To Grandmother's Home I Go
After having left the city he'd both worked in and called home, he took his map out.
After seeing where exactly he was, he then took out his compass. Ensuring he knew the exact direction to head in. He was pretty confident in his ability to reach his destination before too long. Even if he did have to get there by foot. He'd selected to live in a city not far from where his grandparents used to live. Making his future goals of returning and taking over, easier for him.
He brought his bottom lip under his fangs.
He severely doubted his grandparents were still there. Either they were swept away in the chaos of fleeing wolves, or they had been miraculously picked up by his parents in their haste to flee. He would prefer one of those two options. But he knew there was a potential less than thrilling third option. In their progressing age, they may have fallen victim to one of those things. Either filling its belly in grotesque ways, or becoming one themselves. He wanted to think they had either of the two far more hopeful options. But he wasn't foolish enough to not think of the darker options.
Not in this new world of zombies and psychotic wolves. Wolves free from laws and morality. Wolves that would take one look at him, and decide he'd look best on chains and leash. On all fours, taking whatever they wanted him to take. As an omega, he was now worth a great deal for pleasure. And pup making. He'd be nothing more than a broodmare. He nearly shuddered. Not that the surviving government wouldn't see him in a similar light. They would "need" as many omegas as they could save to rebuild from the ashes.
He could have huffed in scoff.
He would seriously hope that by the time that came, he was incapable of doing what they wanted. For whatever reason there would be. He paused in his steps. Ear flickering and swiveling a little. His gaze narrowed. And slowly, he did a full three hundred and sixty degree turn. Checking his surroundings. No zombies were nearby. He doubted his luck would remain on that. He only hoped to make it to his grandparents' before he had to face one. No other survivors were around, either.
It was still and silent.
Satisfied, Minho checked his compass and map once again. Nodding, facing the correct direction to head to his grandparents'. He then continued to walk. He wanted to reach their home as soon as he could. He knew by the time he got there, his legs would be sore. His feet howling at him. And he'd collapse into the bedroom bed he often used when he had visited before the zombies. And that would be the best sleep he'd have in a while.
He reveled in the silence surrounding him as he journeyed.
//
By now, his lips were parted.
Cracked.
Dry.
Mouth thick and sticky all at once. Sweat slowly dripped along the curvature of his pretty omega face. Eyes blown. Breath shallow as it left through his cracked lips. He felt as if his eyes were crossed. The world was slightly off kilter for him. His steps had slowed significantly. After only a moment longer of this, Minho came to a halt. He blinked his omega blue eyes rapidly. Trying to get the world to right itself. He kept his eyes closed a moment, giving them a rest.
Was the sun beating down rather harshly? It wasn't supposed to be summer time yet. It was mid-spring. So the sun shouldn't have been this scorching hot, yet. Likely, it was due to how long he'd been walking. He supposed the seasons would be drastically different from henceforth. With a tried and hot huffing sigh, Minho reached back behind him. Reaching into the open pocket his water bottle was in. He had to conserve it as best he could. Water was precious, now. Well-clean water, that is. After pulling the bottle around, he opened it and only drank enough to cool himself down. And to make his mouth less sticky and dry.
As he pulled the bottle away, he finally opened his eyes anew. The world was no longer odd looking. He looked around him with narrowed eyes. Gauging if he was still alone. Without anyone or thing around, he was fine. As he put his water bottle back, he squinted his eyes once again. Facing ahead. He could just make out the roof of some structures. Uncertain if this was a hallucination brought on by slight hunger and heat, or the real deal. He still felt some relief wash over him. Cooling him just a little.
And wasn't that a delicious relief and change of pace. Omegas usually were almost constantly cold. Seeking warmth religiously. Now, he was seeking cold out. A complete reversal of life before. Then again, omegas weren't really created to walk so much. So far. So long. Unprotected. In every sense of the word. They were far from athletic. Dance excluded in Minho's personal preference. So naturally, his body was reacting to such an exhaustive activity such as his long ass walk. He may adjust.
If there was one thing he knew omegas were good at, it was adjusting as necessary. Usually it was for their mate. But sometimes they could change how they handled all kinds of things in any situation. He was aware that betas and alphas could do the same. They all were able to adapt.
With a tired sigh but some renewed vigorous energy, Minho pressed on. Continuing his trek to head for his grandparent's home. He certainly hoped it hadn't been ransacked by other survivors. Trashing the property, destroying so much. The soil was good. Perfect for farming a few crops. It would be the perfect place to settle down for the time being. He wasn't sure how long he'd stay there. Eventually, he'd be driven to seek out a pack and mate. To have companionship.
He supposed that was his answer.
He'd stay rooted there until the deep soul need and desire for pack and mate took hold. Driving him back into the wilds. On a journey to find them. But he wasn't sure what the world would look like by then. He just knew he had to take it one step at a time.
Like this damned long ass walk.
//
He could have almost been mistaken for a zombie.
