The land was dark and desolate; a barren field with the only evidence of humanity being the rubble and debris of buildings as far as the eye can see. That was all the world was now; just shattered remnants of what once was. Humanity destroyed itself. It all started with the Gloom; it changed humans and made them evil and attack one another. First came the panic. Then the riots. After that the wars broke out and the anarchy until most of the humans were wiped from existence along with everything else which was blown to bits. Now, there's only few humans left who are struggling to survive.

 

A young boy of age five with markings of bones on his body and a sugar skull on his face was searching through the ruins of what once was a two story building. The Gloomified wildlife was too busy trying to kill another poor soul so the boy had time time to search for supplies. He needed some kind of medication for a dying man he called his father. With nothing but tattered pants and a satchel the boy was on his knees searching through the rubble for some kind of item he could give to his father so he could feel better.

"Por favor..." The boy sniffled, wiping away thick tears that ran down his face as he searched. The tears dampened the ends of his scruffy brown colored hair.

"Por favor... Por favor... Mi Papa..."

Edited March 17, 201510 yr by Awuwa7KH

They walked with their heads low, hiding in the shadows as they walked across the remnants of the buildings. They were a very small group of survivors, made out of men, women and children to which together barely made the numbers of 15. They were led by a man nicknamed Death. No one knew his real name, or how he looked like, only that he was a doctor, and that he preferred to wear a hood up at all times, even when he slept, a shroud always covering his eyes. This doctor named Death had a son, whose name was Grim. He was seven years old, his skin pale, his eyes red and his hair color ebony and apparent to never had been cut before, as he had it in a small braid that reached down his back to his hips. He wore a black hoodie with a dirtied out white t-shirt, shorts and some worn out sneakers.

 

“Grim, scout the areas ahead for any activity.” Death said in a low grumble, handing his young son a small walkie talkie. Grim let go of his father’s hand and started to run ahead. Being born into this world, you got to learn to do things quick, otherwise you wouldn’t live to the age to realize your mistakes. Grim ran up and scouted the area, the young boy barely making any sound as he explored. He was about to call over his father through the device he was given, giving the clear, until he heard the sound of rubble moving. Grim followed the noise, and upon carefully climbing up a pile of what was once a two story building, he stood to see a young boy around his age, maybe younger, digging through the rubble. In the eerie silence of the day, he could hear as the boy’s nails scratched against the cement as he searched for something. Then there was a loud click.

 

“Don’t move.” Grim said, loud enough for the boy to hear, as he pointed a revolver straight at the boy. His eyes were cold…but it was only normal for this world.

The boy stood up slowly and turned to face Grim. He wasn't really afraid of the revolver. If anything, he was hopeful that this newcomer in front of him could help somehow. "A-Ayudame porfavor..." He said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He wore no shoes or shirt; just the tattered brown pants were the only clothes he owned. The boy's cheeks were also dusted red along with his nose and forehead signaling a fever from sickness. It was just a simple cold however in this world it caused many deaths along with the Gloom due to the scarce medication.

"Mi papa esta enfermo! Necesito medicación..." (My papa is sick! I need medication...)

Grim stared down at the kid. Red across his body covered with dirt and sweat. He'd been around his father long enough to make a deduction. Fever, most likely. He could he infected in gloom for all he knew. To top it off, he spoke a language foreign to him. He was tempted to simply pull the trigger and get it over with.

 

"Grim." His father's voice brought his attention, but he didn't lifted his gaze from the kid.

 

"Dad." Grim called. Soon enough Death walked up the rubble next to his son, the rest of the group walking up with him. Dozens of eyes fell upon the shirtless child, some members muttering under their breath. "He's speaking a language I do not understand. Could be Spanish. He seems sick. Could be gloom." Grim said rather bluntly. Death huffed to himself before walking down the rubble toward the boy. Before the boy could run away if he tried, Death grabbed his arms and felt his face.

 

"Hm. It's just a cold." Death assured as he searched into his cloak, taking out a white prescription bottle. He shook it slightly. There was enough, but he'd need to refill. Death looked over at the kid, even though his hood covered his eyes, you could sense he was making eye contact. "Estas enfermó. Estas sólo? Donde están tus parientes?" (You're sick. Are you alone? Where are your parents?) Death spoke, rather well for years of not practicing it.

