Chapter Text
1.
I’d wanted to start this off kinda flashy; really grab your attention right off y'know? Like some modern day Dickens or somethin', all clever and stuff. The way I see it, that's the best way to make sure you’ll pay attention to what I have to say. Like really pay attention. Not that half assed, nodding along in the right place bullshit you rich city-folk like to do while sipping from those tall skinny glasses I always see in them movies. Naw, I don't need no part o' that.
I ain't so good with words, but you knew that already. I wish I was, don't get me wrong, Lord knows I wish I was better with a 'em, 'specially now, but I ain't. But you knew that already, too.
Shee-it, I don't know why this is so hard. I know people like you hardly care for people like me. And I know that becomes doubly true when it looks like we’re tryin’ too hard. So 'm sorry if I am, but just bare with me a li'l longer. If only because it's important, real important. Like real, real, important.
It was the best of times and the worst of times, but mostly it was the worst on account’a all the zombies.
P.S: Sorry for all the scratch-outs. We’re runnin’ a li’l low on paper.
P.P.S: Wouldn't touch the stains.
P.P.P.S: Kidding.
The door swung open with a mighty crash and Elias flinched, scurrying into the space he’d cleared between the metal rack and the wall. The concrete ground, chipped and cracking, was rough on his hands, every jolt of it against his knees sending a wave of fresh pain through his throbbing ankle. Elias pushed himself against the wall. His machete was held up weakly in front of him—more like a shield than a weapon (or anything else remotely dangerous)—and though his arms were trembling a truly ridiculous amount, he schooled his face into, what he hoped, was something of a fierce expression.
“Wh-who’re yuh?” He demanded. Or attempted to. The effect was pretty lame with how much his voice cracked right in the beginning. He licked his lips and tried again, “who’re yuh?” He said. The tremor was definitely more noticeable that time but at least his voice didn’t warble up three octaves. He wasn’t sure if that was any better though.
The person at the door laughed. “Cute,” they said, their voice was whisper soft and rasping. Feminine but a little low and muffled as if coming from behind something, “that’s not how you use a machete you know,” they continued. A pause. Elias just stared, squinting against the light. They sighed. “It’s a weapon not your dirty laundry, treat it with a little respect, huh sugah?” The stranger stepped the rest of the way into the room and casually kicked the blade out of Elias’s hands with the tip of a steel toed stiletto. Elias blinked, chasing the rest of the spots of light out of his eyes as he finally looked up at the figure standing in front of him.
“Oh,” he said eloquently.
Elias’s savior (if that’s indeed what they were) came dressed in fishnets and shorts so short that if he was being honest, they made him a little uncomfortable to look at. A gasmask covered their face (which explained the voice) and a loose-fitting denim jacket rested across their shoulders and covered literally nothing else. He could feel the color rising to his cheeks already and he quickly ducked his gaze back down, his hands clutching at the cross around his neck like pearls. His mama raised him to be a good Christian boy and Elias was pretty sure if he had looked any longer he’d have damned himself straight to hell. Of course, that was assuming that he wasn’t there already. The whole zombie thing kinda made him wonder. He gripped his cross a little tighter.
“Uh, can Ah, uh, ask yuh somethin’ ma’am?” He asked.
Fishnets sighed. “I’m not going to kill you if that’s what you’re wondering,” she droned in the same drawling tone as earlier, “honestly if I’d wanted you dead I’d have just waited for the zombies to get at you, instead of, oh, killing all twenty of them myself,” Elias chanced another glance up at his mysterious savior with a wince, an apology on the tip of his tongue. He was met with tan skin the color of roasted caramel, painted nails and a flat stomach. The words caught in his throat. His blush deepened. “Which by the way, was not easy. Give me your pack.”
Elias bit his lip, then frowned, “and why d’yuh want muh pack?”
“Compensation,” she said holding out a painted hand. There were rings all over the fingers, “for saving you. Spoils of war. Or whatever. So, give it up.”
Elias pressed himself further against the wall. “Can’t yuh jus’ take a ‘thank yuh kindly ma’am’ and a stale granola?”
“I’ll take both,” she deadpanned. The fingers of her free hand played idly with her hip, this one had a leather glove strapped to it.
