Give Thanks

There is no turkey. That right off the bat was going to be obvious.

There is however, a deer, prepared pretty well which almost more then makes up for the fact that there is no traditional bird at the table.

The windows and door are boarded up, their weapons on their laps just in case and still, despite it all, the setting could not look more perfect.

Sure, the mashed potatoes are instant and not as creamy without milk to be added and the pumpkin pie made from canned rather then fresh, but Columbus supposes that maybe, they should just be thankful for the fact that they're even having something like Thanksgiving and still have much to be thankful for.

In the soft glow of candle light, all the faces at the table are solemn, everyone waiting for some one to say something. A prayer, perhaps?

It's Tallahassee who finally roles his eyes and bows his head. For a second, Columbus ponders the possibility that the man might say something serious and meaningful, with him practically filling the role of team dad and all. But there are no pearls of wisdom today and he simply says,

"Bless the meat, lets eat."

"Amen!" Little Rock throws in before digging in. Wichita looks like she might say something about the 'prayer', but she doesn't. Just begins heaping the corn and green beans onto her plate.

"You know, it's funny. Every year, my parents used to make us go around the table and say what we were thankful for." Columbus mutters and for a second, they stare. A biscuit in Little Rock's mouth, Tallahassee cutting deer meat and Wichita across from him, all open mouthed like he's just said the world's stupidest thing. So he hangs his head. "It was kinda dumb."

"It's not dumb," To his shock, it's Tallahassee who says it. "Go on, somebody say somethin' they're thankful for."

"Razors." Wichita offers up, prompting the stares to move from Columbus to her. "Excuse me if I like my legs to be smooth."

"Breaks," Little Rock adds. "Like, on a car." Her thing to be thankful for gives them a moment to recall the deer on the table and how it would have died, had the breaks not been employed as fast as they were.

Tallahassee doesn't even get his mouth open when Wichita is staring him down. "If you say 'Twinkies', so help me-"

"Hostess." He shoots her a 'so there' look.

They go around the table a few times since there's only four of them. McDonald's toys (what's left of them any way), hatchets, baseball bats, seat belts and CDs are some of the offerings made. But finally, when it comes back to Columbus, it's his next choice that makes them stop and pause, considering what they have on this day.

"Family."

End file.

Give Thanks by LunaBelieves


Shoulda Got a Puppy

With all these humans turning to zombies... you kind of lose faith in the ones who ain't. Weither you're watching your best friend bite take a fruity-gushers' bite of out your neighbor, or witnessing the miracle of life as your mother claws open her own womb and tears out the living thing inside her, you cant shake another man's hand the same way.

You dont know if he's going to bite it off like some rabid Easter Bunny. Humanity is some zombi-ity.

Now-a-days, if you've just seen a man chew off of the nose of an old lady, you roll your eyes and keep walking. You've become desensitized to anything bad that happens to anyone but yourself. You do it because you cant trust anyone, or anything.

In Present-Day ZombieLand, it's more gut-wrenching to see a puppy get run over by a car than a little girl fall off her big-wheel and eat torn apart by her big-brother.

Maybe that's why Tallahassee refrenced his own son as a puppy.

I dont blame him. Your own son might be the next Zombizilla; animals you trust- like puppies and kitties- it makes it easier to think about, not a litle boy with blood dripping from his lips and purple, swollen eyes with the dark intent to pull your guts out.

Speaking of guts, I cant help but feel proud of myself for what I did back at Pacific Playland.

Scratch that- Tallahassee deserves all the credit. He put on a one-man suicidal mission to save our asses.

...Fuck him. He knew he wasnt going to die. He's just trying to hog all the attention, be the hero. Let me start over.

I did a ballin' job back there, and I deserve a pat on that back. I conquored my fear and busted the skull of that poka-dotted red-nosed basterd! I saved the world, and got the girl of my dreams! I-

"You've been awful quiet ever since we left DisneyLand," says Tallahassee, startling me from my thoughts. I look at him. He gives me an odd look, one hand allowing the steering-wheel to burn across his lose hand as he steers to the left. In the back-seat, Wichita and Little Rock snuggle against eachother, their seatbelts securely around their mid-section in case of a sudden and violent head-on collusion with the car.

I open my mouth, trying to form words other than the ones I am thinking to myself. I twist my head around to look at the babes, then at the road, but Tallhase speaks up, casting a glance to the back.

"You look pretty tired yourself," he says. "I thought me and you'd have some bonding time as we drive to a new future, but if you just want a nap, then I guess-"

I shake my head quickly, saying even faster, "No, no. I dont- uh..." I give him an assuring smile. "I'm fine."