The small child shuffled his feet into the rubble as Death's group was looking at him. He was no where near used to having that many eyes on him. The boy noticed there were other children too, not including Grim, who was talking to his father in a language he did not understand. When Death gave his diagnosis and began to speak in Spanish, the sick boy felt much more safe. Be stared into the deep abyss that was Death's hidden face hoping that he could help.

"E-Estoy solo... Mi papá se está muriendo. él no está despertando , y no puedo encontrar ninguna..." The boy began to tear up at saying this, pausing to suppress a hiccup and a sob. "M-Medicación..."

(I'm alone... my papa is dying. he's not waking up, and i cant find any.. Medication...)

Grim watched as his father interacted with the boy. The rest of the group watched sadly at the boy as well, the parents holding their kids as close as they could to make sure they wouldn't fall down to the rubble. There were little children to how they had begun about a year ago. Many of them contracted gloom and their young bodies were too fragile to contain it, dying from the side effects alone. Many feared that they would be next. Death stared at the boy as he opened the bottle, taking out a chewable pill and handing it over to the boy. "Mi nombre es Muerte. Soy doctor. Mastica esta pastilla, te ayudará a bajar la fiebre." (My name is Death. I'm a doctor. Chew this pill, it'll help you with the fever.) Death said as he gently shoved a pill into the kid's mouth. He stood up and turned to the group. "We'll go see his sick father, and rest there for the night if we find it appropriate." Death said. No one objected. Death was one of the few doctors still alive. He was kind and had kept this group alive longer than they would have on their own. Grim finally lowered the revolver. Death turned to the boy. "Llévame a tú padre." (Take me to your father.) Death asked. Then his expression hardened. "Si es una trampa, morirás a manos de los infectados." (If it's a trap, you'll die at the hands of the infected.)

The boy nodded. He couldn't help but shutter at the warning given by Death. He grabbed Death's hand to go lead him to the boy's father. "Sí. Me llamo Miguel." He tugged Death along for about ten minutes. Upon entering a small opening inside a broken down underpass, there was a tiny makeshift tent made from loose stones and a dirty blanket. Under it layed an old man who was struggling to breathe. Upon seeing Miguel and strangers, the man hoarsely tried to speak.

"Quièn.... E-Es... Este...?"

Miguel let go of Death's hand and plopped himself on his knees happily.

"Papa estas despierto!" Miguel said with hope. The man looked terrible; the illness almost made him corpse like. He was terribly pale in contrast to his dark skin, he was skinny, dark bags under his eyes and the coughing caused a great deal of pain all throughout his body.

(Who... I-Is this...?)

(Papa you're awake!)

Edited March 17, 201510 yr by Awuwa7KH

Grim stood next to his father, staring at the man. He was sicker than what both Death and the rest expected.

 

"He's bones and stench." Grim said, looking at Death. "He's already at the verge of death."

 

"His condition is far worse than I anticipated as well." Death said. He turned to the group. "Lets rest for a few. We'll continue soon." With that Death walked over to the man, turning to Miguel. "Quédate con my hijo." (Stay with my son.) Death told Miguel as he pointed at Grim. "Grim. Watch over him." Grim simply nodded as he looked over at Miguel. The kid was barely two years younger than him. It appeared his father and him had been struggling for a while.

 

"Don't try anything." Grim muttered.

 

"(He's sick. Too sick. I don't have enough medicine to heal him. He's weak too.)"Death thought as he glanced around and turned back to the man. "Estas más enfermo de lo que pensé. Temo que no tengo suficiente medicina para curarte. También tengo que pensar en mi gente. Lo más que puedo ofrecer es darte una muerte rápida ahora mismo...y tu hijo puede ser parte de nuestro grupo." (You're more sick than I thought. I'm afraid I don't have enough medicine to cure you. I also have to think of my people. The most I can do is give you a quick death right now...and your son may be part of our group.) Death whispered.

