One of them lunged for Matthew's throat. He jabbed his hockey stick at a certain angle into their neck, effectively breaking it. Another came at him from behind, he whipped around and knocked them to the ground. Proceeding to curb stomp their jaw, as he fended off another. He watched out of the corner of his eye as he turned to take care of the one he was fending off, he watched the other as it staggered to its feet. Jaw slack and litterly swinging from side to side. Gargling noises came from deep within it, inhuman hungry starved noises resounding around him.
He calmly watched as It staggered toward him, never taking his eyes off It. All focus on the instinct to survive this, all senses trained on the adrenaline rushing past his ears. He didn't hear the shriek of tires as he knocked It back down. He didn't notice the crunch of their bodies, for he was occupied by severing Its head from Its shoulders. He never noticed the van until a strong rough hand grabbed the back of his hoodie.
Matthew swung out in confusion and fear. Fear that one of them had gotten him, that he was about to become infected. That he'd never see them again. His hockey stick made contact with the van ceiling, hearing the wood clatter to the floor somewhere in the van. He caught a glimpse of It beginning to lumber toward the car door before it was slammed shut.
Forest green eyes quickly overtook his entire vision, they bore into him for only a second before the mouth asked in a clear urging British accent, "Were you bitten?" he mulled over the question for only a second before shaking his head in a vigorous 'no'.
The green searched his eyes for only a moment longer before leaving his plane of vision. Matthew began to notice and register his surroundings as he felt five different pairs of eyes on him. The van was a classic family-trip-cross-country-with-kid's-friends-and-going-to-soccer-practice. With gray, worn, somehow comfortable looking seats.
Matthew was surprised at how quickly tired he was now getting that his adrenaline high was going away, 'Of course your tired. You've been up for the past 48 hours, and when you did get sleep it was always short.' thought Matthew as he proceeded to take in the other people in the car with him.
First he saw the same pair of green staring at him; the green also had huge eyebrows, messy bright blonde hair, a scowl, and a complexion even paler than his. The green also had a rather skinny long lithe body. He then proceeded to stare at the blue sitting next to the green, but it wasn't his blue, sadly. The blue was French, with a slightly tanner complexion, a healthy dusting of a beard on his chin, the way he sat showed off his long legs, and his height; blue was easily on the 5 foot 6 or 7 scales. Peering out from behind blue was another pair of green, except this green was brighter. It didn't immediately bring to mind pictures of a dense forest canopy. Not at all in fact this green was almost like how the ocean was green, except darker. The complexion was easily the darkest in the car, with waves of dark hair to go with it, his height was around 5 foot 6 inches. Peering out reluctantly next to ocean green was a kind of honey brown, with slightly darker hair, a hideous disapproving grimace, and a curl signifying Italian heritage.
Matthew looked over green, blue, ocean green, and honey brown one more time before he confronted the pair he still felt on his neck. Turning slowly he was frozen in place when violet met crimson. Crimson seemed just as frozen, giving Matthew a chance to overlook crimson. Crimson was hard to tell his height, but obviously an albino. With short white hair and just as white eyebrows, he seemed to be glowing. The two stared at each other like this until there was a bang against the side of the car.
"Time we got going albino bastard." Matthew overheard the Italian mutter.
"Right." muttered 'Albino bastard' as he turned and started the van back up again. Matthew reached numbly in the direction of his hockey stick. Finally feeling his fingers graze the familiar material he grabbed it, and rushed to sit in the front passenger seat of the car. Matthew felt extremely uncomfortable sitting in the back with all those pairs of eyes staring at him. He clambered to the front a bit awkwardly at first, than mercifully he was allowed to slide into the rest of the seat with ease. Buckling himself in, Matthew appeared unfazed when they ran over one of them, audibly hearing the sound of bones crushing and organs being pulverized by rubber.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the car's occupants. Matthew knew he made them nervous, anyone would be nervous in their situation. 'Albino bastard' gulped and decided to break the uncomfortable silence.
"So, Francy –pants, where's this 'sanctuary' you've been telling us about?" Matthew's ears perked up at the mention. Maybe if he went with them to this 'sanctuary' he'd get to see his brother again. He felt hope bubbling in his stomach, which wasn't a good thing. So he quickly let his logic squash it.
"Well, you see Gilbert, all I know is it's somewhere in the United States" responded a French accent from 'Francy-pants'. When he heard it was in the US Matthew knew exactly where they wanted to go. He let the hope bubble up again, because now he knew his brother must've been alive.
"Oh dear!~ Amigo why did you not tell us you knew no more?" exclaimed a Spanish accented voice who Matthew could only assume was ocean green. He squirmed in his seat, he needed to tell them he knew where they wanted to go. Yet as per usual no one was paying him any mind.
"STUPID WINE BASTARD, YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT WE'VE BEEN DRIVING AIMLESSLY THROUGH THIS GOD FORSAKEN MAPLE DRINKING COUNTRY?" Matthew cringed at the sudden change in volume in the car. Hugging his hockey stick close to him, he sought consolement from an inanimate object. Matthew's mind had flitted to somewhere else as the shouting continued in the car. At one point he looked back at his coincidental companions.
