Lying in the small hallway was a man’s body— or at least, what was left of it. What had once been a man’s internal organs now looked like so much vomit. As though something had chewed up and spit out the better part of his torso. It was hard to believe the thing on the floor had once been human. The black pool of thick blood. The lumps of glistening flesh spread across floor. The awkward, twisted tangle of shredded intestines. The head, wrenched to some grotesque, unnatural position. The man’s glasses lay next to his head. The lenses were cracked, and the frame bent and distorted. Yet still it crawled towards him, mouth open, fingers gripping out into the darkness as it reached for him—
❝Fuck this…❞
The man growled, popping the zombie in the head. Three shots and he was down, body twitching but nothing else. He sighed, shoving the gun into his belt and walked through the store to see if there was anything salvageable.
A twitch ran through the store, as if someone was there with him. He quickly put his gun up, looking around the corner as he called out softly
❝Hello?❞
Here he thought he had found a safe haven. It was left relatively in tact and provided him many hiding spots and shelter. It had one flaw and that was the open window which left a glaring hole for the walkers to stumble through if they somehow managed to get up and over the ledge.
Peeta remained hidden in the office having already raided the small shop of its contents. He had found enough to sustain himself for a few days and was content with his solitude. Peeta had been deliberate about his choices thus far. He had left a few stray walkers in the store. He had never been able to kill them so mutilating them to rend them ‘passive’ had been utter hell for Peeta. He knew it was necessary to protect his new home.
For nearly a month he had called this place home. It wasn’t until he heard gunshots one evening that he realized someone else had stumbled onto his sanctuary. Peeta wasn't sure what to do. This stranger could prove to be dangerous and thus had to be treated with caution. He followed the gunshots, prepared to negotiate or fight. He hoped it was the former as he had never been a good fighter. Peeta rounded the corner, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sight of Derek. So this was him.
"Thanks to you they’re going to be crawling all over this place.“ Peeta chastised him, glancing down at the disheveled corpse that littered the tile floor. "What’re you doing here? I’m..I have to ask you to leave, please. I found this store first.” Leave it to Peeta to remain polite during the zombie apocalypse.