Miguel nodded at the command given by Death. Right now this man could be the savior to him and his father, and he was desperate enough to do anything to save his dear Papa. Miguel went to Grim and smiled. "Ahhh... Llama?" He barely knew a single word in English. "Ahh... Hilo... Uhh..." He pointed to himself. "Miguel." He pointed to Grim's chest.

 

The man gave a chuckle. It wasn't bitter, for what Death said he found rather funny for part of it.

"Speak... English sí? I don't..." He paused to breathe. "My son to hear... I know I am dead." He began to cough terribly which caused him to grow in pain. "Please... Give me death, for I can now- d-die happy knowing... My son isn't alone..." He tilted his head to glance at Miguel and Grim.

"T-That's your son... Sí? He's beautiful..."

Grim blinked a few times. Miguel? Oh! That was his name. Grim pointed at himself.

 

"Grim." He said. It wasn't a name that he would've chosen for himself. His dad insisted that he was named after the situation he was born in, a grim situation. He never met his mother. His father never mentioned her either. Death glanced over at Grim and looked back down at the man.

 

"Thank you..." Death took out something metallic from his coat. A hunter knife. With the closest piece of cloth he muffled the man, any cries of pain smothered out as Death lived up to his name, pushing the hunter knife into the man's neck as he cut through the skin and muscle, right until he hit the vertebrate. Warm blood covered his hands as the man seized to move and live. It was over in less than a minute. He would harvest the organs, but he decided against it, in sign of respect. He used the deceased man's clothing to wipe the knife clean before getting it away. He didn't see anything that he could use. He would have to make sure to find proper clothing for the kid later. He stood up and walked back to the group. "Everyone get ready, we're moving out." Death said as he walked over to Miguel and Grim. "Grim. This is your new brother. You will teach him English." Death said. Grim would've complained, but Death's demeanor warned him otherwise. He turned to Miguel. "No pude salvar a tu papa. Vendrás con nosotros. De hoy en adelanté, eres mi hijo adoptivo, y Grim tu hermano adoptivo major." (We couldn't save your dad. You will come with us. From today on you're my adoptive son, and Grim is your big adoptive brother.) Death said as he pat Miguel on his shoulder, suddenly griping him tightly to prevent him from running over to his father and seeing the mess. He wanted to avoid unwanted mistrust.

(Aww I just can't ;-; I got hit with the honey nut feelios...)

 

Miguel suddenly just felt almost as if his heart stopped. The sudden feeling hit him like a train. He turned instantly pale, and he felt a thick lump rise in his throat. Still, he said nothing because deep down he knew his father was going to die today. He knew even before he met Grim. He knew as he was searching through rubble. He didn't cry, nor scream or fight. He just stood there for a while staring at the ground. As Death placed a hand on his shoulder he couldn't help but feel like it was okay. Miguel suddenly wrapped his arms around Death's leg and closed his eyes.

"A-Adios, Papa..." He whispered to himself.

Grim huffed a bit and turned away. Death patted Miguel's head, looking at the group.

 

"Lets go." Death said as he started to walk, forcing Miguel to walk with them. "Grim you're in charge of Miguel. Lose him out of sight and you'll be the one needing a fix. Also give him one of your knives." Death said. With that Grim figured that he had no other choice. He turned to Miguel and searched in his pocket, handing him a sharpened pocket knife.

 

"Keep it." Grim said as he started to walk with the group, watching over Miguel.

 

-Later-

 

By nightfall they had decided to stop at an abandoned construction site. Death insisted Miguel and Grim to share tents from now on. Or at least stay within 10 feet from each other. Grim pulled over the bedsheets. They stunk. But then again everyone stunk in this apocalypse.

 

"Here. We'll share until we get one just for you." Grim said, shuffling in his bed inside the tent they had to share and handing over a blanket to Miguel. "Once you learn English fluently, we can talk without using my dad as a translator...he isn't a very patient man." Grim said as he rested his head down, facing Miguel.

Miguel walked along with Death. As Grim gave Miguel a knife, Miguel accepted it with a smile.

"Gracias." He said.

