#anna shephard

Drawing back her foot, she kicked the vehicle again. Harder, this time, squarely on the side of the door with a dull thump with enough force to chip the paint. 

“You don’t have to blame the car,” Steph huffed, coming to stand beside Anna with her hands stuffed firmly in her pockets. “Blame the snow— or the idiot,” she paused, giving Nick a pointed glare, “who was driving.” 

The glare she earned in return was almost as heated. “Oh, fuck off, Steph,” Nick shot back, “s’not my shitbox that got us stranded, anyway!” His volume rose dangerously at the end of his sentence, the words coming out in a near bark. 

Neither of the others dignified him with a response as his boots crunched in the snow, grumbling under his breath. It wasn’t worth trying to decode anything he said— Anna had dated him before, and if she was being honest, she’d rather date a zombie. He practically was one, anyway. 

...he’s gotten better.

A year of travel had done the tensions in the group good, and besides, he didn’t eat brains.

Though… as Anna watched him pace in a circle around the hood, she was beginning to doubt he even had one in his thick skull. She’d definitely rather date a zombie, and where better to find one than Little Haven? That, as far as she knew, was where it had all started… 

Out of all the places to break down, why did the little blue shitbox have to pick here? 

Anna’s gaze drifted from the sight of Nick and Steph glowering at the engine, which was now starting to let off a good amount of smoke, to the surrounding countryside. There wasn’t much there to see, not really, but Anna didn’t need the visual. She could see it so perfectly in her mind’s eye, the snow stained with blood, the smoke rising in the horizon. She could feel it, too, feel raw terror curling in her chest like a poisonous snake and the feeling of another hand locked tight with hers, but then it was being pulled away and she was screaming, screaming with a voice that splintered and broke—

“JOHN!” 

Her grip on the candy cane she called a weapon tightened. Her heart started to beat harder in her throat, like when she’d watched— she’d just watched— as her best friend was—

Do. Not. Think. About. That. 

Snapping back into the present, trying to force those thoughts out of her head— thoughts of gentle eyes and bloodied screams— Anna crossed her arms and watched with a clenched jaw as the other two bent over the hood. Steph had popped it open, and although Nick looked like he wanted to help, Anna knew Steph wouldn’t be letting him anywhere near the engine. 

Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she began to saunter over. She held the plastic candy cane in a too-tight grip, though, managed to look as casual as she could. Her breath formed a cloud in front of her face as she carefully stepped closer, squinting over Nick’s shoulder to see what the problem was. 

...whatever the problem was. 

Was a car’s engine supposed to look so black? 

The whole thing smelled like gasoline, though, and she was quick to cover her nose against the stench. 

“Fuck,” she intoned again, slamming one hand down on the hood for good measure, loud enough to make Nick jump back in fright. “Fucking— god— how come it had to be here?” She moaned, unable to keep her voice from sounding far too sharp. “This has got to be the WORST place on earth—”

“Yeah, and screaming about it when there could be zombies around is a great idea!” Nick cut in, shuddering violently in the cold. “S’fucking freezing, Anna, and there’re more important things to worry about than the fact that the ruddy car broke down, alright?” 

"What? Am I not allowed to be upset that the moment we get back into this shitty little town in the middle of winter, we get stranded. And now you're just standing there!” Her gaze flicked down to the weapon hanging loyally at his belt, and she gestured blindly at it.  “Being all 'at least I got a cool gun now' as if that'll help us! News flash, asshole, it won’t! Not unless it’s loaded with screws!” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steph flinch. 

“It’s like you’ve never even seen a car before—” she tried to joke, though, Nick’s voice was louder. 

"At least I'm not screeching about it!" He hissed at Anna, who looked like she was going to beat him with her candy cane as he stalked closer. She felt like beating him with her candy cane, come to think. It’d be satisfying to just bash his head in and—

She barely realized she was raising the lawn ornament until Steph stepped between them and raised a hand in Anna’s direction. Her eyes were narrowed in a glare, and although her tone was light, there was anger flickering just beneath its surface. 

"Hey ladies, why don’t we just focus on finding a place to stay rather than arguing who's being the least productive?” She asked, seemingly immune to the glare Anna shot her way. Instead, she locked eyes with the taller girl. Her hand came back to rest at her side, though, not before scrubbing over her face. “Look,” she started, taking a step back to stand before them, “this is ass, but you don’t have to be assholes about it, okay? So shut the fuck up, let’s ditch the car,”

“Shitbox,” Nick corrected. 

Steph pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled sharply. She looked almost ready to snap, though, as the engine belched out another thick plume of smoke, she sighed. “Shitbox…” she corrected, glumly, turning her eyes to the still-steaming engine as she continued, “and find somewhere where we won’t get eaten alive, okay?”

Anna didn’t answer. 

Nick shuffled his feet. 

Again, Steph sighed, heavier and harsher. “Okay?” She tried again, elbowing Nick hard in the ribs for emphasis. 

“Fine, fine, okay— just keep your hands off me!” He sputtered, annoyance written across his face. The snow crunched under his weight as he stepped to the side, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. “So what’s the plan, then?” 

All eyes turned to Steph. 

The silence that fell was somehow worse than the argument. It was awkward, broken only by a few little sputters from the shitbox’s engine trying dogeddly to start. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that!” She protested, though, after a moment of silence and a kick delivered to the ground, she exhaled heavily. “What about the school?”

