The Zombie Apocalypse with MCR (Complete)

Shocking Developments

We've been driving for a while, and haven't climbed out of the silence yet.

Pandora is lounging on the back seat, Frank is riding shotgun. The radio is off, and the only noise is the hum of the engine under our feet. From the corner of my eye, I notice him open his mouth more than once, and I brace, but he never manages to speak.

I usually avoid the cities, but the nearest one isn't too big and it's a necessary venture.

I park on the outskirts of the city centre. All these months later, the corpses have done their best to spread out, but it will still be fairly populated with bodies.

"Come on," I order. She obeys without hesitation, Frank is almost as fast. I strap my backpack on, with my axe attached, and secure my utility belt around my waist. Lastly, I loop my rifle around my chest, within easy reach. "Put this on," I hold a jacket out to Frank.

It's a thick, weatherproof jacket that falls to his knees. He shrugs it on, looking nervous.

"Doesn't seem like rain." He glances up at the sky. It's heavy with clouds, but they're pearly white and fluffy.

"It's not for the rain," I reach for the zip, and slide it the length of his body until it's closed up to his chest. His eyes are on my hands, "It's for the teeth."

His gaze flashes to my face, and I see panic take root around the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry, Frankie," I sneer, using the name I've sometimes heard Gerard use sarcastically. "I'll take care of you."

His mouth opens, face becoming annoyed, but he makes an effort to swallow his retort. I'm not the only one trying to prove a point today.

"Stay on my ass." I lecture, checking my ammunition and making sure the car is locked. "If I move, you move. If Pandora freezes, you freeze." He nods, calm. "Keep quiet. You see anything, don't shout, just grab me."

We set off. Pandora on my heels, Frank a step behind. I don't tell him that things are going to be okay, that he's going to be safe. Every moment we're out here, we're not safe. He'll realise today why I fortified the house the way I did. He'll realise why I come home injured. I will protect him with my life, but I'm not going to lie to him.

Corpses find us on the third street we walk down. Not many, just four of them. They're shambling and hunched, dormant. I spot them first and duck into an alley, circling round. I don't engage.

"You're not... Going to fight them?" Frank whispers as we skirt garbage and rotten bodies.

"No." I whisper back, checking that the next street is clear.

"Why not?" He asks, and I feel his fingers bunch in my shirt.

"Why would I waste the energy?" I frown.

Something clicks behind his eyes. New knowledge, a realisation. One lie has been proven wrong in the first ten minutes of the day - I don't actively hunt them.

I prove this several more times. If we run into a group of corpses and we're lucky enough not to be seen or smelt or sensed, I turn around and head the other way. Pandora is familiar with this routine, and keeps quiet and low as we flee. Frank becomes quickly accustomed to this method; he stops panicking every time we see a corpse, and restrains himself from jumping immediately into fight mode. Running is a much more effective way of staying alive.

The only time this isn't effective, of course, is when the corpses spot us.

We're walking through an outdoor market around midday. A corpse slithers out from under a pile of crates, and it's eyes are on us before we can hurry away.