 

Later on, once everyone was settled in for the night, Miguel didn't mind at all sharing with Grim. It felt nice having another person his age to be with. Plus, he didn't like sleeping alone. He always slept with his father. Grim was talking to Miguel, who in turn didn't fully understand, but could somewhat tell what he meant by a few words.

"Ahh, sí." He layed down next to his new brother, and decided to attempt some English.

"Eh, Night Greem." Miguel said, trying his best to pronounce Grim correctly, but failing due to the 'I' in the name.

 

About a few hours later that's when it hit Miguel. He realized fully that his father had died. He woke up with a start, having a terrible nightmare about his father, and his mother too ontop of that. Miguel sat up quickly with a gasp. He was sweating and his heart was pounding. The boy began to sob, knowing now that he was never going to see his father again.

"Papa..." He cried. "Papa..."

Grim woke up to the sound of sobbing. The night was quiet as it was, no traffic or music from clubs or talking of groups of walking people. His sobs resounded loudly even though they were soft. Grim rubbed his eyes and moved some of his now loose hair out of his eyes before he stared into the darkness. He couldn't see Miguel, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see somewhat an outline, his cries helped it narrow it down as well. He wouldn't be able to sleep any soon with his cries. He sat up and moved his hands through the darkness, feeling Miguel as he went up to his face, feeling the warm tears, and eventually reaching his shoulders and pulling him close.

 

"There there. It's ok." Grim assured. "It'll get easier after some time. You'll get used to it sooner or later." Grim said as he rubbed his shoulders in any reassurance if it were to help. It was always hard at first.

Miguel wrapped his small arms around Grim. His quiet sobs died down into small sniffles and hiccups.

"Greem..." Miguel muttered, trying his best to pronounce Grim's name. "Greem... Mi hermano sí...?" He asked as he closed his eyes.

Grim had absolutely no idea what Miguel had asked, only that it involved his name. He would have to ask his father for some lessons on key words of the language. Until then, he'd just go along with it.

"Um...si." Grim said as he tried to go along with it. He slept hugging Miguel for the rest of the night.

 

-4 years later-

 

Four years passed. Miguel and Grim were quickly labeled brothers, and even Death had gotten a soft spot for Miguel. Miguel's English skills had sharpened, and Grim had learn a little bit of key Spanish words on the way. However, the group dwindled as time passed. They were barely a group of 7 now. Many died from sickness that couldn't be cured. Some left. Some joined. One family that had left was later found by the group to have died from gloom. Rumors of anarchists groups growing and killing each other, taking innocents in the crossfire and forcing them to join spread like wildfire. Resisting men were killed, women and children were kept alive for multiple reasons. Anarchists groups taking over safe quarantine zones and populations that tried to rebuild. Humanity had developed a new official enemy, humanity itself. "Keep two bullets for you and your brother separately." Death would repeat. He didn't know why. He would eventually once he grew older.

 

"We have to enter civilization soon if we're to collect supplies." One of the men said. Death looked down at a map.

 

"We'll get to a town or city eventually. I'm more worried of encountering any groups..." Death explained as he looked at the red dots on the map. Each time he heard of these groups, he'd mark their rumored location in the map. The red dots were growing.

 

"Hey Miguel, I'm bored." Grim said as he rested his arms on Miguel's shoulders.

Miguel groaned and leaned his head back. He took a hold of Grim's wrists. "Same... Ugh- oh! I could put war paint on your face again." Miguel loved painting war paint on Grim. Miguel did to himself too; he would make paint out of inedible berries and anything else he could find that otherwise had no use to the group in terms of survival. That was how he kept the bone markings on his body and the sugar skull markings on his face. He did it so much that the paint stained his skin. However, Grim was like a blank canvas that Miguel was just itching to mess with.

"I could make a dragon... Or a skull so we could be twins! Por favor Guada? Por favorrrr?" Guada was the nickname Miguel developed for his brother.

Grim rolled his eyes. Miguel and his face paint. Though he did admit that it was a skill. Something he would never be able to do.

