Fic: Dawn of the Apocalypse 2
Title: Dawn of the Apocalypse 2
Word Count: 4545
Pairing: Pinto AU and (highlight for spoiler) umm kind of Chris/Sylar, but not really
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In the Learn To Program universe, Chris finds himself in a life-threatening situation when a familiar looking person comes to his rescue
Warnings: RPS. Crack, zombies, and blood, oh my, we are not in Kansas anymore. References and blatant abuse of video games, math, (highlight for spoilers) Heroes, and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”. Heh.
Disclaimer: None of this is true. LOL. And I don’t know anything about zombies.
A/N: This is my belated holiday fic for the amazing kaidoh_kitty. The prompt was: “yo dawg i heard you like au so i wrote you an au so you can read an au of mah au.” Specifically, write more of Chris the Programmer/Zach the Math Teacher universe, but with zombies. This isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I hope you enjoy it, bb! <3
Zach stretched his arms above him and sagged back into the couch, hanging his head as he sat cross-legged. He frowned at the stack of papers in his lap. The rest of the couch was occupied by Chris’ long legs, which stretched from where Chris was nestled on the other end of the couch to the toes that pressed against Zach’s thigh. Chris gave Zach an amused smile.
“How far did you get?”
A yawn escaped Zach. “A little more than halfway.”
“Wow, I’m disappointed in you. Wouldn’t have thought you to give up on differential equations.”
“Umm, no. Differential equations are no threat to me. The inscrutable handwriting of my students and their complete disregard of my request for them to show all steps of their work,” Zach held up one of the tests to Chris’ face and jabbed his index finger at the top of the page where he had typed in bold capitals ‘PLEASE SHOW ALL STEPS OF YOUR WORK’, “is what is I find defeating.”
“Then just don’t give out partial credit.” Chris shrugged.
“The entire class would fail.”
“Then grade on a curve.”
Zach chewed on his upper lip and crossed his arms, tossing his red pen onto the coffee table.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t tell you how to do your job.” Chris laughed and placed his laptop on the floor to slide over and run his fingers through Zach’s hair. “I’m just saying, you do this to yourself every time,” he said softly.
“I know I do,” Zach admitted. He leaned his head on Chris’ shoulder and sighed. “How’s your stuff coming along?”
“It’s okay,” he said with a yawn. “I didn’t get much done this week as I wanted to.”
“I’m so proud of you.” Zach tilted his head up to kiss Chris’ jaw. “Will you sign my copy of Learn To Program, Third Edition, by Chris Pine, when it’s published?” He dropped the exams on the floor and hooked a leg over Chris while winding his arms around him.
Chris took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes to distract Zach from the blush creeping into his face. “If it ever gets finished. I have that game developers conference coming up next week,” he sighed again.
With a smile, Zach rubbed Chris’ back lightly. “You were so looking forward to that until John talked you into hiring college kids to dress up as zombies for the vendor booth.”
“I know. Like, what was wrong with my idea of giving away t-shirts to promote the game launch?” Chris whined.
“Cause nobody wants a t-shirt that says ‘Dawn of the Apocalypse 2’ in big red letters. It doesn’t even make sense. How could there be a second apocalypse?”
“That reminds me, I have to meet with these two guys tomorrow. John told them to come dressed as zombies. I should never listen to Cho. Ever.” Chris leaned his head on top of Zach’s.
Chris was staring intently at his computer screen when a cold hand abruptly gripped his shoulder, startling him and prompting him to whirl around in his chair. He quickly pulled the little white earbuds out and looked up. The two college students dressed in dirty and torn clothing loomed over him, faces and hands covered in pale grayish-green make-up with dark red smears and fake flesh wounds on their cheeks and necks.
“Hey there, hi guys, glad you could make it,” he stammered.
His desk wasn’t facing the door to his office, but still, he should’ve seen them out of the corner of his eye, or heard them come in. Shouldn’t someone be escorting them through the building at least?
Chris stood up and offered his hand to them, but neither of them even looked at it. They stared blankly ahead and remained silent. The air around him felt chilly and stale.
“Wow, umm. Those are some really great costumes. And you’re doing an awesome job staying in character.” Maybe a little too awesome, Chris thought.
“Like John explained in the email, we’ll need you at the booths from Tuesday through Thursday, noon to 4pm. We’ll probably have one or two people there to answer specific questions about the game. But pretty much just do what you’re doing now,” he chuckled nervously, “and feel free to interact with people who stop by the booths, you know, pretend to scare them or growl at them. I don’t know, what do usually zombies do?”
Chris watched as their eyes widened and one of them opened his mouth, baring a set of discolored and bloody teeth, while the other one reach forward and wrapped his hand around Chris’ throat. Suddenly, he was roughly shoved and bent backward over his own desk, the hand around his neck tightening and pinching his windpipe. As panic set in, Chris could only gasp and gurgle, trying desperately to pry the hand from his throat with his hands and kicking out at the man’s legs. The other man grunted and wrestled Chris’ hands away from his neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he told himself this was totally Cho’s fault.
He felt his breaths coming shorter and the sound of his heartbeat drummed in his ears as sharp fingernails dug into his skin. His scream came out like a squeak and he kept struggling, even though he felt his muscles weakening, the last of the oxygen being squeezed from his body. Chris stared challengingly back at the men in a final show of defiance.
Just as his vision began to blur, both men looked in the direction of his office door. They flew back against the wall, thrown by some invisible force, and were pinned there as their torsos were sliced open, crimson blood and rotting organs spilling out onto the carpet. Their low screams of agony filled the room until their heads were split open and their eviscerated forms fell lifelessly to the floor, as if they had been cut from their marionette strings.
