Chapter Text
If someone had told Glenn that his whole life was about to change thanks to a simple game of rock paper scissors, he probably wouldn’t have believed them.
About a month ago he'd moved back to the town where he'd grown up. It wasn't what he'd wanted, and it meant leaving behind Atlanta—the city he’d come to call home—but he was failing his classes, and he'd already burnt through both the money he'd saved up himself, and the little nest egg his parents had sent him off with.
He’d survived the unwelcome lectures and the disappointed looks from family just long enough to get set up in the basement of his parents house. His room had been turned into a sewing room, but there was an old pull out couch down here, so Glenn found himself making a home among the must and mold of packed away belongings from years past. Some of those boxes had Glenn's name scrawled over them in sharpie, awaiting the way he might have kids of his own and suddenly want his old toys again. Others, the names of his siblings.
None of them had come back with their tails between their legs. None of them had dropped out of school. And none of them needed a couch to crash on, not even just until they could get a job and get back on their feet. But Glenn had always been different, so here he was.
He survived exactly one week and four days of his parents and their building resentment before he couldn’t stand being there anymore. Not without his grandma there to help him weather the storm, anyway. So with the money he’d been able to save up working two jobs, he went out and got himself a real piece of shit apartment. Sure, he had to share it with three other guys who he didn’t know, but it was better than the basement of forgotten dreams.
Glenn had always planned to go back to Atlanta once he’d saved up enough for it, and every single dollar that wasn’t going to rent or food was squirreled away with that intention. In the meantime, the things he missed about the city buzzed relentlessly in his mind. It was a constant backing track to the small town life he didn’t want—that he’d grown up in, and was desperate to escape from the moment he’d begun to understand there were other things out there in the world, beyond this.
Sometimes he’d hated himself for the fact that he just couldn’t tow the line in school. That he’d managed to squander all the freedom he’d finally gotten in the palms of his hands. That he'd wasted a scholarship and the money his parents had put away for him specifically so he could go to a good school.
But then he’d shake his head and banish those thoughts, because they sounded too much like his parents' voices. Besides, plenty of people got by without a college degree, and he was determined to show his family that he could too. He only hoped that the rest of his future wasn’t working shit jobs, using up every single moment of time trying to keep ahead of the fate his parents told him he was destined for if he didn't finish college.
But for now, things were okay.
He had the pizza joint, and the video rental place part time—a relic of the past, but Glenn liked how he got to watch movies most of the time while he was on shift—and between those he was actually doing alright. But there was no way he was gonna be a pizza boy for the rest of his life, that was for sure. Especially not when he got stuck doing the shit runs all the time, on account of his ridiculously bad luck.
“Can’t believe you threw rock three times in a row,” Glenn complained, frowning at his coworker who was grinning like the cat who'd caught the canary.
“Whatever, Glenn, don’t be a sore loser.”
As it just so happened, Amelio’s was the only pizza joint willing to actually send their drivers out into the sticks for delivery. Which meant it was too damn often that he and his coworkers ended up having to drive to the trailer park and deliver pizza at some ungodly hour of the night.
And it was one thing for Scott to go, because the kid was white and had arms the size of a tree trunk, no one was gonna mess with him. But Glenn was thin and wiry, and his mouth was a little too smart to keep shut when it best should. And besides those things—which were already bad enough—he was Korean.
So the redneck motherfuckers that lived on the outskirts of town, with their confederate flags and their licenses-to-carry didn’t really take too kindly to seeing someone like him on their doorstep at eleven, twenty minutes to midnight. Even if he was bringing them their stupid, fucking pizza.
On a good day, he’d get an insult straight from the backwoods school of etiquette tossed his way and stiffed on the tip. On a bad day, he’d get the barrel of a gun in his face and a threat that if his ‘yellow bellied ass came back here again, they’d paint him all over the sidewalk.’ He was lucky that those types were typically so drunk that they didn’t even remember if he was the same guy or not when he ultimately did end up having to deliver there again.
But he’d lost the rock paper scissors game, and fair was fair. At least this time the sun was still shining overhead when he left.
It took about twenty minutes to drive out to the park, and Glenn wondered how the hell they made any money on this pizza in the first place, considering the price of gas. He figured it had something to do with the garbage quality of ingredients. As far as he was concerned, there was one hell of an up-charge on these grease soggy flopbreads.
