Apocalypse Of The Damned (BMC fanfic)

5

"Got everything?"
"Yep." Cameron said, shutting the car door and looking up at the house. They thought it'd be a good idea to move away from the gas station. The undead were starting to roam around in that area. So here they were. They looked around the abandoned city until they'd found a house that looked suitable. Glancing around at their surroundings, Michael now realized that they may not even be in New Jersey anymore.

He sighed and turned back, walking up to the front door. Cameron followed and tried the knob, but it was locked from the inside. She let out a frustrated groan, looking around for an open window or something. "Mm...Maybe we could break it down?"

Michael shook his head, looking up at the house. "No, that'll make too much noise. We'll have to find another way in."

Cameron furrowed her eyebrows, humming in thought. She looked to the side of the house and walked around the corner. Michael looked at her. "What are you doing?"

"Hang on." She called back, walking around into the backyard.

After a few moments of silence, Michael called out again. "Cammy?"
No answer.
"Cameron?"
No answer. Michael started to panic. He hadn't heard anything that told him that she'd been killed, but...

He looked at the door. "Cameron!'

He waited a second... two seconds... three... There was a click, and the door opened, Cameron looking up at him from inside. "Yeah?"

Michael hugged her. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Cameron chuckled and hugged him back. "Sorry! I went to see if there's a dog door. I crawled though and unlocked the door."

Michael smiled, pulling out of the hug. "Good job."

"I know." She giggled and turned on her heel, striding through the house like she owned it.

Michael shut the door, holding his gun firm in his hand. "We should check for zombies."

"Already did that," Cameron chirped from the living room. "Why do you think I took so long?"

Michael nodded in understanding and put his stuff down on the kitchen counter. He kept his pistol in his back pocket, just in case, and walked upstairs. He saw a cord hanging from the ceiling and pulled it, a door falling open, and a ladder falling at his feet. He glanced up at the darkness, climbing up hesitantly.

He looked around. It was dusty and covered in spider webs, the only light coming from a window on the far wall. He saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. When he looked, he panicked and pulled out his gun, aiming it at a heap in the corner. The thing was moving the slightest bit and groaning. It was a person. They sounded hurt. Michael walked over, gun in hand, and poked the person's back. They moved their head a bit.

He frowned. "Hey, Cameron?" He called. She poked her head up into the attic.
"Yeah?"

"I thought you said that you checked the house."

"I did. I just... Didn't know there was an attic."

Michael hummed in understanding. "Can you bring me a flashlight?"

Cameron nodded and disappeared for a moment, then came back and walked over to him with a flashlight. Michael took it and shone it on the person on the floor. He froze.

There, lying curled up on the floor, was Jeremy Heere. His skin was sickeningly pale, almost gray, and his eyes were closed. Michael bent down next to him, feeling like he might cry. He put a hand on Jeremy's arm. "Jer!"

Cameron watched, her breath hitching as she realized something. She put her hand on Michael's shoulder. "Michael, get away from him."

Michael looked at her. "What? No, we have to help him!"

"We. Can't. Listen to me." Her voice was serious and a bit scared.

Michael paused. He felt like he should listen to her, but he was so caught up in seeing Jeremy that he turned back to him, gently rolling him onto his back. "Buddy, come on, it'll be okay."

Jeremy rolled over and opened his eyes, looking at Michael and jumping up onto him. His eyes were blank, dead, and white. He let out a sickly noise, pinning Michael to the ground and causing him to cry out. Cameron jumped back.

Jeremy tried to bite Michael, but he pushed him back, trying not to cry. Cameron let out a squeal, crying out, "I'm sorry!" She shot Jeremy in the head. He fell limp on top of Michael.

...

Michael sat bolt upright, breathing heavily, tears on his cheeks. He looked around. He was in the house, lying on the couch. He must have fallen asleep. Cameron came in with a cereal bar in her hand. She held it out to him, a look of worry on her face. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her and smiled softly, wiping his cheeks off. "Yeah, sorry. Bad dream." He took the food from her.

She nodded and sat on the couch by his feet.

Michael thought silently to himself. Jeremy isn't dead. He's alive, they just haven't found him yet.
Michael looked up when he heard something outside. He got up and walked to a window, looking outside... His car was gone. Someone stole it.

"God damnit!" Michael yelled. Cameron looked at him and chuckled a bit, covering her mouth to stifle it. Michael went into the kitchen and started packing everything up.

"What are you doing?" Cameron asked as she walked in.

Michael didn't look up. "Go pack your things. We gotta stay on the move. We can't stay in one place for too long."

She nodded and ran off.