Chris slumped down, scrambling under his desk and gasping for air. Gingerly, he touched the skin around his neck to see if he was bleeding when he heard the steady footsteps approaching. He tried to cower further into the space between the desk drawers, but there was nowhere else to go. A pair of black jean-clad legs and black boots appeared in front of him and Chris fixed his crooked glasses to peer carefully up at the man who saved him from his attackers.
“Zach?” he breathed incredulously. “How did you do that?”
Zach smirked at him. “Christopher. Don’t I get a thank you?”
Crawling out from under his desk, Chris got to his feet and fought the urge to vomit. The stench from the corpses was nauseating and he’d just managed to get his breathing under control. He took a good look at Zach as he scurried away from the bodies. Where did he get these clothes? Where did he get that black cap? He moved differently, his posture was straighter, and there was an air to him that seemed so unfamiliar. His expression wasn’t warm like it usually was and even the set of his eyebrows seemed more determined, exuding a sort of danger.
“Zach, what’s going on?”
Taking slow steps toward Chris, Zach shook his head. “Everybody wants a piece of Chris, that’s what’s going on. And specifically,” he said and lifted his hand, almost brushing Chris’ cheek, “they want what you have right up here,” he emphasized the last few words with a little taps of his fingertip to Chris’ temple.
“No. No way. Those were not real zombies,” Chris laughed. “For serious, Zach. What’s going on? And why are you here?”
“I’m here cause I want the same thing,” Zach replied casually, picking a piece of lint off Chris’ shoulder.
“What?”
“Your brain, Chris. I know you have a power. A special ability. I’ve been tracking you for a while.”
“Well, obviously. We live together, and really, I’m flattered that you think that thing I do with my tongue is a special ability, Zach, but I’ve told you all you have to do is curl--”
“Stop calling me that,” he interrupted. He glanced out the window and began walking toward the door. “We have to move. There’s more coming.”
“More what?”
He marched over to Chris. “Were you paying attention just now?” A hand gestured toward the wall. “They’re coming after anyone who’s alive.” Grabbing Chris’ sleeve, he led them to the door, looking cautiously down the corridors before turning left toward the stairs.
“Stay behind me, and let me know if any of them are coming,” he instructed Chris.
“Zach, I don’t understand. Is the world blowing up?”
Chris found himself pushed against the wall, the stern face just an inch from his.
“My name is Sylar. And yes, it’s the dawn of the apocalypse. I’m taking you because you have a power I need: the ability to calculate and extrapolate precisely and quickly. So I can’t let them kill you otherwise I can’t take your power. I need it to predict the physics of when and how they attack, so I can fight them off and save as many people as I can,” he explained in a level but warning voice.
“Umm, okay. Sylar? Let me get this straight.” Chris nudged him back gently. “The zombies are trying to take over, but you need my analytical skills to develop mathematical prediction algorithms and use statistical probability to outsmart them.”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Yes. Save the mathematician, save the world,” he said dryly.
“Okay, that’s kind of cool. Except, I don’t have a special power. It’s just math and logic. I can teach you, it might take some time and patience--”
“I’m not interested in a math tutor.”
“But, so why don’t I just use my ‘powers’ and fight them myself?”
Sylar raised an eyebrow. He nodded in the direction of an office a few feet away. With a flick of his fingers, the glass shattered. Chris’ eyes widened. He then watched as Sylar turned his palm up and three shards of glass floated into the air under his control. His index finger pointed sharply toward the wall next to Chris’ head and the pieces of glass embedded themselves like arrows into the drywall.
“Cause I’ve collected a few other neat tricks that come in quite handy,” he said in a low voice before heading toward the stairs.
“I’m trapped in some weird alternate universe,” Chris mumbled to himself and followed Zach down the hallway.
It all seemed absurb. If it wasn’t for the fact that this Sylar guy looked like Zach’s evil-twin, Chris wouldn’t be going along with this crazy plan. Actually. That wasn’t really a good reason either. But Chris didn’t have many options.
As they passed some offices, Chris noticed bodies laying on the floors, his co-workers and friends who had probably become victims of the two zombies that came after him earlier.
“Wait, so, how do I give you my awesome math powers?”
“You don’t give them to me, I take them.”
“How do you do that?”
Sylar paused as he was about to push open the fire safe door leading to the stairwell. He smiled at Chris in a discomforting way, a way that Zach had never looked at Chris. It was so confusing to see that this man was the spitting image of his kind-hearted and sweet boyfriend, but was clearly not Zach at all.
“I slice open your skull and take a look inside that pretty little head of yours.”
“So you’re going to kill me,” Chris concluded flatly.
“The needs of the many, Chris,” he said with a smile and swung open the door.
They were on the top floor of an abandoned warehouse, which Chris thought was a rather unsafe place to be, considering the limited options for escape and the altitude if they were to be ambushed by a group of zombies. But Sylar insisted it was safe, and really, who was Chris to argue. He only half-believed what was going on anyway, despite the two dozen or so zombies that Sylar slaughtered on their way over.
“What kind of name is Sylar? Is that your last name?”
“It’s what I named myself after I came to accept that I was special.”
“That’s cool,” Chris said. He had no idea what that meant. Walking over to the opposite side of the floor, he peered out the window and saw a brick wall. “Does it translate into something?”
“Sylar is the name of a watch,” he replied as he surveyed the perimeter of the building.
“You named yourself after a watch?” Chris spat out.
From a few feet away, Sylar looked Chris up and down, cocking his head to the side. “At least I didn’t rob someone’s grandfather to complete my wardrobe.”
“Hey! This is a really warm sweater!” Chris held out his arm and the sleeve of his thick grey sweater toward him for emphasis.
