We Can Run, Or We Can Die [Frerard]

Ten|Stealing From Dead People

Gerard knelt in front of the stranger, who had clearly had the worst pile of shit dumped on him. Not literally, of course, but he did kind of look like it.

This stranger had holes in his jeans and cuts on his face, his hair straggly and outgrown. His boots were scuffed and bloodied, as were his bare arms, and the t-shirt he wore had been torn at by something. He stared straight ahead, into space, as if the car wasn't there, and he didn't even look like he was breathing.

"Hello?" Gerard said softly, barely aware of tiny stones digging into his knees. "Can you hear me?"

He glanced towards the car and saw Ray's stricken face in the passenger seat, with Bert leaning against the driver's side door and Frank probably somewhere in the back. He didn't get a response from the man, not even a blink of the eye, and he frowned, his eyebrows drawing together.

He reached out a hand and placed it on the stranger's shoulder, and the stranger jumped, a little gasp leaving his lips. Gerard jumped too, startled, and he watched as the man looked around, his hands shaking.

"Why didn't you run me over?" He said quietly, and Gerard blinked.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"There's a car a foot away from my face; why isn't it a foot away from my corpse?"

He glanced up at Bert, who shrugged, getting back behind the wheel. "Listen, do you - uh - want to come with us?"

The stranger shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I'll just have to find a gun or something."

"What? Why?"

"Because I can't take anymore of this fucking apocalypse." There were tears in the man's dark eyes, and Gerard had never seen anyone look so defeated. It was like he'd chosen it, chosen to walk away. Like there was nothing else he could do. "It's taken away everyone I've ever known and loved, especially the two most important men in my life, and I'm the only one left. I'd rather shoot myself, or - or get run over by some scrapheap car than get devoured by a zombie."

Gerard winced. Bert turned on the ignition and revved the engine, clearly not appreciating getting his precious car insulted. Gerard knew Bert: insulting his car was like insulting his masculinity, or what was left of it.

Meanwhile, the stranger began to sob. "Please, please just kill me. You're the first person I've seen in months, I don't want to go that length of time without seeing anyone again. Kill me now, so I don't have to do it myself."

The engine revved harder, and Gerard shot up. "Bert, no!" He cried, and the man behind the wheel raised his eyebrows.

"But Gee -"

"No." He turned back to the stranger. "What's your name?"

"What does it matter?" He wept.

"It matters to me."

There was a pause. "I'm Ryan. Ryan Ross. Please...I just want this apocalypse to end."

~

Bert was grumpy. And so, it seemed, was Frank. Ray and Gerard were the only ones talking to Ryan, the three of them sat at the side of the road, while the two grumpy bastards glowered in the front seats of the car.

Ryan couldn't stop crying. By choice or not, the most he could get down to were sniffles, and then it would just wash over him all over again. He sobbed against Gerard, who just held him, not needing an explanation. It had happened to all of them.