The roads were always quiet out here, more farmland than anything else. But it felt somehow even more empty today, and it set Glenn on edge. The feeling was almost creepy, and he turned the music up on his dash in an attempt to drown out the weird sensation that had been sinking in since he left town.
An old, familiar song from his teenage years came on and Glenn sang along to the lyrics, a sense of childhood nostalgia driving the perfect memory he didn’t even know he had. Like the words were written on the back of his hand, like they’d been there all this time.
He hadn’t thought about it in years, but the song brought back all the memories of being the only Korean kid in school. Hell, he’d been the only Asian kid period. He remembered how lost he’d felt, like he was split between his culture back home, and growing up American—trying to fit in with all the kids who didn’t know anything different than right here, right now.
He was second generation, but it always felt like he might as well have been stepping fresh off the boat into his classroom. His backpack slung over one shoulder, a lunch box packed full of stuff the other kids had never seen before, their laughs and disgusted noises prickling at him in the cafeteria when he’d unboxed it and revealed a meal that sure as hell wasn’t tuna on white bread.
Eventually he’d made friends, and he’d become more and more American each day that passed. But he’d never forgotten what it felt like to be different, or that he was always going to be different. The trailer park felt like that, like he was thrown back into that lunchroom his first day with all the kids who made fun of him.
The radio crackled, the song suddenly broke up, and a news broadcast flickered in as he drove out of the range of the station. Glenn barely paid attention, turning instead to watch the passing fields of cornstalk roll by his windshield.
“... recommend that you stay inside… anyone into your house as we are currently… receiving reports of… and violence—”
Glenn perked up a little and reached out to turn up the radio, only for him to lose the signal again. “What the hell?” He muttered, blinking a little. He fiddled with the dial, but he couldn’t find another station with any reports. “Just what I need, for this day to get worse.”
He glanced up towards the sky and said a small prayer that he could just get to the stupid trailer park, drop off the pizza and go home without catching any trouble. Not that he actually believed anyone was up there listening but, what the hell. It was worth a try.
As soon as he got to the park the feeling that something was off only got stronger. It was quiet, he was used to at least hearing some TV blaring from within a trailer. Or raised voices that were barely muffled by thin, metal walls, as the occupants fought amongst themselves. Glenn pulled the brim of his cap down to shade his face from the sun, insulated pizza bag in one hand as he headed for the address on his little piece of paper.
It wasn’t his first time delivering to this particular trailer and he just wanted to get things over with. He found it quick enough, stepping up and knocking on the door. He felt jittery, shifting his weight and glancing around the trailer park as he waited. He could hear the radio turned low inside the trailer, but no one spoke out, and no one came to the door.
He thought about just leaving, his knuckles rapping over the door for a second time as his patience ran thin. But he could only imagine the sort of call this guy would put into Amelio's if he didn't get what he’d ordered, and the last thing Glenn needed now was to get fired. On the final rap of his knuckles, the latch on the door jumped and it swung open.
Glenn froze, his breath catching in his throat. He tried to listen for voices—for someone to start berating him for breaking and entering or something, but there was nothing. He careened his neck around the door frame, scanning the place. Junk was tossed all over the floor, chairs kicked over, a drawer pulled open with it’s contents scattered across the hall. The door all the way in back of the trailer was shut, and there was an odd, dark liquid that was seeping out from underneath and staining the wall to wall carpeting on the other side.
A little chill ran along his spine, and a voice told him he needed to leave right now. That whatever this was, it was none of his fucking business. He was about to do just that, when there was a thump from behind the closed door.
Glenn startled, nearly dropping the pizza he held straight onto the floor.
There was some woman talking on the radio about riots in Atlanta, their voice low, emanating from deeper in the trailer. There was a gun on the table he would have to walk by to enter, a hunting rifle. Glenn knew nothing about guns. He didn’t even know how to tell if the thing was loaded, but he still grabbed it as he stepped carefully into the trailer.
“Hey man, are you alright in there?” Glenn asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I got your pizza…”
There was another thump, and something moaned. It sounded pained, and Glenn was starting to think he’d walked in on a failed murder scene or something like that and… hell, this guy probably needed his help. He was probably bleeding out while Glenn stood out here, pissing his pants like some kind of coward.
