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English
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Part 1 of Of Monsters and Men
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Published:
2019-01-02
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2,485
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1/1
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It's the End of the World As We Know It

Summary:

It's been nine months since the zombie apocalypse. Oliver and John are just trying to get back to Starling. Back to their families. If they're even alive.

But along the way, they meet Felicity Smoak, a genius with a mysterious past and an impossible power. One that people would die—or kill—to protect.

Notes:

This has been in my head for AGES and I finally just bit the bullet and wrote it! Only read it once and I have no beta, so I'm just hurling this into the universe. Hope you guys enjoy!

This work is part of a series. I have plans to write more in this universe, but no promises!

Mad props to MachaSWicket for "The Constellations Never Fail," which gave me this kernel of an idea. Amazing Olicity zombie apocalypse AU!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“Fuck, Digg!”

 

Oliver managed to get another shot off before his friend fell to the pavement, hitting the zombie nearest them square between the eyes. Bone and brain matter went flying, but Oliver was already hoisting Digg in his arms and dragging him to the nearest shelter—a half-collapsed gas station, dirty and grey in the tepid, grey afternoon.

 

Husks of cars added rainbow-rust splashes of cover as Oliver dodged zombies from the horde. It had come out of nowhere while he and Digg traveled through some Norman Rockwell suburb of Baltimore. It had been a dumb idea to go close to such a big city, but they’d needed supplies.

 

And now Digg was going to die because of it.

 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Oliver chanted as he kicked down the surprisingly-sturdy wooden door. Though the gas station was falling apart, the rubble presented excellent cover from the horde. Digg collapsed to the floor and Oliver spun around to reinforce the door, hastily shoving whatever he could grab in front of it.

 

“You could’ve just left it.”

 

Oliver whirled around at the new voice, gun raised and pointed into the charcoal shadows at the far end of the building, only about fifteen feet away since half the station was a rubble wall. Most of the windows had been covered, but a few weak strands of liquid light leaked in. Everything worth anything had been cleared out and the shelves themselves tumbled over, but there was a dark corner near the back. At first glance it looked like a pile of rubble, but the closer Oliver looked, the more he realized it was a carefully-constructed shelter. His mind randomly supplied him with a cartoon image of a beaver den.

 

“It was fine before you kicked the door down.”

 

“My friend is dying. I didn’t have much of a choice,” Oliver retorted, eyes glued to the direction of the voice. It sounded breathy and high-pitched, but far from weak. If the world had been normal, Oliver never would’ve pointed a gun at anyone, let alone someone who sounded like this person. But everything had gone to shit, and the human threat was just as real as the undead. “How about you come out and you can argue with me some more?”

 

“Come on, man,” Digg groaned, clutching his torso. Blood seeped between his shaking fingers, tainting the air with the sharp scent of pennies. And the beginnings of rot. “We don’t have time for this.”

 

Oliver didn’t turn his back on the voice in the darkness, but he did go to his knees by Digg. “We can fix this!” Olive insisted, only now letting the despair he’d felt outside claw at his heart. “You’re gonna be fine, Digg. The bite isn’t that bad.”

 

Digg rolled his eyes, ever pragmatic. “Shut up, man. I’m gonna die here. You remember our deal, right? You kill me before I become one of those things .”

 

As if on cue, a throaty, wet snarling erupted from the other side of the door, and the wood rattled and echoed with fleshy thumps.

 

“Digg, no, we can—”

 

“Dammit, Oliver, this is my choice!” Digg grabbed Oliver’s hand with the gun and put the barrel between his eyes, their dark depths burning with conviction and desperation. “You told me the same thing! I’m not going to become one of those flesh-eating monsters, so shoot me now , before it’s too late!”

 

“I can help with that.”

 

A metallic crash echoed through the gas station, followed by a soft oww . “Fuck, I told them this thing was too precarious.”

 

Oliver had reflexively pointed the gun at the sound, eyes narrowed on the shifting pile of shelves and racks, before a startling figure unfolded from the darkness.

 

A girl? No, a woman. Thin and gaunt, so she looked younger, but the bones under her too-pale, too-tight skin were mature. Huge, bespectacled, ocean-blue eyes stared back at Oliver, barely visible in the dusty grey gas station. Long blonde hair—Oliver absently noted brown roots at her scalp—tangled past her shoulders, and she looked positively haggard in a pair of joggers, sneakers, and an oversized pink sweater.

 

There was a gun in her hand.

 

“Oh, hey, hey,” Felicity said when Oliver zeroed in on the weapon, his own unerringly finding its aim right between her eyes. Her hands immediately went up, but she still had the gun, so it just ended up flailing awkwardly near her head. “Sorry! Sorry. Ny-The people with me insisted I have this in case the zombies got in. Or creepy people. But you guys don’t seem creepy, so…” The woman crouched—slow, like her body hurt—and set the gun on the floor. “Sorry. Again. But I can help you friend. Assuming you don’t want to kill him, of course.”

