Septiplier One Shots

How Fast Can You Run?

(Seán's P.O.V.)

It's been three and a half months since all hell broke loose and honestly, I'm surprised we've made it this far. How we're different, I don't know. All I know is that everyone we knew and loved is dead, and zombies stalk the streets both day and night. Zombies that are void of any human aspect, except for hunger. That's all they know. Hunger. Hunger for fear. Hunger for flesh. Hunger for blood. Just... Hunger.

It's surprising how quickly everything came crashing down. First there were the reports, and then it spread like wildfire in dry grasslands. The infection. In only a week half the country of Europe was infected, and in three weeks half the world. After the first month and a half only a few people were left, a handful from the normal population.

No power anywhere. No fresh water. Buildings are in shambles from raiders breaking in to get things or trying to save themselves using guns and hand grenades. Streets are cracked and plants are dead. Cars are unused. Seeing another living soul is a miracle. Cause it's all dead. Everything is dead. 

I was in America when it happened. It happened so quickly. California was still pretty well off when we got the report that there were no reports of anyone living anywhere in the north of Europe, meaning pretty much all of Ireland. I was devastated. Then America got hit and it was just us. 

Me, Felix, PJ, Emma, and Mark. The five of us were terrified until we realized we couldn't hide in Mark's house forever. So we packed bags, grabbed some guns Mark had downstairs, and headed out. We raided some stores and got some more food, water, and weapons. Felix found a gun shop and we took everything of use. Emma was very good with distributing food and water so it would last. PJ was a surprisingly amazing fighter.

And then Mark and I were kind of the glue keeping everyone together. None of us ever argued, and if we got annoyed we'd fix the problem quickly. We all lasted a good month after the world went dead. I didn't know what we were fighting for, I still don't. The entire world is dead. Why keep fighting to stay alive? But then I realized when it all started going downhill.

One month ago, two and a half months after the dead, we were walking on a bridge. It was pretty rickety, but sturdy enough. But Emma slipped, and she fell before any of us could catch her. None of us looked down, knowing that her body probably looked broken among all the rocks and the ground below.

Three weeks and two days ago we were in a building, cornered. Only way out was through the window behind us, but someone would need to stay and ward the zombies off to give the rest time to escape. Felix and I kept saying we could all make it. PJ wouldn't hear us out. He practically pushed the three of us out, blowing up the top floor of the building as soon as we hit the ground. Only remnants of him was his backpack that he threw with us.

Three weeks ago exactly... I don't even know what happened. I thought it was all fine. We were running to the car, one of the few still working that we stole. When Mark and I got there though was when we realized... Felix was no where in sight. We couldn't go back, we knew there was a hoard. So we moved on. 

Now it's just Mark and I. The two of us. The two romantics. I'm still so surprised. The fact that we're able to stay together even after all this. I have no clue what day it is, but I know our one year anniversary is somewhere around here. Whenever I get scared, or sad, or angry, he always kisses me and everything's better.

Then I hear the growls and groans of the undead and I'm back to reality. But it doesn't matter because as long as he keeps bringing me out of reality, even if just for a second, I'll stay sane. I know it's the same for him. Every day we make sure we say "I love you" to each other, in fear of losing each other the next day.

That's always the fear. Losing each other. Losing him. Losing Mark. I couldn't ever imagine it, and yet I imagine what it'd be like each day because I'm always so afraid that tomorrow will bring his death. Always afraid...