VICTORIA [THE ONE WITH MANY WIVES] (stormy_mayday) wrote in samkurt,

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Title: All Those Who Wander Are Lost 1/?

Author: stormy_mayday

Rating: R

Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans (with other pairings thrown in along the way)

Author Notes: I LOVE ZOMBIES. LIKE A LOT, YOU GUYS. AND I LIKE GLEE. LIKE EVEN MORE SO. /capslock abuse. And I've been dying to write a zombie!fic for about a million years now, and I rather adore the thought of our Glee friends being in the midst of it. I also like Sam/Kurt. And Sam/Kurt + Glee + zombies = kinda, really awesome.

PS - I had no beta, so I apologize for any mistakes. D:

Warning: gore, violence, swearing, character death.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Maybe a good thing. There'd be gay sex every where. With Kurt. Everywhere.


Waking up to silence is an odd, eerie feeling. Not the silence of the day that's filled with birds chirping and cars passing by. No, waking up to silence, waking up to nothing. Samuel Evans woke up to nothing the morning of his seventeenth birthday. There were no birds chirping. There weren't cars passing by. He couldn't hear the commotion of his twin brothers downstairs. He couldn't hear his mother calling them to stop and get ready for school. His alarm hadn't gone off. In fact, the digital clock was blank.

And somehow, the silence was so much louder than any noise as he rose from his bed and went to his window. There was sun. There was a sky, and in the sky, there were clouds. In fact, it looked like a gorgeous day. Warm, even. He opened his window – and the pleasantness of the day seemed to melt. The smell hit him. It was filled with a horrid stench that he couldn't even begin to compare to anything. It was death, simply put. Rot. It made his stomach curl.

Sam recoiled from the window as if burned and hurried from his room, still in flannel night pants and a long sleeved shirt. His socks slid on the steps as he ran downstairs.

“Lucas? Logan?” Sam called for his brothers. The silence was deafening. Where was everyone? Was this some sort of surprise for his birthday? “Mom?” He began to move faster and ran through to the kitchen where his phone was charging on the counter. He had seventeen text messages and forty-two missed calls. Of them all, fourteen of the texts and thirty five of the calls were from Kurt. He wasn't surprised. He and Kurt had gotten pretty tight Quinn had broken up with him last month. Sleepovers, hanging out, they even got to do that duet that had escaped them back when he'd first joined Glee club. You could say that Kurt Hummel had become his best friend. You could also say that Kurt was smoking hot and made him do double takes every time he walked into a room.

He read the first (technically, it was the last one sent) text message that was on his phone. It was from, unsurprisingly, Kurt: Wherever you are, get out now. Meet me at my place, others are here.

It was the only message he read before the growling started. It was low, and guttural. It was inhuman, to best be put. Turning around, Sam found his brothers in the adjoining dining room. And he found his mother too. And a visitor. The visitor was couldn't have been much older than him and as he advanced on him, the eviscerated, gored corpses of his family disappeared from view. Sam stood, mortified. The visitor growled again. Sam thought he was wearing a mask because something that gruesome in the face couldn't possibly be real. The being staggered across the room, mangled, outstretched fingers groping for him. When the entire right side of your face looked like it had been peeled off and you're doing a horrible impression of Batman's Two Face, there might be a problem.

Wherever you are, get out now. Meet me at my place, others are here.

So Sam ran, socks and flannel pajamas and all, taking a second to grab the keys off the counter. He ran out of the house, stopping only momentarily to take in the silence. It was warm out, like he had guessed. Still above him, there was a sky, and in the sky, there were still clouds. And the smell was still there, so horrid and rank as he hopped in his car and lurched it out of the driveway.

He'd honestly been expecting some kind of something like The Day After Tomorrow or 2012, or maybe even something out of the Terminator with technology taking over the world. An apocalypse of undead walkers was not the way Samuel Evans had expected the world to end.

Kurt Hummel should have known something was wrong when Carole came home from the clinic where she worked. She'd come home early, complaining of a fever and feeling ill. His father, ever the gentlemen, had put her to bed with a cold cloth on her forehead and a light dose of pain and fever reducers.

He and Finn had been glued to the news. Over the past few weeks, there had been an influx in an unidentified disease across the continent of Asia in pockets stretching from New Delhi, India to Moscow, Russia and was suddenly rapidly growing in Europe. Panic in the United States had been high, but it had began to reach almost catastrophic levels as the first outbreak of the same disease had suddenly popped up in Seattle, Washington and a few days later, had suddenly started to couple with states east of it. There was fear it would start to spread in all directions.