 

“That’s not possible,” Digg grunted. He’d yanked his shirt up to staunch the bite wound on his side, and Oliver could already see the dark lines branching like roots under his brown skin. “I just want to die while I’m still me . Can we get back on that, please?”

 

The woman jumped-scooted a step closer, her wide eyes locked on Digg but flashing frequently to Oliver, like she was scared he’d keep her away. “You have nothing to lose! It’ll take, like, a minute tops. That bite isn’t too close to your heart, so you should be fine for a little bit longer. Please, just give me a chance. I can save you. I promise.”

 

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t—”

 

“Do you have a family?” The woman’s eyes were still on Digg. Oliver had never felt more like a third wheel with his best friend and someone he’d just met. “Someone waiting for you? Even if you’re not sure they’re alive?” She swallowed, liquid swimming in her eyes, but held the tears at bay. “You’ll see them again. I swear it. If you let me help you.”

 

One beat. Two. Then Digg closed his eyes and shouted, “Fuck it, fine!”

 

The woman moved faster than Oliver thought she should’ve been able to, considering she looked like a stiff wind would knock her over. She kneeled behind Digg and propped his head on her knees. “I’m Felicity, by the way. Thought it might be good to introduce myself, before…”

 

“Digg. John Diggle,” Digg ground out, clenching his teeth against a wave of pain.

 

A soft, beautific smile overtook the woman’s— Felicity’s —features, and Oliver was certain the sun had just come out. A quick check confirmed the cloudy day hadn’t abated. “Nice to meet you. Now, I’m going to save your life.”

 

Without warning, Felicity’s hand disappeared into the neckline of her sweatshirt and reemerged with a switchblade.

 

Oliver twitched reflexively at the sight of a threat, and Felicity held both her hands up, obviously much more at ease with the knife than she’d been with a gun. “Sorry, sorry,” she soothed, eyes holding Oliver captive. She held out her right hand, palm flat, knife proffered. “You can do it if you don’t trust me. Just cut across my palm, not too deep but not too shallow.”

 

It was only then that Oliver noticed, under the weight of the switchblade, the myriad of healing cuts—even some old silver scars—criss-crossing Felicity’s hand and up her thin, bony wrist until it disappeared into her sleeve.

 

Oliver was overcome with an instant, powerful reaction. He didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t think he could, even if he tried. She looked like she’d been hurt enough, her sickly appearance surely not due to the zombie apocalypse alone.

 

“He’s gonna die whether you stab him or he turns, so go ahead,” Oliver said.

 

Felicity nodded once and yanked her sleeves to her elbows, brandishing the knife with surprising grace over the fleshy part of her palm. Digg’s eyes were glassy and feverish as they locked on the younger woman, his throat hissing with ragged, deep gasps, or he surely would’ve made some sort of comment.

 

Oliver’s brows drew together at the marks and bruises on Felicity’s forearms. Like the aftermath of too many IVs.

 

The more Oliver discovered about Felicity, the less sense she made.

 

With no hesitation, Felicity sliced into her palm and held the fresh, cherry-red blood to Digg’s mouth. “I know it’s weird,” she said, cutting off both their protests before they could be voiced. “But trust me . Drink it. And you’ll heal, I swear .”

 

The snarls outside increased in pitch as soon as the metallic tang of fresh, clean blood hit the air, and Oliver divided his attention between the monsters at their back and the miracle unfolding in front of him.

 

Digg still hesitated, though his brown eyes were locked on Felicity’s hand, and the woman huffed. “In a few minutes, you’ll be too mindless to resist anyway. Now, do you want to make this decision, or let the virus killing you do it?”

 

Digg grimaced, but still wavered.

 

“Do it for Lyla, Digg,” Oliver said suddenly, breaking the tense quiet. “You still have to find out whether she had a boy or girl.”

 

The prone man sighed, his eyes sliding shut for only a breath. When they opened again, they gleamed with determination.

 

“There you go,” Felicity said when Digg lowered her hand to his mouth and latched on, a complicated mess of disgust and fear twisting his features. “I know it’s weird, but give it a… There it is.”

 

Digg’s face had transformed to one of shock and awe, eyes floating up to lock on Felicity’s face. After a few more seconds, Digg dropped Felicity’s wrist, shining red smudged at the edge of his mouth. Felicity smiled weakly and brandished a long piece of cloth out of nowhere, shaking it out before expertly beginning to wrap her palm.