"Fine like your woman's behind?"

"E-excuse me, what?"

"I knew you two were going to get hitched the moment I saw her."

"Oh, right," I say cooly. I lick my lips. "Was it before or after they pretended to be bitten?"

"Correction on your behalf: Little Rock was the only one "bitten.""

"Wait- are you changing the subject?"

"Are you?" he asks with a hidden smile.

I shift in my seat. "No, but I'm going to right now!"

We are steadily raising our voices, but I dont think the girls will wake up. They're pretty tired.

"Let me hear it!" requests Tallahassee.

"Why did you-" I hesitate, then one word pops into my mind and doesnt go away- like the scent of a freshly popped can of Pringles: pig. "Why did you call me a pig back there?" I demand.

"Back where?"

"You know where."

"Back at the Barnyard?"

"Back at Paradise Playland!"

The older man shurgs. "Cant a guy give another man a complliment?"

I am infuriated fro reasons that surpass my own understanding. The words that spit out of my mouth of ones I will forever regret. "Oh, so I get the honored role of being a pig, while- while you're precious Buck is the pick of the litter?"

Tallahassee stomps his foot onto the brake, sending me flying forward in my seat, the belt cutting into my chest, my head snapping forward, nearly hitting the dashboard.

Thank God for safety-lock.

I recover and look behind me at the girls.

They're still alseep.

I hear the distant sound of a seatbelt being unbuckled, then a firm grip latches onto my left shoulder. I yelp and turn with wild eyes at my would-be assassin.

Tallahassee leans close to me, his powerful frame making my inside turn cold with fear; this man, if he wanted to, can kill me with his bear hands.

Hands!

With nervous fingers, I clasp my hands and beg for forgiveness. "I-I spoke out of line, I didn't know what I was saying, I'm sorry if I hurt you feelings!"

"No." says the older man. He squishes up closer, and for a moment I feel almost aroused, thinking he's turned on by me. Instead, he unbuckles my seatbelt, leans further over, and opens my door.

I look outside will a sheepish expression, then back at the man. "Wha-what are you doing?" I ask, already knowing. He was planning on abandoning me. "Y-you dont have to do this." I say quickly. "I'm sorry, and I'll make it up to you-"

"No," he repeates heavily. "No, you're sorry I'm mad at you. You're sorry because you realize your words are getting you into trouble. You're sorry you're bad of lying." Tallahassee uses his booted-foot to push me out onto the road, then shuts and locks the door before I can fully stand.

"No, please dont do this!" I urge. "You dont want to, really! Y-you need me, and I need you!" I come up with at least ten more good lines that should have melted the ice from his cold gaze, but once he decides he's heard enough of my bullshit, he says, "I've heard enough of your bullshit." then promptly drives away, spinning the tires just enough to kick dirt into my eyes.

"Yeah, thats really mature!" I shout, my voice breaking. I stand watching the tail lights turn to darkness, then I realie how utterly lost I am. Both mentally and physically.

Tallahsse was right.

I'm not sorry.

Anything I've ever done is for the good of myself; the girl was to keep me happy, keep me from feeling lonely. I felt I needed her because I knew there was probably no one else left alive.

My role as 'hero' was to earn praise for my ever-so-wavering ego. I crave attention, just like every secretly depressed person: All they want is to be accepted and loved above anyone else. To be special- but in a good way.

Maybe Tallahassee is right: I am a bad liar. But I do need him; I wasnt lying about that. He's my father figure I never had. Without him, who do I look to?

Myself?

Heh, yeah right.

Nobody ever likes themself, thats why they make friends who will make them feel better.

But in this day-and-age...with ZombiLand's population dropping, and humanity near extinction, who has time for friends? Not like you can trust them.

I turn at last from the direction of where Tallahassee vanished, and face the road from where I came.

I have no future anymore. My life is empty, and I have no friends, nor will I ever.

ZombiLand is...full of zombies.

It would be easier to make friends with a puppy.

...

End

End file.

Shoulda Got a Puppy by Stumble


A Man In The Making

Title: A Man In The Making

Summary: This is my first time getting drunk and I guess that I do stupid things while under the influence. Flirting with Tallahassee is one of them. Columbus/Tallahassee.

Disclaimer: I do not own Zombieland.

