Entry tags:

author: rosemont 419, fall out boy, my chemical romance, spookathon08

FIC 08: I'd Burn This City Down by rosemont419
Title I'd Burn This City Down...

Author rosemont419

Pairing Mikeyway/ Petewentz (Basically implied)

Rating

POV 3rd- Mikey

Summary Gerard's Zombie Survival Guide

Disclaimer I wish.

Author Notes Spookathon 2008

Beta for this one; textedit

Warnings Zombies.... Wait.... Character death. And zombies.



He was nine the first time it happened. He and his brother were watching CN, when an announcement came on, interrupting the mindless colour and noise.

They were snapped out of their stupor by the nervous-looking reporter on the screen.

"Mom!" he had called, "Mom, there's a stupid announcement interrupting Transformers!"

"Hush." his mother had scolded "Don't say stupid." She sat down and listened to the man.

At the time he didn't understand what had been going on, only hearing a few words in between his mindless imaginary games, His brother, however, in middle school, did understand most of it, watching the television in a stunned rapture.

*****

The next day they had bought canned foods along with a rush of strangers, and put boards across all the windows of their house.

He had helped his mother, still not really understanding what was happening, by handing her 2x4's and nails. His brother spent his time with a notebook and a pen, writing.

"What are you writing?" he had asked, after the house was 'complete' as per his mother.

"Well," Gerard started excitedly "what would happen if we die? I mean, people, at one point, would need to get into our house, right? I mean, it may be a long time from now and they may not know what had happened! So, with my book, they'll be able to know! What do you think?"

"But..." he hesitated "Why would we die?"

Gerard grinned "Zombies." and turned the notebook around.

Sure enough, right there, on the front cover, in childish scrawl, were the words 'Gerard's Zombie Survival Guide'.

*****

Within a month all the undead were taken care of. The government took the best doctors from around the world and set them to work on finding something, anything, to kill the terrors that were murdering the people. They got the solution. They said it would be permanent.

It wasn't.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

10 Years later

The Totalitarianism country formally known as the U.S.A

The former state of Illinois

"GODDAMNIT!" came the voice of his roommate. "Goddamnit, mutherfuckin' sonuvabitch! What the fuck is so hard to remember about putting the motherfuckin' screens on the doors?! God!"

Mikey looked up from his readings. "Did you forget to put the screens up again?" he asked, glancing down at the book every once in a while.

"I'm such a fuckin' idiot." Frank sighed, before plopping down on the sofa next to him.

"It's alright. No biggie."

Frank sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

They sat in silence the rest of the night.

*****

Five years after the zombie invasion is when things started going to hell. America went into a civil war that no one could escape from. Everywhere there were things burning, people dying, homes and stores alike being vandalized. Public schools had all but stopped. No one showed up anymore, too afraid to go outside, lest be shot or otherwise.

It wasn't the zombies, however, that made the country fold in on itself; if anything the attack had helped it hold on for a little while longer. No, it was the dictatorship that America seemed to be heading into, that really destroyed everything.

No country seemed to be doing exceptionally well, though. The virus, the one that created the zombies in the first place, created an epidemic in the entire of Europe, another one coming to North America naught but eight years after the original attack.

There were other attacks heard of, in other places around the world, but those were only rumours. No one had any outside contact really; electricity virtually obsolete, and fossil fuels costing an arm and a leg, you couldn't talk to anyone, couldn't get anywhere. You were alone with whomever else you happened to stumble upon.

*****

Mikey, fortunately, had found Frank. He didn't really know where he was at first, somewhere in Illinois, he knew that much, but be damned if he knew the city. Frank wasn't that much better off. It seemed he forgot where he was too, just one day appeared in this city and that was that.

For most people this was the case. They had run after the second wave of the undead, country falling apart completely, and just didn't want to remember where they had come from. They didn't want to know where they were. They just wanted to be.

Mikey, however, did want to know. Not about himself, no, but he wanted, needed, to know about his brother. Two years after the first attack their parents decided it was better to split the family up. Gerard and their father stayed in Jersey, while he and his mother moved to Illinois.

He lost his mother somewhere in the second wave. That was two years ago. He met Frank after the west coast had started to rebuild, officially seceding from the States. That was about one year ago.

