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They woke up to the sound of groans and dragging feet. The light coming through the cracks of the boarded windows was orange and dull. A groan followed by a thud then dragging feet and another groan. They were outside of the house trying to will their way through the blocked off door and boarded windows.
Ian heard them before he saw the shadows they cast in the miniscule light. He listened carefully before opening his eyes and looking to confirm what he heard. There were maybe ten, fifteen at most. He lightly sighed and reached and hand over to slap Mickey awake.
“The fuck d’you want,” Mickey demanded, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep.
“Hoard,” Ian mumbled. He was far too tired to make complete sentences yet.
“Too fucking early for that, man,” Mickey commented while shaking his head lightly and readjusting how he laid his head on his arm.
“No, Mick. Hoard. As in of zombies, right outside the door.” Ian clarified, waking up more and stretching his limbs. Mickey grunted bur followed suit as Ian stood to start gathering their things.
They had stayed the night in a small corner store. At one point it was probably a mom and pop shop, slowly losing business to the big corporate stores being built in the area. Now, its only purpose was to house Mickey and Ian for a night as they made their way across the country. The windows had already been hoarded when they arrived. They were old but sturdy. Mickey had found a desk and a safe that he had Ian help him carry to block off the front door. The back door had already been blocked off with randomly placed wooden planks nailed across the door and into the frame.
“Where's the crowbar?” Mickey called from the other room as Ian packed up their sleeping supplies.
“it's in your bag,” Ian called back.
“why the fuck is it in my bag? It's always fucking been in your bag,” Mickey complained out loud as he entered the room to rummage through his belongings.
“We keep it in your bag since we found that shotgun and started keeping that in my bag.” Ian reminded him. Mickey grumbled quietly to himself. Ian smiled at the back of Mickey's head as he was reminded that despite everything they still had small domestic moments like this. Bantering back and forth, eating meals together, sharing childhood stories. The small, usually meaningless things that one when unnoticed were now the highlights of Ian's life.
“What the game plan?” Ian asked when he finished packing their things.
“Take the back door out, go around and kill ‘em. Loot ‘em and see if any of those fuckers are carrying anything worthwhile.” Mickey explained, his hands absently gesturing as he talked. A smile played on Ian's lips once again as he nodded. There was a fire axe and a shotgun sitting on the table between them, the weapons that Mickey had chosen for the occasion. Ian reached for the axe but before his fingers could grip the handle Mickey grabbed his wrist.
“Take the shotgun. I want the fire axe.”
“Why?” Ian asked. He didn't really mind much using the shotgun, but he was curious as to why Mickey preferred the axe when he was more experienced with guns.
“I want to feel it. I want to feel them beneath it,” He informed Ian. There was a hint of a smile in his eyes as he said it. Before Ian could react Mickey took the axe and walked to the back room that led to the rear exit.
Ian knew in that exact moment that he wanted to be with Mickey forever. Or however long they have left. He took a deep breath and followed after Mickey. “You know, we never really had a first date.” He says absently.
“Then breath out the fucking candles, Gallagher, ‘cause it's about to start.”
They make their way around the building with their weapon in hand. The creatures surrounding the front if the store turned at the sound of living feet hitting the damp pavement.
Ian is the first to kill. He fired off a shot into the chest of one of the zombies before it got too close. Mickey quickly jumped into action as the small hoard surrounded them and chopped into one of the undead's head. Ian focused back on his targets, shooting at the creatures with the dull, silver eyes. They continued to fight, gunshots and tearing flesh filling the space the zombies left behind as they fell to the ground. When the last of the undead fell they found each other again. They rested back to back until their breathing slowed again and the smell of gunpowder and smoke dimmed.
“You ready to go?” Mickey asked softly. Ian imagined that his eyes were closed and they he was listening to every hitch in Ian's breath. Ian nodded.
“I'll follow you everywhere.”
Mickey laughed, breaking the connection of their bodies as he sauntered away from where Ian stood.
“You ruined the moment,” he called over his shoulder lovingly.
Ian didn't care that he ruined the moment with his cheesy confession of love because it was true. He would follow Mickey anywhere he went.