IIIII

We'd parked the Hummer outside this very nice two story abode. The girls are slumbering upstairs peacefully while Tallahassee and I have the routine job of taking first shift. In about four hours we go wake up Wichita and Little Rock and they take the next shift, and then we eat breakfast. I'm looking forward to a nice, warm bed to sleep in instead of reclined in the front seat of the Hummer. Or having to sleep in the backseat sitting up straight, which is completely uncomfortable.

I sit on the couch, wondering if there are still nerds like me out there that would like to log onto World of Warcraft just to see if anyone's survived, and that's when Tallahassee comes into the front room holding up two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka.

"I hope you intend to try and drink two shots at the same time," I tell him. "Because you know me, I'm--"

He interrupts me, plopping down on the cushion next to me, saying, "No excuses, spit fuck. Tonight you become a man."

I like to think I'm a man. I do, in fact, have male genitalia, but since I'm not the stereotypical man that Tallahassee is--gun-toting, hollering, drinking whenever he can kind of man--I guess I'm not considered a 'man' in that respect. No matter. It's not like the rest of the world is here to make fun of my lack of masculinity anymore. It's true that I never had any friends, and that I was a loner, but it didn't mean I was invisible. I was the target of many bullies. I wonder how they would react to seeing me shooting down the undead? Shocked, most likely.

"And don't pull that 'one and done' shit on me either, ya hear me? I'm not falling for it." Florida pours vodka into each of the glasses and hands me one. I take it with reluctance. When I just sit there and look at it he says, "Swallowin' it is the most preferable way to drink vodka if that's what you're wondering."

"No. I was wondering why you're shoving alcohol down my throat."

"I'm not shovin' it down you're throat. I'm strongly suggesting that you do it, otherwise I'll be forced to call ya Petunia for the rest of our travels," says Tallahassee.

"You call me girl names all of the time," I remind him flatly.

"Sure I do. That's because you're a bitch." Tallahassee states this as though it were a scientific fact. Then he downs his shot then looks at me expectantly.

I want to pull the trick I did like on the first day I met him but he's staring me down. I don't even have the spine of one of those teacup chihuahuas; you know the type, the ones that are always shaking and look as though they're about to piss on their owners? Yeah, those ones have more guts than I do. Standing up to Tallahassee is one of the dumbest things a person can do and I'm not about to attempt it.

So I swallow the clear liquid down. It burns my throat and I squeeze my eyes tightly as I try to wrap my mind around the fact that I just took my first real drink of alcohol. I've always been afraid of it (as I am of everything). I imagine myself probably being one of those stupid drunks, like the ones that go drunk driving and then call nine-one-one on themselves. It's not as foul tasting as I would have thought it to be. Actually, I like the warmth settling in my stomach, and I smile goofily at the cowboy sitting next to me. I find myself holding out the shot glass, insinuating that I wish for more.

"Well look at you. Our little princess likes the Schnapps," he chuckles. He pours me another one and one for himself. "Bottoms up."

I look at my glass and ask, "Should we really be getting drunk when we're on watch? We can't exactly shoot zombies while intoxicated."

"I don't know about you but I am completely in control when I'm wasted. I can drive, shoot a gun, and cook the best damn meal you've ever tasted."

"I wouldn't exactly let you use a stove while drunk," I murmur. "Anyway, I'm not cut out for heavy drinking. Maybe I should leave it at one--"

He gives me a strong pat on the back making me almost spill my vodka. "This isn't the time to be all uptight. The girls are asleep, there's no zombies around, and we have a bottle of vodka. What more could a guy ask for?"

"World of Warcraft and a girlfriend." I down my second shot and then I feel woozy. I set down my glass and hold my head in my hands, trying to keep down the liquids and what I ate for dinner (mmmm refried beans). Two drinks and my body has already had enough? Wichita was right, I do have the guts of a guppy.

It takes a while for me to stop coughing. Atleast ten minutes or so. Meanwhile, the alcohol courses through my system, making me dizzy with delight.

"So you're telling me that you're straight?" questioned Florida with a snicker. He refilled my vodka glass when I was done coughing.

"Well . . . " I blink and down the next shot without a single care in the world. I feel lightheaded, and it's as though I can feel the alcohol coursing through my veins. It's a strange, awkward feeling that makes me feel all warm through my arms, legs, torso, and especially my head. "I'm not saying I'm gay or anything . . . "

"But ya do want to fuck Wichita, don't ya?"

Images pop into my mind that I quickly shake off. Literally, I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts, and Tallahassee construes this as me saying no.

"I didn't think so," He said, taking a shot. "You're attracted to women, somewhat, but the idea of fuckin' 'em doesn't appeal to ya." It was a statement, not a question.