 

Oliver’s eyes were locked on Digg’s wound. The creeping black under his skin, indication that the zombie virus was spreading to his heart and brain, was… receding. Like water being sucked into a straw. It went back to the original wound, now just slowly oozing blood, like the blood was clotting—like it was healing —and vanished .

 

“ That’s impossible ,” Oliver breathed instantly, wide eyes jumping from Digg’s wound to Felicity’s face. She was fussing over her bandaged hand, sheepishly refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

 

“I know it’s a lot to take in—”

 

“What is it?” Digg asked, sitting up with a groan. He was still wounded, the virus in the bite just wasn’t killing him anymore. “A vaccine or something? Why hasn’t it been disseminated? Is it only transferable through blood? Why—”

 

“I know. It’s a lot. To take in,” Felicity repeated, emphasizing her words carefully. Sweat dotted her near-translucent skin, and she took a deep breath as if to steady herself. Digg’s mouth snapped shut. Oliver’s brain was still a few steps behind the situation. “But I can’t answer all your questions. My friends will be back soon, and—”

 

Out of nowhere, the door to the gas station flew in like it was on a line. Oliver moved instinctively, putting himself and his gun between Felicity, Digg, and the door.

 

“Put that thing down,” an accented voice said, backlit by the milky afternoon light. After so long in the dark building, Oliver’s eyes blinked with tears against the brightness. “We already took care of the horde, no thanks to you. And step away from my friend.”

 

A woman came into focus. She was tall and obviously muscular, even through her thick, practical clothes. Long black hair fell in a braid over her shoulder, and sharp brown eyes focused on him. She held a longbow in her hands, arrow expertly trained expertly on Oliver’s head. Even though he had a gun, she held herself without an ounce of fear. As if her victory was already assured, and Oliver just didn’t know it yet.

 

“Are you alright, Felicity?” the woman asked, her British accent sounding oddly refined in their dingy surroundings.

 

“I’m fine, Nyssa,” Felicity responded, lurching to her feet and sliding between the woman and Oliver before anyone could stop her. For someone who looked like she’d just gotten out of the ICU, she was fast . Oliver lowered his gun as soon as Felicity stepped into the line of fire, but Nyssa didn’t. Oliver wanted to say something, distressed at the image of an arrow trained on Felicity’s head, but Nyssa held the bow like it was an extension of her arms. Like it wouldn’t dare disobey her.

 

Nyssa took in Felicity, and she scowled. “You did it again, didn’t you? How many times have we told you, you can’t just go around saving everyone? You’ve only been out for two weeks, and your blood counts—”

 

“I have to do it, Nyssa,” Felicity said. Still weak and tired, but hard as steel. “It’s why I’m here. If I don’t save as many people as possible, what am I even doing?”

 

“I understand, but you can’t save people if you—”

 

“Felicity!” A new figure popped into the door, and Oliver’s stomach took up residence in his throat. He knew that voice . “Nyssa, but down the bow—”

 

“Sara.” The name shot out of him like a bullet.

 

The other woman froze, blue eyes—framed in that familiar blonde hair—sliding past Felicity to land on Oliver.

 

“Ollie?” Sara Lance said, voice losing its hard edge. She took a step into the gas station, thick-soled boots echoing on the concrete floor. She flew at him a second later, throwing her arms around his neck. “Fuck, Ollie, you’re alive! I can’t believe it!”

 

“We need to get out of here,” Nyssa said, suddenly brusque and almost cold. She slid her arrow back into her quiver and slung the bow over her shoulder in quick, practiced movements. “The horde is gone, but more could be coming at any moment.”

 

Felicity sighed and nodded. Nyssa was at her side in moments, arm slung around her waist. When they both turned to the group, Oliver was shocked to see dark smudges under Felicity’s eyes. If possible, she looked even more fragile than before. But there was iron in her spine, and some type of impossible magic in her blood. Breakable though she might look, Oliver could easily see the strength under her skin.

 

Sara patted Oliver on the arm and nodded to Digg. “You’re both coming with us. There’s no way I’m losing sight of you now, Ollie. We have… so much to talk about.”

 

Oliver nodded. He logically knew what was happening, but his ability to process new information felt like it was stuck in the moments before the horde attacked. Before the gas station. Before Felicity . “It’s been a long year,” he agreed.

 

“As touching as this is,” Felicity interjected, strained. “Can we possibly move this reunion elsewhere? I think I’m…”

 

Then, as if she was a prophet as well as a miracle, she fainted in Nyssa’s arms.

Notes:

Hope you guys enjoyed! Again, this is part of a potential series. If you'd like updated, please subscribe to the series, "Of Monsters and Men," not this particular work!

Please let me know what you thought, and check out my Tumblr and Twitter, linked below! I'd love to hear from you!

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