Elias squirmed in his spot on the floor. “Ah can’t give yuh muh pack miss,” he mumbled, “we don’t have that many and Ah was on a supply run before Ah got myself separated from the others.”
“Cute,” Fishnets somehow managed to make cute sound like an insult, “and how’d you manage that?”
“Ah, well,” Elias wasn’t sure if he could get any redder, but he felt like his face and neck were making a valiant effort, “Ah went left?”
“…You went…left?”
He winced. “Instead of right?”
A pause. “I can’t tell if you’re actually an idiot or if you’re secretly a genius but that’s probably the dumbest story I’ve ever heard.”
Elias glared. “It’s true! Then Ah tripped, sprained muh ankle, lost muh gun, and almost brained myself on muh machete before limping to this here broom closet.”
Another pause.
“You probably shouldn’t tell anyone else that,” Fishnets said, “like seriously sugah, I’m going all red just hearing about it. Not that I really can turn red what with my complexion and all, but still.”
“Probably,” Elias mumbled in agreement. He hadn’t really meant to say all that in the first place, “but Ah can’t give yuh muh pack.” He chanced a glance back up at Fishnets who was somehow managing to look completely unimpressed while covering the entirety of her face with a bulky WWII contraption. She was probably thinking about stabbing him, he realized. Or something equally brutal. She did just kill twenty zombies without breaking a sweat in nothing but a pair of fishnets, a bra, high-heels, and short-shorts. And that nasty looking knife strapped to her lower back.
Elias bit his lip, eyes widening, and he gave her his best pleading expression. The one that said, ‘I know it’s the apocalypse and most people like to pretend kindness is extinct but please don’t stab, maim or kill me for what you want’. She groaned.
“Okay, fine, Jesus, I won’t like knock you out and just take the damn thing, okay.”
Oh, thank God. Elias let out a visible sigh of relief.
“But, you’ve still got to do something for me.”
Elias cocked his head to the side, “what d’yuh want then?”
Fishnets nodded at Elias’s jacket. Specifically, to the bull sewn unevenly to the front. “That patch means you’re with the Dynamo’s yeah?”
Elias nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Okay cool, awesome,” Fishnets clapped her hands together, “I want you to take me to them. My uh…boss…wants me to send your boss a message.”
Elias blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it, reasonable right?” Fishnets crossed her arms over her chest, “you guys are really hard to find by the way.”
Yeah. He could do that. “Uh, well…Ah…uh…Ah guess I can do that.”
“Great!” Fishnets hopped a bit on her feet excitedly. She headed towards the door. “well let’s go then.”
Right. Elias carefully pushed himself back to his feet, grabbing his discarded machete and using it as a brace as he pulled himself up. Shee-it did that hurt. He certainly hoped his ankle was only sprained.
Taking a moment to catch his breath, Elias reached into his back pocket and pulled out his last granola, offering the crushed thing to Fishnets with shaky fingers.
“Think Ah still owe yuh a granola and a ‘thank yuh ma’am’,” he groaned out between pained breaths, “…so…uh...thank yuh ma’am.”
“Oh! Right!” Fishnets snatched the offered morsel from his outstretched palm, “almost forgot about that. Hmmm.” She quickly pat herself down before settling on jamming the bar in between her bra. Elias coughed and looked away. There were a few more clicking sounds and then a loud sigh. Elias looked back up. Blinked. And temporarily forgot all about the pain in his ankle.
Cause Fishnets had taken off her mask.
And she wasn’t a she at all.
“Shee-it,” Elias said.
“God was that thing getting hot,” Fishnets groaned, hand on her…his, hip. And Christ was that a trip. He took the bar out of his bra and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth before taking a sizeable bite out of it. “Mmmm,” he groaned, “that’s good,” he looked back up at Elias and cocked his head to the side as if giving him a once over. “I’m Lady by the way.”
“Elias,” Elias replied, cause his mama raised him right and that meant no matter how confused you suddenly were in the zombie apocalypse you always, always remained polite.
“Cool, nice to meet you, or not, or whatever I don’t really care," Lady gave him a crooked toothed smile, "thanks for the bar though. I really needed it. Killing zombies takes it out of a girl you know?”