"I don't--I don't even think about making love to anybody in a post-apocalyptic world where there's frickin' zombies trying to eat you twenty four seven. So I guess the answers no."

"Want any more?" He holds up the bottle.

"No, no," I murmur. I run my hand through my hair trying to steady myself. I know that if I stand up I'm going to keel over, and then I'd never hear the end of it. I think I'm slurring my words but I can't really tell. They sound normal enough to me. I lean back on the couch and find that that's not comfortable enough, so I try a daring move. I don't even realize I've done it before I'm actually there.

I lay my head on Tallahassee's shoulder. My hands rest on his knee.

"What the hell do ya think you're doing?" It doesn't come out as angry, just . . . weirded out, perhaps. As though he wasn't expecting it. Hell, I wasn't expecting to do that and I was the one who did it.

I want to respond to what he's saying, but somehow my brain demands that I say, "You smell good. Did you put on that cologne we found in Detroit?"

Tallahassee chuckles and he knocks away my hands. He crosses his arms and says, "You're this close to becomin' a _flat _little spit fuck."

Against all things holy I set my hands again on his knee to be more comfortable. It's not as though I'm trying to be a bother, I just want to be comfy and cozy while sitting on this couch. There aren't many comforts left in Zombieland and this feels very nice. I smile goofily and look up at him. I completely ignore the fact that he's glaring back at me.

"I never noticed how blue your eyes were before," I say.

"Okay, no more vodka for you. Ever."

"No, no. Really. Look at me. Come on, look at me!" Tallahassee refuses and I murmur happily, "You--you have pretty blue eyes."

"You're really gone, ain't ya? I shouldn't have let you had more than two shots," He chastised himself.

"I'm not _gone_," I blurt out. "I ain't going nowhere. I'm staying right here. With you."

For what it's worth he hasn't pushed me away. Yet. He seems a little uncomfortable, and he keeps glancing at the stairs as though he's worried Little Rock or Wichita might come downstairs any moment and yell, "Ah-ha! I knew they were rump rangers!" How ridiculous. Though it is kind of weird to see Tallahassee uncomfortable. He's usually so sure of himself. But I've shaken him by simply invading his boundaries. Me, on the other hand, I couldn't care less if he invaded my boundaries. In fact, I _want _him to. This strange urge to kiss him befalls me and I have to wonder if I've gone crazy.

No, not crazy.

Just drunk off my ass.

They should have a warning label on that vodka bottle: _Homosexual tendencies for the unsure hetero. Also, it works in thirty minutes or less. Have fun you horny bastard._

"Tallahassee?"

"What now?"

He turns to look at me.

Biiig mistake.

I let my lips sink into his. I don't use any force, but I gently use my tongue to carress his lips which taste of the vodka we've been consuming for the past half hour. I'm surprised to feel him respond. I didn't think he was drunk enough to actually reply (other than throwing me off of him). Instead I get a roaring intensity from him in return. I'm still as careful as possible, unsure of myself, or what the hell I'm doing making out with Tallahassee of all people. I thought he was as straight as an arrow.

He pulls back after a couple of minutes and looks me dead in the eyes, as though searching for something. Maybe he doesn't find it because the next words out of his mouth are, "I shouldn't have let that happen. I should _not_ have let that happen."

"C'mon, I'm okay. You're okay. Right?"

"I'm fine. It's you who's so jacked up on vodka that you're not thinkin' straight. Literally."

"I'm _fine_," I say, putting my hand on his chest and gripping his shirt. "You make funny faces when you're upset. It's kinda cute."

I try to connect with his lips again, wanting the feeling of his slightly chapped lips on mine so badly that there's an ache inside of me. But he stops me by pushing me away.

"I'm going to let you go up to bed before you make a big mistake," he growls. "I can finish this shift on my own."

"Wha? Mistake? Why is--?"

"You're not gay, Columbus," Tallahassee reminds me. "You like Wichita, remember?"

"But you said earlier--"

"Forget whatever I said. I was only trying to--I don't know. Just either shut the hell up or get out of my sight." The tone in his voice tells me Tallhassee is not joking around.

"I-I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to kiss you. Something went wrong with my head and I guess I lost it for a second. I don't want you mad at me. You'll make my life a living hell if you're mad at me."

"Wait, wait. Lets get one thing clear. I am not mad at you," says Tallahassee. "I'm just taking a step back before you do something you'll regret. I refuse to take advantage of someone who is drunk and doesn't even know what the hell they're doin'."

