****

𝐃𝗼𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝗼'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I'm just sitting here in the back of this car, thinking about my family for the first time since I got left behind. They literally haven't crossed my mind until now.

I don't understand why they haven't been a priority... Perhaps, I'm just too focused on surviving by myself.

Should I go back? Or will I just see they are not there anymore? Agh! I don't think I deserve to go back. I literally ran off and I would have f*cking absolute guts to show my face to them again. I'm better off dead to Leo and the others. They don't need me.

The more I thought, I patted my side pockets and felt something small and soft dangling from my belt loop. I unlatched it from me and see what the object was.

My eyes lit up when I saw the old lucky rabbit's foot. Sh*t... my chest hurts after viewing this memory in my hand. I shook my head, leaned forward to the driver's rearview mirror, and hung the foot there to watch it swing side to side.

Breathing out, I opened the back door of the car and hung my feet outside. I leaned over my knees, burying my face into my hands and having the burger to scream-- I can't, though. If I do, I'll be announcing my position.

Why am a still alive out here? Why me?

I paced outside of the car, kicking up leaves and dirt until my next instinct was to build a small fire pit next to the car.

****

𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝗼𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

He dug a small hold in the ground, surrounding it with rocks to make sure no one would see the flames from a distance. Donnie piled up whatever dry twigs and sticks he could find into the small pit and birthed a flame from his lighter.

Don tossed in some leaves, dead grasses, and scraps of paper from his pants pocket. Each time he fed the fire, he grew more frustrated with himself, realizing he isn't meant for this world.

But as soon as the fire was flickering and producing heat, Donnie calmed down, taking in many deep breaths. "You got this, Don. You got it." He said. "Just keep breathing."

Donatello's second day being alone was already coming to an end and he was preparing his second dinner without his group. He took out the beef soup from his bag, dumping it into a small pot he had found hiding in his pack.

The more he spent his time outside by the fire, Donnie stared into the flames, sitting very closely to the burning sticks and logs. He rests his arms on his knee, the other leg lying on the ground with his lips parted. If any other person were to see Donnie the way he is, they would say he looks lost.

He just wouldn't stop looking at the fire. Every once in a while he would look into the darkened forest and see nothing but the blurry figured trees. If he looked up to the sky, he could see the same old stars he used to look at before he left New York.

The smoke burned his eyes, causing Donnie to blink every so often and release tears of discharge, not sorrow. He felt ashamed of himself, calling his person a survivor when all he has done is run from everything.

After Donnie filled his stomach with his dinner, he kicked dirt onto the fire to kill it so he can go inside of the car and sleep for the rest of the night.

As he got situated in the car, Donnie removed his glasses and hut his eyes, dreaming of nothing but a blank headspace.

****

A/N: At the end of this book, I'll be explaining Donnie's character development! In my opinion, it's sad to see him become this way, but eventually, things get better for him!