Everything Changes

Written for Yuletide 2010 for ishie. Recognizable characters aren't mine, unfamiliar ones are. There is a warning for Character Death in this fic - it's not my fault if you don't read this! Comments are loved and please enjoy!

The first change in their nice rounded group comes in the form of a canine addition.

They're getting the hell out of Pacific Playland and Tallahassee, in his somewhat exhausted state, nearly hits the thing. Little Rock shrieks, Wichita gasps, and Columbus closes his eyes and hopes they didn't actually hit it.

"Rrr-Woof!" Comes a loud bark that sounds very insulted, as it hops around to the driver's side of the car as if to glare accusingly at the one responsible. It whimpers and cocks its head to the side and then Tallahassee is shrugging and climbing out of the car. He circles around to the back, opens the hatch on the SUV they've recently obtained and rearranges what's left of their weaponry. "Get in, dog," he says, helping to hoist the lucky canine into the car.

"Can we keep him?" Little Rock asks, eyes wide and hopeful as she twists in her seat and reaches out to pet the black and brown dog that's really more mutt than any recognizable breed.

Tallahassee drags a hand over his face and mumbles, "Whatever."

The next change comes nearly a month later. They're in North Dakota and it's almost winter now. They've figured out that the zombies don't much like the cold. Or the dog, for that matter. And so they're trying to stay in the snowiest conditions they can find even though that makes driving less than a relaxing experience for all involved.

Wichita is driving at the moment, with Columbus and Tallahassee attempting to get some sleep in the back with the dog sprawled out in the meager space between them. They haven't named it – naming it would mean getting attached to it, so they just call him Boy or Dog. The snow is coming down hard and they should probably stop soon, but Wichita is determined to get them to the next town before nightfall, so she keeps on driving.

"How can you even see where you're going?" Little Rock asks her, squinting out the passenger's side window.

"Who says I can?" Is Wichita's witty response, but then she's slamming on the breaks and the car skids a little bit, but does eventually come to a stop. "Oh my God…"

"The fuck was that?" Comes Florida's enraged roar from the backseat as he is abruptly forced back into consciousness. "Didn't anyone ever teach you how to drive?"

She rolls her eyes at him and points out the window to the shivering figure walking along the side of the street. Clearly not a zombie, so she rolls down her window and calls out, "Hey, need a ride?"

The guy looks back, clearly surprised to see other non-zombies out here in the middle of nowhere. "Ugh, yeah, sure." He circles around and climbs into the last row of seats in the SUV, sitting behind Columbus. "Thanks."

He's from Boston, he explains, and he has the accent to prove it. Tallahassee stops him before he can get his real name out and grumbles something about picking up strays and cars being crowded, but Boston stays with them for a long time.

The next change comes with tragedy. They've had Massachusetts with them for close to two months now and within the first week he'd gotten involved with Wichita. Neither Columbus or Tallahassee had been particularly thrilled with that – Columbus for obvious reasons, Tallahassee more so because it means he has to deal with all of Ohio's whining on the matter – but things stay civil for the most part.

That all comes crashing to an end the day that Wichita and Boston go sneaking away from the rest of their group to get some time alone. They've been staying in this tiny, run-down shack for the last few days. It's not that nice, but it's defensible and there are decent supplies nearby.

Little Rock wakes up first, realizing that Wichita never woke her up so she could take over watch, and Columbus isn't far behind, either. "Where are they?" He asks, and within moments Florida and the dog are up, too. They're all searching.

It takes nearly an hour to find them. Wichita is dead, bitten and bloody and sprawled across the floor in front of Massachusetts, and Boston is just sitting there sobbing. "I'm… I'm sorry," he says, clutching at his arm where they all can see blood and teeth marks. "I'm sorry, we shouldn't have wandered off. I'm sorry, it's my fault." He rambles mindlessly for a few minutes before he admits what they all already know - that it's a zombie bite.

Little Rock, sobbing more than Boston, Columbus and Tallahassee all stare at each other. No one wants to be the one to say it, but luckily Boston spares them the question and asks for the gun himself.

The three of them leave before the 'bang' comes.

Now with two less people in tow, cars are less crowded, but they're all still kind of in shock over what had happened. They all knew it was always a possibility – living in Zombieland as they do – but they've done such a good job of avoiding it that it seemed so much less likely to occur.

