Word Count: 2,309
It happened so fast, Keith was sure it all could've been some mass hallucination if he didn't remember it so vividly.
He could remember the excitement at first.
Then the confusion.
Which quickly morphed into terror as he watched what was quickly taking place in Times Square just seconds before the massive ball would drop signifying the beginning of a new year.
He remembered recalling something he had seen a couple of weeks ago as he watched what had been happening just a few blocks away. Some lunatic had sworn on public television that the world was going to fall in chaos as the world celebrated the new year of 2020.
Keith, of course, hadn't paid it any attention. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened, some homeless person off the street screaming that the world was gonna end before the clock struck twelve. He remembered one year he and one of his former foster fathers had been walking down the crowded streets of New York. Some guy wearing nothing but his underwear in thirty-degree weather started chasing them down the sidewalk, shouting that Keith was some sort of alien who was going to destroy them all.
Of course, that wasn't true.
He also shouted that the aliens were going to take over the world someday.
That didn't happen either.
But Keith was sure in that moment that he would've taken aliens over zombies.
He was in an apartment several stories off the ground before New Years' Eve exploded into chaos. Shiro was in the kitchen pulling together some last-minute hot wings to celebrate. Keith was sitting on the worn couch in the living room watching TV, hugging a pillow to his chest, eyes wide in wonder as he watched the thousands of people in Times Square celebrating and dancing to the music. Some were tipping their head back in a toast as they drunk some form of alcohol or another without once thinking about how hung-over they were going to be the next day.
He had never seen anything like this in his life. All of the foster families he'd lived with before now usually grounded him from watching any television around the New Year, mostly for something he did during Christmas, or just because he was labeled as a bad kid with a juvie record and none of his foster parents wanted to deal with him during the holidays. So they locked him in his room to keep him from seeing anything.
But Keith swore that he was going be standing down there with all those people one day, so he could see that massive ball drop with his own eyes.
But for right now, snuggled up on the worn sofa in a warm apartment, watching it on TV was good enough for him.
"You enjoying yourself?" Shiro walked back into the room, one plate in each hand, both piled with chicken wings, chuckling as he caught sight of the fourteen-year-old huddled on the couch, eyes glued to the screen.
If Keith had to say it at all, Shiro was pretty decent looking, he was tall and muscular, better fit for his job on the local police force. His hair was a dark brown, just like his kind and equally brown eyes. Keith remembered his first few weeks of staying with him, he would jump at Shiro's voice, or try to make himself as small as possible whenever the man had been standing in front of him. At first glance, he had been the intimidator, and Keith didn't know how to handle someone who looked like he could beat you without batting an eye, and yet be the exact opposite in nature.
But now, Keith just nodded, the lightest touch of a smile on his face; he was sure in some other reality, he would still be jumping every time a voice met his ears, and he had done that for a while after Shiro adopted him and brought him home. It was leftover from his times in less.... inviting homes, Keith could still remember the punishments and those stern and cruel gazes. Some part of Keith doubted he would ever truly forget, but that was then, this is now, and now, Keith couldn't even describe the pure relief of not having to wake up to yet another foster family that didn't want anything to do with him.
Here he was wanted.
Here he was home.
Shiro sat down beside him, placing both of the plates on the small coffee table in front of the television. Keith felt the cushions shift under him when the older man sat back to watch what was happening on screen with a content sigh.
It was apparently a popular song playing, Keith couldn't say that he knew the song, but the tune was catchy and he'd sometimes find himself humming along with the chorus before he pressed his lips back together at the slight sound of Shiro chuckling under his breath beside him. However, he was more than happy to be sitting there, with Shiro, in their small apartment, just a few blocks away from Times Square. It was a lot to adjust to at first, getting used to someone who didn't want to lock him in a closet when he accidentally dropped something, or starve him when he forgot something important, it was nice in a way. Nine months later, and Keith had grown used to it all, to Shiro, to his room, even to himself. He wasn't as quiet as he used to be, he noticed that within the first few months, and Keith could tell that Shiro was also noting the change.
Keith leaned over and picked up one of the wings sitting on the plate, it was still hot and burned his fingertips slightly, but he put it to his lips anyway, liking the way the spiciness hit his tongue.
"What the Hell," Shiro muttered to himself, and Keith, in turn almost spat out the chicken wing he had been chewing on. Shiro never said stuff like that, ever.
Surprised, Keith looked up at the TV screen, the shouting of the reporter finally reaching his ears as his eyes widened in surprise at what was unfolding in front of him.
The festivities of the New Year suddenly forgotten Keith's eyes widened as he took in the new scene broadcasting on the screen. The first word that came to his mind was zombies, thousands of them, clawing and biting at the screaming people around them -- chaos. People were beginning to run out of Times Square, trying to avoid them as best they could, but they were everywhere and he could already see that there wouldn't be many getting out of there alive.
Somewhere through the sudden shock, a female voice met his ears as the scene shifted to a woman, her hair was caught in some wind shifting through the city, and Keith could clearly see the panic and fear in her eyes, even though he could tell she was trying her best to hide it for the viewers at home. "Reports are suddenly flooding in about attacks all over the city, Bill,I don't know what to make of this-"
The screen filled with static.
