FIC: Bloom and Scatter: Chapter 2: The Fog
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Bloom and Scatter
Chapter 2: The Fog
Length: 3,010
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Zombies
Genre: Zombies
Characters, Pairings: Tachibana Makoto, Matsuoka Rin
Summary: Rin returns to Japan to look for his mother and sister. What he finds, instead, is Makoto.
Notes: Originally posted on AO3.
Chapters:
[ 1: Homecoming ]
[ 2: The Fog ]
[ 3: Masks ]
[ 4: They Live ]
[ 5: The Truth ]
[ 6: Making Plans ]
[ 7: Lost & Found ]
[ 8: The Payoff ]
[ 9: Hopeless ]
[ 10: The Waiting Game ]
What the fuck had happened?
The town was empty, looking every inch like everyone had up and run at the drop of a hat. None of the lights were working, and the streets that had once been so clean were littered with dropped items and knocked over cans. Windows had been boarded up. Cars had been abandoned in the middle of the road. Rin hadn’t heard of any invasion happening in Iwatobi - as far as he knew, the Hyogo-Tottori DMZ was supposed to be the land buffer zone that protected the Iwatobi settlement that was already naturally shielded by the ocean along the north coast. Was the evacuation recent? It really didn’t look like it. As Rin inspected a single child’s shoe that lay on the side of the road, he noted that it was also covered in a fine layer of dust. If there had been an evacuation, it had to have taken place before the communication cut-off. That meant more than two weeks ago. Things weren’t adding up.
More importantly, it was hot. It was incredibly hot. Rin had taken off his shirt and shoved it into his backpack, leaving him in his tank top. It felt like his blood was boiling underneath his skin, and he could feel the handkerchief covering the lower half of his face getting heavier as it absorbed his sweat. He squinted at his watch, but his eyes were blurring and all he could estimate was that it was probably an hour or two after noon.
Rin rubbed his eyes, cursing. He was on the edge of Iwatobi and his house was all the way on the other side to the north, near the ocean. If he had any hope of finding a single clue about what had happened, he knew he had to start there. He just hoped he wouldn’t die of exposure or dehydration before he got there, because that would be dumb as shit.
In the distance, he heard the clang of something being knocked over. Rin’s hand shot out behind him, already gripped around the handle of his handgun that was still tucked away. His eyes darted around, still a little watery, but he could make out a shadowy corner by the side of a nearby house and sprinted towards it. The shade was an incredible relief and he peeked around the corner to see if there were any zombies out there who’d caught a whiff of him.
He heard the sound of shuffling footsteps. Grunting. Scraping. That was a good enough reason to bolt - around the shamblers, since the opposite way was where he’d come from, and he wasn’t about to re-hike the entire length of a highway.
Careful to keep himself low, Rin pulled out the handgun and unlatched the safety and half-jogged as quietly as he could from one building to another, sure to go around the back wherever he could. Once in a while, he stumbled across random supplies - a bottle of water here, an extra pair of socks there - and he pocketed what he could while doing his best to forget why those things were out in the open in the first place. Part of him felt like hope was slipping away, but the stronger part of him was telling him he couldn’t jump to any conclusions. Iwatobi was big. Anything was possible. He was here, wasn’t he?
As Rin walked down a long length of shop lots, he could feel exhaustion start to kick in. Since he’d gotten off the plane, he hadn’t been able to take a breather. As far as nutrition was concerned, Rin had had careful sips of water from his first water bottle and a bite of the protein bar he’d stowed away. It was all adequate in the long run, but he also hadn’t anticipated being in his current situation, with the air quality and the long abandonment that probably meant things long past expiry dates. He was lucky that there appeared to be supplies littered throughout the city, if he cared enough to look, but the damned fog was making everything difficult to see and he was starting to get a really shitty headache.
Not too far away, he heard the sounds of fighting, like honest to goodness brawling. He could hear punching and kicking and shouting and, although he knew logically that he needed to run, his instincts told him to go towards it because punching and kicking and shouting.
Humans.
Rin rounded a corner, adjusting his grip on his gun, and peered out onto the streets.
Oh yeah, definitely human, and that made Rin feel so relieved. Two guys, one tall and wiry, the other about average height and stocky, and they were going at it. Their shirts were ripped and bloody, buttons torn off. The shorter guy launched himself at Wiry and they both fell to the ground. Rin heard a sickening crunch, like bone breaking, and he watched in horror as Stocky straddled Wiry, grabbed him by the shirt, and punched him over and over again, until there was so much blood that you couldn’t even tell what his face looked like anymore.
“Stop it, you’re gonna kill him!” Rin had jumped out, all good sense leaving him for that one moment. Humans were dying out as is no thanks to the plague - it would help the population not to have intra-species murder.
Stocky paused. Simultaneously, he and Wiry turned their heads to look at Rin.
Rin took a step back.
Their eyes were…
They weren’t zombies.
“What the actual fuck,” Rin choked, eyes darting between them now that he could take a better look. Their faces… Stocky’s face was completely scratched up. With the nails of a hand. Wiry had chunks bitten out of him. Could they have been newly infected? But their behaviour…
Stocky screeched at him. No time to think. Rin legged it.