Sylar lifted an eyebrow and stalked off.
“So, you’re really not kidding with me here. You’re really going to kill me? Why didn’t you just kill me back at the office? Why bring me here?” Chris asked.
Sylar looked out one of the grimy windows. “I can’t be interrupted. I need time to examine your brain and study it, understand how it works.” He turned to Chris. “That’s my power. And that’s how I can take yours.”
Moving over to stand in front of Chris, Sylar tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he focused his stare on Chris’ forehead.
“You’re like a walking graphing calculator.”
“In any other circumstance, I’d say that’s the best pick-up line anyone’s ever used on me,” Chris whispered sadly.
Remorse and hesitation filled his eyes as Sylar stepped closer. “I’m not a monster.”
Chris nodded absently. Sylar averted his eyes from Chris’ and began pacing, checking the windows periodically. He stopped and bit his top lip in thought. It was a gesture that Zach did so often and Chris felt his chest clench. Part of him still didn’t believe all of this was happening, that zombies were eating everyone’s brains and this guy Sylar was going to cut open his head any moment, but if it was real, well, at least the last face he’d see would sort of be Zach’s.
Without thinking, he walked over to the window and pulled the baseball cap off Sylar’s head. Chris combed his fingers through his hair, pulling him forward to press their lips together. His thumbs rubbed at the stubble on Sylar’s jaw. It didn’t feel like Zach. Chris pulled back and his hands dropped to his sides in defeat as Sylar blinked in surprise.
“Sorry, it’s just,” he sighed and licked his lip. “You look exactly like him, and I’m never going to see him again.”
Sylar remained silent for a while as they both stared out the window. “Does he know about your ability?” he asked quietly.
Chris chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t think what I have is an ability. But if it is, well, his is even better than mine. He’s a teacher.” Sylar turned to watch Chris as he spoke softly. “A couple months ago, he took some of his students to this mathletes meet and they won first place. Afterward, I helped them sneak into his classroom to decorate it with streamers.” Chris grinned at the memory. “He walked in the following Monday morning and there was the trophy on his desk they had drawn all over the chalkboard ‘Mr. Q is the best!’ He loves those kids and I know he cried when he saw that, even if he said he didn’t, I know he did.”
Chris looked down at his feet. He could feel Sylar’s eyes on him as he tried to push away the lump of emotion in his throat.
“So. Are you going to... you know.” Chris made a horizontal motion across his own forehead.
“There have been times when I can absorb powers without killing, through empathy,” he confessed. “It doesn’t always work, and I won’t be very good at controlling it.” Chris watched him shake his head. “I don’t think we have enough time to take that risk.” The worry and regret was evident on in his voice.
“Okay,” Chris nodded. “The fate of the world, right?” he said with a fake bright smile.
Sylar turned to face Chris, placing his right hand on his shoulder as he raised his left hand, index finger extended.
“Wait,” Chris blurted. “If you happen to run into him, after all this is over, and you’ll know it’s him cause he’s like your twin except you probably have a better haircut and he wears glasses, could you tell him something for me? Could you tell him I said, umm, tell him ‘What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter? Pumpkin Pi’? And tell him that I love him, too. A lot.”
Sylar’s faced screwed up in confusion and his dropped his left hand. “Did you just tell me a math joke?” he asked in disbelief.
Swallowing hard, Chris nodded. “Zach loves my math jokes. Promise me you’ll tell him.”
“Alright, I will.”
“No, I mean it! You’re cutting open my brain, you have to promise me!” Chris demanded.
“Okay, I swear I will!” Sylar said defensively.
“Okay.” Chris nodded again.
Sylar lifted his hand and pointed his finger at Chris forehead. Chris held his breath and waited, but nothing happened. He looked at Sylar’s face and his hand and saw doubt.
“Come on,” Chris whispered. “Do it.”
A muscle in Sylar’s jaw twitched and he blinked several times before steeling his hand again and narrowing his eyes at Chris’ temple. Then Chris felt himself being thrown backward against the wall.
Sylar turned away, head slightly bowed, but spoke to him over his shoulder. “You can tell him your stupid joke yourself if you help me and don’t get yourself killed.”
A crash from the other end of the building made them both jump. Chris could see them pouring in and stumbling onto the floor from two shattered windows next to the cargo elevator.
“Stay behind me,” Sylar gritted out. He began moving toward them and tossing them back out the large window like dolls, some of them getting cut by the jagged glass edges, with the flick of his wrist. The more mobile and hostiles ones that dared to charge at him were cut down with the fast movement of his fingers. Chris watched in awe and horror as Sylar methodically tore off limbs and disemboweled them. The bemused smirk on his face suggested he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Chris took a tentative step back and frozen when he felt bony and cold fingers gripping his arm. Before he could turn around, something else snaked around his ankle.
“Sylar!”
Chris grabbed the hand on his arm and twisted as hard as he could while he kicked at the hand that was pulling at his foot. Another one descended upon him and he struggled furiously to free himself from their grasps, cursing at them and trying push them off him.
“Chris,” Sylar called and pointed at a concrete column.
Chris nodded and gave one of them a hard kick to the groin. It doubled over and he kicked it again in the jaw, unhinging it and Chris gave it a few more sharp kicks until the head bent back and snapped off. One was latched onto him from behind, pulling at his arms and trying to dislocate his shoulder. He managed to drag that one and the one wresting with his leg over to the concrete pillar.
“Duck down,” Sylar instructed and Chris did his best to squirm out of the way as Sylar raised his right hand, fingers spread loosely and palm facing them, and lifted the two zombies on either side of Chris. He pinned them helplessly to the column before two fingers on his left hand sliced a horizontal line through the air, decapitating them. Chris heard a series of thumps and watched a head roll away from him. He stood up again and saw the red splatter of blood.