“Okay, just hang in there—I’m—I’m gonna open the door.” He grabbed the gun, abandoning the insulated pizza bag in its place. Just in case, he thought. Just in case what? He couldn't imagine a scenario where he would actually have to use something like this on a person. But he also knew all kinds of weird, shady shit went down in this trailer park, and it just made him feel safer to hold it, even if he had no idea how to use it. All those Call of Duty all nighters definitely hadn't prepared him for something like this.
His own heartbeat felt like it was pounding in his head, drowning everything else out around him as he approached the door. It looked like it led to a bathroom, and Glenn swallowed hard as he got close enough to see that... yeah. The stuff leaking from under the door was definitely blood. Like, a whole lot of it.
Glenn’s hand went to the door handle, shaking a little as he pulled it down. The latch clicked as it slid out of the groove it was settled in, and then everything happened so fast.
Right as he pulled the doorknob down there was another thump at the door, hard this time. Glenn was knocked back as it flew open with more force than he’d expected, smashing him in the face and knocking him dizzy for a moment. He hit the ground with a jarring thump, and his finger squeezed the trigger on the rifle.
The sound as it went off was deafening, the shot firing from right next to his ear and disorienting him. Everything was ringing, and the first thing his eyes were able to focus on was that he’d shot a hole straight through the roof of the trailer. Nice going, Glenn, was the first coherent thought he managed to pull up. But shooting a bullet hole in the trailer of some redneck he was supposed to be delivering pizzas to soon became the least of his worries.
This place belonged to the same dude he’d had look him in the face and call him ‘chinaman’ with a smarmy grin on his face. The same one who’d stiffed him on tips, and one time had slammed the door in Glenn’s face after shorting him a whole two bucks on his order. This place belonged to the guy who Glenn dreaded having to deliver pizza to, every single time the call came in.
But that wasn’t who was standing there, dripping blood from a jaw that Glenn was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be hanging half off someone's face like that. No, instead it was some woman who looked like she’d been put through hell, blood all dumped down the front of her dress, sallow skin and stringy hair. And she was shambling out of the bathroom, heading right for him.
Glenn’s sneakers scuffed against the shitty carpeting as he used them to propel himself backwards, but he was too slow, and the woman's gangling form soon came toppling down on him. She was heavier than she looked, and the weight of her body hitting him forced the air out of his lungs. He’d only just managed to get the rifle positioned between them in an attempt to push her back, and Glenn watched in abject horror as the lady tried to bite through the barrel, apparently undeterred by the fact that her jaw wasn't attached.
As Glenn sucked in a breath, he caught the stench of impressively rank body odor, the metallic tang of blood, and something all too reminiscent of when he’d forgotten that takeout container in the back of the fridge—the one that had looked like a science experiment by the time he’d found it again.
“What the fuck, ma’am!?” Glenn squeaked out, terror gripping him as he used all his strength to try and push her off again. He’d probably tell people he'd yelled out, masculine and authoritative, when he got to share this story with them. But in reality his voice had hit that particular octave that his brothers used to make fun of him for.
Not that it mattered. Because this lady looked dead in the eyes, like she hadn’t heard a damn thing. If Glenn didn’t know any better, he’d think this woman actually was dead.
With a final heave he managed to shove her off him enough that he could launch himself backwards, scrambling to his feet he positioned the gun in front of him, holding his breath as he pointed it at her. He hesitated with his finger on the trigger, his brain helpfully reminding him that this was a person, he was about to shoot.
But he couldn't shake that feeling, that this person did not need his help. That they were going to hurt him. In the time it took him to make up his mind on what to do, she'd gotten close enough to reach for him, and he acted on instinct.
Fear took over, and he pulled the trigger.
He managed to catch her in the shoulder, and the impact knocked her off balance so that she sprawled backwards, toppling over a chair and disappearing somewhere behind the built in breakfast nook.
Glenn didn't bother to wait and see if she got up again. Instead, he listened to every alarm bell ringing in his brain and ran. He dropped the gun, figuring he'd be just as likely to shoot himself in the foot, as he would be to successfully use it to defend himself again. He left the pizza behind too, because fuck the guy who'd ordered it and basically got him into this mess. Glenn's footsteps rang out over the metal steps as he left the trailer, his gaze swiveling around frantic as he called out for help.