 

"Sure. Why not? Make me your twin, Miguel." Grim said as he took a seat on the floor. He has yet to cut his hair, it was a long braid that still grew every year more. Death said it reminded him of Grim's mother when he wore his hair that way, and Grim was more than happy to please the only family he had. But now there was a second one. "Make sure I look cool like you, ok?" Grim asked.

"We should scour the area for a route." Death suggested.

 

"I'll watch over the kids. You guys can go."One of the adults suggested.

"Then we better hurry before we run out of light." Death said as he stood up, looking over at his sons. "Boys, I'll be right back. Behave in the meanwhile." And with that he walked off to explore.

Miguel nodded and looked up to Death. "Adios Papa Muerte!" With that, Miguel brought his paints together and sat down infront of Grim. He immediately set to work, painting a sugar skull on Grim's face. First, he covered Grim's face with white paint, then painted his eyes and around with black, along with making two black strikes on his nose, then on his lips for the teeth. After that he added in come details, such as red markings on the forehead in the shape of a cross, among other small details. After about fifteen minutes, Miguel pulled away very happy and proud with the result. It looked very similar to his own skull.

"Fin! Magnifico! Now you look super cool like me! We should show Papa when he comes back."

 

(Here's what the face paint looks like that Miguel did on Grim

 

 

It tickled, but once it was done and saw how happy Miguel was, he had to see it for himself. Flicking out a knife from one of the backpacks, he looked down at his reflection from it. It was beautiful. Flawless actually. Grim was in awe of how well it was made, and how well it fit him.

 

"Miguel this is amazing!" Grim said as he turned to his brother. "You can be an artist!" Grim said smiling. Miguel was so talented. He began to feel a bit jealous. He turned to the man who babysat them. "Look, we're twins!" Grim said. The man smiled at them, once a father himself.

 

"You two look spooky, ready for Halloween if you ask me." The man chuckled.

 

"I don't ever want to take it off now." Grim chuckled as he high fived Miguel and hugged him. "You're so talented!" The member couldn't help but to awe at the display. There were barely any children anymore. At least, he barely saw any. Before he could comment any further, however, there was the sound of a fast movement of wind accompanied with a thump. The man's eyes widened as an arrow was now stabbing across his head all the way through. Blood dripped from his nose before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed.

 

"Danar-!" Grim yelled before he heard the footsteps of someone walking. Behind the siblings stood an adult woman. She had long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. In her hand a crossbow.

 

"Aw look at you two. You're like little skeletons." She smiled.

(NOOO not the man ;-

Miguel grinned widely, thinking this was his finest work yet. "Gracias Guada! Papa won't be able to tell us apart!" He giggled and hugged his brother tight as he returned the embrace. He was excited to show the man who babysat them, who was also happy with the result as well. But suddenly, an arrow had hit the man, and he was dead. Just like that.

Miguel stopped in horror. He tried to yell just as Grim had did, but found that there was no sound coming from his throat. A woman appeared, who was evidently the person who had shot the arrow. When she spoke, Miguel shook his head and got a sudden burst of rage in him. She ruined a moment he was sharing with his brother and the babysitter.

"L-Lo mataste!!!" Miguel screamed as he took out his knife. It was the same one that Grim gave to him years ago the first time they met. "Pequeños esqueletos de mi culo!" He ran foward, ready to cut the woman despite the obvious disadvantage of her large height.

(Y-You killed him!!! Little skeletons my ass!)

“Miguel!” Grim yelled. But he wasn’t fast enough to stop him. The blonde haired woman didn’t even flinch. As Miguel charged at her, the woman grabbed Miguel’s arm, tightening her grip by the wrist as she pulled Miguel up and off the ground by his arm.

 

“Aw the little pipsqueak thinks he’s tough. I like kids with guts.” The girl smiled as she watched Miguel struggle.

 

“Let him go!” Grim yelled. He searched in his pocket and took out his trademark revolver, aiming at the girl. But before he could even pull the trigger, a sharp object was pushed against his throat from behind.

 

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you.” The voice sounded serious. Taking a glance behind Grim saw a man around the same age as the woman standing behind him holding a machete against his neck. He had long blue hair and hazel eyes.

