Blame Louis...He Did It

Harry walked outside and around the corner to where the fire-pit was waiting with a blood-soaked shirt and the smashed in body of what was once Whimsical.

“Thanks for your bloody help, mate.” Harry muttered, setting the dog onto the heap of dead zombies with gentleness.

Louis was on his last cigarette and would need to go and scavenge more when the time permitted – especially since he shared them with Zayn.

Louis’s logic was; what good was it to have two smokers with bad attitudes if only one of them was permitted to smoke because he scavenged them? After all – the more Louis’s nicotine was deprived, the more sarcastic he became and Zayn? Well, he became a bigger arsehole than normal.

That made for an intense time around the factory – not that it wasn’t already tense with bimbo tits. What good was the breast job when they were only available for one guy to look at? Well, sucks to be Angel. She never expected for this to happen – neither did they, but at least they didn’t care enough if the one ditz in the place thought their cocks were big enough.

Louis shrugged.

“In all fairness, Harry? It was bound to happen. She was dumber than a special snowflake wearing a tinfoil hat that got zapped by lightening whilst out in the rain connected to a metal rod. Her brain was utterly fried from the get-go – remind me why Niall saved her ass again?” Louis asked calmly, savoring his lungful of eventual doom.

Harry just glared darkly.

“Angel is fine, but we’re all on her shit list thanks to you, mate. That is really not something I need. I don’t much care if she throws her huff, but for God sakes, Louis, stop upsetting the git! I have enough problems to deal with and a disheveled female should not be one of them. She gave me a near-black eye and about made me childless!” Harry ranted, becoming more annoyed when all Louis did was take another deep inhale on his cancer stick.

The curly haired brunette growled, marched up to Louis, grabbed what was left of the cigarette from his hand and threw it onto the ground, stomping it into nothing but nicotine dust.

Louis frowned, his only source of enjoyment now gone.

“If she’s fine, why are you punishing me? Dude, all is well that ends well, right? So Angel is going to stomp her feet and click her heels three times, maybe she’ll finally go home! I’m sure one village somewhere across England is missing their blitzed idiot. Let’s send her home with a severe letter of apology! I’ll personally write it! Dear town of Moronsville, it would seem one of your villagers got lost in London the day of the zombie apocalypse at a music award event that subsequently we were all nominated for– one of our members saved her ass and she has been wanting to go home for oh so long, if there be any life out there, alien or not; as I don’t think she’d mind a good ass probing one bit, send someone to retrieve the young miss and take her off our hands, yours truly, Louis Tomlinson, zombie warrior.” Louis ended his rant, all the while Harry’s brow shifted upward, not even bothering to cut his spiel short.

It was silent for a few seconds after, Harry trying to process what all was just said.

Finally, he just shook his head.

“I got nothing, other than warrior what? I killed the majority of the zombies, credit stealer.” Harry stated stonily.

Louis snorted.

“You lost your credit when you stole my happiness. I smoke, I was enjoying that cancer stick and you ruined it,” Louis said, walking passed him back to the factory, stopping just before the door. “Oh, and I wouldn’t worry about becoming childless, mate. Unless you’re planning on getting a bird with quite the bite to her – your bishop and his knights don’t have much to worry about. Now, we best get our asses going if we’re going to beat the London hoards to the scavenger sites. I know a patrol station that’s STILL boarded down, we need tools. Ten minutes, let me go get a weapon.”

With that, he went inside – leaving the door open…again.

Harry simply sighed, he was going to have to start double checking the doors after Louis from now on.

“Poor Whimsy.” Harry murmured, feeling genuinely sorry for the dog. He didn’t feel much sorry for the owner as she had taken a blanket and thrown it over the undead animal and coddled it until Harry, Zayn and Niall broke through. One boy grabbing Angel, the other helping to restrain her and Harry, who had the task of grabbing the blanket and viciously beating it with Louis’s lamp – which was now in pieces as he would soon discover.

