Chapter Text
On the first day, it was like a nightmare had ripped through the dimensions of everyone’s dreams into reality when Lance saw the footage of the hospital.
The reporters had warned viewers in advance to stay calm for what was to be shown and that the Garrison was doing everything they could to put an end to It. But what was It? What nightmare was wreaking havoc?
Had it not been stated it was a hospital, Lance wouldn’t have recognized where the footage was taken. The doors were barricaded shut with military gunning down groaning bodies and limbs attempting freedom through broken windows. Sporadic hands scratched their way through glass and door gaps; blood smeared onto the doors from crimson lips, blood soaked hands, and clothes. All while Lance, his family, and the rest of the world watched each thing fall.
It was horrifying to watch what looked like people crumble to the ground or keep walking against a rain of bullets. It was so disgusting, Lance threw up on the spot.
After the footage faded from the screen, Lance’s mother coming to his side, Lance could faintly hear General Iverson through his families’ frantic commotion.
“They are monsters. Be careful."
* * * * * * * * * * *
The days that followed were worse than the day before; full of worldwide panic.
Markets were packed with people trying to get as much food as they could, fights and robberies, the anxiety of being told to stay home until further notice. Homes of mayors and other higher authorities were swarmed with protests of people demanding answers. Being told to stay calm and listen to their words only rose more questions. The only reliable source of assurance came from the Garrison.
Within the first month, the Garrison sated the panic with a broadcast.
They claimed they had scientists working day and night looking into the deranged people. Each outbreak and attack that followed the hospital had not gone unnoticed.
“We are studying this new outbreak from the attackers and those that have been harmed to solve this mystery.” Spoke a familiar looking scientist. However not even two weeks since those words did things get worse.
It was an outbreak, but one unlike any other. These people were infected with an unknown pathogen that turned them into crazed cannibals with lifeless eyes and a complexion that mirrored the dead. They showed no signs of intellect or verbal conversation that proved they were human.
And there was no way to treat it.
But the Garrison still tried. Radios, televisions, and phones rang with the same message,
“We want everyone to listen.” Spoke General Takashi Shirogane.
“There are camps set up in the East Coast. All civilians are to make their way to either Massachusetts, New Hampshire, or Rhode Island for refuge. I repeat, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island. From there, we will move to Canada.”
“While there, scientists will be staying at the Galaxy Garrison to continue their research and put an end to this mess. We ask all students on or off military duty to return to the Garrison to aid in transferring civilians. Again, all civilians must go to Massachusetts, New Hampshire, or Rhode Island. We will make it through this, everyone.”
When the message ended, it was like the whole world was holding their breath.
“I need to start packing.” Lance said as he walked towards his room.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Don't go.” The shirt rolled in Lance’s hands, fell and unfolded in his duffle bag as his mother walked over and took his hands.
“Mama, I have to go.” Lance sighed, turning to look into his mother’s pained eyes.
“The Garrison needs as many people as they can get to help all those people,” Lance told her, removing his hands from her hold to continue packing. But she stopped him again with a firm grab of his wrist and the single use of his name.
“We need you here.” His mother said.
“So do these people.”
“I don’t care what these men say! You wanted to see the stars and that’s what you trained for. You are a cargo pilot, you are not a soldier, let alone a man! So, don’t you dare start acting like one and die.” She screamed, making Lance flinch and attempt to pull away but the grip on his hand grew.
“We can't go out there alone, not with your abuela and abuelo.” Lance closed his eyes, willing the tears away and refusing for his voice to waver.
“You got Luis, Marky, and Veronica to help you.” He said, already imagining his mother’s hurt and desperate eyes in the dark.
“Take us with you then.” She pleaded.
“Mama-”
“No!” She hissed. “You listen to me.”
Her grip was like a vise, too painful now to ignore, forcing his eyes open. Turning to look at her, she continued to speak, her eyes burning Lance’s, down to the soles of his feet.
“We are family and we are staying together. I don't care what the Garrison is telling you, you are staying. I am not having my baby leave me and I never see him again.”
“Understood?” She asked.
“Yes, mom,” Lance said with a nod, head low. She cupped his cheeks, bringing him down so that his head was tucked into the crook of her neck and so that her arms could wrap around him without her having to stand on her toes.
