Chapter Text
Had it been anyone else, Jon would have yelled out in frustration by that point, zombie apocalypse be damned. There was a time to roller-skate down the road with a machete whilst singing ‘They See me Rolling’ and an eight am supply run was certainly not it. But it was Rickon, so he let it go the same as everyone else did. A semblance of a normal childhood, they called it – as normal of a childhood as a thirteen-year-old surrounded by zombies could get, at least.
The supply run was only meant to be a short one anyway, hence Robb’s reluctant agreement to give exception to the ‘No less than three people’ rule. Bandages, disinfectant, tinned food (‘Pasta if possible please!’ Bran had written on the supply list) – the usual. If they were lucky it wouldn’t take an hour before they’d be back at the school.
“There it is!” Rickon called back. He held his sword out to the side, slicing the head of a walker in half as he turned into the car park. Jon quickly checked the body for any movement (not even a twitch – Rickon had gotten good over the years) and ran to catch up with him.
The store wasn’t particularly big, a simple corner shop that most had overlooked in a rush for the supermarkets. The shelves were half empty but still of some worth. He went to work quickly grabbing various tins and shoving them into his backpack while Rickon scanned them for anything more exciting. He flashed a grin when a spotted a door near the till counter, a faded ‘Employees Only’ sign still stuck to it.
“There’s a back room,” He told Jon, “I’m gonna see if they have more stock.”
Jon waited a few moments until the words actually processed but nearly dropped the can once they did. “Wait, Rickon don’t!” But Rickon had pushed open the door with a few shoves allowing the dormant burglar alarm to shriek into action.
“FUCK!” Jon shoved the tin into the bag and swept his arm across the entire medication section, allowing the items to drop haphazardly in the general direction of the open bag. “Let’s go, come on!” He grabbed his cousin’s arm and pushed them out into the street, swearing once more at the sign of the ample horde coming towards the noise. He was all for simply legging it back to their base but forgot that he was with the company of a teenager – a hyperactive one at that – only remembering when Rickon decided to skate straight towards the twenty or so walkers that had gathered. He grumbled but ran close behind, zipping up his bag and tossing one strap onto his shoulder.
Neither of them were too shabby at killing, Arya was still the best but anyone with eyes could see that. Rickon had been crafting a more stylized version that worked perfectly with his roller skates or bike for years, finally at the point where Jon and Robb didn’t have simultaneous heart attacks whenever he began to weave in and out waving his machete. Jon himself preferred a more simplistic approach, stab and move on hadn’t failed him as of yet, but he wasn’t about to criticize whatever worked.
“This is why-” He sunk his sword into a rotting head, “-we don’t-” Another came up as the first fell, he swung his sword in fury, “-open doors where-” Blood from one of the younger boy’s kills splattered him on the back, “-we don’t know the area!”
“That alarm should have died by now.” Rickon tried to argue, but any conversation was difficult to hold when trying to fight for their lives. The final walker fell to the ground, the dying groans silent in the morning sun. “Besides, it worked out, didn’t it?”
Jon shook his head and glanced down at the of the fallen enemies. All of his limbs had been cut off, strewn over the road, but the head still twitched as it tried to rise. “You’re meant to kill them when you fight.” He pointed out.”
“It has no arms or legs, what was it going to do? Sausage roll us to death?”
Jon rolled his eyes, putting the beast out of its misery whilst briefly pissed he couldn’t do the same. “It’s the principle of things. You do what you need to do to live.”
Rickon smiled once more, beginning to skate backwards down the road when had come. “Well, we lived. And we’ll continue to live by taking this stuff back to the school.” Jon rolled his eyes again but followed him close behind. Kids.
The others were all awake by the time they returned, gathered in the sports hall that worked as their main common room. Robb was going over something with Edd, both gesturing to the beaten map on the table. Sansa and Bran were both sat together, Bran reading whilst his sister tried a sewing technique on an old scrap of fabric. She’d been attempting it for a while. Sam smiled at them as they entered the hall, taking the passed bag with a smile.
Arya bounded over to them, twirling a knife in her hand as she passed over the new items. He held up a cup with a raised eyebrow, “Noodles? Again?”
Jon barely suppressed a yell of frustration through the power of will. “Fuck this, I’m going back to bed.” He turned around and began to sulk out back to his classroom. “Wake me when the next apocalypse happens.”