I blink as I slowly process that information. I then shake my head and reply, "But I really like you. I mean, yeah, I like Wichita, but I like you better. You can be a little immature, and you're always yelling at me, but I--I'm just . . . I don't know either." I put my head in my hands. "'M sorry, Tallahassee. I shouldn't have forced myself on you. It's just that I'm attracted to you and it rears its ugly head when I'm drunk."

"Your attraction to me isn't ugly, spit fuck. I find you rather endearin', you with all your nervousness and obsessive ways, so don't think you've forced yourself on me. No one can force anythin' on me, anyways. Do I look like a guy who can be forced?"

I look at him in his snakeskin jacket, still wearing his cowboy hat and leather boots, and I smile. "No. No, you don't."

"If you had said yes I would have had to bitch-slap ya."

There's a couple minutes of silence where Tallahassee takes one more shot of vodka. He sits back and relaxes, fingering his gun in his holster on his hip, whistling some song I don't know. I know I'm staring but I can't help it; I keep imagining his lips on mine, craving the roughness I felt when he kissed so passionately back.

"If you didn't like me kissing you," I say, "then why did you kiss back?"

"I never said I didn't like you kissin' me," he retorts sharply. "I distinctly remember saying I jus' don't want you makin' a mistake you'll regret later."

I narrow my eyes at him and take this as a challenge. I hop up on my feet, feeling a bit wobbly but I regain my balance almost immediately, and then facing him I sit on his lap, legs on either side of me. I enjoy the surprise in his face but I'm absolutely enthralled when I silence any words with a kiss so lovely that my insides turn into liquid. This time there's no holding back. I give it all that I've got and apparently this turns him right on, because I can feel a stir from inside of his pants. Tallahassee doesn't like to be dominated though, I should have guessed that from the beginning, because I'm soon on my back on the couch, with his calloused fingers rubbing against my stomach. His dirty fingernails break my skin and I gasp into his mouth, making him smirk. I can't believe we've taken it this far but I can't say that I'm disappointed. Not in the least. This is exactly what I want. I just wish I could make him believe that.

I try to tell him through my kisses that this is what I desire more than anything in the world right now. In this moment, all I want is him.

When he brings his mouth to my jawline I shiver. He leaves a trail of nibbles and kisses down my neck, suckling at my jugular vein, and he swiftly removes my shirt so he can get a good look at me. I'm rather OCD with my grooming - I don't like chest hair, and I never have, so I shave it off. Same goes for stomach hair and underarm hair. So Tallahassee runs his hands all over my smooth chest and I moan, arching slightly when he kisses my chest.

A certain body part of mine is responding, throbbing, in response to what he's doing to me, and I want to tell him to do something about it, but I'm afraid that he'll stop if I push him too far. I don't think he wants to fuck me. I think he only wants to mess around. I don't really care; he can play with me all he wants, I can finish it myself when he's satisfied.

_Dammit _he is _great _with his mouth.

To my dismay he then sits back, huffing and puffing, a hunger in his eyes that I have never seen before. He wants me, and bad, I can tell, but he's still not convinced I have feelings for him. As he said, he doesn't want to "take advantage of a drunk person."

"You--you can take advantage of me all you want, Tallahassee," I say breathily. I gasp for breath, trying to steady my breathing. "I'm yours."

"I've never heard anythin' hotter in my life," he says lowly. He dips his head and kisses my stomach, lowering his mouth down to the fringe of my jeans. I grab his shoulders and begin to hypervenolate. Is he going to go that far? Do I _want _him to go that far?

"Let me tell you somethin', you delicious scrawny spit fuck," he growls, getting face to face with me. "If you can remember this in the mornin', then we'll seal the deal some other time, all right?"

I nod although I want him to just get on with it.

Tallahassee sits up and lets me recover myself. I try my hardest to cover the erection in my pants but it's no use, he's spotted it. He shrugs and mutters, "Go ahead. Go to the bathroom."

I rush my way up the stairs.

IIIII

The rest of the night goes in a blur. After I had taken care of myself, I headed down and kept watch with Tallahassee. Nothing was awkward about it, we just didn't feel like talking. If we did we would probably end up jumping on eachother again (me on bottom, of course). Sooner rather than later the girls show up and are ready for their shift. Tallahassee still refuses to share a bed with me so I'm forced to sleep on the floor. I'm not sleeping in the guest room because we found one of the infected in there, and it had been on the bed, and no way am I going to risk becoming one of those monsters.

