Good Soil, Bad Times
His lids opened, unveiling a deep fiery blood blue.
Eyes swirling dark with sleep. Alertness evading him. Even as they slowly took in what he had cast his gaze upon. A softly grey colored version of a wooden ceiling. His ears moved slowly. Subtly drawing in every little sound about him. There were no birds. The world silent as death. Though there was the soft rustling of leaves on the gentle breeze. But that was perhaps the only sound to reach him. As he lay there, he let his delicate and sensitive omega skin take in his immediate surroundings. Cool soft fabric lay across his bare flesh. A plush pillow beneath his head. A soft mattress beneath his back.
He took in a deep breath.
Smelling only the freshness of the breeze that managed to make its way in through the minutest cracks, and crevices of the room. After blinking his eyes a few times, he slowly sat up. His awareness starting to return to him. The memories returning slowly. The fall of society. The emptying of the cities. His long ass walk to get to his grandparent's former home. As he slowly looked about him, he nodded. Recognizing the room he often had utilized when he would visit them.
He could have groaned.
His legs were absolutely furious with him. Sore and tender. Reminding him, he was an omega. That the long trek to get here wasn't meant for one of his sub-gender. However, he needed them to adjust. After all, that was the only way to get around anymore. He was unsure how long he'd stay at his new home. But when the time came, he'd have to walk to his next temporary home. It would repeat, until he was certain he was in his new permanent home. And not just in the grave, either. If he got that lucky. With a still tired sigh, Minho threw the sheets from his bare body. He rose to his feet, begging them not to snarl further at him.
He had to get to work.
He was quick to pick up his former clothing. Drenched in his sweat. And dirty from the dust that had clung to it as a result. He sighed, and cautiously made to leave the bedroom. He remained silent and cautious. Ears moving about furiously. Ensuring there was no zombies around. Nor anyone else. He'd seriously be fucked if anyone had gotten in during the night. He was naked, and had no means of truly defending himself. But as he listened intensely and moved about in the shadows of the dawn, he slowly relaxed. Shoulders sagging.
He was alone still.
Good.
With that, Minho made to cautiously leave the actual house. It was a bit chilly out, and there were zombies out there. But he wanted to wash his clothing. His grandparents had been smart enough to drill for underground water. Having installed a new pump recently to ensure it stayed clean. Small blessings in disguise. He had frowned a moment, before he returned back to his backpack. He reached in, and pulled out one of his spare bras and lingerie he had. Putting them on. Some form of cover. He'd look through the drawers in his room for new clothing, later. He had some for those times he came for a visit.
But he wanted the cool of the morning to more or less shock him into heightened states of alert. He knelt beside the hose and faucet. And after turning it on, he proceeded to wash the clothing he'd come in. As he did, he also cleaned his hands. And some of the dried sweat. Mostly under his breasts. But on the back of his neck and his forehead, as well. And under his arms, as well. He'd bring more in this evening for a nice bath. He'd warm it over the fire he'd build. While omegas really should not have to chop their own wood for fire and warmth, Minho had no choice. He was alone. And decidedly, without anyone to aid him.
He had to rely upon himself.
//
With his clothes hanging to dry, Minho had put on some new clothing he'd found in his bedroom.
They would certainly do for the time being. He then took out a granola bar from his backpack. And after refilling his water bottle, had it for a bit of a breakfast. With some food and water in him, Minho set about tending to the crops his family had. Mostly vegetables, with some fruits. While he'd have loved to have had meats, he knew that was a rarity. Even if Minho had to chop his own wood and do things on his own, there was one thing he'd refuse to do.
Hunt.
Omegas had never, and would never be hunters. Not even in the zombie apocalypse. It wasn't safe, no matter what. They could take up a fiercer blood and fight as need be. That was fine. But hunting was out of the question.
But that was fine, also.
He would make do with what he had. And what he had, were cabbages. Large and healthy. Green onions, and chives. Potatoes, and peppers. And a few other vegetables. As Minho set about checking how they were and tending to them as he'd learned many summers ago, Minho thought about what he could have for dinner this evening. After ensuring the vegetables would survive, Minho turned and approached the shed his grandparents had kept for storage.
As soon as he opened it, his eyes lit up. And a slow smile spread across his face. Gardening tools. And they would double well as weapons. Sharp and capable of producing heavy damage. Even to the living. He looked up a little to the blue sky. Praising the gods for this blessing. For ensuring he could reach his current home. And be provided means to both survive, and fight back. He then looked back at what was before him. Planning everything carefully. While also ensuring his surroundings remained safe. He was constantly scanning his surroundings. Mostly for wandering zombies. But also, for potential intruders.
He wasn't sure he'd help them or not.
After all, they'd be survivors as well. But he wasn't sure he could, or even should trust them. Unsure of what their inner thoughts were anymore. Maybe the first few weeks would see even potential psychotic wolves being shaken, uncertain. And not yet the dangerous wolves they'd become. Being innocent and traumatized. But eventually, they would adjust. Change, and become dangerous. And take advantage of him in whatever ways they could.
