#so a lot of these wobble around since i was still figurin out how 2 draw dd n dad

[phonification]

untitled dadroogs from the past year or so that i forgot to ever post

[thecreativeword]

Our Love Story Could Be Kinda Gory - 2

II

-CM-

Connor woke up feeling tense, worn out, and grumpy. He had hardly caught a wink of sleep between worrying about his charges and thinking about that damn zombie.

Price was supposed to be their miracle. Instead, he was their death omen.

However, Connor couldn’t just lay in bed and hope that the problem went away. He had to deal with the fact that it was here now and he had to deal with it.

Which is why he was standing outside the door to Cunningham’s room, urging himself to knock, reassuring himself that if the zombie tried anything, he’d be able to take care of it. Taking a deep breath, he knocked rapidly on the door nine times, then stood back as he awaited the potential danger that might appear behind the door.

“Just a second!”

There was a lot of bustling and muffled talking, then finally, the door opened and Cunningham stood in the doorway. Connor attempted not to let his relief show too much.

“Oh, hey, McKinley,” Cunningham greeted. “Is it breakfast time already?”

“No, not yet,” Connor told him, ignoring how the shorter man wilted slightly. “I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were getting settled in properly.”

Cunningham brightened instantly.

“We are!” he exclaimed. “Everything’s unpacked and put in a place. Right, Kev?”

An affirmative grunt drew Connor’s attention, and he looked up to see the zombie staring at the both of them from his place near the shelves, which were lined with family pictures and various figurines of Star Wars and Disney characters. His wrist was tied to the bedpost.

Connor frowned at this.

“Cunningham, why aren’t you holding the rope?”

Cunningham paled slightly.

“Oh, well, um…” He exhaled shakily. “It was super uncomfortable for both of us to try and sleep with it on, so I just tied it to the bedpost. It’s on there tight, and Kevin didn’t slip out of it, see?”

Cunningham rushed over and tugged on the rope in the same moment that the zombie was reaching towards the shelf. He was thrown back, and his arm jostled the top shelf, causing the twelve Disney figurines to wobble slightly. The zombie made a sound that could be best described as trying to scream underwater, and attempted to lunge toward the shelf, his hand batting wildly at air.

Then, it was quiet.

Cunningham and Price stared at Connor with as much surprise as he felt. Then Price’s surprise slowly melted into blank gratitude as he weakly reached out to where Connor’s hands were tightly gripping the top shelf, ensuring that none of the figurines were on the verge of falling.

“Yeah,” Connor said softly. “They’re okay.”

Price made a soft growling noise and batted at Connor’s nearest forearm.

“I think he’s thanking you, District Leader McKinley,” Cunningham informed.

Connor’s eyes flicked from the chubby soldier to the unfortunate zombie.

“Um, you’re welcome?”

Price’s lips gave a minuscule twitch, and he reached towards Connor’s bicep with a limp, yet eager hand. Connor, whose limbs seemed to be moving on their own, inched closer, his arm shaking slightly as the limp, sickly pale fingers drew near…

“McKinley?”

Connor stepped away from Pri-the zombie quickly, almost bumping into the shelves. Cunningham let go of the rope and pulled the zombie, who was slowly slipping to the floor, back towards him.

“Is everything okay?” Chris asked from the doorway. “We thought we heard a shout, so I came to investigate.”

“Everything’s fine,” Connor told him. “It was just a little shelf mishap.”

Chris nodded, though he didn’t look too convinced.

“Well, Zelder just finished putting breakfast together.” He turned to Cunningham, who was still holding up his zombified companion. “You guys should come get some.”

“Finally!” Cunningham cheered, untying the rope from the bedpost. “I’m starving! Come on, Kev.”

Cunningham carefully lifted the zombie up by his skinny forearm, before rushing down the hall, zombie in tow. Connor went to follow, but Chris stopped him.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Connor? You look a bit shaken up.”

Connor scowled.

“I’m fine, Chris,” he insisted in a steely tone, pushing past his friend and into the hall. Once there, he exhaled sharply. While Connor was glad that Chris was always alert and surveyed everything, he had to admit that the short blond came off as overbearing at times. He supposed that Chris was probably feeling just as tense about their current situation as all of his other charges, and that was to be expected.

Still, Connor wished he’d direct his attention to anyone but him.

Cunningham and his undead companion were already sitting at the table when Connor and Chris, a few steps behind, arrived in the dining room. Two bowls of today’s breakfast(‘fruit salads’ consisting of mostly apple slices and grapes) had been placed in front of them. Cunningham alternated between eating his fruit salad and awkwardly feeding his companion. Whenever Cunningham would take a bite of his food, he made a full display of his movements so that the zombie could copy them. It was a slow progress, and the zombie tended to miss every other bite, but it seemed to work out fine.

“Hey, I’m gonna get us some food, okay,” Chris said, before practically rushing into the kitchen area.

