Z Nation Imagines

@boy-with-a-rifle

You are bitten

I'm fucked.
I'm so utterly and unmistakably fucked. The thought runs through my head like a scratched record as agonizing pain spreads like fire throughout my arm. I can feel it grow heavy there for every second I stood, slicing my way through the herd to get back to my people. To Warren, Doc, Addy, and hell, even that zombified asshole Murphy.
Most importantly, I needed to get back to 10K. That kid might have the needed skill set to outlive the apocalypse but he wouldn't survive a day without me. So I fought despite the heaviness I felt with each swing of my machete. Warmth and relief bloomed in my chest as soon as I saw the back of a familiar pick up truck, the mop of dark hair and the pale hand reaching for me. My legs screamed in pain and I sobbed at the amount of energy it took me to reach the truck and haul myself aboard. There was relief and something else in 10K's eyes, something I didn't have time to dwell on, but seeing the mix of worry and relief on his face lifted a weight from my shoulders. It meant I still get to live another day with the idiot./p>
The thought was cut off as I felt myself being yanked back and I shriek, more out of anger than fear, as one of the Zs manage to grab a hold of my foot.The heel of my boot catches the Z's chin and I feel it's fingers loosen and drop back, along with my left boot.
Bastard, this was my only pair of shoes.
Warren revs the engine and speeds off, leaving the herd and the town behind in the distance.I cough, trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible. My arm laid by my side, limp and useless, still stinging.
"Glad you're not dead." 10K sighs in relief, chest rising visibly as he takes in air. A hysterical laugh bubbles up my throat and I grin at him, despite the amount of energy the simple action took from me. What I wouldn't give to lie my head on his lap right now and sleep through the goddamn apocalypse. My head bobs down in exhaustion. He's watching me now like a hawk, concern rolling off of him in waves. He opens his mouth again to speak but I already know what he planned to ask. I raise him a thumbs up, beating him to it "I'm alright, 10K, don't worry about me. That herd was a piece of pie."
"That's not..." He trails off hesitantly, running a hand to the back of his head. Just as he was about to spit whatever it was out, it looked as if he thought better of it and lamely points out, "You're sitting on my slingshot."
"Oh."
10K laughs quietly at my blunt tone, eyes wrinkling as his smile stretches wide. His laugh was infectious and I find myself laughing along as I toss the offending matter over to him. It was rare to find anything as close as to what 10K and I were. The entire group was a family to me, but he was so much more than that. He was my absolute best friend, as cheesy as that sounded. A strange feeling in my gut erupts and suddenly I felt what little I ate this morning rise and churn dangerously. I realize now that the wound in my arm was throbbing, becoming increasingly unbearable. My smile morphs itself into a pained grimace and I double over in pain.
"(Y/N)? Hey, hey, what happened?" In a split second, 10K is by my side and brushing hair away from my damp forehead. I was burning up, I knew that, I could see it in the way 10K stiffens up and holds me like I was fragile. His hands slam against the back window twice, alerting the rest of the group that something was wrong. Shit, I didn't have the energy nor the will to yell at 10K for that. It was probably just an infection anyway, the group didn't need a distraction right now. Not when we're already so close to California, to finishing the mission.
"Everything's fi-"
"Don't." The barely concealed frustration in his voice shuts me up, if he weren't holding me so close, I wouldn't have noticed the way his shoulders subtly shook. I could never talk to him properly when he was like this, and so I sat there, helpless and in pain. "Tell me what happened to you."
"Machete caught my arm, it's just infected," The words barely left my lips before he was swatting at my hand to get to the wound. His calloused hand gripped mine as he pushes my sleeve up to unveil what I expected to be a slash. Instead the both of us stare in petrified horror at the perfect imprint of a barely there bitemark.
The both of us knew exactly what this meant, I choked out a strangled sob, "Tommy..."
It was the first time I said his real name out loud since that time he had told me all those months ago.