“Authorities have been unable to identify the exact location of where the virus first originated, but the citizens of the United States should know they are in good hands. We are containing the virus as we speak, you can all rest easy,” Their president spoke, reassuring the nation with calm movements of the hands, “This will all blow over in no time.”

Except it didn't.


Some time during the night, Carole had risen and while flushed with fever, she wrote Burt a note. She was not oblivious to the outbreaks. In fact, she was all too aware now. She'd just been hoping the patient who'd bitten her at the clinic wasn't infected and was just hysterical. The sickness told her otherwise.


I love you. And I'm so sorry. I honestly wasn't expecting the disease to have gotten this far, just like I was expecting the boy at the clinic to have bitten me. Be careful come tomorrow morning. You'll take good care of Finn for me won't you? Tell Kurt I love him too. Be strong, all of you.


It was brief. Carole had gone back to bed. She'd seriously contemplated suicide, but she couldn't. She just couldn't do that. She'd never understood it and she wasn't about to now. Either that or the heat of the fever had gotten too far into her brain that she honestly couldn't think of doing anything anymore.

Burt never did get to read the note. In fact, he didn't even get to wake up that next morning. No one ever got to read the note.

Kurt awoke the the sounds of dull thuds hitting the floor, and to the sound of Finn cursing at the top of his lungs. Groggy with sleep, Kurt hurried from bed and stumbled up the stairs. As soon as he reached the living room, the thudding had stopped. He stood still, and footsteps were suddenly on the stairs. Heart racing, he slowly approached the stairwell. Before he reached it, Finn rounded the corner. Kurt hid his shriek behind his hands as the other boy stared at him.

“I... she... she was... your dad... and I... I grabbed the bat from my room because she wouldn't stop eating him and I wanted to get her off,” Finn began to garble. His shirt bore crimson designs that had spattered across his pants and face, and Kurt nearly threw up as he recognized chunks of brain matter in flecks across his body, “There was so much blood and I... she came at me and I told her no, but she... she wouldn't listen Kurt,” Finn's words were choking up and Kurt watched as the lines of blood on his face were interrupted by tears, “I had to Kurt. She... she was gonna... oh god, Burt, and he... I'm so sorry Kurt, I'm so sorry.”

Rachel showed up about a half hour later with only one of her fathers. She was dressed in plaid and polka dots. Kurt didn't have the heart to make a single comment as he ushered them inside. Finn was in the shower. He'd been there for over an hour now. The steam had stopped about twenty minutes ago, and Kurt could only chalk it up to the hot water heater coming to a stop. Rachel went in and closed the door and Kurt lead her father to sit in the living room where he gave him served him some tea. It was cold. Some time during the night, the power went out.

Tina, Mercedes and Quinn showed up about an hour later. Mercedes had had both girls over for a sleepover. There was no word on Tina's parents, or Quinn's mother. Mercedes parents had been out to celebrate their seventeen year anniversary down in Florida. No word from them either.

How Jacob Ben Israel found Kurt's house, no one knew, but they let him in. A few hours later, Mike showed up. Tina and him embraced with a frantic kiss that made Kurt's stomach flutter and he wondered if he should do the same whenever Sam got to the house.

Finn was out of the shower then and was sitting numbly beside Rachel's father on the couch while Rachel talked to him softly. Kurt had managed to send Sam fourteen texts in counting before he got one back.

im out. u ok?

Kurt almost cried when he read it. He'd been horrified for the longest time that Sam had been dead, or worse. Kurt wasn't about to get shy. He'd harbored the deepest love for the blonde jock since they'd first met. And when Quinn broke up with him – so he says, though she says he broke up with her – and Sam turned to him for support, Kurt took it as a chance to get close to the other.

He didn't take advantage of it, he never would. But Sam needed a friend, and if that was as close as Kurt got to be, then he was happy with that. Sure, Sam made butterflies tingle in his belly whenever the other boy was near him, but just having Sam trust him was enough for him. And he'd just hoped that he wouldn't lose that to any of those... whatever they were out there.

I'm okay. Are you on your way?

ya. b there soon.

None of them were actually sure what was going on, or what was happening. People were just... gone. And there were people wandering around out there. But they weren't people. There didn't seem to be a lot of them. At least, not right now.