There was a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and Chris noticed another broken window where more bodies were crawling in and coming toward them.
“There’s more!”
Turning his head, Sylar looked for Chris, checking that the zombies were far enough away from him before he hurriedly forced a group of them into the elevator and sent the car plummeting down the elevator shaft, dismembering some as the roof of the car careened passed the floor. He slammed the doors and headed over to where Chris was standing off against two more zombies.
As Sylar approached, the zombies lunged at Chris, pushing him to the ground. One of them reached for Chris’ throat and Sylar threw him back with a wave of his hand. The other one growled and charged at Sylar just as three more fell from the rafters. Chris turned his head and saw them all land heavily on Sylar, knocking him flat on his back, his arms wrestling to give him the leverage to push himself back up. One of them held Sylar down while another one snapped his left leg with a loud crack. Chris scrambled to his feet just one of zombies twisted Sylar’s head sharply, so he was looking Chris, an expression of shock on his face. They both screamed as Sylar’s head was twisted again, into a direction that heads weren’t supposed to turn; Chris knew his neck had been broken.
It was too much to see Zach’s paralyzed likeness lying helplessly on the floor.
“Chris, don’t!” Sylar yelled. “I’m fine!”
He ignored Sylar and ran at them, as fast as he could, tackling two of them and began punching and swinging his arms at them blindly. From behind him, he could hear Sylar’s warning getting louder. He turned his head and saw Sylar sitting back up. The brief pause he took in trying to comprehend how Sylar was even moving was enough to distract him from the hands that grabbed onto his head, squeezing and trying to crush his skull. Chris let out another scream as teeth sank into the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
As quickly as the bite happened, Chris felt the zombies around him fall limply to the ground. His hand came up to touch the wound on his neck and he rubbed the fresh blood between his fingertips. He looked up and saw Sylar standing in a protective stance between him and rest of the zombies, his arms outstretched, white-hot bolts of lightning furiously shooting out from his hands and electrocuting the approaching bodies. The crackle of electricity vibrated through the warehouse as the last of the attackers seized and crumpled. The smell of their sizzling flesh along with his own dizziness overwhelmed Chris and he stumbled.
He reached his hand out, trying to steady himself, when Sylar appeared at his side, cradling Chris’ head to his chest.
“How are you walking? I saw them, they broke your leg and your neck,” Chris managed to gasp. Sylar gently lowered him down and helped him stretch out on the concrete floor, kneeling next to him. He tilted Chris’ head slightly and looked at the bloody teeth marks on the otherwise smooth skin.
“I can regenerate my cells. I can never die. I was trying to tell you... to not...” He trailed off as he examined Chris’ wound.
“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”
Sylar didn’t answer, but Chris already knew from his expression.
“How long before I turn into one of them?”
“I don’t know.” Sylar shook his head and began brushing his thumb across Chris’ cheekbone. His eyes seemed soft, more Zach-like, and Chris wanted to cry.
“You should do it now. Cut me open and look in my brain.”
“I already took what I need,” Sylar whispered.
“But you said to control it better--”
“No, I can’t--”
“Then just kill me, please,” Chris begged. “I don’t want to be like them.” A frigid tremor fluttered down his spine and he felt his blood turning cold. He couldn’t feel his toes anymore. Lifting his hand, Chris saw that it was turning grey. Sylar continued rubbing his cheek, his brow furrowed in sadness.
“Please, you have to do it,” Chris breathed. “Come on.” He grabbed the front of his shirt.
“Chris, let go.”
“No! You have to, please. Zach would do it. He wouldn’t want me to be mindless and running around like that.”
“Chris, let go,” he repeated more firmly. “Let go.” One of Sylar’s hands shook his shoulder.
“NOOO!” Chris screamed from his gut with every ounce of energy he had left, screwing his eyes shut.
When he opened them, he saw his hands fisted in the front of Zach’s button down shirt. Zach was cupping his face with one hand while gently massaging his shoulder with the other.
“Chris, let go of my shirt. You’re having some weird nightmare.”
Blinking rapidly, Chris took in his surroundings. He was lying on their couch with his Mac on his lap, Zach sitting on the cushion and tucked near his waist. He flung himself at Zach, throwing his arms around him and knocking their glasses askew in the process. They both fell to the floor, Chris sprawled out on top of Zach, his laptop landing next to them. Still panting, he buried his face in the crook of Zach’s neck.
“It was awful, Zach. There were zombies and you were there, but it wasn’t you, it was like a menacing version of you, and you had these superpowers and we were in a warehouse and there was this math joke I wanted to tell you and the windows broke and I got bitten and you wouldn’t cut open my head to steal my math powers and--”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Zach said soothingly and rubbed circles on his back. “It was just a bad dream.” He pulled his head back a little to look at Chris before placing a small kiss on his forehead. They stayed on the floor until Chris’ breathing calmed.
“What was the math joke you wanted to tell me?”
“I don’t remember now,” Chris mumbled.
“Well, tell me when you do.” Smiling against his skin, Zach gave him another kiss and tapped on his back. “Let’s get you to bed.”
With a nod, Chris pushed himself off Zach and held out his hand to help him up. Zach gave his hand a little squeeze and Chris hugged him tightly, wanting to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He gave Zach a sheepish smile and didn’t let go of his fingers the entire way to the bedroom.
Just as he was about drop his hand, Chris remembered something and grabbed Zach’s arm to look at his wrist.
“What are you--”
“What kind of watch do you have, Zach?”
A bewildered looked crossed Zach’s face. “It’s a Sylar.” He tipped his head to the side in question. “Why?”