Anna stiffened, but before she could speak, Nick shook his head.

“No. Too risky. After Savage let those fuckers in, they probably got stuck inside,” he explained. “And voila, zombie motel.”

Steph set her jaw. “What about an actual motel?”

A snort escaped Anna. “A literal zombie motel. Check-in at the front desk, gotta be out by ten, don’t mind the bellhop, he bites.”

It sounded funnier in her head. It came out too sharp, too sarcastic, and was met with an awkward sort of silence. 

She coughed and looked up at Nick. “This whole town’s gonna be completely infected.”

“It’s been a year,” he returned, evenly.

“Great.” Anna’s cold glare only intensified as she started speaking again. “A year for all those things to get hungry and fester. You’d need a bunker if you didn’t want to—“

In a flurry of motion, Nick gave a shit-eating grin and snapped his fingers. “A bunker!” 

Anna couldn’t help but snicker. “What, you know where one is? Got one in your backyard?”

Nick’s grin only grew. His chest puffed out with pride and as Anna watched, he put his arms to the sides. “The military base! It probably has backup generators, or at least of a lot of stuff that we can burn. Won’t smell great or anything, but the army’s fucked off from there, so the place is ours.” 

"Holy shit, you're right!" Steph exclaimed. Nick’s enthusiasm was contagious, apparently. The short blonde gave a laugh of disbelief. “We could probably get there before dark, if we really hoof it.” 

Anna looked up to the sun where it sat in the sky and squinted for a moment through the clouds before giving a small, apprehensive nod. “Okay,” she huffed out, before giving a soft snicker. “Can’t believe we forgot we had an airbase. It’s practically on our doorstep.” 

Steph’s nose wrinkled. “It practically was on my doorstep,” she grumbled back, though, any irritation was masked with a crooked smile. “Military assholes had no concept of when was too early to be practicing their shooting.” 

As the trio began to march forward through the snow, Anna gave a snicker. “Yeah, reminds me of our asshole, here.” 

“Hey!”

Steph exhaled a laugh and shook her head, once again, moving to jab Nick in the ribs. “Quiet, remember? Don’t wanna attract any zombies.” 

“Yeah,” Anna agreed with a cheeky grin,  “‘specially not because you’re firing that thing at the ass crack of dawn.” 

The three fell into an easy step together. If Anna squinted, she could almost pretend things were back to normal. It was just like they were hanging out during a snow day, really, with the small flakes that were beginning to fall and their breath fogging up the air. The snow had masked the town Anna remembered as Little Haven, masked the carnage and blood that had been there as they’d sped off in Steph’s bright blue shitbox.

They didn’t talk much, though, they didn’t need to. The place was a ghost town. Nothing seemed to move, not a zombie, nor another group of survivors. Little Haven had never been much— it was Little Haven, for fuck’s sake— but it seemed so much more barren than she’d remembered. 

Because you’re remembering it before everything went to shit. 

Those memories were getting blurrier. With everything she saw, every broken window, every unhinged door, they began to replace the thoughts of riding her battered bike down the streets. When things were better. Back when her and her father would make snow angels on the lawn, and John would be over, smiling that crooked smile and—

Don’t.

She quickened her step. That was the last thing she needed to be thinking about. He was the last thing she needed to be thinking about. She didn’t need to think about his dreams, or how she felt when his arms were wrapped around her and the horde was converging, grabbing at him with their spindly fingers and—

Fucking don’t. 

Setting her jaw, Anna lowered her head and tried to focus on where they were going. 

“This place gives me the fucking creeps,” Steph commented, breaking the silence that had been steadily growing around them. 

Nick scuffed a boot against the snow. “Yeah, ditto,” he agreed. 

There was an awkward silence where Anna should’ve spoken, but instead, she slung her candy cane over her shoulder. The hard plastic resting on her shoulder was a small comfort. It kept her grounded, reminding her of the fact that Little Haven as she knew it was gone. She bumped it up against her shoulder between steps, harder with every second 

The sun had just begun to set as the group finally found the chain-link fence that surrounded the base. That sinking feeling that had accompanied Anna right from the start— that feeling she could only describe as Little Haven dread— had only gotten worse, and it intensified when she looked upward at the cold steel. 

“Shit…” She mumbled. 

She knew it wouldn’t be easy— it was a fucking military base, for Christ’s sake, it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Steph took her pack off her shoulder and began to sift through its contents. 

“I can’t fucking see anything,” Nick grumbled. “How am I supposed to—“

Steph hit him in the back of the head with a flashlight, ignoring the sharp yelp of protest she earned in response. “Here.” She snapped, passing another to Anna without making eye contact. Her gaze was fixed upward, and as Anna looked up as well, she saw what Steph was looking at.

Sharp spikes of barbed wire lined the top of the fence.

“So we’re not climbing,” As she spoke, Anna’s eyes began to travel along the length of the chain link, looking in vain for any sort of opening. Zombies wouldn’t be able to get in, she hoped, but neither would they…

The snow was piled high beside the posts, and just as Anna was trying to figure out if it was worth trying to climb—

“You just gonna stand there looking pretty?” 

Anna flinched. Her gaze shot to where Nick had been standing moments ago, though, as she flicked on the light, her brow furrowed. 

Where—

“Over here,” his voice came again, and as Anna tried to locate it, she turned her head back to the impossible fence—

To meet Nick’s gaze and cheeky grin from the other side. 