Sam and Puck showed up at about the same time. Kurt ran out of the house and down the steps and practically flung himself at the blond boy, hugging him tight. Sam, startled, hugged him back before hurrying them for the house. Puck was carrying a young girl in the cradle of one arm, and in his opposite hand, he held a shotgun. The girl had eyes as wide as saucers and when he put her down, she began to scream at the top of her lungs. Everyone immediately tried to hush her and when Puck pulled her back on his hip, she was quiet.

But not soon enough because the moaning started then, as if answering her scream. Not one, but several. It soaked them in an icy chill to the bone – to the core. Kurt slowly went to the threshold and he could feel eyes on every inch of him as he stood in the doorway. He counted them, watching with a horrified awe as they seemed to just surface from the blue. So many of them. Kurt didn't understand how this happened so fast. It just didn't seem possible.

Sam's hands were suddenly over his eyes and he felt himself being pulled back. While Sam walked Kurt away from the door, Rachel closed it, and locked it tight.

Kurt went to the attic, and behind him, he had summoned Puck and Sam to follow him. The one thing about his father that Kurt had forever admired was that he never lied. And that included all the threats of an entire artillery against boys Kurt hadn't even met yet – he hadn't been lying.

“Holy shit dude. How many has he got up here?”

Days passed.

The walking, ghastly creatures soon had a name: wanderers.

“How is this spreading so fast?” Tina had whispered.

A day later they were joined by a young man who stumbled up the front steps and collapsed at Kurt's door. His flesh was torn and bitten, and his skin seemed to radiate heat like a furnace with fever. His eyes were bloodshot, his throat dry, and he coughed blood and shivered violently, complaining of aches. He died the next day.

Except not really.

They awoke to Jacob screaming and when the room was illuminated, everyone was suddenly screaming. The dead stranger had risen, and was now making a meal out of Jacob's innards. Sam took the bat from Finn and in a flash of surprising strength and quickness, the wanderer's brain was splattered across the floor. They kept Jacob alive for two days. In that time, he succumbed to a fever, coughing and shivering before he passed away. He rose a day later. The connection was made, and Jacob was killed and buried in the backyard. It wasn't glamorous, but they couldn't be outside for long and it was the best they could do.

Avoid being bitten or scratched. They could do that. Right?

Kurt wasn't sure how many days passed after that, but they had made a habit of boarding and curtaining up the windows to the best of their ability. They'd found out early on that the wanderers were more active during the night, and were attracted to any source of light, like swarms of moths. And that gunning any of them down was like ringing their dinner bell – they had to lay low for hours afterward just to keep themselves out of harm's way.

The food supply was becoming low. They were trying to conserve what they could, but that was becoming more difficult with all of them in the one house. They'd gone out and raided the neighboring houses, but when Rachel's dad didn't come back, they'd stopped. They started saving water in cans and jugs, any kind of container they could find.

“We're going to have to leave soon.” Puck said quietly one evening as he sat on the couch, his sister's head in his lap. He'd told them shortly after they'd met her and once she'd calmed down that her name was Sarah. Puck pushed hair from her eyes. She'd been having trouble sleeping, and it was one of the rare moments where she seemed to be deep in sleep.

“I know.” Kurt said quietly. He had become nestled into Sam's side on the loveseat. The blonde boy seemed to be trying to stay awake, but his head kept dropping before it hit the arm of the couch and stayed there. Kurt moved in closer as a series of moans came warbling through the air. He shivered, and it wasn't even cold. Kurt studied Puck from across the room. The gentle flicker of the candle made shadows dance on his face.

“Think the others will agree?”

“They won't have a choice. Unless they want to starve. And they can't stay here forever, not if this gets... out of hand.”

“We can leave them with a gun if that happens.” Puck said, and from the way his jaw moved in the light, Kurt could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth. Kurt was confused and when Puck looked over at him, Kurt felt that he shouldn't be, but he was.

Puck sighed, looking away again, “Hummel. There are moments where I know I would kill myself. If I was about to be eviscerated by one of those... fucking things out there, I'd want to make sure I had a gun with me so I could shoot myself first.”

They waited for the others. That was the reason that the others had argued to stay. Rachel had pleaded, saying her father might return. Tina had said Artie might show up, that he'd just lost his phones. Mercedes was waiting on her parents. Quinn had been hoping for her mother, and that Mr. Shuester or Sue Sylvester might appear.

No one else came. Not until Brittany.

