Two men alone in the apocalypse, Joel Miller and Steven Richards find each other. As their relationship grows stronger they must fight their way to safety in order to finally find peace with one another in their world of horrors.
Following their drunken fornication Joel woke up and managed to find a car, with a complementary corpse inside. Joel doesn't think the body will be needing it, so with a little bit of bloody cleanup the old heap of junk was up and running, but not for long.
As the car slowly ran out of gas they decided to make a pit stop at a convenience store, Joel needed to siphon some additional fuel from the abandoned cars. "I'm gonna check out the store, if I'm not back in like five minutes come looking for me," Steven stated as Joel gave a nod.
The old cracked door creaked loudly as Steven pushed it open, almost sounding like a scream. As he stepped foot into the building the smell of old musty products suddenly hit him. It wasn't pleasant.
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He'd just sat down all of his stuff, and was leaning over the sink to look at himself in the reflection of the faucet when he was shoved hard enough to hit his head on the bottom of the old cracked mirror. He slipped and fell backwards holding his head. He could feel warm liquid bleeding sluggishly onto his palm.
Steven looked behind himself and caught a glimpse of four men, one of whom had a strangely placed name tag calling him Chris. They must have been hiding he assumed. Steven blinked his eyes and looked up at the enraged face of the man named Chris. He smirked towards Steven as he began to corner the poor guy.
"C-Chris...?" Steven questioned but was interrupted by the bigger, angrier male grabbing him up off the floor and slamming him back against the bathroom stall as if he weighed nothing. "Chris!" he tried again but was met with a fist right into his gut. All of the wind left Steven's lungs as he hunched over, trying to drag a breath into his traumatized lungs. He raised his hands to try to forestall any more of a beating, but there was no stopping this.
Chris grabbed Steven's hand and slammed it on the corner of the stall. Steven's mouth opened to scream in pain but it was choked off by the overlarge hand of another some of the men, who then grabbed Steven and yanked him off the stall wall and back against his chest. At the same time, Steven felt his hope drop into the pit of his stomach when he heard the lock on the bathroom door click into place, seeming as loud as a gunshot.
Chris laid into him, hitting him over and over again in the abdomen and chest. Steven closed his eyes, hoping for this beating to end soon, but things took a darker turn when Chris suddenly went for Steven's pants. He yanked them and his boxers off Steven's pale legs, baring him to all of the strange men.
Apparently, this wasn't part of the plan, as the action was met with questions. "What the fuck, Chris?" A gang member asked, his grip on Steven loosening a little. "Shut up!" Chris screamed in his face. "Hold him still!" The stranger held him tighter, putting an end to Steven's renewed struggles.
"You gonna do some fag shit?" Another gang member piped up. That word filled Steven with pure utter rage. "Tell me he doesn't look girly 'nough to be fuckable!" They said, apparently talking about Steven. He was only answered with a noncommittal hum from the gang. Worryingly, it wasn't a denial.