“Gate’s open,” he remarked, gesturing over to his right with his flashlight beam, swinging it at enough of an arc to momentarily blind Anna. 

Swinging one hand up in front of her face, squinting through a scowl, Anna managed to focus on the fence once more—

Oh for fuck’s sake. 

—and the obvious gap in it where the gate began. 

“You snuck in here, before?” Steph questioned, beginning to trudge forward with Anna behind her. Her pack jingled with every step, punctuated by the crunching of her boots and the steady swaying of her own, heavyset flashlight. It cut through the darkness with a wide beam that made the snow glitter. 

“No,” Nick returned, “I thought about it, though,”

“Should’ve,” Anna fired back, her shoulders tensing further with each step she took past the gate, “they would’ve turned you into swiss cheese.” 

The noise of mock protest she earned from Nick hit her with a wave of familiarity so sudden that it hurt. Swallowing hard against a sudden knot in her throat, Anna pushed ahead, reaching the door in a matter of minutes. 

The door, like the fence, was unhinged and hanging loosely open. Anna shared uneasy glances with the other two, but not a word was spoken as she pointed her flashlight beam into the dark interior. 

Rank air wafted out to greet her, sending a cold chill down her spine despite the warmth of the building. They filtered in single-file, Anna with her cane raised in one hand, Steph with her flashlight ready to bludgeon anything in the way, and Nick with his hands shakily clamped around his gun. 

Their beams, minus Nick’s, which only illuminated his pocket, shone outward in a wide fan, casting long, humanoid shadows that seemed ready to come off the walls and grab them. 

Anna shifted her grip on her cane. "We should split up,” she hissed out in a whisper, “cover more ground. Maybe if we're lucky we can find a new engine or car, and hopefully, get out of here as soon as possible." The last part of her sentence was lost in a whisper, more to herself than either of the others. 

Get out. 

Like John never did, because he’s dead— he died here, did you think about that, Anna—

“Sure,” Nick’s voice cut in, breaking her out of her thoughts, “I’ll take…” He looked to Anna, who shrugged. 

“Doesn’t matter to me,” she shifted her weight before turning her light to the nearest hallway, “you can take that one, I’ll…” She hesitated, before turning right. “I’ll take this one. Steph, you can take the one on the left. Meet back up in… an hour?”

She shone her flashlight back toward the group in time to see them both share nods. She found herself bobbing her head in agreement as well. For a moment, she wanted to say something else. The air was charged, not tense, mind, but there was an energy that couldn’t be denied. She could feel it— feel it in the tight feeling in her chest and the fact that she was digging the plastic hook of her cane deep into her shoulder. 

“An hour,” she said, uneasily, and before she could try saying anything else, she turned sharply to the right and disappeared down the hallway. 

Her footsteps seemed far too loud. Anna trudged through the halls cautiously, trying to see with her barely working flashlight in one hand and candy cane at the ready in the other.

It didn't take her long to stumble upon a barely-open door. She quietly opened it with her shoulder, clutching both items tightly. The light weakly shone on the room’s contents, only illuminating a few feet before her. She squinted, daring to stick her arm into the room a little farther in and shining the light from side to side. It was reflected on a few objects she couldn’t make out, and for a moment, it looked like eyes—

Remember when you thought it was safe and it wasn’t? Remember who paid for it? 

—it wasn’t eyes. 

She knew it wasn’t eyes. 

Inhaling through her teeth, Anna squared her shoulders, and stepped inside. 

It wasn’t what she was expecting. As she swept the light’s flickering, shaky beam around in a wide circle, she was made aware of shelves surrounding her in neat rows, and their contents. Vials upon vials of contents. Their labels were scratched and worn, and as Anna squinted at a vial containing a bright, ugly yellow liquid, she felt a chill wind down her spine. 

It was weird, how everything was just… left like this. 

Some places looked completely fine, like the untouched vials. It was nothing new, truly, everywhere was a ghost town now that everyone was dead, but it still made unease creep across Anna’s skin like a cold wind. 

Shuddering, she began to walk down the rows of shelves, paying less attention by the second to the vials decorating them. What use were a bunch of random chemicals, anyway? What use were—

The hook of her cane bumped against a shelf with a sharp clang, causing Anna to let out a sharp yelp. 

“Shit!” She hissed, swinging her light around in time to see a vial wobbling. The liquid inside it was red, and although it quickly settled back down, she didn’t move the light away. Beside it lay a stack of papers. They were tucked messily in place beside it, dog-eared and yellowed, but still intact. 

Carefully, Anna reached forward and took the packet in her hands, carefully setting the cane up against the nearest shelf to better leaf through the hand-scrawled notes. Her breath stuck in her throat when she finally managed to decipher what it said. 

UNIDENTIFIED PATHOGEN CURE PROTOTYPE TESTING: TRIALS 1-10

“I knew they were working on a cure,” she whispered to herself, both excitement and anger filtering through her voice. 

Dad could’ve made it. 

John, too. 

Nobody would’ve had to die… not Chris… not Lisa…

Even thinking their names made her heart sink. 

Anna grabbed the packets, already planning out how to best tell Steph and Nick what she’d found— how maybe, maybe things could finally go back to how they’d been— when something cut through the noise of her thoughts.

A clumsy, sluggish shuffling cut through the silence, followed by a low, feral growl. 