The next four hours I sleep like a baby. I have a pillow, a blanket, and the floor. That's all I need to rest.

We're both woken up by Little Rock knocking on the door saying, "Wichita found some good eggs. We're having scrambled eggs for breakfast if you want to join us!"

I look at my watch and see that it's eight in the morning. I yawn widely, and look over at Tallahassee, who is putting on his cowboy hat. My head is pounding and I'm hoping that I can find some Tylenol or Excedrin for my pulsing headache. Damn hangovers. But despite all of this pain . . .

I smirk.

"I remember last night."

He smirks back.

"I was hopin' you would, Sally, I was hopin' you would."

IIIII

IF ONLY I WERE A SLINKY SAYS:

Not my best work, I wrote this only writers block hoping to get my groove back, but I hope you enjoyed it enough to review. I know people are reading this, so review you fuckers--I mean, you wonderful human beings. :D

End file.

A Man In The Making by If Only I Were A Slinky


Showtunes by the Sea

Columbus smiled at the smell of the sea, slurping quietly on his thumb. It was peaceful, he decided. The zombies were gone for now, god knows where. They were slowly dying off. They were still people in a sense. Diseased, bloodthirsty people, but people nonetheless. With a lack of humans, they were starving. Not that they had the common sense to drink or sleep anyway. Soon, they'd go extinct, another blip in man kind's long and bloody history. A large hand skimmed down his back, stopping to give his ass a slight squeeze. Columbus jumped and winced when his teeth accidentally bit into his thumb. "Hold on there, spit-fuck." Tallahassee soothed. "Just me."

"I know that." He said, irritated. "You freaked me out though." He tilted his head back and placed his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow at the amused look in his lover's eyes.

"What doesn't freak you out?"

"Pancakes." Ohio responded automatically. "You never hear of a pancake hurting anyone or someone choking on a pancake. They just sit there all fluffy and soft and wonderful, just kind of like, oh, he-e-e-ey you want a piece of me? I don't mind, really, take a bite, I'm magically delicious!" He mocked in a squeaky high-pitched voice. He was rewarded with a laughing smile.

"That's Lucky Charms, babe."

"Guys!" Little Rock screamed suddenly, "Look what I found!" The teen rushes out of a rundown store labeled _Sounds by the Sea, _clutching a multitude of CDs in her arms and gun bouncing along her shapely hips. "Chicago, Hairspray, Sweeney Todd, Wicked, Really Rosie, Rocky Horror, all of it!" She cheered. "Show tunes by the dozen!"

"Are you going to add it to your South Park doll collection?" Columbus asked, amused as he picked out a dusty CD. Little Rock had grown up well in Zombieland, a down to Earth and beautiful woman. He had no doubt she would be a survivor, even after the so-called apocalypse passed.

"I don't mind breaking into things but it's just sad for you to make me do it to grab-machines." Tallahassee says seriously. "And we aren't playing chick music in my car."

Little Rock deflated. "Wichita would have let me do it." She mumbled. Columbus melted slightly and pulled the girl into a hug.

"We'll sneak 'em in when he goes to the bathroom." He promises in a whisper. She sniffs and smiles weakly. Tallahassee is stiff and is looking out onto the ocean, a strange look in his eyes.

"I heard that." He says gruffly. "Just go put the damn things in the back seat with Lenny and Pan."

"Kenny and Stan." She responds, trudging back to the car.

"Poor kid." Columbus whispered to himself. Wichita's death wasn't mentioned much, but it wasn't ignored. The woman had died with honor. Not to be caught with her pants down, she had thrown herself off a building instead of being eaten by zombies.

"She's a tuff little bitch." He responds, throwing an arm over Ohio's shoulders and pulling him close. "She'll be just fine."

Columbus doesn't respond, breathing out and watching his breath float away in a cloud. "The coast is freezing." He mumbles.

"California's burning." He's reminded.

"The west is filled with tornadoes." Little Rock says, linking their fingers.

"The web officially crashed today." Columbus mumbles in addition. "I could still get World of Warcraft earlier. People were still logging in. This one guy said he hadn't eaten in a week and was going to die playing."

"Did he?" Little Rock asks.

"I'm not sure; he stopped logging in a week ago." Columbus smiles bitterly and turns towards the car. "Come on, let's go, we're burning daylight. I want to be in Canada by sundown."

"He's right; we should get going before night hits. I don't see any of those undead fuckers now but I don't want to take any chances." Tallahassee mutters, cocking his gun and looking around.