 

“About time, Aoba.” The woman said.

 

“You didn’t kill them, April. Why?” The blue haired man, labeled as Aoba insisted.

 

“We could use kids like these.” April said, giving off a sinister smirk. “We’re running out.”

 

Aoba quickly disarmed Grim from his gun, before pulling him by his long braid.

 

“These kids are too well taken care of to have been just with that one guy. There has to be more.” Aoba insisted as he pulled on Grim’s hair. Grim struggled as he was barely lifted off the ground by his hair. April turned to Miguel, who she still held off the ground.

 

“That boy called you Miguel, right? Well then, Miguel. Where are the others?” April asked rather calmly.

"There are no others!" Miguel proclaimed as he squirmed around in her grasp. He kicked his legs around wildly to try to escape. Miguel held his knife tightly in the hand that April had a grip of. He yelled, growled, and screamed.

"Let mi hermano go!" Miguel shot at Aoba. "Let him go or I'll gut you like un cerdo!" He continued to squirm around, trying his best to put up a fight. He didn't dare tell them about his group, especially his father. Miguel tried to bite April's hand that was wrapped so tightly on his arm.

"If you hurt mi hermano you're going to be sorry!!!"

Edited March 19, 201510 yr by Awuwa7KH

April quickly raised her other hand and slammed her crossbow against Miguel's head.

 

"Easy there, little prick." April hissed as she took Miguel's knife away and turned to Aoba. "We should totally take them. The two of them will make popular contenders if they're this persistent." Aoba scowled and looked down at Grim before pulling his hair a bit more.

 

"Well I guess we could. We are running out anyways. Lets head back." Aoba suggested.

 

"What about the rest of this group? He could be lying and there could be more than just them." April asked. Aoba paused and shrugged.

 

"At this point and time not many people care about kids anymore. Just survival. Maybe they'll take this as a lesson and move on, considering themselves lucky. Come on, lets head back." Aoba insisted as he pulled Grim's hair, making him walk with them. April pulled Miguel and draped him over her shoulder, grabbing his legs tightly with one hand as she held onto his back with another, following Aoba down the trail.

 

"What are you going to do to us?!" Grim asked through gritting teeth.

 

"Ah you two are actually pretty lucky to have been found in a pair! You aren't going to take the usual punishment. Right, Aoba?" April asked smiling.

 

"That's correct...although they are pretty cute."

Miguel closed his eyes tight and his body went limp. That stike to the head made him very dizy. His mind was screaming for his father.

"D-Dont... Hurt Guada..." Miguel muttered as April draped him over her shoulder. Still, he didn't want to give up without a fight, and he weakly tried to claw his nails into April's back. He didn't like what they were talking about. Miguel contined to squirm as she was carrying him, trying his best to get away.

"N-No... Ah!" Out of a desperate attempt, Miguel whistled loudly with his two fingers. It was a little tune that he always whisled to Grim or Death if he was lost or in trouble. He hoped Death would hear it. Even if Death didn't hear it, hopefully the nearby wildlife would come and attack giving Grim and Miguel a slim chance of escape.

April and Aoba continued while ignoring the struggles of the siblings. The two were dragged away to what seemed to be a close civilization, a very small camp site, except it was surrounded by a large fence made out of barb wire. They entered the area. The place was filled with small camp tents and multiple survivors. There were a few children in sight, but they had glances that could kill, scars covering their bodies as they worked around the camp.

 

“You two will get along fine here…once you get through initiation.” Aoba smirked as he looked down at the two. “Are you sure there aren’t any others with you two?”

 

“No!” Grim hissed, clawing at Aoba. “Just us!”

 

April laughed brightly as she dragged Miguel into what seemed to be a manmade arena. It was right in the middle of the camp, surrounded itself by a small wooden fence. Inside there were two cages, to which Miguel and Grim were shoved into and locked in.

 

“Behave until it’s your turn.” April warned as she walked away. Grim quickly turned to Miguel, stretching his arm to Miguel’s cage.

 

“We’re going to be fine, Miguel. Dad is going to help us out. I promise.”