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Agron is in a dead sprint before he can even register a thought about moving.
The horde of zombies he’d spotted about a mile ahead of his and Duro’s position seems to have stumbled upon some fresh meat. Most days, Agron would prefer to use the distraction as a way to mosey on by without needing to chop off some zombie heads, but from the way some of that mass of crawlers is suddenly bursting into body parts and fluid, Agron is almost sure there’s someone caught up in the middle of the pack.
“Agron!” Duro shouts, breaking into a dead run after him. “Agron, what the fuck!”
“There’s someone over there!” Agron calls over his shoulder, already tugging out the fireman’s axe he wears on his back, leaping over several decaying corpses to lunge into the fray. With a couple epic swings, Agron’s separated several heads from bodies, sending them spinning across the blacktop. He plants a combat boot in the chest of another, shoving it back into two more crawlers and letting Duro slide in beside him and slam his baseball bat through all three of their skulls at once.
“Homerun!” he crows, even as he spins and jams the bat into the gaping ribcage of another zombie, tearing it apart as he swings again.
“Hey, you okay?” Agron shouts, finally spotting the person who’d been caught in the middle of the zombie mosh pit, their dark hair gleaming in the dimming sunlight. The man spins and suddenly Agron sees he’s armed with a nasty looking machete – and a split second later, he knows the man knows how to use it. Without hesitating, the man swings the machete and neatly splits three zombies from navel to neck, letting the pieces fall to the ground.
“M’fine,” the man grunts, tossing his hair out of his eyes and swinging again, this time taking off two heads and some arms, machete flashing more quickly than Agron’s eye can see.
“Fuck yeah, you are,” he breathes, admiring the man’s ass and arms as much as his technique. “I’m Agron!” he shouts, before going a little hack crazy on the zombies trying to sneak up behind the man. “That’s my brother Duro!”
Duro waves his bat from his perch atop a car, where he is picking off crawlers one by one – using his bat like a golf club and just slamming right through their skulls.
“Nasir,” the man grinds out, slicing through another series of zombies, heads rolling like nothing Agron has ever seen.
“Come here often?” Agron calls, grinning indecently as he casually decapitates what he's pretty sure are the last few zombies in the area.
“Are you flirting with me?” Nasir asks, disbelieving, before his expression changes into something fierce and terrifying. “Duck!” he shouts, and Agron drops to the asphalt just in time to dodge Nasir swinging his machete hard and bisecting the zombie that was sneaking up on them. The top portion of the zombie slides gruesomely off the bottom, leaving Agron in a nice, delicious pile of zombie guts.
“That was really hot,” he manages to get out and Nasir huffs an incredulous laugh, rolling his eyes.
“Seriously?”
“I have no filter,” Agron intones solemnly. “It’s a gift and a curse.” Nasir snorts.
“Calling it like I see it here and I’m going to go with more curse than gift,” he says, but his gaze is flicking up and down Agron, lingering at Agron’s shoulders and hands with more than a little interest.
“If you say so,” Agron says, flashing a grin, dimples and all. “It’s served me pretty well so far.”
“I bet it has,” Nasir mutters, tossing his hair over his shoulder in an attempt to hide his smile. “Well, c’mon big guy. There’s a safe house about a mile up ahead run by a few friends of mine. We should be okay there for a few nights.” He offers a hand to Agron, who takes it eagerly, using the momentum from Nasir’s pulling to stand and press close, grinning down at him. Nasir rolls his eyes again, but he’s grinning back. Duro makes vomiting noises in response, hopping down off the car he’s been sitting on.
“You guys are definitely not allowed to have sex while I’m around,” Duro calls, pausing to wipe off his baseball bat on some of the zombies ragged clothes.
“Don’t worry,” Nasir calls back, not taking his eyes off of Agron. “Your brother’s got to have a shower first anyway.” He smirks and turns on his heel, heading off down the street, machete settled on his shoulder. Agron watches in appreciation for a few seconds before Duro catches up to him, slapping a hand to his shoulder.
“He is going to fucking eat you alive,” Duro murmurs delightedly, shoving his brother forward until they’re following Nasir down the sidewalk.
Agron can only grin. “Hopefully,” he says brightly, ignoring Duro’s fake vomit noises with ease.
“Move it losers, we’re losing daylight!” Nasir calls over his shoulder, and the two brothers glance at one another meaningfully before Duro shouts,
“Race you!”
A split second later, they’re taking off in a dead sprint down the street, grinning and swearing as they breeze past Nasir and into the sunset, Nasir’s laughter following them down the block.