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First rule of being a professional in a zombie defense squad: Do not, under any circumstance, put yourself at risk for full viral amplification. Second and third (and fourth, fifth, sixth…) were all about protecting yourself, protecting your squadmates, and how to eliminate a threat so that you’re safe.
(The seventh rule was just a repeat of the first one again. In case someone ever forgot.)
It was times like these, when Felix stood over a dying man, that he wondered just how extensive those rules were.
And if anyone actually listened to them. He was certain that he didn’t even when he was in training to actually be a zombie defense specialist or whatever the fuck they called themselves. He wasn’t sure why he remembered that bullshit anyway.
All the zombies on this job were gone, already wiped out, and this guy in front of him had fallen through the broken floor above. He wasn’t a hunter, just some guy out looking for a thrill. And now he was dying and Felix was watching him impatiently, waiting for him to die so he could do something more interesting.
See, killing zombies was a thrill. The constant threat of his own death hanging over him, those stupid eerie screams the dead always made - so exciting to hear. Always got his blood pumping and left him wound up. And, usually, he would walk around with Locus, find the zombies that weren’t quite dead yet, and kill them. Kill the dead, go home, fuck Locus.
It was becoming a routine, yeah, but a good one. Good way to get all his excess adrenaline out before he did something he might regret.
But he didn’t have that now because Locus had gone off to double check the dead himself. He had left Felix here with this man, left him to make sure this guy died without turning. And he didn’t even know how long it’d be until Locus came back for him, so maybe he went a little overboard just then. Maybe he caved and set to work smashing a dying guy’s ribs open, so what? The man was so far gone that he couldn’t even scream, just gurgling noises as he choked on his own blood. There was still life in his eyes though, fear and pain and shock that shone in the tears that spilled onto his face.
Felix met his gaze and grinned, sliding the knife in his hands up swiftly to cut the guy’s bloodied shirt in two. He stopped to yank his gloves off - flecked with zombie blood, no good here, only a threat - and then exchanged the knife he held for a clean one. Lowered it to the man’s chest. Dug it in, cut up, cut roughly. That almost brought a scream out of him, not quite, but nearly. Still too far gone for anything. Goddamn, that was a shame.
The screams would have been amazing to listen to.
He cut without thinking, ripping through the skin and muscle underneath, and then set to fighting past the ribcage. Most of them were broken, courtesy of Felix stomping on the man’s chest and the fall, but still - a lot of work. His own heart was racing when he squeezed one hand in far enough to grasp the other man’s. Felt his heartbeat, the warm blood coating his hands and his fingers.
Felix grinned. He laughed and it sounded just a touch depraved.
The man’s eyes were still staring at him, wide and shocked.
Felix winked at him before spinning the blade in his other hand and diving in. Had to put a lot of force on it to separate it from the rest of the body, and the blood that came out only spurred him on.
This was impulse. This whole fuckin’ thing was nothing but an impulse and Felix didn’t have the care to fight against it.
It was a thrill, another wave of excitement, another way to lose himself in the manic energy that took hold of him these days. He didn’t fight it because it was easier this way. There was nothing urging him to stop - Locus wasn’t there to chastise him for wanting to cut someone up - and when he had thought of it, there had been nothing to stop him from doing it. Nothing to stop him from ripping a man’s beating heart out of his chest.
Honestly, the guy had fallen in front of him like a fucking gift. To fight this would be refusing said gift.
And that was just rude.
The guy’s eyes were still on him but his heart was in Felix’s hands, held tightly, still pumping. He didn’t even hesitate. Just brought the heart to his mouth and ripped into it.
Eating it was a thrill, yes, but it was also taunting the hovering face of death and that was, like, easily double the thrill factor. Because the virus was in all of them, lying dormant and waiting - and infected blood was a hot zone waiting to throw the virus into overdrive - and Felix was eating a human heart, raw. Looking death in the face and laughing at it while the blood ran over his lips. It wasn’t like it tasted all that good, because it kind of tasted pretty fucking bad, but the rush was worth it. So was the blood in his mouth, actually - that was pretty interesting. Definitely worth it to feel blood spilling out of his mouth.