Word Count: 4545
Pairing: Pinto AU and (highlight for spoiler) umm kind of Chris/Sylar, but not really
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In the Learn To Program universe, Chris finds himself in a life-threatening situation when a familiar looking person comes to his rescue
Warnings: RPS. Crack, zombies, and blood, oh my, we are not in Kansas anymore. References and blatant abuse of video games, math, (highlight for spoilers) Heroes, and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”. Heh.
Disclaimer: None of this is true. LOL. And I don’t know anything about zombies.
A/N: This is my belated holiday fic for the amazing kaidoh_kitty. The prompt was: “yo dawg i heard you like au so i wrote you an au so you can read an au of mah au.” Specifically, write more of Chris the Programmer/Zach the Math Teacher universe, but with zombies. This isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I hope you enjoy it, bb! <3
Zach stretched his arms above him and sagged back into the couch, hanging his head as he sat cross-legged. He frowned at the stack of papers in his lap. The rest of the couch was occupied by Chris’ long legs, which stretched from where Chris was nestled on the other end of the couch to the toes that pressed against Zach’s thigh. Chris gave Zach an amused smile.
“How far did you get?”
A yawn escaped Zach. “A little more than halfway.”
“Wow, I’m disappointed in you. Wouldn’t have thought you to give up on differential equations.”
“Umm, no. Differential equations are no threat to me. The inscrutable handwriting of my students and their complete disregard of my request for them to show all steps of their work,” Zach held up one of the tests to Chris’ face and jabbed his index finger at the top of the page where he had typed in bold capitals ‘PLEASE SHOW ALL STEPS OF YOUR WORK’, “is what is I find defeating.”
“Then just don’t give out partial credit.” Chris shrugged.
“The entire class would fail.”
“Then grade on a curve.”
Zach chewed on his upper lip and crossed his arms, tossing his red pen onto the coffee table.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t tell you how to do your job.” Chris laughed and placed his laptop on the floor to slide over and run his fingers through Zach’s hair. “I’m just saying, you do this to yourself every time,” he said softly.
“I know I do,” Zach admitted. He leaned his head on Chris’ shoulder and sighed. “How’s your stuff coming along?”
“It’s okay,” he said with a yawn. “I didn’t get much done this week as I wanted to.”
“I’m so proud of you.” Zach tilted his head up to kiss Chris’ jaw. “Will you sign my copy of Learn To Program, Third Edition, by Chris Pine, when it’s published?” He dropped the exams on the floor and hooked a leg over Chris while winding his arms around him.
Chris took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes to distract Zach from the blush creeping into his face. “If it ever gets finished. I have that game developers conference coming up next week,” he sighed again.
With a smile, Zach rubbed Chris’ back lightly. “You were so looking forward to that until John talked you into hiring college kids to dress up as zombies for the vendor booth.”
“I know. Like, what was wrong with my idea of giving away t-shirts to promote the game launch?” Chris whined.
“Cause nobody wants a t-shirt that says ‘Dawn of the Apocalypse 2’ in big red letters. It doesn’t even make sense. How could there be a second apocalypse?”
“That reminds me, I have to meet with these two guys tomorrow. John told them to come dressed as zombies. I should never listen to Cho. Ever.” Chris leaned his head on top of Zach’s.
Chris was staring intently at his computer screen when a cold hand abruptly gripped his shoulder, startling him and prompting him to whirl around in his chair. He quickly pulled the little white earbuds out and looked up. The two college students dressed in dirty and torn clothing loomed over him, faces and hands covered in pale grayish-green make-up with dark red smears and fake flesh wounds on their cheeks and necks.
“Hey there, hi guys, glad you could make it,” he stammered.
His desk wasn’t facing the door to his office, but still, he should’ve seen them out of the corner of his eye, or heard them come in. Shouldn’t someone be escorting them through the building at least?
Chris stood up and offered his hand to them, but neither of them even looked at it. They stared blankly ahead and remained silent. The air around him felt chilly and stale.
“Wow, umm. Those are some really great costumes. And you’re doing an awesome job staying in character.” Maybe a little too awesome, Chris thought.
“Like John explained in the email, we’ll need you at the booths from Tuesday through Thursday, noon to 4pm. We’ll probably have one or two people there to answer specific questions about the game. But pretty much just do what you’re doing now,” he chuckled nervously, “and feel free to interact with people who stop by the booths, you know, pretend to scare them or growl at them. I don’t know, what do usually zombies do?”
Chris watched as their eyes widened and one of them opened his mouth, baring a set of discolored and bloody teeth, while the other one reach forward and wrapped his hand around Chris’ throat. Suddenly, he was roughly shoved and bent backward over his own desk, the hand around his neck tightening and pinching his windpipe. As panic set in, Chris could only gasp and gurgle, trying desperately to pry the hand from his throat with his hands and kicking out at the man’s legs. The other man grunted and wrestled Chris’ hands away from his neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he told himself this was totally Cho’s fault.
He felt his breaths coming shorter and the sound of his heartbeat drummed in his ears as sharp fingernails dug into his skin. His scream came out like a squeak and he kept struggling, even though he felt his muscles weakening, the last of the oxygen being squeezed from his body. Chris stared challengingly back at the men in a final show of defiance.
Just as his vision began to blur, both men looked in the direction of his office door. They flew back against the wall, thrown by some invisible force, and were pinned there as their torsos were sliced open, crimson blood and rotting organs spilling out onto the carpet. Their low screams of agony filled the room until their heads were split open and their eviscerated forms fell lifelessly to the floor, as if they had been cut from their marionette strings.