"You too, Lone Ranger." He teases gently when he sees the man isn't moving.

Tallahassee shoots him a withering look but complies, helping Little Rock into her seat. "Let's hit it." He hollers, revving the engine. "You hear that, zombie bastards? Try and catch me now!" He lets out a whoop and they tear down the abandoned street, playing chicken with parked cars and rushing the former humans like a bull.

Little Rock lets out a happy screech, Wichita forgotten for now while Sweet Transvestite blasts from the stereos. Columbus laughs and buckles up, pulling the strap tighter around his skinny chest. Ice has crusted over his window but there's no one they don't want to hit anyway. The engine roars loudly in his ears but it's more of a comforting sound than anything else. As long as cars work they'll have a means of escape, they'll travel the world and when they're finished they'll just start all over. Because things will heat up and the fire will stop and eventually, not soon, but eventually, things will get better. Who knows, maybe there are still some geniuses alive, holed up in their basements making a cure right now.

"You know something?" He muses to Tallahassee, pressing a soft kiss to a calloused palm. "I always wanted to go to China." The hand curls around his chin and a pair of warm lips meets his own.

"It's a good thing we got all the time in the world then, huh, spit-fuck?" The older man laughs as they collide with a zombie dressed like a stripper.

"Ireland next!" Little Rock chimes. "I want to see if Artemis Fowl is still alive!"

"Hell, we'll hijack a plane and fly to bloody England and check up on Harry Fucking Potter while we're at it!" Tallahassee exclaims, making a sharp turn to avoid a school bus. Columbus smiles and tilts his head back, bouncing it against the seat.

"We can't do that." He says mildly.

"Why not?" Little Rock demands, "It's not like we have anywhere to be."

"Because you need a special knock to get into Diagon Alley, remember?"

She sighs in exasperation as Tallahassee bursts out with "Nerd burn!"

And together, one big dysfunctional family, blood and flesh smeared to the bottom of their tires, they zoom off into the sunset.

End file.

Showtunes by the Sea by The Truth's Lie


Never Alone

**Just a fluffy one-shot I wanted to try. Hope you guys like it!! :D**

**I own nothing!!**

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It wasn't an unusual dream, especially nowadays. The dream of being chased but you can never run fast enough to escape the impending horde behind you. It seemed to happen a lot more recently, for whatever reason. It may have been due to the incident at Pacific Playland or any of the other times he'd been chased around parking lots, down highways, or through abandoned grocery stores. One thing was for sure though, Columbus was pretty damn sick of the dream.

This one was just like all the others. He was alone, in the middle of some God-forsaken town, and they were everywhere. At first they didn't see him, they were too busy ransacking buildings and cars, looking for anyone who happened to still have a pulse. And then it was like the light was turned on and he was in the center of it. They all saw him at once, dead eyes narrowing at the new target. There were hundreds, maybe thousands in every direction, and he was completely defenseless. Sometimes he had a shotgun in his dreams, sometimes it was a chainsaw, or some other weapon. Tonight it was nothing. Nothing but the clothes on his back and the adrenaline racing through his veins. He looked for an opening, anyway out he could find. There was no place to go, the zombies had him completely cornered.

The thing about zombies was, while they're not particularly fast or bright, they do know how to hunt in packs and that's what this was. It was little more than a pack or hungry, cannibalistic wolves. The first one made a flying lunge at him, tripping over a shattered ankle. Another ran at him, hands outstretched and grabbing. He fell back, tumbling over the fallen zombie and landing hard on his hip. And then they were all on him, tearing, ripping, biting through flesh and bone. Columbus screamed and struggled and fought but it was useless. He had become walking lunch meat.

Columbus sat up suddenly, a sharp intake of breath accompanying the movement. His heart was racing, breathing coming out in short, ragged gasps. A terrifying second of confusion assaulted him as he looked around the darkened room, his mind reeling and trying to remember where the hell he was.

"Easy there, tiger." A southern voice drawled from a few feet away, the owner hidden in the darkness. "Nothin's gunna getcha."

The confusion passed and Columbus could breathe a little easier. "Tallahassee?" He asked, unable to keep the shakiness out of his voice.

"Yeah." The older man said, flicking on a lamp next to the bed. They were in a house, one of the many they'd broken into and stayed in over the past few days. He and Tallahassee had camped out in a guest room, two single beds pressed up against either wall. The opposite bed looked like it hadn't been touched. It was still dark outside, the table-side clock reading out 3:27am. "Now keep it down, you'll wake the girls."

