Fragile Hearts [DANGEROUS FELLOWS]

⚠️TWO: CAN'T A GUY GET A WATER BOTTLE?⚠️

Your soul felt like an empty pit.

There wasn't much worse than seeing someone be killed right in front of you, but one thing sure as hell worse was if they were murdered by a zombie. Jason had taken the lead and the two of you had been hurrying across town for hours, seeing all sorts of horrific things. Car accidents, zombies tearing apart a screaming woman, police officers firing wildly, hitting innocent people.

It was complete madness.

"Doesn't get much worse than this," Jason sighed, pulling you along past a sobbing old man. "We're screwed. Totally and utterly screwed."

He wiped his sleeve over his eyes, scowling himself for crying, but more came. Soon you felt your own tears and you began to sob helplessly.

"This can't be real. Tell me it's not real," you cried, burying your face in his chest.

"Not to be insensitive, but we have to keep moving," Jason reminded you, patting your back awkwardly. He was never good at comforting people. You nodded, sloppily wiping your face with your sleeves and sniffling.

"We need to get some sort of supplies before sundown. We both have our backpacks so let's empty those out," Jason ordered suddenly, switching into survival mode. You complied, unzipping your backpack and dumping it out, the book and papers enough to bring a fresh wave of tears. You cried silently, shoulders shaking.

"There's a pharmacy close to here. We can get food and anything else we need, and then we need to find some sort of shelter," he went on, grabbing your hand. You flinched but you didn't pull it away, glad for the small comfort. After a bit more walking you saw the flickering neon sign of the pharmacy, comforting white lights still on inside.

Jason rushed across the darkening street, pulling you along. You hesitated when you saw other people in the store but Jason didn't stop, pushing through the doors at a brisk pace.

There were half a dozen people grabbing all the things they could, faces pale and eyes sunken. Jason opened his backpack and got to work, picking out pastries, pre-packaged sandwiches, water, and first aid supplies.

"Please, help me. I'm bit, I'm bit." A woman on the floor moaned, rocking back and forth. You looked at Jason pleadingly but he shook his head, giving you a look that said, "there's nothing we can do."

You looked away, the lump in your throat growing in despair. Trying not to think, you opened your own backpack and tried picking out the most useful things, like shelf-stable food, plenty to drink, and medicines.

You saw the last bottle of water and grabbed it, when suddenly another hand gripped yours. You looked up, staring right into the eyes of a fierce looking boy with fire red hair. In fear, you tried to let go of the bottle and back away, but the boy held on fast.

"S-sorry." You squeaked, but he still didn't let go.

"You've got some nerve taking the last bottle of water." He growled.

You can have it, you wanted to say, but nothing came out.

"We're all struggling here. You've got a backpack full of goodies and you won't even let a guy get a water bottle?" he went on, and you realized there was a grin on his face.

"I'm sorry, you can have it," you sputtered, pulling your hand free from his grip and causing the bottle to fall. He caught it quickly, wiping pretend sweat from his brow.

"Man, that's the most stressful thing that's happened all day," he said sarcastically, and suddenly his face hardened. "Don't cause anymore trouble, you hear me?"

"Y-yes, sir," you said, but he'd already walked away. You rushed back to where you last saw Jason, but he was nowhere to be found. Just as you started to panic you saw him emerge from the bathroom, looking pale.

"Wasn't feeling so good," he said weakly, putting a hand over his stomach. You felt glad you hadn't ate recently, but at the same time you were starving.

"Let's go," you said nervously, glancing at the woman, who had gone still. "I don't know how much longer this place will be safe."

Jason nodded in agreement, and the both of you rushed out. You felt scared of being out in the open again, especially now since it was much darker.

"We need to find somewhere to stay, and I think I know just the place," Jason said, walking fast. Your legs ached and you just wanted to collapse in the middle of the road and cry. You followed him through the dark alleys and bushes until you came to a ladder at the side of a building, leading up to a platform and a door.

"Go, quickly," he urged, looking around as you began to climb, and then going up the rungs himself. He dug in a side pocket of his backpack, taking out a keyring and looking through it before finding and old dirty key. He stuck it in the door, pushing it open quickly and shooing you in before locking it behind him. He grabbed a chair from a small desk near the door and jammed it under the doorknob.

"Who's there?" Came a slurred voice.

"It's me." Jason called back.

A man in nothing but a robe and underwear came from what you assumed was the living room. His eyes lit up when he saw Jason, but Jason didn't look so happy.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you! I can't believe you still have the key!" the man cried, hugging your friend tightly. Without warning he hugged you too. Then he took a step back, his smile gone and concern filling his eyes.

"Why is there blood on your shirt, Jason? And why did you block the door?" He asked, eyes darting from him, to you, then back to him.

"Well, dad, while you were passed out drunk," Jason began, distaste dripping from every word, "there's been a zombie apocalypse."

His dad burst into laughter. "I may be an alcoholic, but you can't fool me that easily," he said.

"Well, it's true. So get used to it," Jason snapped. "You want to go outside and get mauled by zombies, fine by me."

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Jason's dad barked, and you could see his anger rising as well. "I haven't seen you in two years, son, and you suddenly come in talking about zombies?"

Jason shrugged in frustration, pushing past his father, mumbling about the restroom. He slammed the door, leaving you with the man.

"Well, come in, don't be shy." He said sheepishly, leading you to the living room. There was a white couch covered in blankets to avoid stains, and a brown recliner that was sunken in the seat. The man chose the recliner, leaning back so far you thought he was going to fall over backwards.

"Jason is a smart boy, he really is. But he takes after his father," the man said with a sad smile. "Tell me what really happened."

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed. "Zombies," you whispered, letting your head fall in your hands. "Everywhere."

The man blew out an impatient breath. "So you're sticking with that half-baked story?"

Your head snapped up, catching him off guard. "Turn on the TV, look at your phone, anything! I saw a zombie kill someone. If you don't believe us then prepare for the biggest shock of your life when you come face-to-face with one of those things."

Jason's dad looked about to say something when the lights began to flicker. They struggled to stay on, flickers become short, fluttering bursts of light, until it was completely dark.

A door slammed opened and Jason came out of the bathroom, looking disheveled.

"Of course there's a power outage when I'm on the toilet." He panted, before seeming to realize something and going back to the bathroom to wash his hands.

"Right, zombies," his dad picked up, an easy smile forming on his face. "So... tell me more."