Chris slumped down, scrambling under his desk and gasping for air. Gingerly, he touched the skin around his neck to see if he was bleeding when he heard the steady footsteps approaching. He tried to cower further into the space between the desk drawers, but there was nowhere else to go. A pair of black jean-clad legs and black boots appeared in front of him and Chris fixed his crooked glasses to peer carefully up at the man who saved him from his attackers.
“Zach?” he breathed incredulously. “How did you do that?”
Zach smirked at him. “Christopher. Don’t I get a thank you?”
Crawling out from under his desk, Chris got to his feet and fought the urge to vomit. The stench from the corpses was nauseating and he’d just managed to get his breathing under control. He took a good look at Zach as he scurried away from the bodies. Where did he get these clothes? Where did he get that black cap? He moved differently, his posture was straighter, and there was an air to him that seemed so unfamiliar. His expression wasn’t warm like it usually was and even the set of his eyebrows seemed more determined, exuding a sort of danger.
“Zach, what’s going on?”
Taking slow steps toward Chris, Zach shook his head. “Everybody wants a piece of Chris, that’s what’s going on. And specifically,” he said and lifted his hand, almost brushing Chris’ cheek, “they want what you have right up here,” he emphasized the last few words with a little taps of his fingertip to Chris’ temple.
“No. No way. Those were not real zombies,” Chris laughed. “For serious, Zach. What’s going on? And why are you here?”
“I’m here cause I want the same thing,” Zach replied casually, picking a piece of lint off Chris’ shoulder.
“What?”
“Your brain, Chris. I know you have a power. A special ability. I’ve been tracking you for a while.”
“Well, obviously. We live together, and really, I’m flattered that you think that thing I do with my tongue is a special ability, Zach, but I’ve told you all you have to do is curl--”
“Stop calling me that,” he interrupted. He glanced out the window and began walking toward the door. “We have to move. There’s more coming.”
“More what?”
He marched over to Chris. “Were you paying attention just now?” A hand gestured toward the wall. “They’re coming after anyone who’s alive.” Grabbing Chris’ sleeve, he led them to the door, looking cautiously down the corridors before turning left toward the stairs.
“Stay behind me, and let me know if any of them are coming,” he instructed Chris.
“Zach, I don’t understand. Is the world blowing up?”
Chris found himself pushed against the wall, the stern face just an inch from his.
“My name is Sylar. And yes, it’s the dawn of the apocalypse. I’m taking you because you have a power I need: the ability to calculate and extrapolate precisely and quickly. So I can’t let them kill you otherwise I can’t take your power. I need it to predict the physics of when and how they attack, so I can fight them off and save as many people as I can,” he explained in a level but warning voice.
“Umm, okay. Sylar? Let me get this straight.” Chris nudged him back gently. “The zombies are trying to take over, but you need my analytical skills to develop mathematical prediction algorithms and use statistical probability to outsmart them.”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Yes. Save the mathematician, save the world,” he said dryly.
“Okay, that’s kind of cool. Except, I don’t have a special power. It’s just math and logic. I can teach you, it might take some time and patience--”
“I’m not interested in a math tutor.”
“But, so why don’t I just use my ‘powers’ and fight them myself?”
Sylar raised an eyebrow. He nodded in the direction of an office a few feet away. With a flick of his fingers, the glass shattered. Chris’ eyes widened. He then watched as Sylar turned his palm up and three shards of glass floated into the air under his control. His index finger pointed sharply toward the wall next to Chris’ head and the pieces of glass embedded themselves like arrows into the drywall.
“Cause I’ve collected a few other neat tricks that come in quite handy,” he said in a low voice before heading toward the stairs.
“I’m trapped in some weird alternate universe,” Chris mumbled to himself and followed Zach down the hallway.
It all seemed absurb. If it wasn’t for the fact that this Sylar guy looked like Zach’s evil-twin, Chris wouldn’t be going along with this crazy plan. Actually. That wasn’t really a good reason either. But Chris didn’t have many options.
As they passed some offices, Chris noticed bodies laying on the floors, his co-workers and friends who had probably become victims of the two zombies that came after him earlier.
“Wait, so, how do I give you my awesome math powers?”
“You don’t give them to me, I take them.”
“How do you do that?”
Sylar paused as he was about to push open the fire safe door leading to the stairwell. He smiled at Chris in a discomforting way, a way that Zach had never looked at Chris. It was so confusing to see that this man was the spitting image of his kind-hearted and sweet boyfriend, but was clearly not Zach at all.
“I slice open your skull and take a look inside that pretty little head of yours.”
“So you’re going to kill me,” Chris concluded flatly.
“The needs of the many, Chris,” he said with a smile and swung open the door.
They were on the top floor of an abandoned warehouse, which Chris thought was a rather unsafe place to be, considering the limited options for escape and the altitude if they were to be ambushed by a group of zombies. But Sylar insisted it was safe, and really, who was Chris to argue. He only half-believed what was going on anyway, despite the two dozen or so zombies that Sylar slaughtered on their way over.
“What kind of name is Sylar? Is that your last name?”
“It’s what I named myself after I came to accept that I was special.”
“That’s cool,” Chris said. He had no idea what that meant. Walking over to the opposite side of the floor, he peered out the window and saw a brick wall. “Does it translate into something?”
“Sylar is the name of a watch,” he replied as he surveyed the perimeter of the building.
“You named yourself after a watch?” Chris spat out.
From a few feet away, Sylar looked Chris up and down, cocking his head to the side. “At least I didn’t rob someone’s grandfather to complete my wardrobe.”
“Hey! This is a really warm sweater!” Chris held out his arm and the sleeve of his thick grey sweater toward him for emphasis.
Sylar lifted an eyebrow and stalked off.
