And So It Begins
He should have seen it coming, really. The evidence was always there, lurking in the shadows. But, he supposed, those shadows were the ones few ventured into, except the nutters.
And yet, the nutters hadn't been as... Nutty, as they seemed. Anyone claiming that they've seen the dead rise with their own eyes were outcasts, considered mentally ill and unstable by society almost immediately. The government would hush it over and insist on putting them in a modern day asylum for their "insane, cannibalistic views" and "potential harm to society itself."
They were right, though. Even if the government would never admit it, if it still existed.
July 4th, of all days, marked the world-wide beginning of the apocalypse. Seemed as if Mother Nature wanted to take back the world and deemed the birth date of the United States of America as its own. Ironic, really. The day one of the most influential nations to arise was declared independent was one ripe with potential and possibility. It was rather fitting to grip that potential and rip it to shreds by unleashing the living dead, signaling the end of the old world, and the start of the apocalyptic one.
Steve Rogers, ex-soldier, had just returned to the living quarters he shared with James "Bucky" Barnes when it happened.
It was suppose to be a quick trip to the grocery store, meant only for him to grab a few things and return home. Simple and easy.
And it was, honestly, albeit longer than expected. He'd ran into famous engineer, and close friend, Tony Stark. As per usual, the blonde had been dragged into a long conversation that ended with the shorter, black-haired man returning to Steve's shared apartment.
That had become more of a tradition than a coincidence. Either ex-soldier would run into the engineer when they went out, and brought him back to the apartment complex. Doing so seemed odd at first, but after a few years of doing it, the action only seemed right. No one complained-- Well, a few neighbors had, in various incidents that were the result of drunken laughter and various alcohols, mostly the courtesy of Tony. The complaints were too far apart to take much notice of, being brushed off by officials due to the Stark's "charisma" and "stunning looks", as the man himself would put it.
Tony was in surprisingly good spirits that day, it seemed. Something about a new product selling exceedingly well. They had laughed and chatted cheerfully about it, as one would expect from those not expecting the apocalypse.
Their noisy walk to the apartment was rather quick, time fluttering by as they talked. Inside, the lobby was eerily quiet which should have been the first sign. The second sign was the "Out of Order" elevator. However, it was the third sign that truly grasped their attention.
Moaning and groaning on Steve's floor was rare in and of itself, as there were only two other occupied apartments, one filled with three angsty 18 year olds, and the other filled with a nice old lady who brought cookies over every so often. Loud amounts of these noises echoed against the walls around them, coming mostly from above and in the previously unoccupied rooms.
Curiosity, and a deep, overwhelming sense of something, had the duo creeping silently to the ex-soldier's apartment while sharing glances.
"Steve?"
The familiar voice startled him, but the sight even more so. Beside him, as he turned from the door, Tony let out a huff of breath that he'd been holding in.
His best friend stood a few feet away, hair coming out of his bun, and a disgruntled look in his eyes. One of their larger kitchen knives was clenched in his human hand, shaking slightly. Both of his arms were rather bloody. In fact, blood practically covered him from head to toe.
"Buck? Holy shit, what happ--"
His friend's metal hand covered his mouth, as the other kept his voice down. "Shh, Christ, keep it down. We need to get inside, quickly."
Wiping the unknown thing's blood off his mouth, Steve unlocked the door with a questioning look towards his fellow ex-soldier, allowing them in.
"Alright, Barnes, what the hell did you do this time? Decimate a secret pig farm those kids across the hall kept hidden in the apartments beside them?" Tony spoke up, keeping his own volume down and perching himself on the kitchen's isle. "And what's with the groans? The kids having an orgy party, and grandma getting her old funk on?"
Bucky's eyes rolled as he took to the sink, attempting to clean off as much blood as he could. "I was attacked--"
"Must've been a big guy to get all that blood on you."
"How about I drag you into one of the apartments upstairs and you tell me, if you think this is funny?"
Steve stepped in, a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "C'mon, you told us to keep our voices down. Ignore him and continue."
Sighing, he shrugged off his hand, "Remember the screams we heard last night, and assumed were just kinky things going on upstairs? Well, after you left, screams and that moaning y'hear right now started up. I went to check on Miss Cat, see if she knew was okay and if she knew what was going on. Well, she wasn't there."
"Isn't that the lady who bakes those cookies you have an abundance of? Speaking of which, there any in the fridge?"
"Cookie jar, Stark. If you stop interrupting, I'll get them for you."
"You know the way to a man's heart, Monsieur Rogers."
Rolling his eyes, Steve signaled for his friend to continue as he shoved their cookie jar into his other friend's arms.
"Anyway, Miss Cat wasn't there. I go to ask those teenagers--"
"Correction, young adults."
"Did you not just call them kids, Stark?"
"Guys."
"Sorry."
"Those /young adults/ were cowering in the corner, two of them surrounding one who was curled up on the floor. The youngest one, I forget his name, was babbling on about the oldest getting bit by Old Man Crepsley. Needless to say, about five minutes of trying to get a comprehensible answer, the one on the floor, the oldest I presumed, started groaning and just grabbed one of them, biting into his neck." Bucky shivered, turning to face the other two.
"Wait, you mean he just... Bit the other one? Like, nibbled him?"
"No, I mean he st..." Pausing, as if he heard something, Bucky reached for the knife he'd sat down. "I think I should just get to the point."
"Which is?"
"He started eating one, came after the other and did the same, before coming after me. To make things weirder, as we fought, I couldn't find a pulse."
"So, what?"
"He was dead?"
"Steve that's crazy. There's no way--"
"Yeah. He was dead. And those noises? Also the dead."
Tony frowned, setting the cookie jar down and wiping his hands on his pants. "Okay, say you're right. This building is crawling with the undead. The elevator isn't working, there seems to be no one around. What do we do?"
Just as Bucky started replying, a shriek came from the back alley. The trio nearly sped to the window, two of them shocked at what they saw. A small group of stumbling humans were surrounding a screaming lady, who was trying to push them off and get away, but was failing.
"Holy shit, we have to do something."
"It's a little too late for that. Right now, we need to leave. The scream is probably getting those above and around us excited."
"Buck's right. What use are we if these things surround us and we get killed?"
Begrudgingly, the three packed food and clothes, trying to keep their own noises down as the noises outside started to grow. Steve grabbed his shield, a memoir from his army days, while Tony packed the few guns in the house. ("Really? Two ex-soldiers who barely have a dozen guns?" "Shut up, Stark! Never seemed necessary to keep more than that at home.")
It took more time than it should have before they were done and had a destination in mind--one of Stark's mansions, hidden off in the countryside. Not quite a fortress, but it would hold, if they could only get to it.