Seoul had always been a bustling, busy city. Normally people would be out at all hours of the day, shopping for fun, meeting friends, or just enjoying daily life. That all changed recently. Those same crowded streets were now eerily deserted. The only sound that suggested any life was left was the occasional gunfire that could be heard echoing through out the city.

That, and the constant groaning of the undead.

Jackson peeked out around an abandoned jeep, carefully checking to be sure that the street really was empty. He had gotten lucky so far. The only zombies he had seen were already engaged with other survivors, and he had managed to avoid getting involved.

Leaving other humans to fight for their lives had left him feeling sick, but Jackson knew he couldn't have helped. He didn't have any weapons, and his main priority was to get himself to somewhere safe. When he got himself secure he could start helping others, but not until then.

And Jackson was so, so close to finally getting a good base. For days he had been sneaking around the city, searching for somewhere to call his own. He had been holed up in his apartment for a few weeks, but eventually he ran out of food and was forced to leave. He had considered raiding the other apartments, but he could hear something shuffling around in the first room he tried. While he hadn't been particularly close to his neighbors, the thought of running into an undead family was enough to persuade him to just leave.

At first he wasn't sure what to do. Eventually Jackson decided his best bet would be to look for somewhere to hide out and store what little junk he had. His search had finally turned up a small Mom-and-Pop style store. It was tucked into a string of buildings, and only had a few entrances and windows. None of the windows were broken, which was a good sign. A broken window was the calling card of looters, and any place surrounded by shards of glass was as good as condemned as far as Jackson was concerned.

He watched the building for several more minutes. Nothing stirred behind the darkened glass, and finally Jackson deemed it empty. He stood up and turned his attention to the jeep he had been sheltered behind. The thing had already been stripped of any useful parts, and he was willing to bet the gas had been siphoned out of the tank. Still, he figured he'd it a quick search, just in case the looters had missed something small.

The doors were missing so there was no need to worry about an alarm going off. Jackson eased into the passenger seat and popped the glove box open. It was empty, but he was expecting that. It still didn't stop the dulled disappointment that fluttered in his chest before dying out. He sighed and stared at the bottom of the dumb car. The floor mat was still in place. The edge of it was bumped up slightly, almost as if...

Jackson leaned down and flipped the mat up, revealing a black marker. He picked it up and popped the lid off. The strong chemical scent that all permanent markers had filled the small jeep. Jackson replaced the cap and pocketed it. If nothing else he could use it to graffiti something, or mark buildings with zombies in them.

He stripped the rest of the jeep down, but apart from the marker there was nothing else worth taking. After another quick scan of the street Jackson slipped back onto the pavement and swiftly crept over to the store. He tried to peer into the windows, but a large grocery shelf covered most of the view. The selves were mostly bare, but a sharp glint of something metal from the top shelf caught Jackson's eye.

It almost looked like a can of food. He did his best to contain the relief that flooded his system, just in case it turned out to be nothing. Jackson had thought he found food before, only to find it was rotted or just an empty shell. Much like the people around here... Jackson shook his head to dispel that dark thought and approached the front door. He cautiously opened it, flinching when the soft ching-a-ling of bells echoed in the room.

He paused and listened carefully. The shop remained inert, and after a few tense moment Jackson entered. He made sure to grab the silver bells that hung from the doorknob to keep them from making any more noise before he closed the door behind him. The air in the store was a little musty and Jackson fought down the urge to sneeze.

A quick scan of the store didn't turn up anything super interesting. It really was a Mom-and-Pop shop, with just five shelves on the main floor and another one set up behind a counter that was set in front of the left wall. He could see a register set on the counter, but he ignored it. Money was virtually worthless nowadays. The shelves directly before him were empty, so Jackson moved to examine the can that he saw from the window. It was on the shelf farthest to the left, next to the counter.