After grabbing what he currently needed, he returned to the crops to ensure he could do with them as he needed. They had a good deal of crops on their small farm. So Minho wasn't short of any potential work. Nothing that would make him feel bored. Though he knew eventually, that would happen. This only showed how much they had all relied on work and technology to keep them from growing bored. But then, Minho could just enjoy long naps. And even plan for potential contingency plans.
Eventually, the boredom would dissipate. Either through having company. Or from having to eventually move on to find company. To find a pack, and mate. He'd be on the move again. Back into the wilds. Moving about. He wondered how the world would have changed in the time he was here, to the time he finally left. Would the zombies have evolved by then? He knew there would be psychotic wolves by then. How was he to avoid them? He knew they'd see him and realize how valuable he was to their sick and twisted ideas. And try and sweet talk him.
He could have huffed.
Minho hadn't been easily swayed by sweet talk. He supposed he'd be fine.
For a while.
//
He wasn't sure how many days it had been since he'd arrived at his new home.
But he could tell it was still the fairly early days of the apocalypse. He's only seen zombies stumble past the property. Never on it. Nor through it. They never seemed to notice him. Then again, he remained very silent and aware of his surroundings. A weapon hidden in his back pocket at all times. Ready to use to defend himself. But they never noticed him. Either his scent didn't carry to them on the breeze, or they were more interested in finding more to feed on. He wasn't sure. He didn't care. Often when he saw one, he would silently head back inside. Quiet and quick. Locking everything up. Only peering out of a small peephole he'd made for himself to keep an eye on the drive.
But he remained undisturbed.
He did not mind in the least. He liked it that way for the time being.
But it would seem that today, nature and the gods said he needed a shake up. That it was time to add to his story for his future pack. His survival story before coming to join them. His gaze narrowed, hand firmly gripped around his weapon. Eyes untrusting, even as he saw a figure lingering around near the entrance to the drive. It wasn't a long drive. Fairly open and easily accessible. There were just small gulches on either side for rain water to flow through. Made any car coming and going from becoming trapped.
He set his jaw, yet did not call out. In case it was a zombie finally noticing him. A growl in his throat. His omega ready to protect itself. While also seeing how fast it could make it to its safe territory. After lingering for long enough, the figure finally moved. Slowly making its way up his drive. He shifted. Body language clearly in fight or flight. As the figure drew closer, some tension fled from him.
It was another wolf.
Another survivor wolf. He still had untrusting narrowed eyes on him. His eyes were red. An alpha. Well shit. He just had to hope his weapon was good at piercing tougher alpha flesh. Once close enough, it blinked. Eyes widening, as if surprised to even see him. He put his hands up slowly. Showing he was defenseless. Currently. He likely had a weapon on him for zombies. He spoke in a low crooning tone. Minho nearly huffed. He wasn't a pup. But he was an omega. And the alpha was only trying to reassure him he wasn't going to attack him.
How true, he didn't know yet.
He spoke softly, "Easy. I'm like you. A survivor. I'm not looking for trouble. I'm mostly surprised there is anyone alive around here. Alive and "normal". Especially an omega. Alone?"
He raised an eyebrow, clearly curious at this prospect. Minho frowned, and answered cautiously, "What of it? This is my territory. It belonged to my grandparents, and now it belongs to me. I know how to work this land. You city types do not."
The alpha spoke soft and calm, hoping to assuage his defenses, "I meant not offense. Honest. But I must remind you. You're an omega. Alone. In the zombie fucking apocalypse. How long do you plan to survive alone? Omegas don't do well alone for too long."
Minho shrugged, "Depends. How long has it been?"
The alpha hummed, eyes cast up a little. Thinking a moment, "About a month. Maybe a little more. Maybe a little less."
Damn.
That was a long ass time. Minho slowly nodded, "And why should I trust you? Let you stay with me? I know you'll ask for that."
The alpha spoke, "You shouldn't. And you don't have to. But I can help. You'll want it. Not for your heats." He shrugged, "I am an alpha, as you've noted. I know how to hunt. Perhaps I can provide you some meats. If you can provide me shelter."
Minho took him in carefully. There was a small voice in the back of his head telling him to reject. To cast him off. He was dangerous. He wasn't safe. And while Minho would have asked it to clarify, the bigger and louder half of his brain argued differently. He needed a companion. For now, true. But he could use some meat. And some company. Someone to talk to. And just be with. His wolf was starting to crave companionship. With a soft sigh, he relaxed. Slowly, he nodded, "Fine. For now."
The alpha grinned. He looked friendly. But Minho knew looks could fool anyone. And while he was curious as to that small voice in the back of his head, he'd cave to the bigger voice for the time being. He had ways to defend himself in this house. He knew it like the back of his hand. The alpha drew closer, though he didn't rush. In case it had Minho in defense again, "Thank you. Promise, I'll do what I can to help."
Minho nodded slowly, eyes narrowed, "You start to overstay your welcome, I'm kicking you out."
The alpha grinned and nodded, "Agreed."
Minho sighed, "I'm Lee Minho."
The alpha grinned even more, "What a lovely name. Pleasure to meet you. Even in this world."
Minho raised an eyebrow. Nearly huffing the alpha was being so secretive. He then inquired, even as the alpha grinned when he finally answered, "And, you are?"
"Kim Woojin."