A/N: You guys . . . I don't even. Blame it on the stress if you like - I have four tests next week, on top of a host of other things, but for some reason, I sat and wrote this instead. It's almost three in the morning. I ain't proofed it, I ain't reread it, I don't even know where it came from. Seriously, you can tell me if it's insane or not. Know I have missed y'all though, so I do hope you enjoy this.

Endless love. xxx.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Not sure if you'll recognize anything in this crazy mess though.

Carpe Diem, Suckers

Renesmee never thought she'd be around for the end of the world. She'd just assumed, you know, she'd be dead by then. No one really expects the word to explode into hail fire and ash while they're still walking around, going to the movies and shopping at Costco.

Besides, wasn't the apocalypse supposed to be this really long, drawn out thing? Society spiraling into irreversible chaos, civilization devolving, knowledge and technology and morals being lost to prepare for final kapow? That kinda thing should take longer than two weeks, right?

Apparently not.

At first, they hadn't really been that worried. Seriously, like after New York, London, and Paris, the next place the virus would break out was gonna be Forks, Washington. It was scary and everything, but everyone figured it wouldn't take too long to sort this whole thing out. The government would round them up and stamp them down - it was the American way, after all - and they'd figure out how to deal with the virus then.

Nobody figured it'd spread so fast. Zombies in Forks? Come on.

Now she was stuck in a damn rec room about to die and honestly, she was too damn mad to even be scared right now. All she had was a broken baseball bat, a case of cranberry juice, and tall Native man. What a way to go.

"What the hell were you doing out by yourself?"

Renesmee looked across the room at the guy. He was sitting against the wall with his feet planted on the floor. He had a gun that he dangled between his legs. She wanted to ask him if he figured it'd work against the zombies, but she already knew that it wouldn't.

"I was going for a leisurely stroll," she returned, shooting him a look. "Checking out the scenery, the local color - you know."

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his gun on his jeans. The guy had dark, smooth skin and long black hair - pretty eyes. Built like a freaking tank. At least she'd have something pretty to look at before she died.

"What I meant was," he said, rolling his eyes and rubbing his gun on his jeans. "Don't you have a man to send out to do this shit for you?"

"I'm an equal-opportunity kind of girl," Renesmee said, so she wouldn't have to say no. No, just me. All alone in the apocalypse. "But I see some lovely lady has volunteered your services."

There was a crash outside, and instead of jumping, the guy stretched out his long legs.

"It's a group of us, from the reservation," he volunteered, rubbing the back of his neck with one large hand. "We take turns going out for supplies - I decided to try Forks. Didn't know it was such a ghost town."

She hadn't either, until this morning.

"We're in the La Push High School gym. About thirty of us. Men, women, kids. You should head there, if you get out."

Renesmee couldn't help but laugh. It sounded a little deranged, even to her own ears.

"Neither one of us is getting out."

"I'm Jacob," he said after a second, instead of replying.

"I'm Renesmee," she said to Jacob, from La Push. She couldn't help but flash him a smile. "Nice to be the last person to meet you."

She was surprised when he smirked back. Even more so when he pushed forward onto his knees and reached his arm out. Renesmee took his hand, and shook it. His skin was warm.

"The feeling's mutual."

"So . . . " Renesmee cast around for a topic as he sat back down. What did one say to a stranger during a zombie apocalypse? "How's your armageddon coming along?"

Jacob from La Push laughed, and it wasn't a crazy laugh like hers. Renesmee liked the way it sounded, like they weren't where they were.

"Can't complain," he said, running a hand over his smiling mouth. He had very white teeth. "Until today at least. And yourself?"

"Not so bad," she lied. Might as well keep it light. The end of the world was no time for getting all Loose Lucy with your feelings. "It probably would've been a lot better if I'd had a big strong man like you to go scavenge all my food."

He rolled his eyes again.

"So uh, I don't mean to be rude, but . . . what the hell kind of name is Renesmee?"

Renesmee chuckled a little, and it didn't sound crazy. She reached up and pulled her hair out of its ponytail, because it was bugging her.

"A made up one," she explained. "I guess the nurse figured it was all right to let a woman still high on Demerol fill out the birth certificate. It's not like naming a kid is a decision that affects anybody's life, right?"

Jacob narrowed his eyes at her a little and nodded. "Nah, it's all right. It's a little long, but I like it. You may not think Jacob's that bad, but you should hear what my dad named my sister."

