Ninjago: Masters of Zombie Slaying

The Man

The sun shined brightly through the leaves as Zane ran. He assumed he had been rushing on his legs for a few days at the least. He hadn't stopped, and if he did it was only for an hour or so of sleep or to nibble slightly at some burger he had found at a fast food restaurant. His bag felt heavy on his back, but at the same time it seemed not to be there. He was trained to carry heavier bags, but not at such extreme distances like this. Especially not with a leg wound.
Zane panted and slowed to a stop, glancing over to a house. It wouldn't hurt to stop for a little bit… right?
The blonde teen made his way to the house, limping slightly across the rock driveway and to the front door. A knife kept a paper attached to the door, a faint trail of reddish-brown liquid drooled from it.
"Zombies inside. Do not enter," Zane read. His voice cracked, probably from dehydration and lack of us. He pried the weapon from the wood and wiped the liquid on his white jeans. Whether there were zombies in there or not, Zane needed to enter. He was running low on food and other supplies, not to mention his leg couldn't hold him up for long.

Zane grasped the blade tightly, and slowly walked to the side. He saw a window, and went for it. He prayed for a moment and turned to peer in. His heart sank as he saw almost a dozen corpses walking around, stumbling over furniture or themselves. Zane turned back and stared at a tree in the distance.
Ok… could he fight all of those zombies with the weapons he had on him? He had a sniper rifle, but that would draw attention, same with his pistol. He had to save his grenades for real emergencies, besides it would make too much noise. Zombies that were in the general area could hear it. He would have no choice but to use his knife… something very idiotic. Fighting a Zombie hand-to-hand was something that Zane considered insane. It left the human far too exposed to a bite.
But Zane would have to… he had to find medicine if he could and this was the only house he could possibly see for miles.
The blonde swallowed and raised an elbow. He took a deep breath and slammed his elbow into the window, shattering the glass. A loud group of moans came from inside, getting closer as the corpses stumbled their way to the window. One caught its foot on a glass piece, and slammed his chest on the glass remaining in the window. Zane moved as fast as lighting, slamming the blade within the zombie's head. Another fell on top of that one, and Zane managed to kill that one as well. It seemed his plan was working.
He did the same thing for five zombies, waiting until they were caught in the window before striking. Unfortunately, the window began to be too full, and Zane was forced to push them into the house to free room. He pushed as hard as he could, and succeeded, but a zombie snatched his arm. Sharp nails raked down his arm, from elbow to wrist.
Zane buried the blade within the weak skull, forcing his arm from the claws and away from the window. He prayed silently that none of the zombie's blood had gotten into his wounds, and he killed another. There were a few times where he would feel distant, and his world would dim in color, usually when Zane used effort to stab a zombie.
One of the males slapped him across the face, making him flip over the window and within the house. A shard was stuck in his back, limiting his movement slightly. The odds weren't looking good, but there were so few. Maybe three were left.
Zane kicked one of the zombies into the table in the center of the room, a peg made its way through the corpses chest, keeping him in place. Another zombie was pushed against a wall where a knife was pushed into its forehead. The last was forced to the stairs where Zane managed the last kill.
He sweated and panted heavily as he made his way up the stairs to a hallway. He needed medicine or else he would either bleed to death or have an infection. He checked the first door to find it empty- a classic bedroom. It was the same with the next three rooms. He found the last door locked, and frowned. He pushed on it, finding that it wouldn't budge.
"Hello?" He cracked, trying to sound unwounded. "Is someone in there?"
A moment of silence, but Zane's trained ears picked up a soft gasp. The sound of crying soon followed. It grew louder as a click indicated that the door was unlocked.
The door swung open slowly, as Zane stared in shock as a man stood at the door. He was dressed in a green sweater, a fancy white collar-shirt beneath. A small golden dragon swirled over his heart. The man stared with teary, golden eyes as his pale-blonde hair fell over his right eye.
"Someone came…" He whispered, his voice surprisingly healthy. "You killed the zombies… you saved me... I would tell you my name but that is unimportant in this world… did you happen to see a young boy downstairs?"
Zane shook his head, putting a confused look on his face. "Why are you in here…?"
"The invasion of our home happened so fast. My boy fled with his mother, but I was unable to get out. I was lucky to have been able to grab food and water before they burst through the door…." His eyes drifted down, staring at Zane's wounds. "I can heal you. I hope you didn't get any of their blood in those… It'll burn if you did." The man led Zane into the room, and he sat him on the bed. "I'll be back…" The man said as he turned and left.
Zane surveyed the area. A simple bed and dresser were kept in here, and there seemed to be a bathroom extension. Cans of food such as fruit and certain meats were placed in a far corner next to a handful of water bottles.
"I found some bandages and some clothes for you. I'll have to boil them though before I use them, don't want to take any risks now do we?"
"How…?"
"Are you asking how we boil the water? Well, we use the stove of course."
"You have running water and electricity?"
"Luckily. We use a generator… Come on now, we have to go downstairs."
"There is still a live one down there. He's trapped for now."
"I'll take care of him, but for now you are priority."
Zane grabbed the bucket filled with bandages as he was led down the stairs. He sat on the couch and watched as the man turned on the stove.
"We wait now," the man said as he pushed a blade into the remaining corpse's head. "So… tell me about yourself. Why did you come and how did you get here?"
Zane didn't say anything; instead he stared at his feet like a hawk watching its prey.
"You don't talk much. That's a start. Do you have any companions? Somewhere you live?"
Zane cringed slightly and stared at the man with cold eyes.
"Ok, I've hit something sensitive. I won't continue. How about… what weapons do you have? I see you have a sniper on your back... and you a knife judging from the looks of these zombies. Is that it?"
Zane swallowed, but eventually answered softly. "I have three grenades, a pistol, a sniper and a knife…" He glanced to the stove, wishing for it to hurry.
The man stood and walked to it, putting a finger in the water, wincing lightly. "A little longer," he said as he plunked the bandages within it, along with scissors and some clothes. He stood for a few moments before turning the stove off and bringing the bucket in the room.
He knelt in front of Zane. "Ok… first your ankle. It seems like an old wound." Zane silently lifted it and placed it on the man's knee. "How did you get this? How have you kept it clean?"
"I tore my sleeve and wrapped it," he answered, trying to avoid the first question. He raised his left arm to show the man his torn sleeve.
"You did a good job… are you trained in first aid?"
Zane shrugged and stared as the man unraveled the cloth. The wound itself was ugly, three strikes where claws dug into his skin.
"Nicely cleansed… bandaged… water…" The man muttered as he reached into the bucket, grabbing the sponge. He placed it on the wound and Zane gasped. "Sorry!" The man announced, pushing it harder. "I should have warned you." After the dried blood was removed the real damage could be seen. "It seems like the scratch didn't hit anything vital... it isn't too serious. You should heal in time." He took gauze out and began wrapping the wound. "It would heal faster if you refrain from walking for a few days."
Zane didn't say anything as he turned so the man could check check the glass in his back. The man regretfully told the blonde that it would hurt, but he would have to pull it out. He gave Zane a wad of gauze for him to bite, and placed his fingers on the palm-sized piece. Zane bit the gauze as the shard was pulled out slowly, but dropped it by accident as the man placed the sponge over the area. A few minutes passed before he felt the bandages be wrapped around his waist.
"Onto the bad one…" the man muttered as he stared at Zane's arm. "Considering that it's open and fresh, I think we should add disinfectant." Zane swallowed, and the man saw his action. "I'm sorry but it's the best way to-"
"Do it…" Zane whispered as he griped the gauze between his teeth once more, arm stretched out.
The man stared for a few moments at Zane's face. "Very well… I'll try to do it quickly." He reached over and snatched the bottle and poured it on a cloth.
"You remind me of my boy, though he was little," the man said, hovering the cloth over the wounds. "Smart, skillful… innocent." Zane frowned at the man, but it was soon replaced as the towel met his scratches. He tried to pull away, but the man held it tightly. "Judging by the use of your pistol and sniper I have to say you have a good aim too, just like he did."
Zane paused for a moment as the cloth brushed his scratches again. He swallowed through the pain, "What… what was his name…?"
The man paused, the cloth staying on a deep part of the scratch, "I'd rather not say…"
"I understand."
The cleaning finally finished and Zane grabbed the gauze. The man began wrapping the upper part of the wound, slowly making his way down Zane's arm.