“Familia stays together no matter what.” She whispered into his crown, rubbing her hands up and down his back like it was the middle of the night and Lance had woken from a horrible nightmare.
“I'm going to tell everyone to pack now so we can leave together.” She said and with a nod in response, she kissed his crown and left.
When she left his room, Lance emptied his bag and walked as fast as he could around the house. Instead of clothes or personal belongings, Lance filled his bag and many others with food, blankets, water, small camping gear, and things for hygiene, and first aid. The only things Lance allowed himself to have was the jacket his cousin gave him, his phone, and charger.
Within the next half hour, they were on the highway along with the thousands of other families trying to reach one of the camps.
* * * * * * * * * * *
It's easy for hope to get crushed and for panic to sweep you off your feet like a tidal wave. It's easy because nothing is more powerful than a world outbreak of a disease that kills and keeps killing.
When the car hit the freeway, there was traffic; of course. Lance had to calm his mother and grandparents fears of not making it to Canada. It wasn’t easy but, eventually, they grew quiet in unease. Barely moving every few hours wasn't helping either. By nightfall, they'd barely moved a mile.
“Lance, why have we barely moved?” His mother asked from the passenger seat as he sat behind the wheel. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his eyes.
“I don't know, Mama. There are a lot of people and the Garrison can only go so quickly.” He sighed, tired from sitting for hours and the pressure of fear. His mother tied her hair back in a bun from the summer heat and turned to face the rest of the family. Lance followed her gaze in the rearview mirror to see his siblings tense in the back, grandparents holding each other, small whispers and kisses, and his father reaching for his mother’s hand.
“I’ll go see if anyone can tell me what’s going on,” Lance said, unbuckling the seat belt and turning the radio on.
“Look and see if there's a broadcast or something from the Garrison while I’m out.” With the slam of the car door, Lance walked out of the van and jogged over to where two women had stepped out of their vehicles.
“What if it’s so bad they weren’t able to send a message?” One woman whispered, clutching her herself as she faced two others.
“What if they aren’t letting everyone in?” shuddered the second, glancing back at her car where her three kids waited expectantly for her to return.
“First the hospital, then the Garrison trying to fix everything to only highlight how they've found out how everything is worse, and now this mess!” The first woman groaned. “Either something bad happened or they're not letting people in.”
That was when Lance decided to step in.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Lance said, giving a little wave to the troubled women. “Do you happen to know why we haven’t been moving?”
“I don’t know sweetheart,” Said one. “It’s all been word of mouth from whatever is happening up there. All we know is that we’re not budgin’.”
“Okay, thank you,” Lance said, he waved to the kids in the car before continuing on but received nothing new. No one knew why the road had stopped moving and everyone thought it was because something bad had happened.
As if that hasn’t already happened, Lance thought as he returned to the car.
Before Lance could close the door, his family bombarded him with questions.
“What’d they say, Lance?”
“Why aren’t we moving?”
“Is everything all right?”
“Guys, Guys!” Lance cried, waving his hands at them. “Hold on.”
“It’s all word of mouth about what’s going on. People are starting to panic because all that’s definite is that we’ve stopped moving.” He reached over and took his mother’s frightened hands.
“Mom, we’re just in really bad traffic, everything is going to be alright.” The fear left her eyes and was replaced with something misted from Lance’s grasp. She sighed and held onto his hand while he answered the other’s questions, eyes upon the shadows gleaming through headlights. Almost like she was making sure they weren’t monsters.
It was right around then when everything really went South.
“What are they doing?” Cried Lance’s mother.
All eyes in and outside the McClain car followed her gaze to the city up in flames. Military planes flew overhead and stirred the fire which then stirred panic on the highway.
The people standing outside their cars squaked, pointing at the burning city. Children cried for parents, babies cried for silence, and abuela cried for The Lord.
“We’re all going to die.” She whispered, aged hands, shaking for her lover’s as they rocked through a prayer.
“Mijo, drive.” Ordered Lance’s mother.
“Mom, the city is on fire, the house is probably gone. We should stay on the road for the Garrison.” Lance said, eyes unsure about where they should look. The fire, his grandparents, the road, his siblings, the wheel, the trees, his parents, the gas mileage, the monsters.