Little Rock still cries a lot, has nightmares, and spends quite a bit of time curled up with the dog. Columbus tries not to think about it much. Tallahassee puts on his stone cold, stoic front and pretends he doesn't care. What's left of his meager, little family know him better than to believe that.

They're in Pennsylvania now, and it's snowing there, too, but the usual bickering is non-existent as they choose a spot to stop for the night. They're a lot more careful about that kind of thing these days, but eventually they settle on an abandoned house with a minimum of windows and doors and other strong, defensible qualities. It's close to a town where they can get supplies, but not so close that any noise they make will summon any of the not-so-dead.

Little Rock sleeps all night, but Columbus and Tallahassee switch on and off.

It's during one of their changeovers that they hear a noise. Not a zombie, it sounds nothing like the grumbling groans of the zombie hordes, but rather a sound like a small child would make when distressed, crying.

"Little Rock?" Tallahassee suggests, but a quick check reveals that the girl is sleeping soundly and the dog is curled up beside her. He lifts his head and gets to his feet, ears twitching in various directions as if he, too, is hearing the noises.

"Stay there," Columbus commands the dog, as he and Florida search the rest of the house again.

They find the source of the noise in what looks like a linen closet. Bundled up behind a bunch of towels and comforters is a little girl of about 4 or 5. She's holding a blanket and a stuffed, purple kangaroo and she's outright sobbing.

Tallahassee and Columbus exchange completely baffled looks and as Florida moves closer to the screaming bundle of wailing child, all Ohio can do is hope that she's not infected because he doesn't want any of them to have to deal with that.

"Hey there, sweetie," Tallahassee says quietly. "Y'alright?"

She dares to untangle herself from her blanket enough to look up at him and he can tell already that she's way too skinny and way too pale to be totally healthy, but she's not bitten or bloody or bumbling around in search of human flesh. He reaches down and picks her up and she clings to his neck for dear life.

"She okay?" Ohio asks, grabbing the kangaroo that fell from her arms.

"Kanga!" She cries out, when she sees he has it. "Give her back? Please?"

He offers her the stuffed animal cautiously and she smiles at him in thanks.

"We'll get you some food, how about that?" Tallahassee assures the little girl and Columbus follows him back into the main room.

"What's your name?" Columbus asks once Florida has a box of animal crackers open. He's not sure why they had it in their supplies, but it seems to be occupying the child quite nicely. They'll find some better food in the morning when they go into town.

"Emma," she squeaks out, before Tallahassee can stop her. "My name's Emma." Tallahassee sighs, and it's not as if he isn't already attached anyway.

"That's a very pretty name," Ohio tells her, just as Little Rock appears with the dog at her side.

"Where'd she come from?" She asks, taking in the small child cautiously. "I thought we searched this place?"

"Apparently, Emma here is very good at hide and seek." Tallahassee explains. "She's been hiding here for a while I'd guess." The girl nods in his arms and eagerly bites into another cookie.

Little Rock smiles when she spots the stuffed animal. "That's a cool kangaroo you've got there."

"Wanna play?" Emma smiles back and holds it out to the other girl.

They all start to think that maybe, just maybe, things can be okay again.

After that, things get better all around.

Columbus manages to fiddle with a radio they find so that a broadcast actually comes through. It tells them that there's an area free of zombies in upstate New York and that any survivors out there should head that way.

So they do.

Columbus is driving when they arrive, Tallahassee sitting in the passenger's seat with Emma asleep against his chest. Little Rock and the dog are both out in the backseat, too. "Here we are," Ohio mumbles anxiously as they approach some seriously serious gates.

By the time they get in – after they all get checked over for zombie wounds – they realize that the guys in charge of this place have taken some sort of gated community type of thing and fortified it. All the houses have the capacity to be shelters when needed. Supplies are well stockpiled and rationed out. As much as it seems militarized, it is also very, very safe.

And, more importantly, they don't try to separate their obscure little family.

"You're okay with staying here?" Columbus asks and honestly he's somewhat surprised that Florida is willing to give up his power to the people that run this place.

But, Tallahassee nods and makes for the front door of the house they've been assigned. The dog goes in first and Little Rock and Tallahassee follow Columbus, who's carrying Emma in his arms. The house is nice. Nicer than anything any of them have had up to this point.

"Welcome home, then, sweetie," Tallahassee mumbles to the little girl as Columbus shifts her into his arms. He claps Ohio on the back and heads for the stairs.

It's not a white picket fence or anything, but it's about the closest they can get.