“So, you’re really not kidding with me here. You’re really going to kill me? Why didn’t you just kill me back at the office? Why bring me here?” Chris asked.
Sylar looked out one of the grimy windows. “I can’t be interrupted. I need time to examine your brain and study it, understand how it works.” He turned to Chris. “That’s my power. And that’s how I can take yours.”
Moving over to stand in front of Chris, Sylar tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he focused his stare on Chris’ forehead.
“You’re like a walking graphing calculator.”
“In any other circumstance, I’d say that’s the best pick-up line anyone’s ever used on me,” Chris whispered sadly.
Remorse and hesitation filled his eyes as Sylar stepped closer. “I’m not a monster.”
Chris nodded absently. Sylar averted his eyes from Chris’ and began pacing, checking the windows periodically. He stopped and bit his top lip in thought. It was a gesture that Zach did so often and Chris felt his chest clench. Part of him still didn’t believe all of this was happening, that zombies were eating everyone’s brains and this guy Sylar was going to cut open his head any moment, but if it was real, well, at least the last face he’d see would sort of be Zach’s.
Without thinking, he walked over to the window and pulled the baseball cap off Sylar’s head. Chris combed his fingers through his hair, pulling him forward to press their lips together. His thumbs rubbed at the stubble on Sylar’s jaw. It didn’t feel like Zach. Chris pulled back and his hands dropped to his sides in defeat as Sylar blinked in surprise.
“Sorry, it’s just,” he sighed and licked his lip. “You look exactly like him, and I’m never going to see him again.”
Sylar remained silent for a while as they both stared out the window. “Does he know about your ability?” he asked quietly.
Chris chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t think what I have is an ability. But if it is, well, his is even better than mine. He’s a teacher.” Sylar turned to watch Chris as he spoke softly. “A couple months ago, he took some of his students to this mathletes meet and they won first place. Afterward, I helped them sneak into his classroom to decorate it with streamers.” Chris grinned at the memory. “He walked in the following Monday morning and there was the trophy on his desk they had drawn all over the chalkboard ‘Mr. Q is the best!’ He loves those kids and I know he cried when he saw that, even if he said he didn’t, I know he did.”
Chris looked down at his feet. He could feel Sylar’s eyes on him as he tried to push away the lump of emotion in his throat.
“So. Are you going to... you know.” Chris made a horizontal motion across his own forehead.
“There have been times when I can absorb powers without killing, through empathy,” he confessed. “It doesn’t always work, and I won’t be very good at controlling it.” Chris watched him shake his head. “I don’t think we have enough time to take that risk.” The worry and regret was evident on in his voice.
“Okay,” Chris nodded. “The fate of the world, right?” he said with a fake bright smile.
Sylar turned to face Chris, placing his right hand on his shoulder as he raised his left hand, index finger extended.
“Wait,” Chris blurted. “If you happen to run into him, after all this is over, and you’ll know it’s him cause he’s like your twin except you probably have a better haircut and he wears glasses, could you tell him something for me? Could you tell him I said, umm, tell him ‘What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter? Pumpkin Pi’? And tell him that I love him, too. A lot.”
Sylar’s faced screwed up in confusion and his dropped his left hand. “Did you just tell me a math joke?” he asked in disbelief.
Swallowing hard, Chris nodded. “Zach loves my math jokes. Promise me you’ll tell him.”
“Alright, I will.”
“No, I mean it! You’re cutting open my brain, you have to promise me!” Chris demanded.
“Okay, I swear I will!” Sylar said defensively.
“Okay.” Chris nodded again.
Sylar lifted his hand and pointed his finger at Chris forehead. Chris held his breath and waited, but nothing happened. He looked at Sylar’s face and his hand and saw doubt.
“Come on,” Chris whispered. “Do it.”
A muscle in Sylar’s jaw twitched and he blinked several times before steeling his hand again and narrowing his eyes at Chris’ temple. Then Chris felt himself being thrown backward against the wall.
Sylar turned away, head slightly bowed, but spoke to him over his shoulder. “You can tell him your stupid joke yourself if you help me and don’t get yourself killed.”
A crash from the other end of the building made them both jump. Chris could see them pouring in and stumbling onto the floor from two shattered windows next to the cargo elevator.
“Stay behind me,” Sylar gritted out. He began moving toward them and tossing them back out the large window like dolls, some of them getting cut by the jagged glass edges, with the flick of his wrist. The more mobile and hostiles ones that dared to charge at him were cut down with the fast movement of his fingers. Chris watched in awe and horror as Sylar methodically tore off limbs and disemboweled them. The bemused smirk on his face suggested he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Chris took a tentative step back and frozen when he felt bony and cold fingers gripping his arm. Before he could turn around, something else snaked around his ankle.
“Sylar!”
Chris grabbed the hand on his arm and twisted as hard as he could while he kicked at the hand that was pulling at his foot. Another one descended upon him and he struggled furiously to free himself from their grasps, cursing at them and trying push them off him.
“Chris,” Sylar called and pointed at a concrete column.
Chris nodded and gave one of them a hard kick to the groin. It doubled over and he kicked it again in the jaw, unhinging it and Chris gave it a few more sharp kicks until the head bent back and snapped off. One was latched onto him from behind, pulling at his arms and trying to dislocate his shoulder. He managed to drag that one and the one wresting with his leg over to the concrete pillar.
“Duck down,” Sylar instructed and Chris did his best to squirm out of the way as Sylar raised his right hand, fingers spread loosely and palm facing them, and lifted the two zombies on either side of Chris. He pinned them helplessly to the column before two fingers on his left hand sliced a horizontal line through the air, decapitating them. Chris heard a series of thumps and watched a head roll away from him. He stood up again and saw the red splatter of blood.