Jackson rounded the shelving unit and quickly spotted the can. He also spotted what he hadn't noticed from the window. The can's bottom faced the window, so the front end faced the shelf. The front end of the can was open. He grabbed it anyway. It was predictably empty. Jackson frowned and threw the can to the floor in disgust. It landed with a loud clank.

Another clank echoed it from the other side of the store. Jackson froze. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck, and he frantically looked around for a weapon to defend himself with. The barren shelves yielded nothing (he supposed if he really needed to he could try to pry a whole shelf off...), so he turned his attention to the counter top. The register could work in a pinch, but the old thing looked unwieldy at best.

Jackson moved to grab it anyway and stopped when a glint of metal caught his eye from behind the counter. When he stopped to look more closely at it something shuffled from the other side of the shop. Jackson muttered a breathless curse and ducked behind the counter. Something was definitely in the store with him. He glanced over to see what had caught his eye and felt his stomach drop. A short chain had been attached by one end to the counter with some metal pins and hooks. The other end was attached to a human arm.

Soft groans began filling the air as panic coursed through Jackson's system. There was a zombie in the store with him and he had no weapons. , I'm was so dead. The shuffling noises were slowly getting closer to him, and distantly Jackson noticed he was hyperventilating. His vision was tunneling in, and his thoughts raced at a mile a minute. Any moment that undead er was gonna find him. Among the many thoughts that ran through his mind, one stood out in a loud mantra.

I am not ready to die.

Conviction ran through Jackson's veins like fire, and suddenly he stood up in one swift motion. At the end of the short aisle stood the zombie. It wasn't very rotted and didn't smell too badly, so it must've recently turned. One of it's arms was missing. The zombie caught sight of him and lurched forward in a horrid jerky fashion. It's jaw dropped open and it groaned in that way the undead did when it spotted something alive.

Jackson calculated the distance between him and the zombie rapidly. He would get one shot at this. Time dragged painfully slow as the zombie took one patient step after another. When it was only a few steps away from him Jackson grabbed the register and hefted the heavy object over his head. He screamed defiance at the unwitting thing and slammed the register down onto its head. It connected with a sickening squelch, and the zombie fell down.

It twitched on the floor for a couple seconds, gurgling, then went still. It's head was opened, and Jackson could see its now exposed brain. The sight, in addition to the smell of rotted flesh that was beginning to take over the room, made Jackson's stomach turn. He staggered a bit, then fell to his knees and vomited what little food he had in him. When he finished Jackson raggedly wiped his face in his sleeve and stood up. He came out from behind the counter and stared at the prone body on the floor.

Jackson had never killed anything larger than a spider before. Slowly he sat back on his haunches, never taking his eyes off the zombie in case it wasn't quite as dead as he thought. His vision drifted over to it's missing arm. “You knew you were gonna turn, didn't you?” he mused out loud. “You tried to keep yourself from hurting anyone.”

The zombie didn't answer. He watched it for any signs of animation, but apparently the register had done the trick. Jackson sighed. He really didn't like this part, but he had to do it. He carefully reached out (always carefully, you could never be too cautious with this) and began searching the zombies pockets. At one point it had been a survivor, and many a time Jackson found something useful on corpses.

The zombie had been wearing a long jacket that covered most of it's body. The pockets on that proved to be empty. Jackson nearly growled in frustration, but just opened the jacket to inspect the rest of the body. Almost immediately he spotted a tool belt wrapped around the zombie's waist. Most of the slots were void of any tools, but one of them had a slightly bloodied crowbar hanging from it. Jackson took it with a shaking hand.

The crowbar had a decent weight to it and would make a good weapon. Even better, the tool belt meant he could carry it and still have his hands free. After weeks with nothing, Jackson finally had something to defend himself with. He set it aside almost reverently and began plucking at the attached end of the tool belt. He undid the buckle easily enough, but the edge of it got stuck when he tried to pull it off of the body.

Jackson gingerly wrapped his arm around the zombie's torso and lifted the dead weight just enough to pull the belt free. Something square pressed against his arm in the process. The zombie had something in its back pocket. Jackson snatched it before he set the body back down. He puffed a bit at the extortion and glanced at what he had pilfered.