All the noise he’d kicked up seemed to have woken the trailer park from its sleeping state, but Glenn would soon come to the realization that this was not a good thing.
As soon as his sneakers hit ground he lost his footing, tumbling to his knees and skinning them on the asphalt. His jeans were torn, fresh blood soaking lightly into the fabric, a stinging pain lingering there. It wasn’t bad, and he was barely focused on it as he rose back to his feet, his head flicking around to check each and every corner around him.
There were trailers on either side, all bunched up close enough to one another that he couldn’t see what might have been hiding behind them. But he could hear—a raising chaos of lifeless groans and haunting sounds that were all too familiar to the one he’d heard emanating from behind that closed bathroom door. He regret discarding the rifle.
But going back seemed counter productive now, so he just kept running. He tried to head back towards the delivery truck, but skidded to a stop before he’d made it even five steps. A few more trailer park goonies shambled out to block his route. As he dodged them he noted that they were just as messed up as the one in the trailer. Frantic, his mind rationalized that this must have been some kind of trailer wide drug party gone terribly, terribly wrong.
If it were, he definitely didn't want to stick around to find out what happened next. He was pretty sure he'd seen a horror movie like this, and he was just the type to end up as some sacrifice to some demonic entity that they were all convinced was talking to them through a cursed chicken, or something.
He wasn't even a virgin, this was such bullshit.
Or... maybe this was the kind of messed up trip where people just started eating each others faces. Glenn was pretty sure it was that one, as he rounded the corner of a trailer and spotted someone kneeling down on the ground, their hands tucking away into a blooming, red gash on some stilled body beneath them, pulling free strands of flesh and gore only to shove it into their mouth.
Glenn nearly lost his footing as he ran on, but somehow he managed to keep them under him.
He had to dodge a few more people stumbling out of their trailers. Aimless, shambling bodies blocking his path and cutting off any hope he had of making it back to the car. He didn’t really think in that moment, he just knew he had to get away, and there was only one clear way ahead. Lucky for Glenn, he had always been quick on his feet. It was just one of those things you had to learn, being the only different kid in a small Georgia town.
He learned to be quick, slippery, and smart enough that if he wasn’t gonna be able to fight with his fists, he at least had the words to make someone feel like an idiot right before they tried to chase him down and punch his lights out.
Two of those skills were about to come in handy.
He took off for the woods at mach-speed, dodging out of the way of more shambling overdosed druggies as they reached out for him in one last ditch effort to consume his delicious face. He broke into the tree line and just kept going. And kept going, until he was wheezing so hard he felt like he was gonna puke—until suddenly he had to stop, hunching over and trying to catch some air between ragged breaths.
He had no fucking clue where he was now, due to the fact that he hadn’t really been paying attention as he ran for his life. He was thinking maybe he should have stuck with the boy scouts his parents had signed him up for when he was ten.
Because right now he was lost in the middle of the fucking woods, and he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do next.
Glenn wandered around the woods for what felt like hours, his surroundings growing steadily darker as he stumbled around blindly. His knees were hurting, a dull throb of pain where he'd fallen and skinned them, and panic had been building in his chest. He felt like at any moment he was going to completely lose his shit. He had literally shot someone. He was hungry, too. And he kind of wished if he was going to just throw away the rifle that he would have at least grabbed the pizza back on his way out of that damn trailer.
Now he had nothing. No protection, no food—and no idea what the hell he was supposed to do next. He was pretty sure he’d seen that same, questionable bush full of odd, bright purple berries like four times already, and they were starting to look more and more like it’d be worth it to just take a chance on them.
Frustration eventually caught up on him and he buried his face into his hands, dropping down into a crouch and groaning into his palms. He didn’t even know what was going on out there, he didn’t know what the hell was wrong with those people that had tried to attack him. He'd run through the crazed druggies theory several times since wandering the woods, but it became more and more farfetched, the more he thought about it.
All he knew was people were going crazy, and he didn’t know if it was happening all over or just here.
But he could recall something about Atlanta, on the radio.
Which meant maybe whatever was going on in that trailer park was going on all over Georgia. The thought alone left Glenn struggling to catch his breath. He wheezed into his hands, his heart pounding hard as he fought the urge dizzying urge to just sit down on the ground and give up.