The papers tumbled from her grasp before she could stop them, though, she barely noticed. Already, she was shoving her flashlight in her pocket, grabbing her weapon, and beginning to raise it. Her steely gaze was fixed on the door she’d come in through, listening in tense silence as the shuffling drew closer… and closer… 

When it finally entered her line of sight, it was alone. Just one. Nothing she couldn’t deal with. Already, she was readying herself to swing, but—

Recognition flashed across her face. 

Her stomach dropped. 

No. 

It was wearing a tattered sweater, smeared with blood and torn in spots, but—

No, please, no...

If the brown hair and soft face didn’t give it away, that Christmas sweater with the tree and lights did. 

Her best friend. 

One of her only friends. 

John. John Pine. Still wearing that sweater he’d been so proud of, the one that devoured batteries by the dozen. His head was cocked harshly to the right, though, as Anna tried to back away, it began to straighten out. 

 The second those eyes— deep brown, just like she remembered— met her own, the creature gave a little snort of excitement and began to stumble in her direction with its— his—deadened gaze fixed on hers. 

“No…” Anna’s voice was soft and shaky. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room— like it had been sucked out entirely.  Her hands felt clammy. Her heart was beginning to beat like a kickdrum, thumping through her veins at a rapid tempo. “No, please, John… don’t do this,” she begged, trying her best not to let her voice break. 

John didn’t register anything she was saying. If anything, he was growling louder by the second, an awful, grating noise that rose above the panicked rushing of blood in her ears. It was barely human— hardly a noise she could ever picture him making— but it was escaping his throat regardless as he shuffled closer and closer to his potential meal. His gait was shambling, closer to a limp than the goofy stride Anna remembered—

He was limping before it happened, don’t you remember? He fucked up his leg and then—

Anna gripped her candy cane tighter. She had to kill him. If she didn’t, then he’d rip her to pieces. Zombies were vicious— all of them were vicious beyond repair, they were hardly human anymore— 

But John isn’t—

The creature before her gave another throaty growl. His whole body seemed to wobble unsteadily, as if he couldn’t decide which direction to walk, or if he could even walk at all. Everything about him was wrong, clashing so horribly with how she remembered him. She was frozen to the spot, looking into those eyes that were so familiar it hurt, those same eyes she’d looked into before the horde had converged on him and she’d screamed, screamed so loud her throat had hurt—

“JOHN!”

Struggling to inhale, Anna began to back away. She kept her weapon raised, the wicked, plastic hook up over her shoulder, trying to ignore the way her hands trembled and the fact that the memory was rising in her mind faster than she could hope to block it out. 

“LET GO! L-LEMME GO—” 

Another set of arms wrapped around her. She tried to beat them back, her body shaking. Her hands were clenched in tight fists. Her legs kicked out wildly as she tried to get her footing, broken, terrified sobs catching in her throat. 

Nick’s voice was loud, but not louder than the noises, the sounds of a horde beginning to feast— “No, Anna, no! Leave him!”

Her eyes welled with tears. She had to kill him. He wouldn’t want to live as a zombie. Living as a zombie wasn’t living at all, surely he’d known that, he’d had to have known that.  Her only option was to swing but…

“Leave him.” Nick had said again, ignoring the way her hands beat against his side. 

She couldn’t. Her grip loosened as she backed away at a faster pace than before. Fuck, she was useless. 

She could feel her throat closing up as she tried to find an exit, not taking her eyes off the creature— it’s not John, it’s not, stop pretending— shambling toward her. His head was cocked to the right, mouth slightly open, glossy eyes boring into her own. She felt her stomach lurch at the sight of dried blood smeared around his mouth, her insides turning to water. Bluish, broken veins decorated his cheeks, and when he gave another lurch, right hand swinging downward, her gaze tracked automatically to the vicious bite embedded in the back of his hand.

The same sort of bite that he’d use those crooked teeth to give her. 

“John?” She choked out in a whimper, frantically searching his eyes for any recognition. He was closer. There were only a few feet between them, and that distance was closing fast. 

 “Please, you don’t have to do this, please...” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she gathered what little courage she had left and screamed: “JUST GET OUT OF HERE—“

Anna’s back slammed against one of the shelves before she could process what was happening, barely having enough time to register, the various glass vials on the shelf began to crash at her feet. Chemicals splattered across her coat and shoes, and as she tried to stumble away, momentarily forgetting the zombie— 

Something crashed against the back of her head. Things went dark immediately.

They were quick to flicker back in a mess of disjointed sounds and messy colours that blurred and spun drunkenly around her. Spots were dancing across her vision, and as she blinked blearily and tried to focus on the overwhelming, dizzying sensations, she was made vaguely aware of something pooling around her. 

All over her, actually—

Shit, my head—

Everything was too slow. Raising one hand, frantically feeling her hair, she gave a sharp gasp as the feeling of something liquid—

Blood or chemicals—

Shit, both are bad—

And if the shelf fell—

With a wince, Anna struggled to get to her feet, feeling as though she was forgetting something, addled mind fighting to put it all together and—

Wait, what about—

“SHIT!” Anna’s eyes snapped open remembering the zombie in front of her, but she wished she never opened her eyes. Everything was… wrong… horribly wrong. Her frantic eyes shot to the shards that were around her feet— should’ve been around her feet— and the puddle that looked more like a small lake than anything. 

Her heart leapt into her throat. 

The shards littered around her, their wickedly sharp points glinting in the low light, were longer than her arms. They were longer than she was tall, which was impossible, and how—

How much had been in those vials? 