"Jacobina?" She guessed. He shook his head and Renesmee racked her brains.

"Think Biblical," he said, throwing her a hint.

Renesmee's eyes widened. "Not Leah."

"Close but no cigar." He set his gun on the floor. "Her name's Rachel."

Renesmee thought her mom was mean. That - that just wasn't cool.

"Wow," was all she said. Jacob shrugged.

Things were quiet for a minute. The crashing outside got louder and closer. Renesmee pulled at her curls and looked at Jacob from La Push, who had a sister named Rachel, and realized he was actually very handsome. Nice too.

Of course she couldn't have met him at the mall or in a restaurant - or any normal kind of way - no, Renesmee met nice guys on the eve of their death byway of hungry zombie.

She searched for something to say. Her eyes landed on the case her elbow was resting on.

"Want some cranberry juice?"

Jacob scrunched his nose. "I hate that shit."

"Me too," Renesmee admitted, forcing her finger to make a hole through the plastic covering. "But beggars can't be choosers, right?"

He seemed to think about it. "Throw me one."

It took her a second to rip the plastic open, but then she did. It rolled across the space between them and Jacob caught it and cracked it open. He looked back at her.

"You might as well have one too," he told her.

Yeah, she might as well.

Renesmee opened hers and took a sip. It was tart and gross and exactly how she expected it to taste. She took another sip anyway, then put it down.

You know, when you thought about it, it really sucked that they were gonna die.

"So there's no way out of this place?"

She'd probably been here more times than he had, but it couldn't hurt to ask. He's the one who looked like a Navy Seal and he had the gun. Maybe he had some knowledge she didn't. Though if he did, they probably wouldn't be sitting there, drinking cranberry juice and waiting.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.'

"No air vents or anything?"

"Ironically, state regulations make them too small to climb through for safety reasons." Jacob took a long gulp from his cranberry juice and Renesmee was surprised when he winked at her. "Even for you."

Renesmee slumped back against her wall and stretched her legs out. The way they were sitting, each against a wall, her feet almost touched his jeans.

"Well, that's a bitch."

Jacob raised his cranberry juice. "I'll drink to that."

Renesmee would have drank with him, but really, they only had a couple of hours left at best, so why torture herself?

Without thinking too much about it, Renesmee drew her legs back and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She crawled about a half a foot forward. Jacob was looking at down and twisting his bottle between his legs. Something outside banged again, closer than ever before, and while he didn't jump, Renesmee saw his muscles tense.

"Jacob from La Push?"

He looked up at her, and he seemed a little surprised to find her closer than she was before, or maybe just surprised to see her on her hands and knees like a dog.

Jacob bit his bottom lip and smiled a little at the same time. "Ruh-nez-may from Forks?"

"What did you do before this?"

Renesmee wasn't sure why she wanted to know.

"You mean two weeks ago?" His smile got a little bigger then went away. "Construction, with mechanical aspirations."

"Cars?" Renesmee asked, and Jacob nodded.

With his head facing her direction, their faces were closer than she'd counted on, but not too close. Renesmee thought about Jacob under a car, pulling at plugs and changing oil, or whatever it was people did to cars.

"What about you?"

She thought about what he said. "Retail, with authorial aspirations."

"Writing?" He asked, and this time she nodded.

When she did, Jacob smiled, just a little. Then he reached up and pushed a curl back off Renesmee's face. "I really like your hair."

Well, it was better than being stuck in a rec room surrounded by zombies with someone who didn't like her hair.

Renesmee leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. Jacob pressed back, opening his mouth under hers, and cradling her jaw in one of his hands. His mouth was tart and warm and not how she expected him to taste at all. Like cranberry juice and bonfires in winter and something from outside.

Jacob's fingers left her jaw to thread through her hair that he liked so much, and his other came up to touch her arm. Renesmee reached up to touch the skin of his cheek with one hand, and with the other, moved herself closer. She was surprised when Jacob's hand on her arm moved down to her waist, and he pulled her easily over him.

Jacob from La Push was a construction worker and a mechanic and a really nice guy. He didn't like cranberry juice and he was a dynamite kisser. He had a sister named Rachel, really warm hands, and his mouth made her feel good and not as worried about the crashes that were right up against the inner door now.

In any other time or place, this could have been the start of something awesome.

They would be dead before the sun went down, but Renesmee was going to carpe the hell out of this diem.