Columbus fell back onto the bed, covering his eyes with his hands. Wichita and Little rock were in the room across the hall, sleeping soundly and completely oblivious to his night terrors. The house was as locked down as possible, the doors and windows blocked and barricaded with chairs and boards and anything else they could find. They were safe, at least for now. He struggled to take a deep breath, convince himself the dream was just that, a dream.

Tallahassee looked over from whatever he was doing, eyes narrowing slightly from beneath his trademark cowboy hat. "You okay?"

"Uh...y-yeah..." Columbus said after a second, swallowing hard to force the bile back down his throat.

"Bullshit."

He ignored it and propped himself up on his elbows. "What are you doing up?"

Tallahassee shrugged half-hearted and leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. "Couldn't with you tossin' and turnin' all night." He smirked, his attempt at humor falling short. When the younger man failed to respond he sighed and stood, walking over to the bed and falling onto the foot of it. "What was the dream about?" He asked, irritated with himself for actually being concerned.

Columbus shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Once again: bullshit."

The younger man shook his head again and looked down at the blankets he'd become tangled in during his nightmare. His skin felt damp thanks to the layer of sweat he'd broken into and he shivered unconsciously. "Just a nightmare."

"Well I know that genius. What was it about? And don't tell me 'nothin'' again unless you want to loose some teeth." Even the false threat seemed lighter.

There was a brief silence, nothing but the sound of both men breathing filling the room. The strange thing about Zombieland was the uneasy silence in even the largest cities. Hell, Los Angeles had been like a ghost town and its one of the largest in this part of the country.

"I was alone..." Columbus said finally, never taking his eyes off the bed. "I was alone and there were zombies everywhere. I didn't have a weapon..." He swallowed again to fight back the tremble in his voice. He finally looked up but not at Tallahassee, at the ceiling. Tears prickled his eyes but he refused to let them fall. "Do you ever think this is all pointless?" He asked to no one in particular, eyes searching the plaster above him.

"All of what?" The older man asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

"Everything." Columbus said, hand absently indicating the boarded up window beside the bed. "Us driving around all the time, fighting all these things when they outnumber us a couple thousand to one? I mean, what's the point? They're going to win eventually..."

A sharp punch to the shoulder brought him back to the present. Tallahassee was glaring at him, blue eyes dark. "That's enough. I get that you're scared and feel like things are hopeless but now is not the time to be losin' it. Because once you give up, its all over. You're pretty much servin' yourself up on a silver platter."

"But what are we supposed to do, huh?!" Columbus nearly shouted, keeping his voice controlled just enough to prevent waking the girls. It was the first time since the plague had wiped out nearly everyone he knew that he allowed himself to freak out. He felt it was pretty justified. "Tallahassee, its going to happen. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually we're going to get to a point where we're outnumbered and our luck is going to run out." He shook his head, running his fingers through his dark hair. He sighed and kept his eyes closed for a second, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm sorry...I just..." He shook his head again. "I don't know. I'm sorry..."

Tallahassee watched him for a second, trying to find the words to calm the panicky young man. "You know, right after my son died I felt the same way you do." He said quietly, staring at the opposite wall. "I felt like I had lost everything, that boy meant the world to me. I thought about givin' up and just lettin' them take me too but then I figured Buck wouldn't ever get the justice he deserved. That's what got me through; knowin' that I could kick some major zombie ass and avenge my son." He looked back to the younger man. "The point is you can't give up when things look tough. You gotta keep goin' for all those who can't. Its the only thing we have left."

Columbus was silent for a second, letting the words sink in.

"And kid, as long as I'm around you don't have to ever worry about bein' alone."

The younger man looked up. "Really?"

There was a humorless chuckle. "Well where the hell else am I goin' to go?" The pleading look on Columbus's face made the smile fade. Tallahassee nodded slightly, not looking at him. When the hell had he become so attached to these kids? "Really."

For some reason that was all it took to appease the younger man. Columbus seemed to visibly relax, a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding releasing slowly. "Sorry I kept you up..." He apologized weakly, trying to make up for his earlier outburst.

"S'fine." Tallahassee mumbled, standing slowly and walking over to pat him on the shoulder. "Go back to sleep, kid. I'll be here in the morning." And with that he turned off the lamp and the room fell into darkness again. For the firs time in nearly three months, Columbus fell asleep and dreamed of nothing.

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**So was it okay?? I just really like the idea of Tallahassee watching the door while the others sleep, its really cute to me :D**

End file.

Never Alone by LaylaBinx