He sprinted down the road, running the fastest he’d ever run in his life. He could barely breathe, his lungs were burning so damned hot, and he was getting lightheaded. He could still hear Stocky screeching behind him, but they didn’t seem to have the speed he normally associated with zombies. As he felt himself slow down, he could hear them fighting again, but he didn’t want to risk anything and barrelled headlong into a slightly open garage of a nearby warehouse.
Rin quickly scrambled to the sidewall, dropping to the ground so that he was nearly flat on his back, and kept an eye out on the streets. For a good long while, all he did was catch his breath and look, but it seemed like he was safe for now. The fighting was still audible, but it was very far away. He didn’t see anyone walking around, and it didn’t sound like he was being followed. He sighed, closing his eyes and thunking his head against the ground.
After a few minutes, Rin raised his head.
Not five feet away, staring at him, was a man in a gas mask.
“Holy fuck,” Rin scrambled for his gun and quickly pointed it at him. Gas Mask dropped whatever he was holding and raised his hands, taking an instinctive step back.
“Don’t move,” Rin said sharply, and the man stilled. He glanced down at Gas Mask’s feet and noted a half-filled sack, a can of peaches poking out of it, “You on a supply run or something?” When Gas Mask didn’t answer, he scowled and shook his gun at him, “I said ‘don’t move’, not ‘don’t talk’.”
“I’m sorry,” Gas Mask blurted out, “I’m just-so surprised.”
“Yeah? Don’t give a shit.”
“You’re… You’re human?”
“What, don’t I look it?” Rin sneered through his handkerchief, “The fuck about you?”
“Yes, I am,” Gas Mask said, “You’re not from Iwatobi, are you?”
“The fuck makes you think that?” Rin growled, slightly offended.
Gas Mask immediately cowered, “P-Please don’t shoot me. I… I can help you look for one. I, oh what am I saying, you won’t want to, will you? I’ll give you mine, I will, as long as you don’t shoot me, please.”
“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” Rin furrowed his brows, “I’m not going to waste bullets on you unless it’s worth it.”
Gas Mask didn’t respond for a long while. With a sigh of irritation, Rin held the gun up so the side was visible, and made a show of putting the safety back on, hand off the trigger. He put it down, but didn’t tuck it back into the waistband of his jeans.
“…you aren’t from around here,” Gas Mask finally said, wonder in his voice, “How did you get in?”
“Walked,” Rin said, which only seemed to make Gas Mask even more surprised, “Took a plane first.”
“Sorry - I’m just so…” Gas Mask’s voice muffled a bit, “You’re the first non-hostile I’ve met in so long.”
Non-hostile? “I pointed a gun at you, idiot.”
“You didn’t shoot me,” Gask Mask replied happily.
“Your standards are incredibly low.”
Gas Mask let out a chuckle, and it sounded suspiciously relieved.
“What did you think I’d take?” Rin asked after a brief pause.
“Oh! My mask,” Gas Mask replied, touching it lightly, “Since you’re wearing that on your face and you have a gun, I thought you were either not from around here, which was unlikely, or that you’d lost your mask, which was… But you also didn’t immediately shoot me, so…”
The yellow smog. Right.
“You should get a mask,” Gas Mask said worriedly, “I don’t know how long you’ve been without one, but it’ll get bad before long, especially since we’re near Ground Zero. You should follow me, I can help you look for one.”
Right. Not suspicious at all.
“Not interested,” Rin lied, but he had good instincts and his instincts were telling him that this guy was trouble. No one was that nice to a stranger with a gun, unless they were planning on getting the drop on him for the gun. He knew that was a big thing, particularly in Japan, and he wasn’t about to let anyone off him for what he’d painstakingly bought on the Australian black market.
“No, I insist,” Gas Mask said with what Rin could only surmise was a smile as he approached Rin, offering a hand to him, “After all, it’s safer to be with another person. Two heads and all that, right?”
“Maybe,” Rin said, letting Gas Mask pull him up and immediately sweeping his legs so that he crumpled to the floor with a yelp. Without a second glance, Rin grabbed the can of peaches from the floor and bolted deeper into the warehouse, fortunate enough to find a trail of open doors that led him to the front entrance. When he got out, the fog hit him full in the face and his eyes watered immediately, but he didn’t stop for even a second. He could hear Gas Mask calling out for him and he wasn’t going to give that guy a chance.
Although he hadn’t managed to rest as much as he’d like, Rin felt like he had recovered enough to start running again, despite how much his legs felt like giving out underneath him and how much harder it was to breathe. Shit. He needed to sit down and drink something, possibly eat something too. He was so damned tired.
Rin’s run had faltered into a jog - one that he forced himself to keep up, much as it was hurting him to do even that - and, try as he might, he couldn’t see worth a damn. Between the heat from the sun and the particles in the air, he felt like he was swimming through a chimney.
By the time Rin took a moment to survey his surroundings, he realised that he’d managed to run through an entire district. On any other occasion, he would have congratulated himself for such an impressive feat. He noted wryly that this could only have happened if he was running for his life.
