-Chapter 1-
-POV Calvin Jasper-
I started thinking in the shower.
It was the only and best thing I could do at the moment, because every second I could gain was welcome and could very well make the difference between survival and death.
'Ok now Cal, think, think goddammit, what can I do to survive?'
Let's lay out all the red flags waiting for me in the near future.
First, and without a doubt the biggest red flag on the horizon: zombies.
If I was lucky enough that they were like in Fear The Walking Dead, then they'd be easier to deal with.
But I'm not safe from smart zombies or ones with stronger physical abilities.
After all, this is a real world, and mutations are more than likely.
My second big concern was about the humans who would manage to survive.
At first, no one but me knew how much human emotions could change people, and having already seen a part of this world's future, I wasn't exactly reassured by the idea of facing humanity's ugliness so soon.
The last worrying point was supplies.
At some point, supplies and hunting grounds could simply become impossible to find.
'Just with the countless nuclear power plants that'll melt down and poison entire states…'
I quickly pulled away from those negative thoughts because I was already starting to despair when nothing had even happened yet.
'I can change the future.'
I focused and refocused on the most urgent events while trying to find solutions to deal with the nearest crises.
'The city is going to be wiped out soon. Actually, several West Coast cities are going to be destroyed soon, if I remember right,' I thought, recalling that the last "good deed" the government did was creating millions of zombies for the survivors.
'So it's imperative that I leave as soon as possible, but I can't do it right now or I risk getting blocked on the road by a zombie horde,' I thought, unsure of the steps to take to ensure short-term survival.
'Even if I could leave the city, I wouldn't even know where the fuck to go. I didn't even get past season 3 of the Fear The Walking Dead spin-off,' I thought, bitterly regretting that I had dropped the show to focus more on work.
Alright, the only thing to do is to follow the main characters for now, until the world completely collapses, and then we can make a fresh start in a community or even build one ourselves.
'I'm gonna have to bring my family with me. I'm an only child, so I should only need to take my mom and dad,' I thought, finding it super weird to suddenly call people I had memories of from an entire other life "my parents," when the dominant part of my new personality didn't even know them.
'Maybe this whole dominant personality thing I'm feeling is because of the mental age,' I told myself, since in my other life as Lorenzo, I was nearly 25 years old.
I swept away the distracting thoughts popping like popcorn in my mind and told myself: 'But before all that, I need to see Nick and spend all the cash I stashed on canned food and weapons…'
Phone ringing
…Speak of the devil…
"Yeah?" I said, picking up the phone.
"It's me," said Nick on the other end of the line.
"Hey Nick, how you doing man?" I said, pretending to care.
"I'm good—no, actually I'm not, not at all. I'm in deep shit and I need your help," he said, clearly disoriented.
'And I know why,' I thought, grabbing the lifeline Nick had just handed me, deciding to start changing the original story with this little conversation.
"Alright, tell me where you are right now, I'm on my way bro," I said to Nick.
---
-1 hour later-
"So what you're telling me is that you saw Gloria eat some guy's head right in front of you," I said while looking at Nick, who was freaking out like a maniac.
I made sure to fake a look of understanding, and Nick saw right through my act.
Sensing clearly that I didn't believe him and that I was skeptical about the story he had just told me, Nick started getting more and more agitated, desperate to prove he was telling the truth.
He nodded rapidly and said:
"I know it sounds crazy, but I'm not lying to you. That's what I saw, I swear man."
"I get it, but you know how you are…" I said, pretending to be skeptical. Even though I didn't finish my sentence, he understood what I meant, and it clearly hit him, because he stared into the void for a few seconds and stopped moving.
From his expression, I could clearly read the questions spinning in his mind.
Did I imagine it all?
Did I take a bad mix?
Am I still on something right now?
Am I insane?
"I know," he said in a discouraged, almost absent tone, before adding almost unconsciously,
"The other explanation would be that you did something with my—"
Realizing what he was about to say, he didn't finish and looked up at me, slightly scared.
"That I did what with your what?" I asked, irritated by the implication.
Why does it piss me off that he thinks I sell garbage? I wondered.
And worse—why do I feel the urge to shoot him for that? It's not like I give a damn in a situation like this, I thought, realizing that the dominant personality didn't control me as much as I thought.
This is completely different from what I expected.
In fact, even unconsciously, I don't react like the old me anymore.
I'm almost under some kind of mind control.
I need to be really careful not to let these new emotions and thoughts take over.
"I'm not accusing you of anything, but could the drug have been cut? Tell me, what did you cut it with? PCP?" he asked me frantically.
I grabbed his arm abruptly and said:
"Hey man, pull yourself together right now."
Nick flinched slightly at the touch of my hand on his arm, which made me realize what I'd just done… it was instinctive.
He's scared of me, I noted. And that wasn't surprising, considering the reputation I had built for myself by beating up people who didn't pay, just to make an example for other junkies who bought drugs from me while trying to screw me over.
Seeing that I had the upper hand, I used it and stepped into his personal space:
"I don't cut my stuff, and especially not for you, fucker. Am I supposed to remind you that you're my best friend?"
Nick looked guilty, which made me step back and let go of his arm at the same time.
Then Nick buried his face in both hands.
He started whispering while lightly sobbing:
"Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this, but I can't take it anymore, I'm losing it… I'm losing my mind."
Seeing him break down caught me off guard a little, but for some reason, I actually felt bad for him.
So I put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him slightly toward me, then I said:
"Hey, listen to me. I find it hard to believe that Gloria turned into some kind of zombie, but if what you're saying is true, I'll believe you. We need to get ready now before the world goes to shit."
"You believe me?" he asked, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
I nodded, then said:
"I find it hard to believe… What you're telling me is completely insane. But I've seen crazier shit on the internet lately, so if you say you saw it… I trust you, and I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."
His eyes widened like I was some kind of messiah, and he nearly broke down again as he asked:
"Why do you believe me? Everyone thinks I'm nuts, and on top of that, I'm just a fucking junkie. Why do you believe me?"
Because I know the future, man, I wanted to say—but I didn't.
That would ruin any chance I have to earn his trust and follow the path blessed by the multiverse.
I rolled my eyes and said, "Are you seriously asking me that? Is that a real question?"
Seeing he was still waiting, I replied, "You're my brother, and I trust you. That's it. Nothing more to say."
"Thank you," he said, genuinely moved by the 'trust' I had given him.
"So now we've got to save our families. You call yours and tell them what's happening, and I'll go get mine. We meet at your place, then we get the hell out of this city."
He nodded, and I said, "See you soon, brother. We'll meet up again."
---
-POV Nicholas Clark-
I watched Cal walk away, and I could honestly say I was relieved.
For the first time in two days, I didn't feel crazy anymore.
I don't feel alone in the world anymore.
It felt like—even if Cal didn't totally believe me—at least one person was really trying to believe me, but more importantly, to understand me.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed my mom's number, remembering Cal's last words before he left.
Then I waited as the ringing faded and was replaced by the cold, commanding voice of my mother, who sounded pissed that I had slipped through her fingers.
Again.
"Yes?" my mom said, picking up with a tone full of questions and expectation.
"It's me, Mom," I said in a tired voice.
"Where are you?" she asked, sounding more worried now, more motherly.
"In a restaurant near the highway. I'm sending you the address. Please come pick me up… fast," I said in a weak voice, trying hard to keep my inner panic under control.
---
N.A : Sorry for the wait