He was straddling this dead guy, devouring his heart, feeling his own racing in his chest and pounding against his ribs, and all he could think of was that first rule of zombie defense squad training. Don’t put yourself at risk. He laughed around a chunk of the muscle in his mouth and it slid down his throat, catching. The laugh turned into coughing and Felix braced himself with one blood-covered hand on the dead guy’s chest, right by the gaping hole he had left.
He was still sitting there, coughing, heaving, trying to fight the sudden urge to throw up half a heart and a hell of a lot of blood when footsteps reached his ears. His head snapped up and he watched Locus come to a stop several feet away.
And just like that, the rush started to ebb away.
It was obvious what Locus was thinking before he even raised the gun.
Felix, kneeling over a dead man. Blood covering his hands, hell, covering his arms too. Blood on his face, dripping out of his mouth. Even the deep breaths he was taking was characteristic of the freshly turned, of a new zombie whose body was still adjusting to the viral changes. He straightened, raising both hands and dropping the heart. It hit the ground with a soft thud and a part of him actually mourned the loss; could hardly eat the rest of it now.
He said, “W-Wait - “ and then started coughing again. His stomach was churning - from the blood? or something else? - and he doubled over again, coughing and retching and biting back the bile in his throat.
He didn’t even realize Locus had advanced to his side until one of his arms was yanked, Locus pulling him until he climbed to his feet. “What are you doing?” Locus growled. There was so much anger in his words that his voice shook. “Have you lost your mind entirely or have you always been this stupid?”
Felix wanted to retort to that. He was not out of his mind, he knew very well what he was doing and why he was doing it. But when he opened his mouth, Locus shook his head an inch, leveling the gun between his eyes. “...You gotta be kidding me,” he choked out. “I’m fuckin- I’m fine.”
“You’re eating a dead man,” Locus said. “That’s about the opposite of fine, Felix.”
“Just… Sh-shut up…” Shit. He still felt like he was going to puke - what the fuck had happened? It was so good in the beginning and now…
Locus started toward the exit, pulling Felix after him and ignoring the awful sounds he was making. At the van, he wouldn’t even let him in, just threw him against the side of it - literally threw him, and Felix hit the side with a fresh wave of nausea. He sank to the ground, to the dirt and the concrete beneath it, and focused on not vomiting. Somehow the idea of throwing up just sounded like a loss.
Eating the heart was a definite win - over what, he had no idea. But puking it all back up, that was a loss and he refused to give into it.
By the time Locus came back, he had settled the urge down somewhat. Enough to look into Locus’s eyes and say, “Are you worried about me?”
Locus upended an entire bottle of water on his head as an answer. He thought it was kind of a childish thing to do until the fucker set to cleaning the blood off his face. Roughly, swiping a rag over his mouth with so much force it was almost violent. Felix slapped his hands away, taking the water and the rags from him to clean himself off.
Locus said, “I’m worried about your sanity,” and it was dripping sarcasm and anger.
Goddamn, the guy was pissed off as fuck. Needed to calm down.
Felix ignored him. He ignored him while he cleaned his hands off, ignored him while he snapped the jacket off - couldn’t ignore how Locus wouldn’t allow him to bring the jacket back inside the van, but whatever. He could always buy a new one with the paycheck for this job. His stomach settled on the ride back to Portland, and when he licked his lips, he found the taste of blood and a human heart still there. Not as good as the actual thing.
He tried to ignore Locus the whole way back too, but he was just going on and on and on… Talking about how this was the stupidest thing Felix had ever done. How he could have died, that eating human flesh was outlawed for a fucking reason - to prevent just this thing, he knew. Cannibalism was dangerous now, not just horrifying. The possibility of someone infecting themselves through the consumption of human flesh was, like, 75% or higher, and no one knew if eating raw flesh ripped from a still living person lowered that. Partially because no one had ever actually tried to make a scientific test out of it.