At the end of the ordeal, Angel was crying and hugging onto Niall, who also had no idea how to fix the situation, Zayn just stood there looking stoic; his mouth silent, but his mind going a million miles an hour and Harry…well, he blamed Louis.

“I guess I better go and pick mine up.” Harry muttered, going to where he left his weapon – though remembered it was in Louis’s room and he decided he would grab it when he brought his own defense tool down.

It was about ten minutes later Louis emerged from within, throwing Harry his machete, looking less than impressed.

“What happened to my lamp? It looks like you beat someone over the head – wait, you did, didn’t you?” Louis accused.

Harry caught his blade with an eyeroll.

“Whimsical and why are you carrying a wooden meat pounder? That’s – that isn’t a weapon!” Harry exclaimed, looking completely miffed. “See? This is what I was trying to explain earlier.”

Louis returned the earlier gesture Harry made, rolling his eyes up toward the darkening sky.

“I would have used the toaster, but it appears Zayn has already beaten me to it. Come on, stop nitpicking everything I do or say.” Louis gestured, walking off from where they had gone earlier.

Harry just stared after him with a cool expression, his eyes unreadable, but the reflection in them strained with patience that he was vast losing.

“Louis Tomlinson will be the death of me.” Harry decided, fisting his machete and jogged to catch up.

For a moment, it was silent between the former boyband members, each in their own thoughts of critical thinking, until Louis finally spoke up when they reached the point they were at before.

He reached into his back pocket and handed Harry his walkie-talkie, accompanied by the large brown sack that he took from underneath the back of his white style hoodie.

“Here, although I don’t know how much good it will do. Zayn is currently hiding on the roof, away from the hysterical git and Niall and said bimbo are still in my room – I’d of asked them to fuck off, but that would have seemed rather a bit rude. So, I left them to sulk…though I think I’m on Niall’s shit list, because if looks could kill, I’d be one of these deadheads.” Louis gestured sarcastically.

Harry grunted and grabbed the sack, following his walk-talkie and sped walked ahead.

Louis kept with the pace easily, humming merrily. He was definitely too relaxed for the occasion, especially since he caused troves of the undead to descend on them like buzzards.

“Are you not talking to me either? Come on, mate, it was an accident. If it means so much to everyone, I’ll apologize to the doorknob when I get back and I’ll even keep watch tonight.” Louis offered genuinely, figuring he didn’t need the whole gang pissed at him.

Harry shrugged uncaringly.

“Whatever, Lou. Do what you want, I don’t care. Let’s just get what we need and get back. I don’t fancy leaving the factory for too long.”

Louis shook his head.

“Dude? We will eventually get overrun, we’ll have to leave sooner or later. There’s only so many supplies to find, the area will be picked clean after so long.” He reasoned with the long haired curly one with a factual tone.

“I prefer not to think of that now. You’re just bubbles of fun today, Lou. Truly.” Harry muttered, the cool wind beginning to pick up, blowing his dry ringlet of curls from his face.

After performing in Dunkirk, Harry’s first and last movie, it had been almost two years since his last haircut, his strands nearly bypassing in the original length that all the girls used to go crazy for.

Louis preferred to keep his clipped at the length he had it when the trouble broke out, none of the others really gave a damn either way, but Niall was not opposed to borrowing Louis’s scissors to keep his tame.

One thing was for sure, they all looked pretty ragged given the circumstances.

“I’m bubbles of fun every day, Harry. You just choose not to see that and if I cared enough, I would be pretty insulted. Luckily for you though, curly, I gave all my fucks away from my fuck basket a while ago. There’s not even any crumb fucks left inside. The hamper is empty, mate, it’s long since dried up. So, get off my arse.” Louis waved a dismissive hand in the air and tromped toward the cul-de-sac of London homes in the horizon ahead, leaving Harry to look after him in bewilderment.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be agitated with him, how is it that he manages to make ME feel guilty?” Harry voiced aloud in astonishment, completely at ends.

Harry moves quicker to catch up, reaching Louis and pulling him to a stop.