“Oh my God.” Lance gasped, feet hitting the pedals, as he turned the car off the highway and sped in the opposite direction. He tried to ignore the screams he was leaving behind and focus on getting home without those things getting to them first. He tried to forget about the kids in the car not making it out. He tried to forget about the women, the families that had someone they were trying to protect and just drive.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The end of the world changes people. Lance expected that; the world was already filled with bad people even before everything went down. Lance had driven back to the house from the highway where they came across The Galra who had already begun staking claim to what remained of their home. Even after warning them about the shady looking group, Lance followed his family into the stupidest sounding group that the leader, Sendak, could have come up with but Lance wouldn’t dare say so.
Sendak’s six feet, scarred eye, amputated arm, and razor teeth had Lance avoiding any eye contact as much as possible. Even Sendak’s crew was just as intimidating with the same gnarly features as their leader. He and his followers were enough to have the McClain’s obedient.
That is until Sendak shot Blue.
“She would have made too much noise if those things came.” He said, nonchalantly which struck a row with the rest of the family. They yelled that Blue was loyal to the family and would listen when told to. Lance thought the same argument, but his words were left unsaid because Blue’s lifeless body was a sign.
Things were different now.
The world isn’t safe.
They’re gonna kill us.
I need to protect them, Lance thought as he kneeled beside his faithful dog.
Holding a paw, Lance remembers how he would joke Blue favored him over everyone else. She would listen when he called, follow Lance without the need of a leash, wherever he went, her eyes were never far behind. If there was any sign of Lance in danger, Blue was there, ready to lay her life for Lance.
But now she was dead and none of those things would ever happen again.
Her death and from the swarm of what The Galra called Walkers that they easily took down, Lance could tell the group had no problems with killing.
Each of them had been handed a knife and told,
“Aim for the head, that’s what kills them,” which made Lance’s blood boil.
How were his grandparents supposed to defend themselves! He wanted to scream. Their aged hands, fragile limbs made them susceptible targets. Time had taken their once strong bodies and full height to make them defenseless creatures. Images of their possible gruesome deaths swam in Lance’s mind; daring him to be bold.
“I want a gun,” Lance ordered, gesturing to a spare strapped around one of the men which caused followers to laugh and for Sendak to sneer.
“You’re pretty full of yourself aren’t ya, kid?” Sendak chuckled, darkly.
“Not if I know what I’m doing,” Lance stood his ground and, though he hated it, looked into Sendak’s eye. “which I do.”
“Boy Scouts taught me how to use a gun and, if I were a leader, who wasn’t full of himself, I’d have all my best men with the right tools.”
“You better watch your mouth, boy.” Hissed someone behind Lance, the crunch of gravel alerting Lance of the implied threat.
“No, no, Traz,” Sendak said, stopping the man in his tracks, eyeing Lance with methodical eyes.
“Hand him the gun from yesterday.” Traz, Lance documented, handed Lance a familiar looking gun. Looks like a police officer’s, Lance observed which was the same used in Scouts. Before Traz let go of the gun, he twisted Lance’s wrist in a painful position, knocking Lance to his knees; gun falling from Lance’s hands
“You try anything and this,” said Traz, tightened his hold, forcing a whine from Lance’s throat as Lance tried not to cry. “Will be the least of your problems.
And it was because as the McClain’s progressed into their newfound lives among The Galra, Lance saw another layer of sinister with the death of his grandparents.
After gathering the needed materials from the once beloved home, they drove off in stolen vans. Leaving Blue’s body for the Walkers, according to Ladnok, and abuela and abuelo's garden to whither to dust. The fear of survival was strong as Lance and his family quickly learned how to dig their knives into the walking corpses as well as allowing Lance to prove his point, on the rare occasion he used the gun. According to The Galra, Walkers were attracted to noise. So, guns were only for important instances.
One such instance was when a Walker had caught onto abuela’s arm in its attempt to rip her flesh. The rest of them were too far away, already loading into the vans, to have run and used their knives. And in a flash, Lance wiped out his gun and shot the monster right where it stood. Abuela ran to her lover’s arms and sobbed into his shoulder while Ladnok grabbed Lance by the throat and started choking him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, taking out her knife and holding it to Veronica’s throat when said sister was about to pounce on Ladnok.