How hard had she hit her head? 

This CANNOT be happening. 

I can’t be—

A sudden sound from above caused her blood to run cold. 

Shit. 

Her hands felt clammy.

Shit, shit, shit. 

Frozen in place, whole body trembling, Anna shakily began to look up… up, up, up… 

Her heart plummeted to her shoes. Her grip on her plastic cane suddenly felt weak—

At least I got something my size...

She managed to think through her panic. Her face paled exponentially, all the strength she had draining from her in one fell swoop. She tried to open her mouth, to scream, to cry out, to beg for her life— anything— but no sound escaped her lips, save for a strangled squeak. 

This can’t be happening. 

He was huge. 

John had always been taller than her, that much was true, but the zombie before her was easily a giant. He didn’t seem to be looking directly at her, though, and as Anna watched, paralyzed by fright, she realized he didn’t seem to see her. His glassy eyes were out of focus, trained on the shards around her, and although he was growling— a horrid, awful sound that shook her to her core— it was quieter than before. Confused. 

Hope flickered to life in her chest. 

Maybe he can’t see me. 

Was it possible? Maybe his eyes had decayed enough that he wouldn’t bother with her, or maybe she was too small for him to care. She just had to get out of his way and then—

Another growl shook through her. Louder this time. 

No—

Her small victory was quickly cancelled out as suddenly, John’s eyes locked onto her form. His lips began to curl back in a snarl, showing off a dizzying array of teeth that used to smile the sweetest, most crooked smile—

A snarl vibrated through her chest. Panicked, Anna tried to stumble away, her fight or flight instinct finally kicking into high gear. Her little body chose flight. 

She stumbled forward, boots slipping in the puddle surrounding her. She skidded, terrified at how quickly the tables had turned— she’d been bracing herself to kill him and see his blood speckle the floor but now—

Anna tried to tighten her sweat-slicked grip on her weapon. Her vision was blurred, though the panic coursing through her veins was making things sharper. Everything was picking up to speed with her racing heart, and as she helplessly skidded, she could feel him getting closer. 

No, no— NO—

She couldn’t outrun him. She was too small, now, and her head was pounding with every second that passed. 

Panicked beyond belief, voice shaking, Anna forced herself to meet his gaze, looking in vain for anything familiar in those hollow eyes. “John—”

That’s not John, he’s gone, he’s not there—

 “—p-please!” She stammered, “I-It’s me, it’s— it’s Anna! You— W-We— We’ve been friends for— for years, years, John, PLEASE—”

Her words broke into a scream as John lurched forward. Stumbling backward, brandishing her weapon as though it would help, Anna let out another broken plea. 

“NO! P-Please, John— you— you have to remember me, I— You— You were going to go to art school, a-and I was gonna go to Australia—”

It seemed like a distant dream. Australia. Art school. Things that had mattered before the world as they knew it had ended without any warning. 

Her throat began to close up. She sucked in a sharp, frantic breath through her teeth, trying to say something— anything— that wouldn’t end in her demise—

He reached forward. That hand— that monstrous, discoloured hand riddled with bluish veins— was inches from her, and the distance was closing. 

“Y-You jumped in front of a horde just to save my life!” 

Do you remember his hands around your waist? When you were calling to him? He wasn’t answering. 

The hand less than a centimeter from her face. Instinctively, she put her hands up to her face and gave a sharp, guttural cry: “PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!”

He would rip her to pieces in seconds. He’d use those same clumsy hands she knew so well to tear her from limb to limb, those teeth would pierce her, and her blood would speckle the floor and—

She screwed her eyes shut tight for good measure at the crunch of glass under one of his feet coupled with the sliding of fabric across the floor. 

He’s kneeling.

Her stomach twisted in a knot. She had seconds left to live, seconds left to muster a final plea, or an attack, or even an escape, but—

A soft, rumbling noise rolled through the air, close enough to make her whole body buzz with the sound, then… 

Then, nothing. 

Nothing at all. 

...what?

Anna slowly lowered her hands, after a few quiet, tense moments. Her breathing was quick and sharp. Why… why was she still alive? 

Why hadn’t he killed her? 

His hand was still there, his huge fingers poised and ready to snatch her up without a second thought, but—

They hadn’t. 

He hadn’t. 

Questions began to swarm in her mind, but above them was one desire: to get away. 

 Stumbling under her own weight, Anna made it about three steps back before a shard of glass met the bottom of her boot. It skidded along with her, prying a startled yelp from her throat and prompting her to swing her arms out for balance. 

John flinched. That hand that had been so close to brushing her skin shrank back. 

Anna’s mind was beginning to race as she looked into John’s eyes, her balance still somewhat wobbly. Her confusion was clearly written across her face. 

It didn’t make sense.

Is he—

She couldn’t let herself hope.

No. 

Impossible. He’s probably just wondering if a small human is just as satisfying as a normal-sized human.

She didn’t want to believe it. Those eyes seemed lucid— they looked so much like his that it hurt. A knot formed in her chest. Her legs wobbled like those of a baby deer as she forced herself to keep her eyes locked on his, ignoring the fact that his veins were too prominent, his teeth almost unnaturally sharp. 

He’s just sizing me up. 

A cold chill spread across her body. Her instincts were screaming at her to run— he was frozen, for fuck’s sake— it would be easy enough to make a mad dash for cover, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t force herself to move. Her fingers weakly twitched at her sides. She felt like she was going to throw up. 