Zane broke the silence. "Why do you live?" The man glanced up, surprised by the question. Zane looked to his boots again, "This world is destroyed… monsters that we once knew as people walk the streets… there is no sign of a cure and yet there are people like you who… who live on. Why?"
The man thought for a moment before he continued wrapping. "Well… why do you live?" Zane didn't respond, and the man sighed. "I live because I have hope that my son will grow up. I have a hope that this will all end and I can live on. It may sound idiotic, and rather cliché, but hope is the only thing left in humanity nowadays."
"Is… Is that why you stay here…? In hopes he will return here?"
"No. I hope he never returns here. I love my son, don't get me wrong, but I want him to help the world."
"Help…?"
The man finished the wrapping and sat up, his bones popping. "Yes, help. You see, my son… I'll explain later. You must be tired, and this story is rather complicated. Maybe I shall tell you tomorrow."
"I thank you for the hospitality… but I cannot stay."
"If you go you'll risk infection and death. It'll heal faster if you stay."
Zane didn't reply, but stood up and walked with the man upstairs. He chose the room next to the man's and sat on the bed.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts and rest for now… I will see you in the morning." He turned to leave, but Zane stopped him.
"If I stay, we should at least know each others' names... I am Zane."
The man thought for a second before sighing, nodding slightly. "You're right. You can call me Garmadon."