They'd been packing for a day or so now, finally relenting. Not letting go or losing hope, but understanding it was time to go. They each left their own notes and left them folded on Kurt's kitchen counter in case one of their friends or family's found it, or maybe even a stranger, to give them hope that there were others out there.

Rachel had been trying to occupy Sarah with packing when the little girl was suddenly screaming and pointing frantically out the window, clinging to Rachel's skirt frantically. Rachel had slapped a hand over her mouth, before fixing her gaze out the window.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Rachel practically drug Sarah down the stairs, and they met Puck halfway. Sarah jumped on him and he held her tight, staring at Rachel frantically.

“What the hell's going on?” He snapped. The others came to the bottom of the stairs. Rachel covered her mouth with her hands; she looked like she were about to cry. Finn came up the stairs and held her close.

“There's a lady outside.” Sarah said quietly. Eyes turned towards the little girl. “She was coming towards the house. Don't let her in Noah, don't let her in!”

“Puck,” Rachel swallowed tightly, speaking from behind her hands, “It's Brittany.” Puck nodded, and headed down the stairs and the others solemnly followed. They didn't want to have to kill another creature and summon hundreds of them while they were simultaneously trying to get out of the house. But it might be necessary. Puck placed Sarah inside the kitchen pantry.

“Stay here. Quinn, can you--”

“Of course.” Quinn went in and knelt beside the young girl who clung to her immediately. Rachel was still crying, but as Puck turned around, he found her holding a shotgun in shaking hands. Puck made a reach for it, but it was Kurt he grabbed it first.

“What're you–” Puck started, eyes narrowing, but Kurt was already halfway to the door. Sam followed swiftly behind. The gun was shaking in his grasp as he followed the brunette boy out of the door. His eyes should have been searching for any wanderers, but for a moment, they were watching Kurt's ass sway in those sinfully tight black leggings. At that moment, Sam's dick became aware he probably hadn't had a single sexual related thought in nearly a week and a half now. He began to seriously debate going up to the smaller boy, turning him around, and kissing the life out of him.

He stopped himself when he saw Brittany. She was crying as she approached them, and when she saw Kurt, it was like watching a ray of sunshine pierce the gray skies when she smiled. Kurt ran to her, but stopped short just a few feet. Sam paused behind him, and Sam heard Puck's feet come to a half not too soon after. Sam didn't understand how Brittany was still walking. There were chunks of flesh jaggedly torn from her calves and thighs, and her right arm had several bites covering it from wrist to shoulder.

“Britt...” Kurt breathed out. Brittany paused at the sound of her name. The smile faltered slightly.

“She didn't mean it Kurtie. She chased the bad guy out of the house and her shoulder was bleeding but she said it'd be okay,” Brittany's voice was lilting, breathlessly hysterical, “When she bit me, I just thought they were sweet lady kisses,” No one had really known who she was talking about until that moment. Kurt hurt Puck swear under his breath. “Then they started to hurt,” Brittany grimaced, “It really hurt. It still really hurts.”

She tried to come closer, but Kurt already had to gun cocked and she stopped again. Kurt's hands were shaking; so was the gun.

“Kurt, you can't seriously be thinking of-”

“She'll be one of them. She could hurt us.”

“But Kurt-”

“Shuttup, Sam.”


Shuttup, Sam.” Kurt snapped and Sam went quiet. Brittany was crying silently and Kurt wiped his eyes. Sam dropped his gun. Kurt was strong, but was he this strong? That ice queen face might not save him from now on. Would it really save anyone? Maybe if you grew numb to it. But how could you grow numb to killing someone you love? Wouldn't it just... hurt?

“Jesus.” Puck suddenly breathed out. Kurt's gun shifted. Sam sucked a sharp gasp.

“She followed me. She wants to give me more sweet lady kisses, but they hurt.” Brittany was crying again, hands buried in her blood-caked palms. From behind her, Santana's form had surfaced from around the block. Her head was bent low. Her hair was in dark, tangled tousles about her face. When she raised her head, Kurt nearly vomited. The entire right cheek was hallowed out, and her teeth gnashed together when she saw them. Her lips were cracked, and her nails were yellow, fingers gnarled as she reached out for them.

“Don't you shoot her.” Puck suddenly growled as Kurt cocked back the trigger. Their eyes flickered to him.

“This isn't a moment to get sentimental.” Kurt said sternly as he side-stepped Brittany to get a better aim. Puck aimed his gun at Kurt, glaring at him. Sam's gun turned on Puck instinctively. Kurt's eyes flashed to the other, and Sam stood between them, apprehensive. From the house, Finn and Mike appeared.