Connor rolled his eyes. “Traitor,” he muttered under his breath as he sat down at the table. The zombie, idly munching on an apple slice, watched with blank eyes as Connor lowered himself into the chair. Connor, desperately wishing Chris were sitting with him right now, tried to direct his eyes elsewhere, hoping that this zombie would lose interest in him. However, every time Connor’s eyes managed to fall on the undead man sitting in front of him, he found that the dull brown gaze hadn’t wavered, even after the apple slice was devoured and replaced with a grape.

Thankfully, Chris’s return ends the unsettling staring match, as Connor’s gaze is drawn to the blond, who is carrying two bowls filled with apple slices and grapes. He placed one in front of Connor and set his on the table, pulling out a chair to sit on. The four ate in silence, until the zombie swatted weakly at the apple slice in his companion’s hand and tugged softly at Cunningham’s shirt sleeve, a muffled whine escaping his lips. This was apparently his way of saying he was done, since Cunningham moved his bowl away, grabbing a few grapes from both of their dishes as he pulled the zombie up with a gentle tug on the rope tied to his wrist. The two left for the living room, and Connor almost laughed at the irony.

-CM-

Breakfast didn’t take long to finish, and Connor found himself in the living room alongside James, Ross, Cunningham, and the zombie. Ross was sitting near the window, occasionally taking peeks out of it so that he could warn them all at anytime. James was still stationed at the radio, adjusting it every so often to make sure they had a good connection. Cunningham was sitting on the floor with his undead companion, whose legs were stretched out awkwardly on the hardwood. The former was holding the rope that was wrapped around the latter’s right wrist. Cunningham would place his other hand under the rope and mime grabbing it, a movement that the zombie would attempt to sluggishly copy. Every time he fully wrapped a hand around it, Cunningham would beam happily and congratulate him, which resulted in soft growls that had the rest of the patrons in the room sharply turning towards them.

Connor was sitting on the couch, having left Chris to take over the training drills, and was watching the exchange between Cunningham and the zombie. The undead man had once again managed to fully wrap his hand around the rope, and a low growl slipped through his pale chapped lips. James turned to them, then turned back with a scowl.

“Hey, McKinley?”

Connor looked down at Cunningham, who seemed a bit confused. The zombie was too focused on the rope in his loose fist.

“Yes, Cunningham?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

Cunningham hesitated slightly.

“Um, is that guy okay? He keeps looking over his shoulder, and I don’t want to judge, considering the circumstances, but we’re safe in the mission hut, right? I mean, he just looks so paranoid.”

Connor opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off.

“Um, ‘that guy’ has a name,” the aforementioned man announced dryly. “It’s James Church. And it’s hard to relax when you’re in the midst of your greatest enemy.”

Cunningham frowned.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he said, and Connor was sure he’d take the zombie somewhere else, or kick him out all together, before he continued with, “I totally understand why you wouldn’t like me, but I hope we can be better friends in the future.”

The only sounds for a while were Ross’s barely concealed snickers and the soft whines from the zombie when the rope slipped from his limp fist.

James shook his head and turned back to the radio. Connor furrowed his eyebrows at this, since James hadn’t even tried to correct Cunningham, though he stayed silent. He turned his gaze back to the floor…

Only to be met with blank, brown eyes.

Connor fought back a flinch as the zombie stared at him, the rope having slipped from his hand once again. His eyes held that same peculiar sliver of gratitude that Connor had noticed in Cunningham’s room. It had made him seem sort of…

Human.

But that couldn’t be right, could it?

The zombie’s slowly tilted his head, then reached up towards Connor with one of his pale hands. Connor suppressed the urge to jerk away. He lowered himself to the floor cautiously and watched as the hand made its sluggish journey from the awkward position in front of its owner’s chest to Connor’s face, where it was then dragged slowly down his pale and freckled cheek before falling limply to the floor.

“Wow, Kevin really likes you!”

Connor started. Cunningham was grinning at him from the zombie’s other side, and Connor realized he had seen the entire exchange.

Then Cunningham’s statement registered, and Connor frowned.

“He’s a zombie, Cunningham, how could he possibly--”

“When you saved his Disney figures,” Cunningham continued, cutting Connor off. “He’s been looking at you like that since then. You made him happy.”

Connor went to protest this, then stopped. It did make sense, seeing as the staring had started directly after that. However, it didn’t make sense to what Connor had been taught, which was that zombies could feel nothing but blind rage against humanity for their unfortunate fate and godless nature.

Could his father and the rest of the pastors have been wrong? Could it be possible that zombies could feel other emotions besides rage?

Or was Kevin Price really the miracle they’d been waiting for?

Connor looked over at the two young men beside him. Cunningham was holding the rope again, and was talking excitedly about what Connor assumed was something sci-fi related. And Price was listening to him, his brown eyes holding the tiniest hint of light among the dull glaze of death that the rest of his face held.

Maybe, Connor thought, this situation wouldn’t be so bad.