“Let’s get one thing straight here, mate, alright? I am trying my bloody best to keep this group together and it seems lately that you’re doing everything to rip it apart! Angel lost her dog because of you and as much as I may not like the girl, I respect Niall’s decision to keep her around and suggest that you show the same regard to his choice and accept Angel as the annoying twit that she is, because if experience has told me anything, she’s going to be with us for a while longer.” Harry finished with a pant, his jaded green eyes intense with emotion.

Louis just looked on unaffected, hiding a yawn beneath his hand.

“I’m sorry. I fell asleep at my fault and dead dog. Got the end part though; Angel, annoying twit, ours forever. Got ya. Now, let’s go scavenge.” Louis smiled, walking passed Harry again toward the first house on the right side of the abandoned and unkempt street.

Harry was so close to hitting Louis over the head with something hard.

He gritted his teeth and walked to keep up with the cheeky sod. If Harry had his way, he’d leave Louis to scavenge on his own, but the way he knew his friend was, trouble was almost a certainty ahead.

“You have become the biggest arsehole this side of London, I hope you know that.” The curly headed zombie slayer antagonized, grabbing Louis’s arm again. “I mean it, Louis. Stop gambling with your life.” He warned, the intense look in his eyes told Louis he wasn’t going to get anywhere.

“Life is a gamble every day, Hazza. You don’t know when your number is coming up; so, live it like it’s your last and regret your decisions later.” Louis ended, jerking his arm away from Harry’s grasp.

“If there is a later. I’m not so sure there will be if you keep continuing on the way you have b – “Louis stopped Harry from continuing on by simply walking away with a shake of his head.

“Listen to reason, Louis!” Harry snapped, going after him again.

Louis stopped, tilted his ear towards the sky and simply hummed.

Harry folded his arms across his chest.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” He asked, watching Louis roll his eyes.

“Just as you suggested, listening to reason and evidently it doesn’t got a whole fuck of a lot to say. Excuse me, I’ve got supplies to find. If you want to continue on with the let reason sing bullshit, well, feel free. I still stand by my – “Louis was cut off by a runner heading right for them, newly turned by the looks. “Look out! We got a springer!”

Harry whipped around in time to see the middle aged dead woman with one missing eye and the other hanging part way out of her eye socket running right at him with full showing teeth.

He knew he didn’t have enough time to raise the machete up so he spun around and sliced off her feet above the knees, stepping from within her reach.

The one thing Harry had gotten good at the past few years was the reaction time he had before he was either attacked or bitten. It was essential and he knew it, because that is what kept him alive.

Louis just hits them with whatever is around – while Harry carefully lays out a plan, Louis just reacts to the moment. Complete opposites in this world and he didn’t even know how his former bandmate was still alive.

Hell, he wondered how it was possible Louis didn’t manage to drown them all in his careless destruction.

Louis took the wooden meat tenderizer and brought it upward, wacking her on the head with a dull thunk.

The legless flesh-eater hissed, crawling to try and chomp on Louis’s leg.

Louis moved from within her bite and popped her in the head again with the tenderizer, like one would a disobedient dog.

“No, we don’t bite.” Louis told her sternly, grabbing the blade from Harry and bringing it down on her hands, effectively cutting them off at the elbow, dark crimson pooling around the mutilated deadhead.

The corpse hissed again, it’s eyes reflecting anger. If zombies were capable of expressing emotion, anger would be the more predominant one next to rage and that only seemed to be when Louis was around.

“I’m beginning to think you enjoy torturing those things before you put them out of their misery. Let the poor woman rest in peace, Louis.” Harry rolled his eyes, bringing his machete up and forcing it down onto the zombie’s neck, decapitating it, listening to it growl as the head rolled away.

Louis looked back at Harry unimpressed.

“This is not the seventeen-hundreds, we are not in the French Revolution and that is not Lady Antoinette you sadistic bastard.” Louis chastised, grabbing the long knife and walking over to the head that had rolled away.

“Says the bloody bloke who cut her arms off!” Harry argued, watching the crimson colored body jerk about the ground.

Louis stopped in front of the bodiless head and twisted an eyebrow up at Harry, pointing toward the ground sarcastically.

