Chapter Text
"Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out."
A pattern that repeated itself in Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit's head like a mantra.
The ten year old couldnt help it. How could he not? He could die any second. Dehydration was getting to him, starvation was going to be a bitch to deal with soon, zombies....
Oh, did he forget to mention that?
Zombies, well, in Tommy's opinion, suck. Sure, they seemed cool in movies (Clara almighty, when was the last time he saw one of those?), but in real life they were just horrible. Loudly groaning, making it hard to sleep without the feeling of discomfort and dread crawling up your spine like spiders, ripping at the doors and barriers inside of the apartments. And sure, he may be just ten years old, but he's all-too familiar with death.
He barely gets any sleep these days because of it.
And thanks to the zombies, he never really got much food, not that he ever did to begin with.
(He distantly remembers being nicknamed "Runt" by some of his group mates. Skinny and lanky, not really excelling at anything. The last one to get food, first one to get kicked out or killed for being a burden.)
His group was more generous than most, feeding the good kids good enough meals and getting them comfortable enough sleeping bags. But despite being somewhat nicer, they'd hurt Tommy whenever he said something wrong, for moving wrong, for expressing the wrong emotions, even breathing wrong. Doing something wrong is a weakness.
And weakness needs to be either punished or removed.
Tommy shivered at the memories.
So now there he was. Hiding in a storage closet in the middle of an abandoned apartment complex after his group finally decided they had enough of his shit.
What a great way to start his day.
...
..
.
.
.
Was that a scream?
Tommy listened to the echoing cry. Surely was a scream. He doesnt think that it's all that close to him, so he tries to zone it out...
He didnt even notice the footsteps that grew louder and louder.
The door quietly opened, and a panicked yell erupted from the small blonde. Wow, Tommy. Great hiding skills.
"Hey! Hey! It's ok!" Said a voice that belonged to a beanie-wearing (or was it just a really smooshed hat?) person, a fire axe strapped to his back. "We uh, we won't hurt ya. Sorry for um, scaring you."
Tommy spiked up, grabbing the pipe that lay next to him and defensively pointed it at the hat-wearing person. Hattie put their hands up, but stepped in front of something (someone?) small, whispering something. Footsteps echoed as a young boy rushed out, and Tommy's eyes narrowed. "Wha-what the hell do you want?"
"Nothing! Nothing. Just looking for some supplies, man. Really. You uh, probably scavenged this place already."
A snort. "No shit. Been hiding hear for a while now.." He couldn't really define Hattie's features in the dark, but he could see that the dude was a bit taller than him, carrying a duffel bag. "The nightly hoard's gonna come soon. Fuckin' leave while you still can."
"And leave you here?"
"As I said, lived here a long while." Shit, was this fucker for real? Couldn't he just fucking leave or something by now?
Hattie took a step forward, and the thin pipe was raised higher. They stopped their tracks. "You don't have any more food, judging by the emptiness of the place and the way your backpack looks like an elephant sat on it."
Shit.
"What's it to you?! I don't want your pity, bitch!"
Hattie shot him a look. He thinks he did, at least. "You look like you're about to drop from malnourishment, kid," Hattie sighed, "Listen.. you obviously need food. You won't last even a couple more days. Hell, you're gonna die before you even get any food, judging by the amount of zombies outside. I can give you food, hell even a person to just talk to. Just come out of here with me, and I'll give it."
Skepticism was evident on Tommy's features "..how do I know you ain't fucking lying to me?"
"You can't. All you can do is trust me." An open hand. An opportunity to live, or an opportunity to get looped into a kidnapping.
Tommy's risk the chance.
He stood up, wobbling a bit before regaining his balance and grabbing his bag. "Fine, I'm in," he told Hattie, gripping the pipe a bit harder, "lead me around, bitchboy."
Hattie sent him a reassuring smile as they stepped out, and Tommy didn't know how to feel about it.