Chapter Text
The smell of blood filled the air, carried by the soft breeze that moved through the tall, pine trees. The sound of crickets filled the forest, unknowing of the fate of the man who lay in the grass.
'At least it's a beautiful night' The thought crossed his mind.
It was indeed a beautiful night, stars winked above and the breeze seemed to ease his pain even if it was cold. At least he could pass, or become a zombie, under such a lovely sky.
Images of his friends being attacked crossed his mind and he choked back tears. He can't cry, not now, he needs to keep calm, even on his deathbed.
Everything felt dizzy now and the world started to spin, the long grass swayed, and his blood dripped into the ground
He really didn't want to die now but what choice did he have? He was a coward and faced the price.
As he let out weak coughs, everything finally faded into black and he felt extreme exhaustion drag his eyes down. The man accepted his fate and let tiredness drag him in.
~~~~~~~~~~
The sounds of leaves crunching underfoot reminded him that autumn was passing. He guessed it was October by now but no one cared much anymore.
The reason that he was now in the forest was because there were smoke fumes rising over the treetops, not the smartest thing for someone to do in these times.
Him and his friends came across a campfire with tents that looked like they had been patched up. Several pools of blood were soaked into the forest floor, it looked quite recent. They were all armed and cautious in case the zombies were close as they split up to look for possible bodies.
He was currently following a faint trail in a field with overgrown grass, maybe someone tried to escape here as he found blood shining under the moonlight.
Suddenly ahead, he saw an indent in the long grass, not that noticeable but he could just make out the extended shadows up ahead. Hopefully someone wasn't there because they'd most likely attack him and rob him of supplies if they beat him.
Cautiously, he crouched down and creeped towards where the supposed person was, hopefully he had the advantage of surprise and could attack them before they knew he was there.
After moving past some grass, he found a man lying down face up in the grass. He felt slightly dizzy at the sight, he always did.
Was he sleeping? No no, he looked unconscious, almost ghostly under the moonlight.
'sucks to be him' he thought as he started rummaging through his pockets. The classic pocket knife, lighter and map was found on him but the unusual things he found was a sketchbook, pencils, rubbers and a cigarette.
You don't get many smokers in these conditions, let alone artists.
Something drew him to this man, whether it was the odd things he carried or the way he looked angelic under this light and how his moustache perfectly complimented the rest of his face. Or maybe the way his hair fanned out around his head, or how his nail polish stood out or how his clothes perfectly framed him.
'shut up, smitty, he's probably dead anyway. Stop thinking like that'
Still something pulled him to the man, some invisible unknown force that made him drop to his knees, some force that made him check for a pulse and find a faint one. For any other person he'd leave them to die, but for some stupid reason he used some bandages he had in him to try and stop the multiple wounds from letting out any more precious blood.