“Perhaps, but I didn’t chop her legs off and play executioner. My actions weren’t nearly as brutal, zombie sadist,” Louis name called back, his eyes widening when the zombie latched onto the end of his thick snake skinned boot. “Drunk squirrels fucking! Get it off! Get it off, get it off, get it off!” He yelled jerking his foot up and down, hearing the thing growl primitively.

“Don’t take that tone with me you dead bitch!” Louis replied in agitation, kicking the front of his foot against the ground, his boot logging deeper down the undead’s throat.

Harry just stood there watching, his arms crossed.

“You mind helping me get Angel’s braindead relative off of me?” Louis asked crossly, viciously kicking his foot down again.

Harry rolled his eyes and walked over, taking his machete back from Louis and lifting it to aim dead center of her already damaged skull.

“I think that’s an insult to zombies everywhere, mate.” Harry relented his thoughts, bringing it so the blade sliced right through the thick mass of bone.

The head fell limp, which then allowed Harry to pull its jaw from his friend’s boot.

He threw it away from them and clamped his hand of Louis’s back.

“Come on, there’s newly turned in the area, keep alert.” Harry cautioned, both of them making their way to the first house.

The vacant patches of ground where the grass used to be was brown and dug up.

The house across the small pathway connected to a few rows of houses. Harry and Louis jogged up the small flight of steps of the first house.

Louis knocked on the door, though stopped himself after the second wrap.

“I can’t believe I still do th – FUCK ME JESSICA RABBIT!” Louis screamed out when a body suddenly dropped from the second story window of the house beside them.

A hissing sound escaped its dry throat, the limbs well and truly stiff; which was clear from the multiple snaps they heard when he fell.

“Sweet Marylin Monroe, he looks like he’s been buried for sixty-nine years and then left for bug food! There’s maggots growing out his eyes! Ew, ew, ew, kill it!” Louis gagged, turning his head and throwing up.

Harry cringed at the emaciated zombie, the guy had obviously starved to death – which meant going inside would most likely be wasted effort.

Without a word, he swung the already bloodied blade atop the dead man’s head and watched him fall to the ground.

Louis gagged again, attempting to throw open the door.

“Mother of God!” Louis swore when the knob didn’t budge.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Right, because they were going to leave the front door unlocked for us and a welcome sign, get real.”

Louis held his hands up and flexed his two middle fingers up and down multiple times.

“Look, Harry, birds – oh, wait…never mind, mate. I’m seeing things. It must be the lack of food.” Louis snarled, using his smaller body to hit against the bloodied and unwashed door. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones who had wanted in.

“Or the lack of oxygen getting to your brain.” Harry retorted unbothered at his friend’s childishness. He was far beyond used to it by now.

Putting his hands on his hips, he glanced at the door in thought.

“Maybe the back, let’s try there.” Harry suggested, jumping when a body fell out of another window a few houses down.

Louis then noticed some windows were open to a few of the houses across the street on the opposite side.

“Hello!” Louis waved to the elderly zombie that was upstairs banging on the window across from them with a pleasant sardonic smile. “We’ll be over in just a few, have some tea ready and light on the c –“

“Shut up, Louis!” Harry hissed, raising his machete and puncturing the approaching threat right smack in the middle of its head.

Louis hmphed and turned briskly, his nose up in the air, sauntering towards the back without waiting for Harry’s go ahead.

Harry kicked the step with agitation, running to catch up to his wayward friend.

“You can’t keep doing that, Louis.” Harry said, his throat dying in his throat when he saw a pair of pale gray eyes staring out the window of the house.

It was a white and brown cat…a dead one and Louis, in his regular fashion, started to run his fingers back and forth across the windowpane.

The cat jumped viciously at his hand; hissing and clawing violently to try to get at it.

Louis continued unbothered, clicking his tongue.

“What a pretty kitty you are, yes you are – who’s the good kitty?” Louis cooed, making Harry look at the feral animal.

