#vanossgaming

Evan doesn't even bother to argue with that as he breathes in the smoke from his own cig. It's true. The chances of them surviving this shit are slim to none. They've both already watched friends get taken, buried and grieved over friends. Growing closer over a shared feeling of acceptance, being comfortable with the fact that the apocalypse would kill them. Sure, they contributed and helped out, but only because they still cared about the other people with them. They'd both admitted if they were alone, they would have gone out already, somehow.

Suicide in the apocalypse isn't uncommon, but it felt a bit selfish to make the others mourn them when nothing physically had been wrong with them.

So John and Evan settled for venting about their pathetic feelings while smoking. It was surprisingly easy to find cigarettes in the apocalypse, most people not caring because they're not an item to help keep you alive.

So as Evan looked back out at the tree-line, he nudged the younger. “I don't know man, what if we do fucking survive? What if we actually make it to Canada?”

John snorted. “Surviving all that time just to blow your brains out when it's over? Yeah, that sounds pretty fucking pathetic, so it's perfect for me.”

Evan laughed. “Don't let the others hear you. Your Droid was about to cry when you started getting dark, and my Droid looked ready to puke.

John scoffed. “They shouldn't have asked questions they didn't want the answers to then.”

The silence stretched on between the two of them. Evan shifted, crushing the butt under his shoe. “You're alright John. At least you keep it real with me. None of that bullshit optimism the others have got going on.”

John stomped his own cigarette out, “Hard to be optimistic when you walk in on one of your friends being tortured to death, not by the fucking zombies, but by other survivors. Humanity is fucked man. How could you still see good in this world?”

Evan didn't feel a need to reply to that, the memory of seeing Yumi, bloodied and burnt, still fresh in his mind.

John had to pull the trigger. A mercy killing.

Evan’s just shocked at how none of the others even talk about it.

John sighed, pushing his hair back, before turning his head. “Are you coming to bed?” He asked, as Evan slowly stood up.

“Yeah. I guess. Beats being awake.”