Without warning, he felt something lunge for his feet. He fell over, the back of his head knocking against the curb and making him see stars. His hat fell over and he got a full blast of sun light in his eyes, making it hard to see. All he could make out was a man straddling him, a gas mask on his face, blood oozing down his front. Called it, Rin thought as he tried to protect himself, but the guy was strong and he was punching Rin in the face and stomach and it hurt like a sonuvabitch. A strong blow to his gut made Rin cough out blood, and he felt hands covering his neck and squeezing. He choked, scratching the bastard’s hands and arms but he wouldn’t let up and Rin’s sight started to fade…
“I’m so sorry about this.”
The was a loud crash just above him, and his assailant was suddenly off him. Rin inhaled the smog-thick air greedily, scrambling up onto his arms as he massaged his neck with the other. The guy on the ground was still alive, twitching and rolling like he wanted to get up but was in too much pain. Before he could do much more, his rescuer grabbed him by the arm and hauled him up, pushing his hat into his hands.
“Are you okay?” That voice sounded a lot like Gas Mask.
Rin squinted at him, and then down at the guy on the ground.
True enough, that guy’s mask was different. He looked back up to Gas Mask.
“Is he a zombie?”
Gas Mask looked as taken aback as a guy in a gas mask could, “He’s not.”
Rin wanted to scowl at him and say something scathing, but Gas Mask put a hand on his arm and said, “We need to get some place safe first. I think you need to know some things.”
Rin could hardly argue with that.
Gas Mask - surprisingly agile and surefooted for his height - ended up running him down alley after alley into a small, boarded up house, which he assumed was Gas Mask’s home base. Barely any natural light came through, but even so, he kept his mask on. He made Rin sit on the sofa and it was such a relief to be on something soft and horizontal that he could physically feel his muscles groan in contentment as he sunk into the worn and beaten cushions.
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Gas Mask said.
“Yeah, well,” Rin let out a bone deep sigh, “Best as I’ll ever get I suppose.”
“What’s your name?”
“Kitajima.”
“Kitajima? Are you related to the Olympic swimmer?”
Rin looked at him in surprise.
“Oh, I keep up with the sport,” he replied in slight embarrassment.
“…It’s not actually my real name,” Rin felt like he was talking to an alien.
“Oh!” Gas Mask exclaimed, “Oh, of course, I didn’t even realise. Ah, an alias seems to suit your personality. You’re a fan of swimming, then?”
“What do you want me to call you?” Rin bit out, half in embarrassment and half in irritation.
“I suppose you could call me Tachibana.”
“… like Ginchiyo?”
Gas Mask-Tachibana spluttered briefly before he finally cleared his throat and ignored Rin’s question altogether.
“Could I ask what you’re doing here, in Iwatobi?”
“You could, but that’s none of your business.”
“I thought as much,” Tachibana replied easily, “But I can assume you’re looking for someone or something.”
“Fine,” Rin bit out, and sat up so he could glare at the guy, “I’ve been out of the country for five years and there was nothing in the news about mass infection or evacuations in Iwatobi. What the hell happened? Did the DMZ expand to include Iwatobi? And what the hell is up with this goddamned fog?”
Tachibana, who had been silently listening, seemed to look at him strangely.
“… Kitajima, this isn’t a DMZ. This is an FDMZ.”
“What the fuck is an FDMZ?”
“It’s… much worse than a DMZ. An FDMZ is a Fumigated De-militarised Zone. This yellow fog is a military tactic to flush out the infected from a particular area. It’s a neural gas that makes the infected go berserk. They end up tearing themselves apart, or going after each other.”
Whoa. What?
That… actually explained the lack of zombies.
“How come I’ve never heard of FDMZs?”
“Ah, I can see you thinking that it might be a new anti-zombie solution,” Tachibana replied wryly, “Unfortunately, the gas is equally toxic to humans. In addition to being a poisonous neural gas, it’s been shown to be cancerous. That, coupled with the heat, dehydration, and the internal lung injuries the fog causes…”
“Lung injuries?”
“Yes,” Tachibana said, “Did you notice the dust all around the town?”
Rin’s mouth went dry, “Those are particles from the fog?”
“They cut up the insides of your lungs and the poison makes those cuts infectious. Everyone who lives here has a mask, but… well, living long and healthy lives is out of the equation.”
“Wait,” Rin said, his head hurting again, “Why haven’t FDMZ’s been in the news if DMZ have?”
“It’s considered top secret. When the communication cut-off began is when they started gassing. It’s one of the worst anti-infection strategies which means bad PR, so you can probably guess why it’s so hush-hush.”
“Okay,” Rin said, “And who were the guys I saw who were beating the shit out of each other? They didn’t have any masks on.”
Tachibana paused briefly, “It takes a while to succumb to the gas, so they must have had intense and/or long-term exposure. If they don’t have any masks on, either they were damaged or unusable - the filters need to be replaced or cleaned out - and… well, exposure to the fog makes people go… feral.”
Feral humans instead of zombies. Great.
“In short,” Tachibana said with finality, “We need to get you a gas mask.”