“She's getting closer.”

“Don't you shoot her Hummel. I fucking mean it. Don't you shoot her.” Puck's breath was hitching, and Kurt looked momentarily surprised to see his eyes growing red and irritated with tears. Sam stepped between the muzzle of the gun, and Kurt's back, his own firearm still held up.

“Get out of the way Evans, or I'll blow your fucking head off–”

“It's not Santana, dude. It's not her. Let Kurt do this.” Sam urged. He could hear Brittany sobbing. He heard Kurt shift uneasily behind him. Santana was getting ever closer, eyes ablaze with an intense hunger that frightened Finn as he drew closer, Mike by his side.

“Sam's right Puck, it's not her–” Finn put an hand on Puck's shoulder and the other boy whirled around. The butt of his gun made solid contact with Finn's temple. Mike was on him first, tackling Puck to the ground as Finn reeled back, hitting the ground. Sam wanted to help him up, but Mike couldn't hold someone like Puck down, not when the other was fresh on adrenaline.

“Hurry up,” Sam whispered to Kurt as he helped keep Puck pinned to the ground. Finn, dazed and stumbling, made his way over and helped. His heart was breaking as he watched Puck struggle, as he watched his best friend cry. In some way, like Quinn, Puck had loved Santana. Wanderer or not, gunning down someone you loved was going to be hard. Finn had had to repeat to himself, over and over, that Carol was no longer his mother, that she was a monster, and that she never would have wanted to be like that – and fuck, he was crying now to.

“Don't shoot her Hummel! Don't you fucking dare!” Puck was shouting and cursing and Brittany was watching Kurt with a strange intensity that made his hands shake further. Santana's stumbling mass was suddenly breaking into an uneven, unsettling form of running. She was making noises, sick, wet, gargling noises as she growled at them. Kurt's hands were sweating.

“Kurt, hurry up–”

“Hummel, don't you dare–”

“She's close, pull the trigger–”

“I swear to God, don't do it–”

Santana's hands closed in on Brittany's shoulders, pulling her backwards toward her open mouth. Kurt pulled the trigger without thinking. Santana seemed to fall in slow motion. Her head whipped back and there was an angry, defiant shout from Puck that Kurt didn't hear as he watched Santana's arms fly into the air. Blood jetted out from between her eyes in a dark stream of liquid. She fell, legs giving way and toppled sideways. She hit the ground with a sickening, wet -SMACK-.

Brittany's eyes were on him, doe-eyed and blank. She turned to Santana and gently knelt beside her. The air had stilled. There were no moans. No wind. No birds. Just complete silence. Sam was eerily reminded of his birthday. His birthday he never celebrated. A birthday marked with the loss of so many of their friends.

Brittany gathered Santana's finally lifeless body into her hands and cradled it close. She rocked with it. Her eyes were still glassy. Kurt slowly approached. As he drew closer, he could hear the other girl singing. It was breathless and soft.

She's so lucky.
She's a star.
But she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart,
Thinking, if there's nothing missing in my life,
Then why do these tears come at night?

Kurt could have laughed. A hysterical, broken laugh. Britney Spears? Only Brittany S. Pierce. Brittany continues to sing and Kurt does laugh this time. It hurts to laugh. And it hurts to smile. And he's crying. He's crying so hard that he can't see what's he doing – which he would later believe to be a blessing – as he pulls the trigger again.

But he doesn't need to see to hear Brittany's soft, sweet voice come to a halt, and hear her body hit the ground beside the girl she'd loved. Kurt blinked and turned away before he could see what he'd done. Puck had stopped yelling and instead, was just crying, tears leaking onto the pavement. Finn, Sam and Mike let go. He was up in a heartbeat and Kurt doesn't move when Puck approaches him. For a moment, they just stand there and Puck's breathing hard and Kurt's barely breathing at all.

And then Puck slaps him.

And then hugs him.

He's crying and limp and Kurt can barely hold them both up. Finn pulls him off and brings him back into the house, Mike following close behind, back into Tina's arms. Kurt continues to stand there. When he looks down, he can see blood seeping in trickles between his legs and around his shoes.

“C'mere,” A gentle voice said and Kurt listened to it, following it into the house. The light disappeared as the door was closed behind them. And soon, Kurt found himself buried into Sam's shirt, sobbing his heart out.
Tags: author: stormy_mayday, fic rating: r
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