Zombie Falls (A Gravity Falls Fan Fic)

Tampered hourglass

"You know how to use a gun, my boy?" Ford asked the question as he observed my handheld gun that he still hadn't given back yet.

"Yes." I answered stubbornly, watching him show me how to reload with a box of bullets he had. I wanted to snatch it out of his hands already and show him I knew what I was doing. So I did. I took the gun out of his hand while he was still in the process of putting a fifth bullet in the Glock's barrel and tool the new bullets I had in my hand. When I found it a bit difficult to push the bullets into the barrel one by one, Ford chuckled.

"The funny part was you attempted to shoot me with an empty gun when we first met." He snickered, resting his left hand on his thigh as he relaxed himself of the edge of the gift shop's porch.

"I was trying to threaten you." I muttered, struggling with the bullets.

"You sure you don't need my help?"

"No." I said, slightly moving my body in the other direction so he wouldn't feel the need to take the gun back again. "I almost got it."

Obviously not having much success with reloading, I stood up and hopped off the steps of the porch as if it would make a difference and help me gain enough strength to push them in. Once they were all filled, I clicked the barrel smoothly back into the gun.

Finally, I settled myself and decided to shoot the gun. If I was going to tell Ford I knew how to use a gun, I needed to show him too. With my gun raised at a nearby tree, I recalled the conversation Ford had had with his brother the same morning about giving my gun back to me.

"It's time that the kids should be taught how to fight when the going gets tough."

"Oh yeah. That sounds great. While we're at it, let's go search for that pig of Mabel's and see if he can fly yet."

"Stanley, I'm serious." Ford responded, obviously not humored by Stan's comment.

"Well I'm serious, too. I'm trying to protect these kids. They shouldn't have to learn how to fight. They should just be protected and have time to still be kids."

"I'm sorry, Stanley, but we can't have that risk. We need to stop blinding them from the ugly truth. Their days of fun and games are over because out there, it's either life or death."

There was a long moment of silence before Stan went on. "You listen to me, Ford. You put a gun in a kid's hand, they will think that you can't protect them yourself. They will fear that they will have to end up shooting someone because they think you can't defend them."

And if I had to be honest, I was frightened to pull that trigger back at this very moment. The sound of the gun thundering in the distance with an ear-piercing bang is startling. But still, I needed to prove myself to Ford. Just this once, I needed to act as if I wasn't scared of the gun I held in my hands.

I inhaled deep and didn't let it out, waiting for the loud blast of the sound of the gun to come. My finger was slow to pull the trigger. Maybe it was due to the fact that I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking. When it did come, however, I had to pay extra close attention to not let go of the gun from the fright it gave me.

When I straightened myself back out, I heard his laugh from behind me. I did not hit the tree, but I did hit Ford's type of humor. "You'll get better." He stated reassuringly. "Little tip: keep your arms up and your eyes on the target. Soon, you will be ready to go hunting."

"Wait, woah. Hunting?" I asked, turning to make eye contact with Ford.

He nodded, not letting his smug grin droop. "To survive out here, you're going to have to learn how to hunt."

"Easier said than done." I shaded my eyes from the afternoon sun that came from behind the shack.

"Well, to be fair, my last thirty years have not been kind to me." He explained to me with a huffed laugh while he sat back. "Just remember what I told you and keep shooting."

I dropped my head to stare at the ground before taking a second shot at the same tree I was aiming for.

At dinner, we all sat at the table and I had to share a can of processed meat with Mabel. It isn't the best food to have around during an apocalypse but I will take it. To be honest, it tastes like soggy uncooked beef.

It seemed like everytime I passed her the can, however, she took smaller and smaller bites. Sure, the canned meat was bad, but my sister looked worse. Her skin was pale and her pupils had seemed to shrunk in size as if she was not spiritually present.

"Mabel, are you feeling okay?" I asked to get no answer. She had her eyes glued to the ground as if she was in a trance by the swirls and design of the wooden boarded ground. "Mabel." I said more sternly to have her head lift a little so she could stare at me. Her lifeless eyes on mine made instant chills down my spine.

She definitely wasn't Mabel anymore.

"I-I'm not hungry." She said in a whisper as she got up to carefully leave the table. Ford and Stan just silently watched her from their seats.

To my surprise, she didn't seem to be walking straight either as if she was a puppet being made to walk. She took a step a little too far with her right foot and went tipping that way and bumping promptly into the doorway before leaving. The whole time she kept her head down as if to be embarrassed.

Scraping the sides of the can for more meat, I wondered if I hadn't just noticed everything about Mabel until now.

Going up each of the steps on the stairs to the attic was a struggle. Each step got higher and higher, worry growing deeper and deeper with every step I took. When I finally reached the attic door to the bedroom I shared with my sister, I stopped with the canned meat dinner churning in my stomach.

With the breath I held in my lungs, I opened the door with its famous squealing noise becoming louder in my ears and heart. There, in the attic, Mabel curled herself up with Waddles on her side. Her eyes were halfway open as if she wanted to fall asleep, but couldn't.

I was able to make my way to my bed and tuck myself in without her saying a word. The worry feeling in my uneasy stomach hadn't subsided yet. After plenty of minutes, I wondered if it ever would. That's when Mabel spoke up.

"Dipper?" She mumbled to me from across the room. I flipped over to the other side to meet her eyes, realizing how pale in the face she looked, even from afar. Waddles was able to find peace in Mabel's arms, but Mabel was completely restless.

"Mabel?" I answered back. "Are you sure you're okay. You look even more pale than before."

I could see it from here. My sister was about to cry out of frustration and suffering and probably exhaustion. "I'm scared. What if I'm not immune?"

That question, alone, shook my nervous system. Her fear quickly became my own and the worry in my stomach was knotty and tight.