It was a brown wallet.

He stared at the ordinary wallet in mute shock. Maybe it was just the adrenaline that was slowly draining from him, but somehow the sight of such a normal everyday object freaked him out. Inside that wallet would likely be an ID of some sort. Something that would tell him about the person he had just killed. Jackson wasn't sure if he wanted to know. As it was, he could pretend like this person had been no one, just a nameless victim in this crazy mess.

Seeing a picture of them in life, having a name to go with the rotted body would prove that they had been alive. That at one point this had someone with a family and friends. He wasn't sure if he could handle that. Jackson deliberated for a few moments, then flipped the wallet open before he could change his mind. The right side of the wallet held a few credit cards and coupons, but on the left side was a clear pouch that held a drivers license.

The dim lighting made it hard to make out any fine details. From what Jackson could see, the person in the picture had thin, feminine features. Their hair looked blond, but the little label marked them as a brunet so it was probably dyed. The name next to it read as Tuan, Mark.

Jackson looked over at the body – no, at Mark, he had been Mark – and his chest clenched painfully. His eyes were still wide open, looking ahead with a glazed, dead stare. He hesitantly reached out and closed them. The strange feeling in his chest twinged but didn't lessen. Jackson's vision blurred, and with a start he realized he was crying. The stress of the last several weeks finally caught up with him, and his tears turned to open sobs over the broken body before him.

Feelings of regret and relief warred in him. He felt sick at having to kill someone, relieved at finally finding a weapon, and convinced he wouldn't make it out of this whole -fest in one piece. He had managed to hold his emotions at bay for so long, but Jackson allowed himself to mourn over the senseless loss of life before him. Eventually he stopped crying, feeling tired and empty, but in a strangely good way. As if the sudden surge of emotion had wiped him clean. The room was a lot darker than it had been before. He'd have to stay there for the night.

Jackson wiped at his eyes and laughed hollowly. “Guess I'll keep you company tonight, eh Mark?” He didn't bother moving away from the body, but propped himself up near it. He tried to fall asleep, but despite his fatigue he just couldn't. Jackson glanced at Mark and quietly asked “What were you like? Were you a nice person, I wonder?” He shifted a little to get more comfortable. “Could we have been friends, do ya think?”

A little part of Jackson wondered if he was more unhinged by the whole event than he thought, to be talking to a dead man. Jackson ignored it. “You know, in a way you've saved me. I wouldn't have a crowbar if I hadn't killed you. That's kinda funny, actually.” He snapped the wallet shut and set it down beside him.

Jackson pulled out the small marker he had found earlier and regarded it with a pensive stare. He popped the cap off and grabbed the crowbar. “Tell you what Mark, when I leave here, you can come with me.” He carefully wrote 'MARK' in big, bold letters on both sides of the crowbar, making sure to go over it multiple times. When he was confident it wouldn't rub off immediately he nodded and recapped the marker, placing it back in his pocket. “There!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “Now you can come with me! At least, uh, in spirit.”

With that done Jackson felt the tight clenching in his chest give way, and he finally relaxed enough to sleep. He awoke hours later, feeling more rested than anyone had any right to after sleeping next to a corpse. Jackson worked the kinks out of his neck and rose. His stomach roared its displeasure at their lack of success to find food. He patted at it absently as he eyed Mark's wallet. After a while he shrugged and pocketed it.

Jackson turned and left the shop with the same caution he used to enter it, feeling more prepared to face this new world than he had ever felt before.

~    ~    ~    ~

AN: Today's AU was requested by flyboy-lover7, who wanted an apocalypse au!

Well, I never said that they were alive when they first met, did I? This fic didn't get any edits, so there are probably a lot of little mistakes ~-~ darn you college!

also im bad at "sad" types of stories, so this was a good learning experience for me! the only way to get better is to try! -clenches fist-