The first thing he noticed was green, hunkered down in his seat, leaning against Francis (as it was revealed by ocean green during the fight), looking sick and ready to relieve himself all over the car. Next he saw the Italian, apparently called Lovino, huffing in what appeared as defeat. He took some time observing the rest in the car, before settling again on Arthur (Francis had asked them all to shut up because he was sleeping). He looked even sicker, and his eyes were glazed over as if he were drunk. Matthew didn't like the look of it, he'd have to keep his guard up and an eye on him.
Taking one last cautious glance at Arthur, he was pulled away by a German accent asking him a question. What had it been? Matthew had missed it, his name? He was asking his name? Struck dumb by the suddentity of the question Matthew didn't answer.
Instead he stared at Gilberts crimson orbs, like two large drops of blood in milk. He watched as the setting sun silhouetted his profile. He looked at the other man's eyelashes; he stared as pieces of sun seemed to catch in the snowy trestles. Even his skin seemed to glow. In that single moment he was the most beautiful thing Matthew had ever seen. Despite them, despite everything that had happened, he was amazed he could still find beauty in this godforsaken abandoned world. He felt himself go speechless at the beauty, which wasn't good. Matthew couldn't let himself get attached to any of them. He knew it was only a matter of time before any of them got infected and he had to kill them.
Allowing himself one more second of admiration directed at the silverette. Matthew turned to stare at the passing scenery. Knowing that he'd surly forgotten he'd asked him a question in the first place.
"Hello? Anyone home? Can you talk?" Matthew snapped his head around to the rest of the van. He'd been so caught up in his admiration of the albino he hadn't noticed the rest of the car go silent in anticipation. Matthew didn't respond again deciding it better to not tell them anything, just in case.
He turned to the back of the van, shaking his head no.
"Oh pauvre enfant, you cannot speak?" asked Francis, to which Matthew shook his head 'yes'. Matthew could speak, he just chose not to.
The rest of the car got silent as everyone digested this new piece of information from their little picked up companion. As the silence settled so did the sun, and everyone silently agreed to stop somewhere for at least a few hours. So their trusty driver could rest. Everyone settled in with guns and weapons. Matthew simply stayed sitting with his trusty hockey stick. He was resigning himself to three hours of keeping a careful eye on Arthur when a gun was pushed into his hands.
Matthew wasn't good with guns, preferring his hockey stick over something that left you vulnerable when it ran out of bullets. He stared at it, then at the pale hand still on it with his. He turned to see Arthur's forest green eyes locked with his. For only a second Matthew saw something that terrified him to his core.
At least more than three hours had past as the van door was pushed open by a shaking weak hand. The figure stumbled a few feet before crouching down and relieving himself of half rotten intestines. The blood came with them splattering the earth with a gorgeous red. The figure walked only two more steps before collapsing onto his knees.
Head turned toward the empty sky the infected human welcomed the steps behind them. Turning their torso proved difficult, so they settled on simply turning completely. Once completely turned around, their eyes met pitying violet orbs.
"'Ello. Glad you decided to come after all." said Arthur, Matthew nodded.
Arthur's breathing turned raspy once again, and he bent down to begin retching loudly enough this time to have the others in the van begin stirring. One more convulse of his body, and Arthur relieved himself of more bright red blood. The splattering sound was loud to get someone to wake up.
"OI! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT NOISE YOU BASTARDS?" came the shout of Lovino. Arthur couldn't help but curse him, but also thank him. This way they'd know what happened.
"Hey where's Arthur?" shouted the panicked desperate Frenchmen. Arthur began to chuckle out of pity for the man. Pity because he'd see him like this. Arthur began convulsing once again, throwing up more blood than ever before. He saw out of the haze that his vision had become with that previous upheaval the van's door slide open to the scene that surely didn't look good.
"Arthur!" exclaimed Francis as the man attempted to rush to the aid of his lover, abruptly stopped by Matthew holding up his hockey stick to block him. Francis looked from Arthur to Matthew searching for an explanation; Matthew simply shook his head no at the man.
"Please, can you do one thing for me?" the question was addressed to Matthew so he looked down at the dying man below him, "Can you tell me your name?"
Arthur began upheaving again. He felt his conscious slipping away from him. Life fleeing from his infected body, and his pulse began abandoning him. Arthur upheaved one more time before he looked at Matthew with dull eyes, begging. Everyone became silent at Arthur's question.
Matthew breathed in, "Matthew, my name is Matthew Williams," Arthur smiled faintly before collapsing dead. Within a matter of seconds his body began moving again, a low guttural hungry moan escaped his now blue lips. He now only knew the hunger for flesh, for true life.
Matthew stared at him with no emotion. His face blank and eyes cold to the world. He raised the gun Arthur had given him before, aimed it carefully at his forehead, and pulled the trigger. The loud clap resounded around them, and was sure to attract 'their' attention. Turing quickly on his heel Matthew practically sprinted to the car, shouting behind him the whole way.
"HURRY! THAT SOUND SURELY GOT 'THEIR' ATTENTION! GET INTO THE CAR!" all to stunned by what just happened to argue, everyone knew he was right anyway. They clambered into the car, and gilbert started the engine.