"Shiro, what-"He was suddenly being grabbed by his arm, and yanked up to his feet, as Shiro pulled Keith to their apartment door, the older man's fingers fumbling against the locks the moment he got close enough to reach the handle.
"I don't know what's going on, Keith, but we need to leave now," he was breathing hard, out of panic, or fear, Keith couldn't tell, but either way, he knew that whatever this was, it wasn't a hoax, this was real and it was bad.
And Keith needed to find out just what exactly they were dealing with.
Shiro was moving to unlock the door when Keith moved to pull him back, the sound of banging fists on the other side drawing them both to a stop. Shiro faltered only for a second before changing directions, "We'll go through the fire escape-"
"Shiro, what-"
"Keith, listen to me. Stay close, we can't be separated-"
"But Shiro-"
"Keith, please," the new edge in his tone, had Keith looking up at him in surprise, and Keith's chest clenched when he realized that it wasn't the typical leader look Keith would get sometimes when Shiro asked him to help with, or do something. No, it was fear in the older man's eyes, and Keith didn't know why that fact alone scared him so much.
He swallowed, and then nodded, moving to help Shiro open the window, that was sitting just over the fire escape. A peek down told him that there wasn't anyone, or anything, there yet, but Keith had a feeling that could change in a matter of seconds if they didn't move fast enough.
Suddenly remembering something, Keith ran back to his room and grabbed his baseball bat from beside his bed, clutching it hard to ensure he didn't drop it, he sprinted back to where Shiro was trying to get the screen out.
"Keith?"
"Come on," Shiro said when the window was finally cracked open as wide as it would go, letting in a blast of cool air that sent a small stack of papers on the coffee table behind them flying, and Keith's black hair going into his eyes almost immediately.
But the wind didn't block out the banging on the door that was steadily getting louder with each passing second, growls and groans loudly proclaiming that there wasn't a friendly neighbor knocking. The static from the TV was so piercing it was beginning to hurt his ears; and somewhere in the midst of that, Keith realized he was shaking so badly he was surprised he was even able to hold on to the bat at all.
"Keith, you with me?"
"We'll have to go down, remember, Keith, you have to stay close."
He didn't trust himself at that moment to speak, with the window now wide open he could hear the screams sounding in the streets below accompanied by low growls that were also becoming apparent behind the locked door of their apartment. As if being summoned by the sound he felt goosebumps crawl up his arms. Absent were the almost comforting sounds of the rumble of cars on the street and the occasional sirens or horns from one car or another. The sounds of your typical city life were gone, replaced with a sound much, much worse, chilling him to his bones. Keith nodded again, gripping the bat tighter as he watched Shiro swing a leg over the window ledge, the older man then ducked his head down and swung his other leg through so he was now standing on the metal grating of the fire escape outside.
Now it was Keith's turn.
"Keith, I swear to God I won't hesitate to punch you if you don't look at me right now."
He swallowed thickly, mirroring Shiro's movements and before he knew what was happening, he was being grabbed by the hand and was pulled down the fire escape.
That was their first mistake.
At the same time, the window in front of Shiro busted out, glass raining further down through the metal grating and almost immediately covering his face in cuts and scrapes by the force if the sudden explosion of shards. Shiro's mouth formed a small "o" of surprise just in time for a zombie to burst out with such force that it pushed them both over the edge and onto the street below.
Which might have been a seven-story drop.
"Keith!"
"Shiro!" Keith screamed as he climbed back up the ladder he had been clinging to, hands grasping ahold of the railing, cold metal biting into his skin as he looked down into the street below, eyes catching ahold of the two bodies unmoving on the concrete as adrenaline exploded into his system, sending his head throbbing, and his heart pounding even faster, as his brain tried to make sense of the two bodies sprawled on their backs on the ground below.
They were both dead.
A sharp crack ignited along his cheekbone, and then-
Keith sputtered and blinked, the memory in front of him melting away, meeting the eyes of a very angry Chyra.
"What are you, freaking possessed?" She hissed.
Keith prodded his sore cheek and winced, "Maybe," he muttered.
She huffed, sending another glance over the rusty wreck of a car they were currently hiding behind. "Well, un-possess yourself, and get moving," she looked again and muttered, "that freaking mob is getting closer," she cursed, and Keith, in turn, pulled the backpack strap a little higher up his shoulder, preparing to make a run for it, the last thing he needed was to drop the small number of supplies they had found all because Keith tripped over his own feet due to the added weight crushing on his back.
One look for himself affirmed that there was indeed a zombie horde at least ten feet away from where they were standing, and his already aching legs ached even more at the thought of all of the sprinting they were going to have to do to get back to their base unscathed.
A moan from one of the undead echoed through the street, and Chyra tensed at the sound. "Get ready," she steadied herself, and Keith could practically see her whole body tighten, like a spring ready to burst into action.
Keith sighed and did what he was told, bracing himself, hand at the handle of his knife just in case, as Chyra counted down quietly.
Keith pushed back the memory.
He needed to focus.
Recalling the tragedy that had taken place three years earlier wouldn't help anyone right now.