“We told you guns were if it was important.” The gun had long fallen from Lance’s hands in favor of gripping the large hand wrapped around his throat as he gasped for air; feet spazzing for release.
“He was just saving, abuela!” Cried Marco, taking a hesitant step towards his brother but stopped, scared Ladnok would tighten the hold on Lance.
“We can’t go around making bullets!” Ladnok roared, finally tearing her eyes from Lance to the rest of his family.
“And finding them is hard enough.” The dagger by Veronica’s throat moved to point at abuela and abuelo. “Those old sacks of bones are going to be our downfall if little Prince Charming over here doesn’t know when to make the right call.”
“STOP IT!” Screeched Lance’s mother.
“Please,” she gasped. “You’re going to kill my baby.”
Glancing at Lance, Ladnok took notice of the weakened grip on his hands against her and how his feet were now limply twitching against her own. She tisked before releasing Lance, watching him fall to the ground and gasp for air. His hand clutching his shirt as his body shook. She kicked the gun towards him before climbing into the car, forcing the rest of the McClains into the car until Lance was the only member of the group outside a car.
“Hurry up,” Ladnok said. But when Lance could barely grab the gun and get on his feet, she yanked him by the shirt from the back seat and shoved him into the car with the slam of the door. As they sped away from wherever they had gone to, Lance faintly heard the groans of Walkers alongside Ladnok’s warning.
“Wate another bullet again and it goes through that person’s head.”
Lance never used another bullet even when his abuela and abuelo needed his help for Ladnok placed one hand around the back of his neck and squeezed, her gun extended and already taking aim. At his grandparents, not the Walkers.
“It’s your choice kid, every bullet you use is every bullet I shoot.”
His hands fell from where the gun was held, Ladnok pushing him towards the vans, as he screamed ‘I’M SORRY’ as many times as he could.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Lance wished it ended there. But then his mother got bit.
They hadn’t known until she showed them after the run for the day. She hadn’t seen nor heard the Walker from the bathroom and, before she knew it, a mouth had latched onto her shoulder.
“Oh my God,” Luis gaped. “What do we do?”
“Papa kills me.” Breathed their mother as she handed her husband Lance’s gun which she had asked for when they safely sneaked into the woods parked next to the vans.
“Amor-”
“Don’t you dare back out of this. We all know what happens if we get bit, let alone scratched. And I’d rather my life be taken by family than them.” The gun was shoved into his hands and Lance watched as his father struggled to take the safety off. He watched as his mother sat against the trunk of a tree, waiting for their last goodbyes, doing this for them. But the goodbyes never came because the safety never came off.
“I can’t.” He whispered, gun in his hands falling limply to his side as he kneeled before his love.
“I can’t take you away.” His spare hand cupped her cheek.
“I’ve already been taken, amor.” She said, but no matter how much she pleaded the gun never raised. It angered her, it pained her. She cursed him for not doing the right thing, for helping her die the way she wanted, ‘For thinking of our children!’ Lance and his siblings watched as their parents quarreled for the last time. Until his mother’s eyes fell upon Lance.
“Please, mijo, my baby,” She whispered.
“Rosa, you can’t ask him.” His father hissed, but she ignored him.
“My baby, I’m sorry,” She sobbed, her arms reaching out for Lance who was quick to kneel into her hold.
“I need you to do this for me, please.” She whispered into his neck and with a silent nod, he reached for the gun with no resistance from his father.
“I love you, mama,” Lance whispered, flicking the safety off.
“I love you Little Bird,” She turned her gaze towards her lover and her children one last time.
“I love all of you, don’t forget that.” Lance shivered as he raised the barrel to her temple.
“I’ll see you all in Heaven, but only when it’s time.” She closed her eyes and so did Lance and then he pulled the trigger.
The shot rang and echoed into their hearts. Grief was quick to fade, promising a later return as Lance stood up and looked between the remainder of his family; avoiding where his mother’s body lay on the ground.
“We have to leave.” Whispered their father, waving his hands for them to walk ahead of him.
“They’ll be here soon.” He placed one last kiss on her hand and whispered one last promise to her before following his children back to the cars where he watched his children explain to Sendak why only five of them were left. And he watched in disgust how The Galra nodded their heads in approval of Lance’s actions.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Lance knew that when their father died, it wasn’t an accident despite Throk’s report.