But the unpredictability was part of the risk, part of the rush and the thrill.
Locus said, “If I had pulled that trigger when I saw you, you would be dead.”
Felix said, “Yeah? So why the fuck didn’t you? Who the fuck sees someone eating a dead guy and thinks they should wait to make sure?”
“You’re my partner, Felix, no matter how stupid you act.”
“For like six months. You talk like we’ve been together for years.”
“We have.”
“Training doesn’t count, and you know it.”
When Locus didn’t answer, Felix glanced over at how tightly he was grasping the wheel and decided that it would probably be best if he didn’t say anything else. Wasn’t admitting defeat, just… He had never seen Locus this angry and he had the feeling he’d be beaten the instant he made some snarky reply to the guy.
It a pity ‘cause he had some good things to say just then.
Didn’t stop Locus from talking - no, from lecturing. He said again that it was dangerous, that Felix could had died, that this habit of his was going too far. That Felix was enjoying killing far too much if he had actually stooped so low as to eat a heart. That he needed to stop before something actually happened.
Felix thought that Locus just didn’t get it.
He thought that eating that heart had been one of the best ideas he had this week.
At least, it was until he was lying on Locus’s couch a few hours later and feeling like something had set fire inside of his stomach. Locus was sitting in the chair nearby, reading and ignoring all the pathetic noises he was making. Which was disappointing beyond all belief because Felix just wanted some water and he was sure if he moved, there would be a lovely pile of puke on Locus’s carpet.
“Locus.”
Nothing.
“Locus, I’m dying.”
Still nothing.
“Please? Help me? I’m dyiiiing, it’s horrible. I think my stomach is trying to eat itself.”
Locus sighed and glanced at him for a second. “You ate a heart,” he said. There was still anger in his voice, even after all that time had passed. “What did you expect?”
A cool story. A rush. The knowledge that he had tempted death and won again.
He said, “...Can you get me some water?” in the most pitiful voice possible, clutching his gut and curling around himself. “I promise not to throw up on your carpet.”
The water didn’t help at all, and when Felix was bent over the toilet minutes later, Locus was there rubbing circles over his back. It’d be comforting if he wasn’t puking his guts out at the same time. When he stopped, he didn’t even bother to flush - let Locus do it, let Locus wipe his face off, who cares if he was being pathetic. He collapsed against Locus, sinking into him with a sigh.
“How are you feeling?” Locus asked quietly.
“Like I’m dying.”
Locus’s hand settled on his forehead, and Felix sighed.
“I’m not gonna turn, been too long.” He reached up to swat Locus’s hand away with a grunt. “Stop checkin’ for fevers.”
Locus actually carried him back to the couch, settling down onto it with Felix lying between his legs, back to his chest. Once they were settled, he said, “You do realize this is your own fault?’
“God, shut up.”
“You ate a human heart - raw- and now your body needs to get rid of it.”
“Does not. I was fine for hours.”
Locus sighed. “It’s psychological, Felix. The possibility of infected flesh inside of you is too much for your brain to ignore any longer.”
That explained the vomiting and it was probably right. Goddamn. Psychology was such bullshit.
“The stomach pains are probably unrelated,” Locus continued.
“Please don’t lecture me while I’m dying.”
“Don’t eat human flesh again.”
Felix grumbled an answer, closing his eyes, and trying to ignore Locus. If he could do that, he could maybe fall asleep. It made the fact that Locus’s arms were locked around his waist easier to deal with because otherwise, godddamn, what an asshole.
“Felix.”
He groaned. “I just want to sleep, you jackass.”
“Promise me you won’t eat human flesh again.”
“Okay. Not unless it’s you I’m cooking.”
“Felix.”
“Fine. Jesus Christ. I won’t eat human flesh again. Promise. Will you shut the fuck up now?”
Locus’s arms tightened around his waist and Felix’s stomach rolled again. If he threw up again, it was going on Locus’s goddamn carpet ‘cause he was not moving another inch.