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"Agglomeration"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Very
Dark, Death, Zombie Apocalypse, Violence, A Little Gore,
Angst, Drama,
Tragedy Pairings: 1xR Summary: Written
for ClaraxBarton's photo fic prompt. "Last Man Standing" Heero had tried so hard. So damn hard to get back to her in time. He'd been in space, trying to keep the communication satellites going and the Earth Sphere's power grid up and running despite no longer having the personnel, much less the functioning organizations and levels of government to sustain it. He'd sent half his crew home to be with their families as civilization continued to crumble, power structures breaking down all over the world. The power grid was weakening, blackouts occurring everywhere. By the time he got one sector up and running, three more would fail. The virus that swept through humankind was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. When the infected died, they would revive hours later and attack the living, tearing them apart piece by piece and consuming the flesh like ravenous animals. Infection spread through bodily fluids; saliva, blood, mucus membranes. Something as simple as a bite was enough to bring about boiling fevers, severe vomiting, and convulsions. Once infected, the mortality rate was one hundred percent. There was no cure, no vaccine, not even treatment and the only thing that seemed to bring them down was severe brain trauma. Of course, Heero had heard all the rumors. When it first began, the internet chatter was rampant, sometimes bordering on ridiculous. Everyone, from the most reputable scientists in virology, to the top theologians, experts on conspiracy theories, right down to the layman keyboard warriors weighed in on the phenomenon. The notion that this was a biological weapon developed by the world's governments was the leading theory, followed by doomsday prophets that "God" had finally had enough of humanity's sinful ways. The one Heero had been most drawn to was the concept that the Earth had simply decided it was time for a cleansing. Humans had had their shot and it was time to recycle and start again. There was a certain kind of poetic justice when he thought of it that way. It wasn't long before he was the only one left and his attempts to keep things going were in vain. He used the communications satellite to keep in contact with Relena, and she informed him of what was going on in Sanq. Government structures were gone. Even the rioters had died down, having nothing left to steal, or destroy. They'd finally realized there was no establishment to attack anymore and when the herds of the Undead came around, they either succumbed to them, or scattered to the four winds. Relena herself was holed up in her villa in the European countryside with her brother, Milliardo and his wife, Noin. He told her to stay there as long as it was safe and that he was going to keep trying to provide people with communications to give them a fighting chance of survival. He'd lost contact with Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei. Couldn't even locate them with GPS. He had no idea where any of them were, or if they were even still alive. He finally realized there was nothing he could do. He was the only one up there. Even the bits and pieces of activity he could find were getting smaller and more sparse with each passing day, eventually going completely quiet. The colonies were dark and ominously silent. Only the herds of Undead moved around them now. Heero didn't know why they tended to congregate together. Maybe some semblance of human nature still remained somewhere deep in the brain stem. But there was nothing about them that was human. Except the savagery perhaps. That hadn't changed. Only the type of savagery had. Humans had caused irrevocable damage to the planet and each other. Nature's response had been Undead were unleashed to clean up the remnants, scavenge what was left of the stray survivors. Eventually, everyone would be gone, even the Undead. When decomposition finally reached the tiny area of their brains that kept them going, they would also die off. He left for his transport two weeks later, panicked when he lost contact with Relena. He flew back to Earth, hoping against hope that they'd simply moved on to another location. He returned to the villa to discover there was no hope. The Undead swarmed the house and he quickly disposed of them and ran inside, shouting for Relena. He encountered both Milliardo and Noin, the evidence that they'd been overrun by the herd made obvious by the torn and bloody remains of their bodies as they shuffled towards him, snapping their jaws, inhuman groans and growls emitting from their throats. There was no language, no speech. Not anymore. He choked down his dread and tried not to think too much about what had to be done. It was merciful, at least that's what he told himself. He dispatched them quickly and cleanly and bolted up the stairs, praying to deities he didn't believe in that Relena was still alive somewhere in the house. He reached their bedroom. The door was still open and he halted just inside the threshold, his heart plummeting into his stomach. Relena stood by the window and at first, she seemed okay. She turned at the commotion at the door and that's when he saw the blood staining the front of her dress. There was a gaping wound on her neck, a bite from the looks of it, and the amount of blood that covered her and the walls and floor indicated her jugular had been torn open. The only comfort he allowed himself was the notion that she'd probably died quickly and relatively painlessly. He dropped to his knees as she shambled towards him, the tell tale sound of decomposing vocal chords hissing and rumbling from between her colorless lips. His head lowered in grief and shame. He should have come sooner. Should have just accepted the fact that civilization was gone. He hadn't been able to protect her and the guilt was all-encompassing. He stood as she came closer and he looked deep into eyes that no longer recognized him. It wasn't her. She was gone. Hopefully, gone on to a better place. But he owed her this much. "I'm so sorry," he croaked. "I've failed you. I should have been here instead of out there. I'm so sorry…" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pulled his knife out of the sheath attached to his waistband. He caressed her hair and she snapped at him, digging her teeth into the soft flesh of his underarm. His grieving mind didn't even register the pain. The pain was in losing her, failing her. He drove the knife through her temple and she collapsed in his arms. He held her close and wept into her hair. Her skin was cold, unnaturally so, but he stroked it anyway, running his fingers along her chilled arm. He had enough time to bury her in her garden before he began to show signs of infection. It was peaceful, brimming with all her favorite flowers. He whispered, "I love you," as he set the final stone at the head of her grave and stood, closing his eyes as a soft breeze blew against his skin, just beginning to spike with fever. It wouldn't be long now. If it wasn't for the knowledge that the end had come, it would have seemed like a normal spring day. The birds still sang, the wind still rustled the newly emerged leaves, the sun still shone. The Earth would be fine. The rest of the creatures that inhabited it, would be fine. "I'll see you soon." He went back inside, to the bedroom, and sat down on the bed. He would not tarnish her final resting place with what he was about to do. He had to do it soon, before the sickness made him too weak. He fiddled with the pistol in his hands and realized that he was going to die the way he'd always known he would. By his own hand. The time of humans was over.
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