Like the Plague [Karkat x Reader] Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When you opened your eyes a good couple of hours later, you found that sunlight was no longer leaking in through the windows of the old metro train. It was completely dark. And darkness meant night had fallen.

Despite your slightly blurry vision and the throbbing pain in the back of your head, you stood up, gripping a moth-hole-filled seat for support. This triggered a fresh surge of pain from your head. You swayed, unsteady on your feet for a moment, and waited for the pain to die down. Once it did, you finally noticed that a familiar weight had been lifted off your shoulders—and not in the good, “no more worries” way. Frantic, your arms flew to your back, only to be met with the fabric of your shirt. Your backpack, your oh-so-precious backpack that had been filled to the brim with supplies, was gone. Upon further inspection of yourself, you found that your single pistol (which you usually kept attached to your belt) was missing as well, but you still had your sash of ammo, which was slung around your shoulder. And to top it all off, your trusty machete was gone too. But now was not the time to linger over lost supplies. Night had obviously fallen, and nighttime was the favorite hunting time for the infected. That was a fact, you knew for sure.

Once the pounding in your head subsided to a bearable level, you slipped out of the train as quietly as you could. To your surprise, you stepped on something that felt hard. Metal-hard. Your first thought was that whatever you stepped on was your machete, but when you lifted your foot it turned out to be a simple butcher’s knife. Picking it up, you inspected it for a moment. Surprise, surprise, it was Kaye’s butcher’s knife.

She robs me and leaves me a damn knife. You thought in aggravation, getting a good grip on the knife handle before setting off to climb out of the hole. At least she didn’t completely leave me for dead.

Knowing your…former partner, you knew she couldn’t have gone too far. The city you had been passing through was huge, and at its end was nothing but open road. Kaye wouldn’t have traveled out of the city for fear of having to camp out in the open (something you knew she hated).

Pulling yourself out of the hole and onto higher ground, you were immediately greeted by a low growl. An inhuman growl. No sooner had you scrambled to your feet than a zombie rushed at you. Right when the foul-smelling thing was centimeters away, you side-stepped quickly, allowing it to plummet down into the hole. A crack echoed through the night as it hit the bottom.

Butcher’s knife still clutched tightly in your dominant hand, you raced for the wall of the nearest building and scaled the rusty fire escape attached. As if you didn’t have enough to deal with, a bullet whizzed past your head just as you set foot on the building’s roof. “Damn Kaye, I thought you were a better shot—”

“Who the fuck is Kaye?”

You didn’t know that voice. It was scratchy, as if the person hadn’t spoken in a long time, and you heard a throat being cleared as if to fix that. Your eyes darted around the area, trying to find the source of the voice.

It spoke again, “I asked you a question, fuckass. Are you just going to stand there or are you going to answer? You don’t look infected.” Your gaze settled on a pile of wooden crates at the far corner of the roof.

“Kaye is—was, my former traveling partner. And no, I’m not infected.” You slowly started edging towards the crates, knife still in hand.

When you were about five feet away, a figure rose from behind the crates. Orange-yellow eyes met your (e/c) orbs, seemingly glowing in the darkness. “You’re a troll,” you muttered, curiosity peaked ever so slightly.

“Yeah, and you’re a human,” was the troll’s reply, and you saw his eyes narrow. Yes, you decided he was clearly a male. His voice was quite loud as well, which annoyed you greatly since it just reawakened the pain in the back of your head. You couldn’t just tell him to button it though, seeing as that would reveal a weakness. Revealing weaknesses was never a good idea—unless they were fake, of course.

There was silence for a moment before you broke it. “Out here this late for a reason?”

You could see the shape of the troll slowly making his way around the stack of crates, stopping when he was in front of you. “I could ask you the same thing.” Typical answer.

“Heh, my backstabbing partner stole all my fucking supplies, so I’m looking for her.” You tried to make your voice sound completely casual, but there was a spiteful edge to your tone.

To your surprise, the troll aimed his gun towards you again (he had previously lowered it). “Or did you come here to take all of mine?”

“Whoa whoa whoa. Hold up. I didn’t even know you had jack-shit till you said so. Hell, I didn’t even know you were out here!” You spat in your defense, raising your knife hand behind your back though you knew the weapon would be virtually useless against a gun.

He stared at you for a while, eyes flickering to your knife only once. He lowered his gun again and simply said, “…Oh.”

You snorted, though still wary of the gun. “You need to work on your aim, anyway.”

The troll fumed at that. “Who are you to tell me I need to work on my fucking aim? You don’t even have a gun, dipshit, and you’re criticizing me on my aim?” His voice rose in volume as he rambled on, spitting out some of the foulest things you’d ever heard. Not even Kaye got this violent in her speech.

You let him ramble for a minute or two before you became aware of the noises coming from the inside of the building. It seemed the troll heard them too, because he snapped his mouth shut. “See what you did? You led fucking zombies into my safe house!” He spat in a slightly lower voice, glaring daggers at you.

“You think this is my fault? You’re the one that was ranting and raving about damn gun aim!” You retorted, glancing over the edge of the building only to see dozens of infected swarming into the place, breaking down the doors and jumping through the windows. They behaved like animals, some even running on all fours. Putting the butcher’s knife securely in the holster which once held your machete, you muttered, “Ugh, this isn’t the time to be arguing. We need to get the hell out of here before they decide to start climbing up the walls.” You then dashed across the roof and passed the troll, picking up speed until you jumped and landed on the roof of the neighboring building.

“It took weeks to gather all that shit! Weeks, I tell—where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” He jerked around to watch you leap to the other roof. Shoving his gun into its holster, he quickly grabbed his black backpack from behind the crates and followed you in the same manner.

The two of you ran along quietly (the troll managed to keep his mouth shut), hopping from rooftop to rooftop until you finally stopped to catch your breath on the roof of what looked to be an old warehouse.

The troll opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Taking a deep breath, you straightened up and strode past him, over to the rooftop door. “Where the…fuck are you going now?” He questioned, lifting his head to look over at you.

“Inside,” you stated simply, drawing the butcher’s knife from your belt once more. It was time to return that knife to its rightful owner.