His eyes were nearly shut. Ready to fall where he was, and get some rest. He'd pushed past the exhaustion. He wanted to get to their home and farm. And he wasn't going to stop. Determined, fangs salivating and dripping with saliva. Hungry for a taste of familiarity and stability in an upturned, and chaotic new world. Maybe he was slightly feverish. So much walking and time under the blazing sun.
He had gotten some slight relief when the sun would set. As the cool of night brushed over his heating exposed flesh, he'd feel a burst of energy. And he'd picked up his pace. Not running, but walking at a very brisk pace. Uncertain of any zombies around. How they were at night. He had no shelter to take at night. He was in the wide open. Ripe for their feasting. Whether it was luck or just coincidence, he wasn't sure. But he was alone. He doubted it would last.
From what he garnered from all the movies and shows he's ever watched on the zombie apocalypse, there were a few reasons he was alone. For starts, he'd waited a week to finally follow the panicking crowds into surviving in the wilds. Most zombies in cities were still clustered in the cities until their only source of food were truly gone. And then they'd migrate. Seeking out what food they could find. And lastly, most survivors had probably fled to whatever military outposts there may yet be.
Until those fell.
And they would. It was obvious they would.
So yes, he knew a few reasons he may have a small stroke of luck. For the time being. If nature could grant him her blessing to get to his destination, he'd be grateful to her for it.
His eyes fluttered open when a brush of cool graced his face. He looked at his surroundings. Blinking owlishly a moment, even as his exhausted and tired brain registered what was happening. He'd just entered the shade of some trees. He paused, giving his poor aching sore legs a break. His feet a chance to stop snarling at him. He blinked, tilting his head a little. He recognized some of the buildings around him. They were spaced out, but recognizable.
He perked.
Oh! Had he finally reached his grandparent's neighborhood? Thank the gods and nature. He shifted his backpack, feeling the sweat accumulated on his shoulders. Cooling him a little, yet making him grimace. He sighed. He was almost there. Just a little longer. He should get there by nightfall. He'd finally have a safe place to lay his head. He'd have to find a way to make the house zombie proof for a while. But as long as he got there alive, he'd be fine with that. With a final tired sigh, Minho continued to walk. His mind begging his legs and feet to just tolerate it a little longer.
Even as he now registered he was near homes. He had to be alert. Ready to take out any zombies that were around. As he became cautious yet rejuvenated in his pace, he checked his surroundings. He hummed lowly. Mostly to himself. Dry, like his once more parched and cracked lips were. They had seen some chaos. Likely, the neighborhood doing what it could to pack what it could. And flee. Hopefully, there weren't any zombies. They would have had some time to beat the rush of the city wolves. After any and all warnings had been sent out, they likely had had a head start. Without being in the crowds of the cities, they may have had the chance to spread like pollen on the breeze. They would have been a little more organized on how they left.
As the sun began its repeated journey beneath the horizon, Minho finally turned onto the dirt road leading to his grandparents'. Relief washed over him once again. He had once again slowed. He was so ready to crash. Still, he kept his wits about him as best he could. Slowly, he assessed the property as he headed for the drive. And the house itself. Nothing too terrible.
Good.
He'd be able to live fairly well for a while. Producing his own crops, and having some food to sustain him. More than what he carried on his back. The thought of food had his stomach growling. Minho looked down, hand covering where his stomach was. Soon. He got there, he'd have a chance to actually eat something. As the sun's set grew closer and the shadows grew longer, Minho's gaze landed on a most welcome sight.
The home.
He sighed. Now he just had to ensure it was zombie free. Then he'd lock the whole thing up. And then have something to eat. Then crash. He was so exhausted, he was ready to faceplant anywhere. And let the blackness of sleep claim him for a time. His shuffling feet dragged, indicating he really was exhausted. But eventually, they brought him to the steps of his grandparents' former home. Well, it was his now. With what strength he had left, he lifted his legs and feet. Slowly walking up the steps. Listening as intensely as he could. He hoped it was zombie free.
Once he was inside, he paused. Ears swiveling, listening as intensely as he could. Listening for a shuffling different from his. He set his jaw, and gripped his weapon as tightly as he could. Thankfully, it was a one story house. He turned and began to slowly and carefully go through each room. Checking for any remains or zombies. Upon clearing the entire house without a single incident, Minho sighed. He approached the couch, and let his backpack slip from his shoulders to land on it. His back and shoulders feeling relief. He sighed softly. Time to lock up. Then, he could eat something. And ultimately get some rest.
After locking everything, windows and doors, Minho sighed. Finally, he was where he wanted to be. He did triple check that nothing could make its way into his home. With a satisfied nod. Minho reached into his backpack, and pulled out his water bottle with more water in it. And some chips. Not the best of meals, but it was certainly something to ease his hunger pains. He took them with him to his room, and groaned as he slowly sat on the soft and plush bed. His legs were throbbing. As were his feet. After he pushed his shoes from them, he could feel them cool instantly. Finally able to breathe. He sat in the silence and dark, and quietly munched his chips and drank some water.
Only once they were gone, did Minho let himself strip naked. And slip into the comfortable and familiar sheets. All too easy, he was out when his head hit the pillow.
Time for some much deserved sleep.