The Last War of the Undead ▪ 1p! Hetalia x Reader x 2p! Hetalia

Chapt. 2

▪ Lone Survivor ▪

The streets that were once filled with lively people were now dead. All of them. A deafening silence that filled the streets could make your skin crawl all over, to leave you with the feeling that something could be right behind you, breathing down your neck.

I walked through these parts, glass and debris crunching beneath my feet as I cautiously moved around. My (e/c) eyes carefully scanned through the area, making sure one of them were not lurking by. I gripped tightly onto my (m/w) that was at my side. I wasn't going to risk using my gun around these parts. Not just yet, anyway.

It has been five months and a half since the break out. Though, it felt like longer. More like years. The days go by even slower than they used to be. I have been mostly alone this whole time. Mostly everyone was gone by now, nowhere to be found on the streets, casually walking around like how it used to be. Even if someone was alive and human, I couldn't even put an ounce of trust on them anymore. Or think that they could last another week. With the whole gang thing and easy betrayal going around. When everything came to be, everyone became desperate, savage.

Now, there are different people like the regular survivors; the eerie and unusual cults; the gang-bangers that act big and selfish, claiming territories that really don't even matter; the twisted-minded cannibals that needed to be watched out for; and the undead that now roams freely with one thing that runs through their idiotic minds, flesh of anything breathing and has a conscience.

But I wouldn't really consider them as people. I am just an original lone survivor. I'll do whatever it takes to keep myself alive, and not become one of them. If I do end up getting bit, I wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger with the gun against my temple. There was no way I was going to end up like them.

I have created my own rules to follow. 1.) See any of the dead, do not give them sympathy. 2.) Never easily trust a newcomer. 3.) Get bit, get shot. 4.) Try and survive so you won't have to do #3. Simple as that.

Just like in the movies. Who knew it was going to actually happen? I did love movies like this, but I never wanted it to actually happen.

I was in Brooklyn. Funny, how easily I was able to liquor up someone and steal their map and ride, then just ditched them in the dust. As cruel as it sounded, he was trying to kill me for my supplies and tied me up, so what I did made us both even. But I made it. All the way to this side of the country. If the car hadn't broken down, I would've still been fine. I'm no mechanic. Where I was headed now is beyond me.

Five months of mostly being alone. Not hearing from my family or Harper. When I think about it...it's quite lonely.

As I made my way around the corner of one of the tall buildings, I felt something pressed down under my boot. I paused and looked down. I slowly shifted my boot to see a button.

"Fuck."

I was about ready to run, but something tightened around my ankle, yanking me up in the air. My head smacked the ground, blurring my vision. The bag on my shoulders was now on the ground, a few feet below me. What's even worse, my pistol fell out of my pants, hitting the ground with a clank. The only thing that reassured me was that my (m/w) was still in my tight grip.

A boobytrap...Just great. Luckily my (f/c) tank top was a little tucked into my black cargo pants. Blood was rushing up to my head and slowly started to make my (s/c) face red as a tomato. My foot that wasn't wrapped around your ankle was awkwardly hanging out. On the bright side, it wasn't a bomb. Nonetheless, it still pissed me off in the position I'm in. Zombies could be around any dark corner, or under one of the broken down vehicles. Or maybe there was a bunch of people who want to kill anybody not their own and take my supplies.

"God. DAMMIT!"

Suddenly, I heard loud shouts of excitement. It was coming from all around me. As the people got closer, I swung around my body along with my (m/w) to keep their distance. These idiots were going to get us all killed with their loud mouths.

"Yeehoo! We got something!"one man shouted.

"A pretty little one at that!"added another.

"Seems like we're gonna have some fun today, boys!"

Some of the other guys snickered at the remark. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. They smelled of alcohol and trash. Compared to me, they were filthy, and not just by appearance. I wanted to cut every single one to pieces. But they had guns.

One of the men came up to me, twiddling with a lock of my (h/c) hair. Then the grimy hand went on my cheek. I immediately bashed the handle of my weapon in his face. Reckless of me, but he was just getting a little too touchy. "Get your hands off me!"I snapped. He yelled in pain and fell back. I gave him a broken nose. One of his buddies checked if he was okay.

"Ah! You broke my nose!"the man shouted.

The one kneeled beside him gave me a sinister look. He stood straight up and stomped towards me. His rifle was flipped over.

"You fucking bitch!"

The butt of the gun collided with my stomach. I grunted in pain, clutching my shirt tightly. The impact made me rock back and forth on the rope. The hit also made me drop my (m/w). Perfect. Another from my left picked up his gun and hit me on my side. The wind got knocked out of me again. My body twirled around.

"Mother--"

I couldn't finish my short sentence because it came out a pained growl of frustration. I got hit again. Everyone else joined in with what weapons they had. I was whacked around as if I was a human piñata. They hollered like a bunch of monkeys and laughed like hyenas. I tried fighting back, but also blocking as much of myself as I could. I was mostly protecting my head. This was unbearable. Soon, there's going to be a hoard of zombies that could hear the commotion. My pain and their fun was going on for a few more minutes until something or someone came in.

"Hey, rednecks!"

All the men battering me stopped and quieted down, hearing the insult. They turned to look who randomly arrived at the scene, still alive from this massacre. There wasn't much, but just about enough of a gap between the men to see who this guy is. Actually, there was two. But the setting sun shadowed the faces of possibly the new enemies, or saviors. All I could see was the glint of their glasses. I could tell one was holding a bat.

"I don't think the doll enjoys a bunch of old men surrounding her, huh?"one said.

The men around me straightened out, ready to beat whoever interrupted.

"Oi! Who the 'ell are ya!?"one of them demanded.

The only response was a dark chuckle.

■ End of Chapter ■