Trying to stand, sitting up as well as she could, Anna felt her whole body sway unsteadily. The room spun in a nauseating fashion, everything around her blending in a mess of nonsensical swirls that immediately brought her back to her knees. 

Shit, definitely concussed. 

That was the last thought Anna had before that hand reached out to her again. Accepting her fate, Anna looked down, closed her eyes and hoped it would be quick, but… that moment never came as she noticed. She gave a small gasp at the feeling of something touching her, something cold and almost clammy that started at the top of her head and trailed its slow way down her back. She held her breath as it stopped, then repeated with a tad more certainty. 

It took several seconds for her to realize he was petting her. 

Petting? 

Why would a zombie—

Why hasn’t he hurt me yet?

Daring to hope, Anna looked up, trying to get her vision to focus on the soft, concerned eyes of her friend. It seemed so familiar. She wanted so desperately to believe that he remembered her, but it was impossible… right?

Struggling to find her voice, Anna managed to quietly, incredulously ask: “Am I dead?” 

The petting stopped. Those eyes she knew so well were hidden by a slow blink for a moment, and then John did something that made her heart skip a beat. He shook his head. Like a human would.  Like he was alive. 

Anna’s eyes widened. “Wha— c-can you—

Slow down. 

Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “—do you remember me?” She asked him, hardly daring to hope. It was probably just a twitch, and her size had distracted him from thoughts of eating her, that had to have been it—

He nodded. That soft face she remembered sported a small, crooked little smile that she could recognize anywhere. Twitchy and uncertain, sure, but there. 

Before she knew it, she was sobbing.  All of the anger, sadness and regret she held for the past year overwhelmed her. Her throat ached from having shouted at the creature before her, her sobs coming out in hoarse sounding barks. Her tears ran down her cheeks faster than she could try to wipe them away. She was vaguely aware of a soft, concerned grumble and forced herself to look up again through her tears. 

“N-No, I— It’s not your fault, I— oh my god, John—”

Another bout of wracking sobs made her chest ache, causing John to pull his hand away. His brow was furrowed, his eyes tracking her every move. 

Anna tried to wipe her eyes and gave a broken laugh. “I-I’m just so glad to see you again after all this time!” 

Glad was an understatement. Her legs wobbled as she forced herself upright, stumbling toward his hand unsteadily. “A-And you— you remember me, you— it’s really you, I—” She swallowed hard against the knot in her throat. “—I can’t believe this, I— what’re the odds?” 

One in a million. One in a billion. Less, even. 

Laughing again, close enough to his hand that she could’ve reached out for it if she wanted, Anna finally caught her breath. The adrenaline— that giddy rush that had surged through her— was fading. “The only thing that could make this any better would be if I… was…” 

Wait—

“Normal sized!?” Her voice took on a sharp lilt of confusion as, yet again, another reality crashed down on her like a ton of bricks. “Holy shit, what the fuck happened to me?!”

She watched John’s shoulders give an unsteady shrug. 

“I— How—” 

It must’ve been that cure. The vials she’d knocked over her had done it, but how it had happened was beyond her—

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sensation of John’s fingers curling around her waist. A breath caught in her throat. She gave a sharp, frightened gasp and clung tight to her weapon, the ground suddenly so, so small. His whole body swung uncertainty, and although his fingers weren’t too tightly clasped around her, Anna’s chest felt too tight. Her head was still throbbing away. She couldn’t find her voice. 

Shit, no— 

He wouldn’t. John wouldn’t—

But a zombie would. 

Fear began to spike through her, but she managed to give a small whimper of: “J-John?” Using her free hand to bat at his fingers, she tried to grab his attention, but all she earned in response was a little grumble. Her whole world pitched dangerously as he stood, causing her to squeak. This was terrifying. She was so high up— John had always been tall but this was taking things to a new level. One hand wrapped tight around her cane, the other in a tight fist, Anna felt her stomach lurch as he got to his feet. 

Christ, they were high up. 

Anna managed to get in a sharp breath before John’s grip on her abruptly switched, depositing her on the surface of his palm. A small rumble shook through her, and as she looked up, she nearly yelped. He was so close, close enough for her to feel his breath. 

Zombies breathe? 

She’d never been close enough to find out— nobody ever had, without getting bitten or ripped to shreds, but as the seconds ticked forward, she realized that John was just… watching. He didn’t blink, but his warm eyes were trained on her, his brow slightly furrowed. 

She exhaled. 

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

“Right, o-okay, I—” Shakily, standing as well as she could, she turned her head and forced herself to look down at the mess she’d created. The liquid looked almost like blood puddling around his feet, and as she squinted—

Wait—

The papers she’d dropped weren’t soiled by the puddle. They were a little crumpled, splashed in spots, but otherwise fine. 

A cure. They were working on a cure.

Turning back to face John, she gestured down to the papers on the floor. “Can you grab those papers?” She asked him, continuing to explain as he tilted his head and focused his bleary eyes down where she’d pointed. “Th-They were testing all this shit so it’s gotta be recorded. There’s gotta be a way to reverse this!” 

Both the zombie thing and her reduced height… 

Clinging to John’s thumb for balance as he bent over, Anna watched him fumble with the papers for a moment before—

A growl shot through the silence, followed by another.

John’s hackles raised near instantly and he stood back up with the papers in his grasp with a sudden, jerky motion that caused Anna to yelp. 