They’d been eating each other… there were people who were walking around with limbs off, pieces missing, their eyes glazed over as if they weren’t even in there. Just the way they’d smelled.
Were they even alive?
“Th’ fuck’s wrong with you?”
A hard voice drew him out of his panic. Glenn looked up so fast his cap fell off his head, landing softly on the ground behind him. The man he made eye contact with looked rough, like he’d been rolling around in the woods for at least twice as long as Glenn had.
His arms were thick and muscled, a bit dirty, bare and exposed thanks to what looked like a home done hack job on his sleeves. His hair was short and damp, from sweat and who the hell knew what else. Glenn’s attention was instantly drawn to the crossbow thrown over his back, and what looked to be a couple dead squirrels tied at his belt.
He didn't seem all that old. Older than Glenn, probably. But he had a youthful face, something his harsh tone almost seemed to be trying to make up for.
“Uhm,” Glenn began trying to think of what to say, only for the man to cut him off by spitting onto the forest floor.
“Whatever, don’t fuckin’ care,” the guy went on to announce, wiping at his face with the back of his arm. All he seemed to accomplish was smearing dirt over his mouth and up his cheek. He moved like he was gonna walk right by Glenn, like maybe he saw people losing their shit in the woods all the time.
Somehow, Glenn doubted that.
“H-hey, hold on!” Glenn rose to his feet, nearly tripping over them as he hurried to catch up with the man. He caught them around their forearm, Glenn’s fingers tightening around a muscle that felt like it had more power in it than he had in his entire body. The man whipped around, one closed fist hitting Glenn square in the center of his chest.
Glenn went down hard, wheezing in pain because—jesus fuck, that hurt.
“Don’t ya fuckin' touch me!” The man snapped at him, his voice tight with warning. Glenn heard the clicking of some mechanics and by the time he’d lifted his head back up the man had his crossbow loaded and pointed right at his head.
Glenn slowly raised his hands, shaking his head. “No, I’m not—I just—you don’t even know what's going on out there, do you?”
“Fuck you talkin’ about?” He asked, skeptical. His brow furrowed as he seemed to try and gauge whether listening to Glenn was worth his time.
“There are... people, but—they’re not people anymore I don’t think, they’re uh… they’re eating each other.” He knew it sounded ridiculous, and from the look on this guy's face it wasn’t very convincing.
“Ya think yer funny?” He spit the word like he certainly didn’t think so, shifting his weight a little. The tip of his weapon lowered a bit, as if he was debating whether he had a reason to shoot Glenn right between the eyes or not. “Some kinda prank?”
“I know, it sounds crazy. Look, could you just stop pointing that thing at me?” Glenn’s eyes kept nervously jumping between this guys face and his loaded weapon. He seemed to mull that over for a moment, before throwing it back over his shoulder.
Glenn snatched his hat from the ground and set it back on his head, pulling it down so it was snug. “I just came from the trailer park. I was delivering pizza and the whole place was just… messed up.”
The guy was already walking in the direction Glenn had come from, and he seemed like he wasn’t listening much. Still, Glenn trailed after him. Partly because it seemed like he at least knew his way around the woods. And he was the first normal, non-decomposing person that Glenn had seen since he’d left Amelio's.
Not to mention he had that crossbow. If the hole fired through the eye of the squirrel hanging from his belt had anything to say, he was a pretty good shot with it too.
“Anyway, I tried to deliver the pizza but when I got to the trailer it was totally empty. Or at least, I thought it was.” Glenn could tell his voice was getting hurried. He was desperate to get this story out to someone, to tell them what he’d seen.
“This guy is a real asshole, but he orders from us all the time. I didn’t want to get into shit with my boss and the door was open, so I went in.”
“Nosy sunuvvabitch,” the guy accused, his voice low and rough.
“Yeah, well maybe I just wanted to get paid after having to drive all the way out to the sticks,” Glenn defended himself, before realizing that was hardly the point. “But it was all fucked up in there, like—like a tornado blew through or something.”
The guy walking in front of him snorted. “Sounds about right fer 'round here. Thought you said somethin’ was wrong?”
