I'm really supposed to be doing other things right now. OH WELL.
---
Jensen would have thought he'd be immune to shock by now.
He'd lived through the apocalypse, for Christ's sake. And not just any apocalypse. He'd lived through an honest to fucking God zombie apocalypse. Seriously, zombies. He'd been there when the virus had first spread, had watched the news with horrified disbelief as it turned from an infection to a plague to the end of the fucking world. He'd been there when survival had come to mean a loaded shotgun and the ability to outrun anything shambling after you. He'd there when the world had turned into a level of Resident Evil. And not a very good one at that.
After all the impossible bullshit Jensen had been through, he hadn't thought there was anything the world could throw at him that he couldn't take in stride.
But this just couldn't be fucking happening.
"I gotta say," said the zombie, which made no sense because zombies didn't fucking talk. "It's nice to have an actual conversation for once. Zombies aren't exactly what you'd call talkative. Besides all the 'urrrr, brains' stuff. Which gets really old."
Jensen stared at the zombie. He'd been doing pretty much nothing but stare at it since it started talking at him instead of trying to eat his head. He was one of the fresher-looking zombies, which was to say that his skin wasn't rotting off his bones and both of his eyes were still in his head. It was impossible to mistake that gray pallor and awkward gait for anything else, though, and the scent of death hung all around him.
The barrel of Jensen's shotgun was trained unerringly on the zombie's forehead, though it was looking less and less likely that Jensen was going to need it. Not that he was about to put it down any time soon.
"You're a zombie," Jensen said to the zombie, almost like he was clarifying that it was, in fact, a zombie.
"Yep," the zombie said candidly. "It pretty much sucks out loud. I'm Jared, by the way. Thanks for not shooting me."
"I still haven't decided not to," Jensen said. "How are you talking?"
The zombie - Jared, apparently, shrugged. "No idea. Been like this since I got zombified. Which, yay I'm not a shambling, brain dead, animated corpse, but I can almost see how you'd want to be more dead than me for this. Brains are disgusting. Give me a chocolate bar any day."
"This is fucking weird," Jensen felt compelled to say.
Jared threw back his head and made a sound that was almost a laugh but more like a dry, breathless death rattle. They both flinched at the sound and Jared's face fell so dramatically that the rest of his body sagged with it.
"God damn it," he said, in a quiet, defeated voice that made Jensen's heart go out to the guy no matter how much he didn't want it to. Jared's smile was a wan little thing. "Did I mention this zombie thing is bullshit?"
"Could be worse," was all Jensen could think to say. "If the zombie that infected you had started at the throat, you'd be whistling every word."
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onlyembers
Hey, Nobody's Perfect 1/2
Date: 2013-06-30 05:05 am (UTC)---
Jensen would have thought he'd be immune to shock by now.
He'd lived through the apocalypse, for Christ's sake. And not just any apocalypse. He'd lived through an honest to fucking God zombie apocalypse. Seriously, zombies. He'd been there when the virus had first spread, had watched the news with horrified disbelief as it turned from an infection to a plague to the end of the fucking world. He'd been there when survival had come to mean a loaded shotgun and the ability to outrun anything shambling after you. He'd there when the world had turned into a level of Resident Evil. And not a very good one at that.
After all the impossible bullshit Jensen had been through, he hadn't thought there was anything the world could throw at him that he couldn't take in stride.
But this just couldn't be fucking happening.
"I gotta say," said the zombie, which made no sense because zombies didn't fucking talk. "It's nice to have an actual conversation for once. Zombies aren't exactly what you'd call talkative. Besides all the 'urrrr, brains' stuff. Which gets really old."
Jensen stared at the zombie. He'd been doing pretty much nothing but stare at it since it started talking at him instead of trying to eat his head. He was one of the fresher-looking zombies, which was to say that his skin wasn't rotting off his bones and both of his eyes were still in his head. It was impossible to mistake that gray pallor and awkward gait for anything else, though, and the scent of death hung all around him.
The barrel of Jensen's shotgun was trained unerringly on the zombie's forehead, though it was looking less and less likely that Jensen was going to need it. Not that he was about to put it down any time soon.
"You're a zombie," Jensen said to the zombie, almost like he was clarifying that it was, in fact, a zombie.
"Yep," the zombie said candidly. "It pretty much sucks out loud. I'm Jared, by the way. Thanks for not shooting me."
"I still haven't decided not to," Jensen said. "How are you talking?"
The zombie - Jared, apparently, shrugged. "No idea. Been like this since I got zombified. Which, yay I'm not a shambling, brain dead, animated corpse, but I can almost see how you'd want to be more dead than me for this. Brains are disgusting. Give me a chocolate bar any day."
"This is fucking weird," Jensen felt compelled to say.
Jared threw back his head and made a sound that was almost a laugh but more like a dry, breathless death rattle. They both flinched at the sound and Jared's face fell so dramatically that the rest of his body sagged with it.
"God damn it," he said, in a quiet, defeated voice that made Jensen's heart go out to the guy no matter how much he didn't want it to. Jared's smile was a wan little thing. "Did I mention this zombie thing is bullshit?"
"Could be worse," was all Jensen could think to say. "If the zombie that infected you had started at the throat, you'd be whistling every word."