“Shit, the vials!” 

Of course they’d heard the crash— fuck, she was an idiot— and now they were going to come and rip them to shreds—

Would they attack John? He was one of them, and maybe that would keep him safe, but Anna certainly wasn’t, and now that she was bite sized—

Shit.

“We gotta go!” She urgently instructed, earning herself a nod from John. 

She didn’t do a thing to protest as he carefully drew her closer to himself and began to take one limping, shuddering step after the other. Was it fast enough? Her mind was racing from one panicked thought to the next, and the speed of them only intensified with every step he took toward the still-open door. 

Please, please, c’mon…

She inwardly begged, holding John’s thumb in a deathgrip, trying to see if anything was coming their way. 

They were mere inches from the door when the first zombie made itself known, lurching so suddenly into their field of vision that Anna let out a shrill scream and shrank backward. Its lips were pulled back, thick, black strands of drool oozing from its open jaws, and it wasn’t alone. More and more began to pour through the entrance in a swarm, some of them still sporting military garb. 

No, no, please—

John began to growl, the noise low and grating, making Anna’s ears ring and her headache thump harder. His grip on her shifted. 

Hundreds of scenarios began to race through Anna’s mind, each one more brutal than the last. There wouldn’t be any escape, and they didn’t seem interested in John at all. She’d been reunited with him for nothing, and soon, she’d either be one of them or nothing more than a red stain on the floor, and nobody would ever know—

Before her thoughts could even finish, John’s fingers once again closed around her waist and she was suddenly lifted, that nauseating feeling of being picked up too fast causing her head to spin. Trying to focus, legs swinging wildly, cane nearly slipping from her hands, she realized she was being dangled above John’s face. 

More specifically, his mouth. Her panicked gaze met his own. 

“J-John,” she stammered, “what’re you—”

She was cut off by the intimidating sight of John’s mouth opening beneath her, those teeth that seemed inhumanly sharp mere inches from her feet. She barely registered the thunder of his voice, though, once his maw was closed, she processed the one word he’d managed to wheeze out.

“Safe…” Even though voice was thick and gravelly, like he had just had woken up dehydrated, she understood. 

But… what did he mean, “safe”? 

Heart lurching into her throat, Anna struggled to cling onto his fingers. “Wait, wh-what are you talking abou—” Anna didn’t have any time to wonder what John meant before, without warning, his loose grip on her was gone entirely.

Down she plummeted.

A strangled scream escaped her throat. She looked down, and as she was being dropped—

His jaws opened to greet her, wider than before, displaying in horrific detail the inside of his maw and his pink, quivering tongue. 

“JOH—”

The rest of her protest was lost in a wheeze as her little body hit a slick, foreign surface. She hardly had time to register what was going on before her surroundings went dark with a snap that caused her to let out a shriek and ball up. Her body was shaking, and as she forced herself up onto her hands and knees, she nearly lost her balance. The ground below her—

That’s not the ground, that’s his tongue, you’re in his MOUTH—

—shifted and slid as she frantically tried to process what had happened. There wasn’t much light, but it filtered between his lips enough for her to see the faint, pinkish tongue beneath her and the terrifying, pointed shapes of his teeth fencing her in. Her heartbeat was rapid, her breaths short and laboured. 

Why—

Why did he—

I thought he wouldn’t—

Was it a trap? Anna felt like she was going to be sick as the muscle beneath her shifted, sending her sprawling onto her front once more. Saliva was pooling around her little frame, and as she struggled to get up— to claw and punch and kick everything she could reach— an annoyed sort of grumble rang through the space, loud enough to make Anna clap her hands over her ears. The tongue beneath her curled slightly, the edges of it pushing on her sides and keeping her confined to the middle of his mouth despite her squirming. 

The noises it made were making her repulsion grow by the second. The muscle squelched beneath her weight, and there was another annoyed little grumble before something smacked against her side. Something hard and plastic.  

My cane!

Rolling sharply to the side, Anna snatched it up and moved to stab him with the sharpened end, trying her best to stand in the cramped space. She ended up bent awkwardly in place, her shoes sinking into the fleshy surface beneath her, her back pressed up against the roof of his mouth above her. 

Bracing herself, Anna tried to force his jaws open from the inside to no avail. Saliva dribbled down her sides in thick strands, enough to make her shudder violently. She began to shove at the surface above her harder, digging her nails in—

Everything pitched hard to the right. Anna’s legs gave out from under her, and clutching her candy cane tight against her chest, she landed on his tongue with a squelch, giving a sharp gasp when everything turned to the left, then right again, almost as if he was shaking his head. 

Shit, my head.

The throbbing feeling was getting worse by the second. Struggling, landing a good hit with her heel to the flesh beneath her, Anna moved a hand to clutch at her wet hair. 

 This concussion isn’t going to get any better if he keeps doing that, not that it’ll matter if he doesn’t let me out!

When she pulled her hand away, thin strands of drool connected it to her head. Her hair was practically slicked down to her, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim, faint light filtering through his teeth, she realized the rest of her was hopelessly soaked as well— her jacket, her shirt, her tie— covered in saliva. 

What the fuck—

Is he—

Is he fucking TASTING ME?

Terror surged through her once more, though, it was quickly followed by a rage that bubbled over her and made her ball her hands into fists. “JOHN!” She shouted, bringing a fist down as hard as she could manage on the tongue beneath her, “LET ME OUT! I KNOW YOU’RE STILL IN THERE! PLEASE, PLEASE SNAP OUT OF IT!” 