“Okay fine, so then there was…” Glenn paused, swallowing hard. “In the bathroom, banging, it was—there was blood. And I thought I had to check on them, there was so much blood.”
The guy stopped in his tracks and Glenn ran straight into him. “What blood?” The man asked, his voice harsh again. He’d turned and used two fingers to push Glenn back, keeping him at a distance.
“On the floor, coming from under the door.”
“Then what?” He asked, the warning back in his voice again. Glenn was a little caught off guard by how quick this guy's mood seemed to change, but he soldiered on.
“I opened the door and it was… they were… their jaw was uh, off.” He felt a little queasy remembering the way it just hung there, lopsided and broken, pulpy red meat where skin should have been.
“Who?”
“I don’t know, some girl?” As soon as Glenn had said that, the man in front of him seemed to relax a little. “She attacked me, like—came right for me. I grabbed a gun off the table, fell and shot a hole through the roof.”
The guy snorted, shaking his head. Glenn was a little distracted by it, the little rivulets of sweat dripping down his face. It was hot as hell out here and both of them were sweating like crazy. Glenn couldn't help but miss the luxury of his air conditioned delivery truck.
“She landed on me and tried to bite me, tried to bite straight through the gun,” Glenn shook his head as he remembered. “I managed to shove her off me but she was… it was like her eyes were dead.”
The guy said nothing, he just stood there staring at Glenn. His expression was totally stony, schooled into something neutral that Glenn couldn't read.
“So I shot her in the shoulder, and then I ran. But there were more out there blocking my way to the car. I went for the woods instead, but I still saw them... they were, uh," Glenn swallowed hard, big scared eyes looking up at a man who clearly wasn't buying this shit. "Eating each other," he finished.
The man continued to stare at him as if Glenn were going to start up again, but there was nothing left to tell.
“Damn," the man began, unimpressed. "I know I look stupid, but ya gotta be fuckin’ kidding me with this shit.”
“What?” Glenn asked, watching as the man turned away from him again. He scoffed, muttering under his breath about 'practical jokes' as he took up his path towards the trailer park. “No, wait! You gotta believe me man, you can't just go walking back in there!”
“Ain’t goin back nowhere. Suns goin’ down and the park is still a four hour walk from here.”
That was a shock Glenn hadn't seen coming. He stopped in his tracks as he tried to process what this guy had just said. He'd been running for four hours, fueled by adrenaline alone. It seemed almost impossible, but he supposed that's what being terrified for their life did to someone.
Not quite knowing what else to do, Glenn followed the stranger in the woods, the silence stretching out between them. It wasn't like he had a whole lot of other options right now, and for whatever reason, the guy wasn't telling him to fuck off.
After a while, he finally spoke up.
“Lemme guess, my brother put ya up to this?”
"What?" Glenn asked, unprepared for a question to be directed his way.
The man looked back, an evaluating stare that Glenn figured found him wanting. “Didn't see him working with a Chinaman, s'all.”
“I—I’m Korean. And I don’t really know your brother,” Glenn said. He was pretty sure he was all the luckier for it, too.
“Whatever. Yer real fuckin’ funny,” the guy bit out, before they sunk into another bitter, awkward silence.
Eventually, it got too much for Glenn to bear and he broke it again. “It’s been on the radios. I didn’t understand it at first, but something bad is going on.”
“I look like I got a radio out here?” The guy snapped at him, glancing back.
“No,” Glenn admitted.
“Right, pretty fuckin’ convenient. That blood from a squirrel?”
Glenn looked down at his shirt and winced. Blood was spilled all down the front of his chest, no wonder this guy had held him up at arrow point when he’d first walked in on him.
“Jus’ wouldn’t put it past Merle ta go the extra mile for this shit.” The guy grumbled, like maybe getting pranked about dead people eating other people was just the kind of joke his brother really would pull.
“Did you say Merle?” Glenn asked nervously, recalling that name. Of course he did, how could he not? Merle was the guy who called him in today, whose trailer Glenn dreaded delivering to most of all. And the one he’d found all fucked up when he’d arrived, with some crazy face-eating lady in the bathroom.
“But ya already knew him, huh.”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” Glenn said slowly, wondering if he should say something or just let this guy figure it out on his own. “What’s your name?” He asked instead. There was another prolonged moment of silence, before the man finally answered.
“Daryl.”