Nine months ago they started moving. They stopped off in Chicago and didn't move since.

*****

It was Mikey's day to get groceries. In Chicago, at least, the people had tried to create some sense of normalcy, and did most things off of a trade basis. Holding the fresh grown barley and tomatoes in a rucksack, he carefully moved through the vendors.

Stopping when he found bread, he rushed to get ahold of the owner's attention.

"What have you got?" the woman sniped, protectively standing in front of her cart.

"Fresh barley and tomatoes." he replied, showing her a peek of it.

"Give me five of your tomatoes and I'll give you a loaf." she said, holding her hands to her hips.

He hesitated. Not wanting to give up that many tomatoes, yet knowing that bread would be a staple in the apartment. Especially if they got anymore Runaways.

He sighed and handed over the tomatoes the same time as she the bread.

*****

Going to the other venders was easier. These things always cost less, being that they needed less to grow and create.

In the end he came back with a loaf of bread, a pound of nuts, two eggs, a bag of dried and salted meat, and a pound of coffee.

He sighed and stepped in his apartment building, doing up all of the locks on his way up the stairs.

He put the rucksack on the table, looking around for Frank. A door closed, lightly, and Frank made a hand motion. Mikey followed him to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking at Frank in concern.

"We have another Runaway."

Mikey nodded, looking confused as to Frank's expression.

"He was a front runner."

Mikey looked at him incredulously "And he wasn't?"

"No."

"Oh my God."

*****

When the second wave hit, no one knew what to do.

The government got everybody ages 18-30 to sign up. 'For re-schooling', they had said, it was sad how little they knew of the state of things.

They sent them to war instead.

*****

After the second wave they sent everyone who survived combat, to camps. It was for their own good.

They knew government secrets.

When they got there they found cold, cramped quarters. Most were injured, physically or otherwise, and all had some sort of PTSD.

It was hell.

Or so the Runaways said.

The Runaways were the ones who, essentially, ran away. Somehow, they got out. For most it was almost as bad as the war.

The ones who would help Runaways had a rainbow flag in their window. A far cry from the equality symbol it meant naught but ten years before.

*****

The front runners were the people who knew hand-to-hand combat. They were specially trained to inject the undead with the serum.

Inches from their faces.

Most of the front runners died. The ones who didn't were scarred for the rest of their lives. Most killed themselves in the camps.

Mikey and Frank took in a front runner once. They found him in the bathtub two weeks later. Two weeks filled with nightmares and mindless babble of snakes from their companion. His name was Saporta.

At least that's what his coat said.

*****

Mikey peeked in the room. The one that had the front runner in it. He was turned to his side, away from Mikey. He had brownish hair, seemed pretty slight.

Mikey closed the door.

"What do we do?" he asked Frank, not surprised by his sudden presence.

"We wait it out. Try to make it better for him. What we did for Gabe."

Mikey nodded, "Okay... Did you get a name off him?"

"His coat said 'Wentz' but he hasn't said a word yet. So," he shrugged, "I dunno."

*****

The next morning Mikey was making the first of the coffee when he heard a pair of footsteps.

He turned around and saw the front runner. Wentz. He opened his mouth to say something.

"Thank you for taking me in." His voice was hoarse. He gave a small grateful smile towards Mikey.

"Um." Mikey floundered, "No problem."

He turned. "Coffee?"

Wentz nodded. "Haven't had that for awhile."

"I dunno how good it'll be. I got it for pretty cheap."

"Hey man," Wentz smiled a little bigger, " coffee is coffee, right?"

"Right."

"Pete."

"What?"

Wentz looked at him. "My name. It's Pete. Pete Wentz."

"Oh! Mikey. Mikey Way." He held out his hand.

Pete shook it. "Nice to meet you Mikeyway."

"Um... You too Pete... Would you like some bread?"

*****

"He seems to be acting normal." Mikey told Frank later that night. "Like, nothing seems wrong with him. He even joked around with me for a little while."

"I dunno know man. Those guys can be whacky." Frank grunted, trying to rig up the kerosene to the stove again.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you tripped over the cord again."