“Louis? It’s dead and we need to get inside. You’re the one with ideas, so, share some. I’ve got nothing, other than to try and break this window and then dispose of the cat.” Harry shrugged.

“Put it in the bag, we can take it home to Angel as an apology for killing her dog. Why destroy a perfectly good pussy?” Louis asked with a smirk, keeping eye contact with the zombie creature.

Harry rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day and searched around for something to break the window.

It took a bit of searching, but Harry found a broken shov –

CRASH!

“Hello, kitty!” Louis exclaimed in an almost dark manner, before another loud crash sounded.

Harry’s heart jumped into his throat, his long legs turning and running to where he had left Louis – which was mistakenly at the window agitating the cat.

As Harry rounded the corner, he was Louis with the wooden meat tenderizer in one hand and the collecting bag in the other…though, it was what was inside the collecting bag that had Harry’s jaw dropping to the floor.

Louis walked up to him without a word and thrusted the bunched-up potato sack into his hand.

“I was bored and wanted to play with the cat. I won as you can clearly see. Do me a favorite, yeah? Stick him to your belt for me, huh? I’m taking him home to Angel as an I’m sorry present.” Louis responded with a shrug to the completed blanch of Harry’s open mouth.

“Y-you…h…wh…” Harry was speechless, holding the sack away like it was going to attack him…and if its claws ripped through the material, it most definitely would.

“Oh, Harry? One more thing; try not to let the cat out of the bag – he’s not a very happy puss right now as you can see.” Louis warned, reaching his hand in cautiously to unlock the window to slip in, though calling out into the darkness of the kitchen to make sure there weren’t any more zombies.

“HELLO?! We’re from the British girl scouts, we’re looking for the undead of the house! Do you have anything to be collected?” Louis yelled into the confined space, using the tenderizer to make an even louder sound when he slammed it over the rest of the glass pane, breaking it completely.

Harry just stood there frozen, truly unbelieving. Even on his worst day, Louis was at least partially saner than he had been today.

It’s like he got up out of bed this morning and threw caution a big fuck you party. This was absolutely nuts, even for Louis.

“Louis, we need to talk.” Harry finally managed to get out, scared of moving in case the bag he was holding decided to attack him.

“Then come inside. I’ll ruffage and you can sit, you’re looking pretty pale.” Louis smirked, turning away from Harry and climbing into the window without cutting himself on the glass.

Harry looked at the bag and then the machete. He really didn’t want to ruin the sack by bludgeoning the dead zombie cat and he certainly didn’t want to let it out of the bag – so he decided to spin with as much force as he could and catapult the bag and the cat with it over the long fence – figuring he would pick it up later once he was sure the cat was gone from it.

The cat’s howl while being airborne was long and winded. The growling was continuous, even after Harry heard the hard thud from the other side, figuring the cat had made touchdown with the long grass over yonder.

Louis popped his head out in time to see Harry playing catapult the kitty and smirked all the same when his friend effortlessly made it through into the dusty and urine smelling house – which wasn’t surprising, consider Jiggles was left to his own devices until perishing into the undead’s world.

“We need to talk.” Harry repeated, walking ahead of him with his trusty blade, eyes cautious and on alert.

“Okay, I’m listening – unless it gets boring, then I don’t expect you to keep me to any promises.” Louis replied, both of them walking into the kitchen.

Louis ran to the fridge, opening the door.

Staring back at him growling was the head of a walker.

“Holy cupids!” Louis slammed the fridge door shut again. “Either Norman Bates was living here before or someone misunderstood the term keep your head on.”

“We seriously need to talk.” Harry insisted, coming to stand by him.

With a frustrated grunt, Louis pulled open the fridge and gestured to the bodiless zombie.

“Harry, Joe, Joe? Harry. Now that introductions are over; feel free to talk to Joe, because I need to go and look around. Save the therapy session for tonight, we don’t have time right now as you keep reminding me.” Louis pointed out, his voice as sardonic as it had been.

Harry slammed the door shut and threw his hands up, pulling the kitchen chair away to have a seat.

