Bite To Death

The screams and stampede of feet reach Shoichi, right through the walls of his house and straight into his head, conjuring scenes of horror and gore mostly copied from slasher films and…well…zombie movies.

Shoichi's sister hasn't stopped crying since her panicked phone call to her boyfriend cut off abruptly. His mother is doing slightly better, rushing around the house to collect last minute supplies, while his father is trying to gather the sports equipment previously abandoned in the garage to use as weapons.

Shoichi himself has a backpack with his laptop but he's foregone any supplies or weapon or any kind of panic really. It seems that even his usual stomach aches have disappeared under the force of his complete and utter belief that he won't last the day.

It's been a few hours since the first trickle of information came through about a new virus, highly infectious and fatal. The news skipped past it quickly, uncaring, and moved on to a story about baby giraffes.

Stretched over the next day were reports about a few isolated incidences of cannibalism. That struck a chord with the geek inside Shoichi and he immediately started researching it only to find nothing at all about the cause. He tried searching for that news segment again but even the official website had no mention – like someone took out the announcement.

So he turned to the chat rooms.

And had a stomach ache.

The people were frantic and terrified, posting desperate cries for help and pictures of stumbling, bloodied figures who leapt on anything they could get between their teeth.

It was the zombie f.u.c.k.i.n.g apocalypse.

He rushed down the stairs and screamed for his family to pack the essentials before stumbling to the kitchen and snatching up a wickedly sharp butcher's knife. This was around the time that his father half tackled him to get the knife away and then dragged him to the couch to explain.

So Shoichi laid out the information and his family rolled their eyes, citing that strangers on the internet weren't exactly the most trustworthy sources and that it was probably a prank. He calmed down enough to think it through, but that didn't explain the news website.

His sister gets the call from her boyfriend then, and things kind of spiral. The TV channels cut out and get replaced with an official declaring that people should stay indoors and that the situation is under control.

It's quite obviously not.

Emergency services are overwhelmed with calls and the streets are flooded with cars getting out of Namimori and people looting stores for supplies.

Shoichi's mother, the only one who watches C-rate horror films with him, declares that staying in the house is tantamount to suicide. That was an hour ago, but the family always thinks of new things to pack or situations to plan for and nothing gets done.

The curtains, drawn tight, shudder as something hits the glass of the window. They freeze. The slam comes again, and again, and again.

Shoichi sits down on the couch and sighs. He's had a good run, really.

Then the window shatters, curtains ripping as the bloodied figure with milky-white eyes and deep red sludge pouring out of its mouth falls through.

His parents kick into gear. His father shoves baseball and cricket bats into their hands and his mother simply drops the packs, deemed a dead weight, and orders them out the back door in a stern voice as she approaches the thing missing a whole leg and a large portion of the torso.

Shoichi follows orders at a lazy stroll, his sister beside him and finally not crying anymore – instead, she's screaming. Their father reaches back to grab her arm in comfort, other hand clutching tightly at the baseball bat.

They move quickly through the backyard and reach the fence. Shoichi's mother strides across the garden after them, white blouse splattered with red, and soon the last defence between them and the insanity is unlocked.

They break into a sprint when they reach the road, ducking and weaving around anyone they encounter. Cars are abandoned, doors half open and even bodies still strapped in with chunks taken out of them. People are calling out for loved ones, the same names repeating over and over, or they're dating past with bags full of food and medical supplies.

They encounter a few…infected as Shoichi blindly follows his father. Most ignore them, content with the half devoured food they already have, while some rush past and tackle the unfortunate ones.

Their luck runs out when they take a left into a side street, just a narrow passage meant to cut time when walking, blockaded by two high walls.

A group of three take the corner at a run and charge the family with teeth snapping. Shoichi's father turns back in panic, shoving his children ahead, but an even larger group of five come from the other end, slamming into the wall in their haste to turn down the small walkway. They topple over each other, and the snapping of bone cuts through the air, but all of them are up again not half a second later.

Three of the redheads take up solid stances, with weapons raised. Shoichi, on the other hand, watches this all with glazed eyes. He knows they're out numbered, that none of them are fit enough to out run the zombies, and not important enough to be rescued.

His mother takes down one and his sister swings at a second, while his father tries his best to coat the ground with grey matter. But it's eight against four and they're already struggling.

Shoichi raises his cricket bat in time to shove it between the teeth of one, and gets slammed back against the wall for all his trouble. The strength is incredible and Shoichi grits his teeth, ducking when a half chewed hand lashes out at his head.

He twists his head to the side so he doesn't have to look at it, pressing back against the wall as hard as he can to avoid those teeth. Globs of red gore splatter across his face as the zombie jerks and slams itself against the bat.

Shoichi has already acknowledged he's going to die, but right now the only thing he can think of is his desperation to live.

His mind kicks in, thinking of any weapons he has on him; which is a firm dead end because the bat is being chewed through currently . He wipes that away, bracing his shoulders and locking his arms against the creature.

He locks onto people instead. His family runs by his thoughts but over the zombie's shoulder he sees them in much the same position as he is – cornered and hopeless.

So Shoichi expands. He flicks through neighbours and school mates before landing on the Disciplinary Committee. Perfect. He calculates in a split second and slams his knee up into the zombie's t.h.i.g.h, shoving the leg out further just so he has the room to stomp down on the side of the zombie's knee in an almost exact copy of a take-down last Wednesday.

The crack resounds through the shortcut and the zombie topples to the side – not down, not by a long shot. However, before he can raise the bat for a killing blow, another almost immediately takes its place.

The brief moment of triumph is crushed when the next one bites straight through the already damaged cricket bat and lunges for his face. A scream rips from his throat and Shoichi throws his arms up, squeezing his eyes shut.

There's a crunch and a light brush of fabric skates along his arm. Then comes a series of rapid cracks, half muffled and swiftly moving further away.

Shoichi lowers his arms and peeks out. His family are gasping for breath, covered in gore and running solely on adrenalin. The eight zombies have been scattered through the path like fallen leaves, heads cracked open neatly and completely still.

Hibari Kyouya glances over his shoulder as his jacket settles around him again, tonfas spiked and barely any metallic silver showing past the red of blood, but not a drop of gore on the teenager.

"You are late for school," the Chairman of the Discipline Committee says.

"Sorry," Shoichi blurts out automatically, voice more of a squeak than anything.

A pause, and then-

"What are you still doing here, herbivore?" Kyouya drawls. "Go, or I'll bite you to death."

Shoichi stumbles in his haste to comply, grabbing at his family's clothes and hauling them away from the teenager and towards the school as fast as he can.