"Whatever Mikeyway. I heard the toaster story."

They laughed.

"Um...." came a voice, timid with a hint of desperation in it. "Um, do you happen to have a notebook and pencil or something? I need to finish this."

"Yeah. Sure." Mikey riffled through the drawers to find something suitable.

"What do you need it for?" Frank asked "Writing a book or something?"

"Finishing a book is the case." Pete answered, showing Frank the five completed journals he had in his arms.

"Oh?" Mikey asked, not really paying that much attention to the conversation. "What about?"

"The zombies."

Mikey unintentionally slammed the cabinet shut and walked to Pete, notebook and pen in hand.

"Here you go." he stated, handing over the supplies to Pete.

"Thanks."

"Why'd you start writing it?" Frank asked, looking at the latest entry seriously.

"I didn't."

Frank and Mikey looked to Pete.

"My friend did. We were partnered together in the second wave. He told me about it early on. Said that if he died I needed to take it and finish it. 'Just in case someone comes, it could be years from now, and they don't know what happened. They need to know how we survived for this long, right? What do you think?' he had told me. You know. So I've been trying to finish it. Kinda hard to do when you don't know if it's actually over or not. But," he shrugged "such is life."

Frank and Mikey nodded.

"It's good that you're taking it up for him." Mikey said, bitterly thinking of his brother and his childish scrawl.

"Yeah." Pete nodded, looking at the, seemingly, oldest notebook fondly.

He gave it up when Frank made grabby hands at it.

"Listen to this." Frank laughed "'Gerard's Zombie Survival Guide', how great is that?"

*****

The rest of the week Mikey walked around in a daze. Frank kept asking what was going on, Pete only having a knowing look in his eye.

He caught up with him the afternoon of the sixth day.

"He was your brother. Right? Gerard?"

Mikey nodded.

"He told me about you. Said he missed you and that after the war he was going to come here and get you and you were going to get an apartment somewhere together."

Mikey just stood, motionless.

"That's why I came."

He looked up. "What?"

Pete shrugged "I figured that you would want to know about what happened to you brother."

"You were going to escape. To find me?"

"At first I wasn't going to. Then I found this." He placed a envelope in Mikey's hands.

Mikey looked at it, his name on the front.

He broke down.

Shushing him, Pete lowered their bodies to the couch. He rocked Mikey back and forth, muttering comforting words that fell on deaf ears.

"He- And I-"

"I know."

"But-"

"I know."

They sat in silence the rest of the night.

*****

He woke up at dawn the next morning. Pete was standing there, sludge tasting coffee in his hands. He handed it to Mikey.

"Thanks for last night." Mikey murmured.

"No problem." He sat down next to him.

For an hour they sat shoulder to shoulder looking at the wall, hands without coffee in them, grasped slightly.

Frank came in an hour later, a serious look on his face and the radio clutched tightly in his hands.

"You should listen to this" was all he said.

As the three of them listened to the repeating message, Pete's hands turned white, and he gripped both of Mikey's in his own.

After a half an hour of listening to the same message, to the point where they had it memorized, Pete stood up.

"Fuck this shit." was all he said, before slamming the door to his room.

Mikey glanced back at the door, slowly turning his head back when he realized that Pete wasn't going to come out.

Frank just looked at him.

"I know." Mikey said. "I know."

Frank just gazed at him sympathetically before leaving to his own room.

*****

The next morning Mikey found a note on his bedside table. It had one line on it.

He folded it and put it in his pocket.

*****

Frank was guarding the bathroom door.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Mikey signed his name, got a wane smile in return.

"Welcome to the front runners." the man said, shaking Mikey's hand.

*****

It was the first time he had seen one up close. He wasn't scared.

Clutching the note tighter to his hand, he got the injection ready.

It came closer.

He was ready.

Closer.

He gripped the needle tightly and flew.

Close.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Frank looked at the note currently in his hand.

He blinked.

Blinked again.

"Fuck." he sighed, wiping tears away.

"Sorry about your friend Frank."

"Thanks for coming."

The blond man nodded. "No problem."

As the door closed Frank crumpled the note and threw it as hard as he could across the room.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

'Cause I swear I'd burn this city down to show you the light.