It had been a special run. Not because there was a reward or purpose behind it but because the party involved Traz, Ladnok, Throk, their father, and no one else. Going against Sendak’s rule that every run was done as a whole. It was special because only their father was missing upon return. It was special because he had died being careless and unobservant of his surroundings.
“He probably couldn’t cope without your mother and let it happen.” Throk shrugged, absentmindedly.
“But don’t you kids worry.” Throk grinned, wrapping his arms around the four of them.
“We’ll take care of you.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Do those shitheads honestly think we believe dad died because of mom?” Veronica hissed to her siblings, trying not to be heard by other Galra members adjacent to their van which, surprisingly, had been left to just the four of them.
“How are we going to get by without mom and dad?” Marco whispered. “ ‘Take care of us?’ More like ‘kill us.’ “
“Marci’s right,” Luis said, looking at the eldest for guidance.
“What do we do Veronica?”
“We run away.” All their eyes went towards the direction of Lance in shock.
“Just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean I’m the dumbest.” quipped Lance.
“I’m the one that got one of those shitheads to give me a gun on the first day.”
“Okay, wiseguy,” Luis whispered. “Where are we running away to?”
Ignoring his brother’s jab, Lance scooted closer towards his siblings to be heard through their hushed voices.
“Remember whenever we went to visit Hunk, in the city, we’d always pass by those houses hidden in the trees?”
“What about them?” Veronica questioned.
“There was always this old house or farm, maybe, there was definitely a house and a lot of open land and fences around the place. It’ll probably be abandoned by any owners and if there are Walkers we can take them out and get rid of them.”
“When do we leave?” asked Marco.
“Now,” Veronica said, moving towards the driver’s seat.
“Won’t we get caught though?” whispered Luis, quietly shuffling towards the passenger seat but Veronica had already turned the engine on, the car rolling its way back onto the highway.
“It doesn’t matter, I know what farm Lance is talking about and if we stay with them we’ll be getting farther away from it. It’s only a couple miles from here.” But Luis had his eyes trained behind them, as well as his other brothers, waiting for The Galra or a Walker to ruin their escape. But none came and only until the camp had left their sights, only then did Veronica turn on the headlights and the four of them relaxed.
* * * * * * * * * * *
To their pleasure, it was indeed a farm.
The house looked promising, there was a shed, fencing, open land, animals still in their cages. It was perfect.
Veronica drove the van up to the side of the house, turned it off, and looked at her brothers in the rearview mirror.
“Fellas,”
“We got ‘em.” Luis, Marco, and Lance responded and with that, the four of them climbed out of the car to then be lectured by Veronica.
“Take out your knives.” She ordered.
“We know how to use them.” quipped Luis which earned a smack to the head much to Lance and Marco’s amusement.
“We’ll, King of the World, I’m the oldest and I want my brothers to be ready if anything should come at them.” She then looked them once over, knives ready, before gingerly walking to the front door.
Before any of them made a move for the door, Veronica knocked on the wood beside the screen door. Something she hated to admit to having observed from The Galra to make sure no Walkers were inside. They heard nothing, but she warned them that it didn’t mean nothing was inside.
Moving the screen door for each of them to sidle through, they moved as quiet as a mouse. Peeking around corners and carefully making their way from the doorway.
“Should we split up?” Lance whispered, noticing there was a staircase up ahead.
“Be careful, we all meet right here after we’ve looked around.” whispered Veronica. With a nod, they split up.
Veronica walked into what looked like a kitchen, Luis, and Marco each into a bedroom, while Lance walked over to the stairs.
He looked up to the lazy, sunlit top of the stairs, dust dancing in the light from an open window. With a deep breath, he carefully climbed the stairs, his eyes dancing everywhere for any sign of life...or death. He came across neither which he hoped was a good sign and would occasionally stop making his way up the stairs to see if there was an out of place noise. But he always came up empty handed, recognizing the sound of each sibling’s footsteps through the house and no others.
When he made his way to the top of the stairs, he found that only one room was open to his immediate right. Looks like a bathroom, Lance observed.
Carefully, he sided against the wall and with a deep breath, peeked his head around the corner, and everything turned black.