For a moment, everything stopped. 

She lay there, panting, covered in spit and feeling absolutely disgusting as the surface beneath her curled over her side once more. 

“John, please…” She whimpered, moving to crawl further toward the front of his mouth. All he’d have to do was open up his mouth, and she’d be home free— 

Before she could say anything else, Anna was suddenly pressed against the roof of the mouth, squishing all the air out of her in a sharp wheeze. 

No, NO, NO NO NO—

Everything tilted back. Anna dug her fingers into the surface of John’s tongue in vain, panic rushing through her veins. She kicked and squirmed wildly, though, with a soft squelch, she felt the muscles of his throat begin to latch onto her legs. 

Her eyes widened. 

A deafening gulp muffled her scream. She was forced back faster than she could grab anything. Her desperate, reaching hands skimmed one of his huge teeth before disappearing into his gullet entirely. The light disappeared instantly, and although Anna couldn’t see, she could still feel the powerful muscles of his esophagus engulfing her tiny frame. 

“NO!” She was forced downward at a rapid, terrifying pace. Her arms were pinned up above her head, and with each tug from the slick muscles, more slimy substances connected with her body. 

“NO, N-NO, JOHN—”

Another swallow cut her off, the muscles around her squeezing the air out of her lungs and making the panic coursing through her intensify. She could barely move. The darkness was smothering her, alive, squeezing her every inch of the way down—

Her legs were free. 

Eyes widening, knowing what it meant but refusing to believe it, Anna tried one more time to claw at the walls of his throat, but it didn’t matter. 

With a final squeeze from his gullet, Anna dropped onto a cushy surface. She managed to land on her knees, her panicked eyes darting this way and that in the darkness. Everything was eerily still and quiet, the only thing she could hear the quick pounding of her heart.

He couldn’t have.

Her chest felt heavy. Slime dribbled down the back of her neck, making her shudder violently. 

Where else could she be? Her senses were on overdrive. She was painfully aware of the feeling of sticky saliva clinging to her body, but also aware of the noises surrounding her— soft gurgles and growls, uneven, shaky breaths, and—

A low thumping from above her. 

His heartbeat. 

He just put me in and… 

God, she couldn’t even think it. 

...like I didn’t even matter?!

Her best friend— someone she’d thought was dead, had eaten her. Whole and alive. Her days— her minutes — her seconds were numbered. How long did it take a zombie to digest? How long did she have to breathe the stale tasting air and wait for acid to melt her into nothing? 

A gurgle echoed through the fleshy chamber, loud enough to make Anna jolt and grasp her weapon—

I still have it. 

Without hesitation, she dug the pointed end of it into the stomach’s floor as hard as she could manage, standing on wobbly legs. She braced herself against it, driving it in deep before tugging it free with a sickening squelch. 

“NO!” She snarled, stumbling forward, ignoring the dizzy feeling that came with standing up, “I am not dying in some SHITTY TOWN,” she punctuated those words by driving the sharp end of the cane into the closest wall, “in some BROKEN DOWN BASE,” she pushed it in further, “where NO ONE WILL KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!” 

Running on sheer desperation, the shrunken survivor used what little strength she had left to drag the sharp tip through the wall of flesh, feeling her entire environment abruptly tense around her. A growl rolled through the space, making everything vibrate. 

It only encouraged her to continue. 

Removing the edge, Anna began beating him with the blunt end, hitting him over and over again as if the cane was a baseball bat. 

“If you want me to stop” she hissed through her teeth, “then LET! ME! OUT!” She hit him with every word, choking up slightly as she did.

Those three words suddenly made it all real. Her whole world began to crash down around her, the realization coupled with the churning motions of the stomach around her enough to bring her to her knees.

She was stuck in this horrible small town. She was in a worn down military base. Her friends wouldn’t know what happened to her. She was tiny. And she was in the stomach of one of her closest friends. 

Anna Shepherd was going to die. 

Her grip on the candy cane loosened to a point where it slipped from her fingers, though, she barely noticed as it hit the fleshy floor beside her. Her eyes began to sting from tears. There was no joy in them. Not this time. 

Alone in the dark, alone with the realization that John, her closest friend, the person she would feel safe to talk about anything around— the person who helped her through her mother’s death and always, always been by her side,  the person she cared for the most—

Another organic rumble from the stomach around her sent a cold chill through her body. 

John was going to kill her, and nobody would ever know. 

As the adrenaline faded and her limbs grew weak and heavy, Anna began to curl into a ball, her hands shaking violently. She wanted to scream out to him, or hit him with the cane as hard as she could manage, maybe even carve her way out. If she just managed to claw hard enough, she could do it, couldn’t she? 

All she did was let tears trickle down her cheeks and curl up tighter. What else could she do?

She was alone. Stupidly alone. Had Nick or Steph been there, they would’ve been able to bludgeon him and this whole thing never would’ve happened. They wouldn’t just give up, either, they’d fight with everything they had and then some, but… 

She was so tired. Her head was pounding at a mile a minute, and her limbs felt so, so heavy. She was going to pass out, soon. 

And I’ll never wake up again. 

Before the darkness behind her eyes engulfed her limited vision of the soft walls surrounding her entirely, Anna managed to choke out a sentence so quiet, it sounded like a breath. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” She whimpered.