It was a few minutes, but a door somewhere in the hallway on the other side of the stairs opened and a howling growl resonated from inside, followed by Louis’s panicked yell.

In fact, Harry didn’t even have a chance to panic before Louis was instructing him to jump on the table.

“Cujo on the attack! On the table, on the table, on the table!” He screamed, leaping on it in one go and pulling Harry up with him, all of this done in time as a small black Bichon came around the corner with its lips bared in a snarl.

In his haste, Harry had dropped his machete on the side and there was no way to get it without getting bit.

“I think the cat alerted him, the damn tattletale.” Louis said, making Harry crouch cautiously down on the table. The small, unsteady platform would most definitely not hold their weight for very long.

“Louis? I need you to distract the dog while I grab my machete.” Harry ordered, making to turn to the side, but a sharp crack halted his actions and it was only made worse by the low feral growl behind them.

Louis swallowed and made the mistake of looking over seeing the cat, Mr. Jiggles, approaching them stiffly.

Thank God for rigor mortis.

“Sure, only if you distract Mr. Jiggles, because one of us is going to have to run and scream like a girl and I rather it not be me.” Louis confessed, the table’s legs straining under their weight.

“Louis!” Harry yelled with warning.

Louis groaned, jumping off the table, side twirling around the dead cat as it nearly scratched him and leaping out the window…all while screaming.

Harry wasn’t sure if Louis was actually scared or if he was trying to get the dead animal’s attention. Either way, it worked as both undead creatures decided to give chase.

That gave Harry enough time to grab the blade and give chase after them.

In the end, the dog and Mr. Jiggles were put to sleep as Louis still ran around the backyard – attracting a few undead humans, although those were easily dealt with.

After about eight houses, their bounty had not entirely been fruitless. Six cases of water in one of the houses, at least twenty boxes of noodles, thirty cans of pasta sauce – an untouched wild garden and stock piles of canned vegetables and as luck would have it, unused soaps, shampoos and conditioners. The one house looked like it had been abandoned after the owners or squatters stocked it – or they were currently out. If that’s the case, it sucks to be them.

Louis, while in his search in the basement, found a chain cutter – one that looked to be grade A enough to cut open the gas station that had been chained shut from the outside when this had all started.

“I found about four cases of grape juice and some baby formula!” Harry called out, adding it to their haul.

Louis nodded to himself, hearing Harry upstairs loading the stuff up.

“Awesome! I found some bolt cutters, let’s drop this haul off and go check out the patrol station at the end of the corner! I need to pick up some more cigarettes if they have any!” Louis called back, hearing Harry pause.

“Why? We got enough stuff, mate. We’ll do it tomorrow, it’s getting dark now and I don’t want to be out past sundown.” Harry said, going about to finish up their haul.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll help you carry the stuff back and then go myself, no big deal.” Louis shrugged, knowing he was going to get his way come hell or high water and with or without Harry. He needed cigarettes and he didn’t need his younger friend’s permission to go and get them.

“Why can’t you go tomorrow, you know, when it’s light out?” Harry argued, coming down the stairs as Louis was making his way up.

Louis shrugged.

“Because you took my fun away by smashing my last cancer stick on the ground or have you forgotten? I need to pick up some more.” Louis told him, heading to the table and carrying as much as his arms and shoulders allowed.

He double checked to make sure he could walk, having to be cautious going back to make sure everything was secure and no other surprises awaited him outside.

Once that was done, he walked slow to wait for Harry to catch up.

Harry did once he had everything situated; which was sort of hard while holding a machete.

In the end though, they successfully brought home their reward.

Harry was proud of their accomplishment, but it didn’t last as Louis dumped the stuff on the table and turned to head back out, determined to unlock the gas station and the mystery that laid inside.

That’s where our story truly starts. A means to a beginning and a guarantee to an end – not necessarily for them, but they say consequences are never worth their actions.

Some actions have unspeakable consequences and the sad part? Louis was totally unaware of any of it. He didn’t know; no one did and that’s the mystery that makes this world so dangerous.

Notes