There was a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and Chris noticed another broken window where more bodies were crawling in and coming toward them.
“There’s more!”
Turning his head, Sylar looked for Chris, checking that the zombies were far enough away from him before he hurriedly forced a group of them into the elevator and sent the car plummeting down the elevator shaft, dismembering some as the roof of the car careened passed the floor. He slammed the doors and headed over to where Chris was standing off against two more zombies.
As Sylar approached, the zombies lunged at Chris, pushing him to the ground. One of them reached for Chris’ throat and Sylar threw him back with a wave of his hand. The other one growled and charged at Sylar just as three more fell from the rafters. Chris turned his head and saw them all land heavily on Sylar, knocking him flat on his back, his arms wrestling to give him the leverage to push himself back up. One of them held Sylar down while another one snapped his left leg with a loud crack. Chris scrambled to his feet just one of zombies twisted Sylar’s head sharply, so he was looking Chris, an expression of shock on his face. They both screamed as Sylar’s head was twisted again, into a direction that heads weren’t supposed to turn; Chris knew his neck had been broken.
It was too much to see Zach’s paralyzed likeness lying helplessly on the floor.
“Chris, don’t!” Sylar yelled. “I’m fine!”
He ignored Sylar and ran at them, as fast as he could, tackling two of them and began punching and swinging his arms at them blindly. From behind him, he could hear Sylar’s warning getting louder. He turned his head and saw Sylar sitting back up. The brief pause he took in trying to comprehend how Sylar was even moving was enough to distract him from the hands that grabbed onto his head, squeezing and trying to crush his skull. Chris let out another scream as teeth sank into the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
As quickly as the bite happened, Chris felt the zombies around him fall limply to the ground. His hand came up to touch the wound on his neck and he rubbed the fresh blood between his fingertips. He looked up and saw Sylar standing in a protective stance between him and rest of the zombies, his arms outstretched, white-hot bolts of lightning furiously shooting out from his hands and electrocuting the approaching bodies. The crackle of electricity vibrated through the warehouse as the last of the attackers seized and crumpled. The smell of their sizzling flesh along with his own dizziness overwhelmed Chris and he stumbled.
He reached his hand out, trying to steady himself, when Sylar appeared at his side, cradling Chris’ head to his chest.
“How are you walking? I saw them, they broke your leg and your neck,” Chris managed to gasp. Sylar gently lowered him down and helped him stretch out on the concrete floor, kneeling next to him. He tilted Chris’ head slightly and looked at the bloody teeth marks on the otherwise smooth skin.
“I can regenerate my cells. I can never die. I was trying to tell you... to not...” He trailed off as he examined Chris’ wound.
“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”
Sylar didn’t answer, but Chris already knew from his expression.
“How long before I turn into one of them?”
“I don’t know.” Sylar shook his head and began brushing his thumb across Chris’ cheekbone. His eyes seemed soft, more Zach-like, and Chris wanted to cry.
“You should do it now. Cut me open and look in my brain.”
“I already took what I need,” Sylar whispered.
“But you said to control it better--”
“No, I can’t--”
“Then just kill me, please,” Chris begged. “I don’t want to be like them.” A frigid tremor fluttered down his spine and he felt his blood turning cold. He couldn’t feel his toes anymore. Lifting his hand, Chris saw that it was turning grey. Sylar continued rubbing his cheek, his brow furrowed in sadness.
“Please, you have to do it,” Chris breathed. “Come on.” He grabbed the front of his shirt.
“Chris, let go.”
“No! You have to, please. Zach would do it. He wouldn’t want me to be mindless and running around like that.”
“Chris, let go,” he repeated more firmly. “Let go.” One of Sylar’s hands shook his shoulder.
“NOOO!” Chris screamed from his gut with every ounce of energy he had left, screwing his eyes shut.
When he opened them, he saw his hands fisted in the front of Zach’s button down shirt. Zach was cupping his face with one hand while gently massaging his shoulder with the other.
“Chris, let go of my shirt. You’re having some weird nightmare.”
Blinking rapidly, Chris took in his surroundings. He was lying on their couch with his Mac on his lap, Zach sitting on the cushion and tucked near his waist. He flung himself at Zach, throwing his arms around him and knocking their glasses askew in the process. They both fell to the floor, Chris sprawled out on top of Zach, his laptop landing next to them. Still panting, he buried his face in the crook of Zach’s neck.
“It was awful, Zach. There were zombies and you were there, but it wasn’t you, it was like a menacing version of you, and you had these superpowers and we were in a warehouse and there was this math joke I wanted to tell you and the windows broke and I got bitten and you wouldn’t cut open my head to steal my math powers and--”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Zach said soothingly and rubbed circles on his back. “It was just a bad dream.” He pulled his head back a little to look at Chris before placing a small kiss on his forehead. They stayed on the floor until Chris’ breathing calmed.
“What was the math joke you wanted to tell me?”
“I don’t remember now,” Chris mumbled.
“Well, tell me when you do.” Smiling against his skin, Zach gave him another kiss and tapped on his back. “Let’s get you to bed.”
With a nod, Chris pushed himself off Zach and held out his hand to help him up. Zach gave his hand a little squeeze and Chris hugged him tightly, wanting to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He gave Zach a sheepish smile and didn’t let go of his fingers the entire way to the bedroom.
Just as he was about drop his hand, Chris remembered something and grabbed Zach’s arm to look at his wrist.
“What are you--”
“What kind of watch do you have, Zach?”
A bewildered looked crossed Zach’s face. “It’s a Sylar.” He tipped his head to the side in question. “Why?”