Septiplier One-Shots

The Apocalypse Isn't Fun

I have lost my will to live.

Everyone I have ever loved is now dead, so what's the point of going on?

My name is Mark Edward Fischbach. Yes, I am the man you are currently seeing. Do I still look sexy? I hope I do, even as a rotting corpse. Am I even rotting?

Anyways, in my bag beneath me, I a few empty bags of Doritos, an empty pistol, an empty shotgun, and a butterfly knife. Pretty much everything in this bag is useless except the butterfly knife, and if you have any ammo.

Please, whoever you are, find a reason to keep fighting.

I hope everything will end soon. Good luck.

The woman set down the note and stared at the hanging man who was now only a head, arms, and a torso. The rest of him must've been eaten after he died. Her eyes started to water as she stared at such a hideous sight. Nobody deserves to feel pain, and nobody deserves a zombie apocalypse. She glanced at the duffel bag and opened it up, seeing everything that was listed in the note.

"My God," the woman whispered to herself, "what happened to you?"

***

"Who the hell are you?" Mark hissed, pressing the barrel of the gun against the back of the stranger's head.

"My name is Sean," he said. Mark could easily hear his Irish accent, which left him wondering why he's in America, rather than Ireland. "I-I'm low on supplies. I'll give everything back an-and leave you alone, as long as you don't pull that trigger."

"How can I trust you? You could have a gun with you right now, or even a group that's hiding behind the trees!"

"If I had a gun, I would have already pulled it out and shot you. My group left me, so you don't have to worry about those bastards."

"Why did they leave you? Did you do something bad?" Mark, just kill him already, he thought, Why are you keeping him alive?

"I'm... I'm a coward, that's why. I'm a coward that couldn't save my friends, so the ones that actually survived left me because I would just 'weigh them down.'"

"Shit, I'm sorry." Mark hesitated as he decided to keep this man alive. Mark isn't a killer; there isn't even any ammo in the gun. He was just hoping to use it to scare off anybody who tried to do anything bad to him. He carefully set the gun on the table closest to him, hoping that he could really trust this man.

"Thank you, thank you so much." Sean headed for the door, but Mark couldn't let him leave.

"Wait, don't go! I- I... You can stay. My name is Mark, and I have ten bags of Doritos in my bag. Surprisingly, Walmart wasn't as empty as I expected it to be."

"Well, Mark," Sean smiled, turning around to stare at Mark, "I think you've earned the right to call me 'Jack'; that's what all my friends call me.

The next few weeks were almost repeating themselves. Split a bag of Doritos when hungry, try to find any places to raid, kill walkers (zombies) when they got too close, and things seemed to be going so well for them that they believed they would get through this stupid apocalypse.

Then, winter came.

"It's so fucking cold out." Jack said as he shivered, rubbing his arms for warmth. Food started becoming more scarce, and the sweatshirts they both wore weren't enough to keep them entirely safe from the cold.

"We can make it. If you believe, you can achieve, right?" Mark replied as they trudged through the snow.

"Yeah, right."