Title: Profile of the Dead 2/?
Fandom: Criminal Minds which belongs to CBS.
Summary: Morgan felt like he should comfort Reid, but the kid was stronger than he looked. Morgan and Reid make their way through California and run into some possible trouble, but it's not zombies.
Warnings: Not much this chapter. One curse and mention of underage drinking.
Notes: I'm trying to be good on updating this.
Cross posted to bau_fic, cm_slash and morganreid_cm.
Reid and Morgan didn't pass an ammunition store the next day either. They stopped once for gas and spent most of the day talking about life before the outbreak. Reid told Morgan how he grew up in Las Vegas taking care of his mother after his father left.
"It hurts to think she died alone in the hospitals," Reid had said.
"I'm sure she knew you were worrying about her. That you would try your best to get there."
"If she remembered she had a son at all that day."
Morgan felt like he should comfort Reid, but the kid was stronger than he looked. He was only fifteen when everything changed. Zombies had become a natural part of life and he became good at hiding.
"We made the dorms as secure as we could," he had explained. "Zombies didn't wander there often until about two weeks ago. I was the only one who made it out alive."
He wouldn't say much on what had happened and Morgan didn't push the matter. He knew that it could be difficult to talk about. Personally, he refused to say anything about his time in L.A.
"I just want to put that behind me," he had said. It was easy to do so physically, but every night Morgan had nightmares about the attack.
"I can't even imagine."
"No, you can't."
They set up camp in a large rest stop area. They were getting closer to civilization. If there were still civilized people left.
"Once we reach town, I'm sure we'll come across a place that sells ammo," Morgan said as he settled into his sleeping bag.
"If not, good thing I have you to protect me." Reid was already laying down, his sleeping bag unzipped. When Morgan had given him one he found at the ranch, Reid said it made him feel like he was making it easier for the zombies to get him.
"If I'm driving, I need you to cover us."
"I'll just grab your gun. Or you could punch the zombie. You are so buff."
"Fine then. I do the fighting and you'll be the brains of the operation," Morgan said. "I'm still getting you ammo. Maybe a knife and some grenades too."
"Aw, you've gotten attached to me, haven't you?" Reid smiled and playfully punched Morgan's arm.
"What can I say? You're gonna keep me from going crazy."
"I don't think sanity matters anymore," Reid said quietly as Morgan blew out the candles they had placed around the sleeping bags.
"Don't let that big brain of yours keep you up all night," Morgan said. He clasped his gun to his chest, more frightened of sleep than usual since Reid was unarmed. "Goodnight Reid."
Reid stood next to the sign welcoming them to Victorsburg - Population: 15,451. With a Sharpie he crossed it out and changed it to zero.
"We don't know that yet," Morgan said. He was looking through his binoculars to see if it was wise to ride in on the bike.
"Zombies aren't citizens," Reid explained. "They don't count."
"Well, it looks safe. Let's drive in."
They stopped first at a grocery store and picked up some non-perishable foods and as many water bottles they could fit in the sidecar.
"Hey Morgan!" Reid called out jumping up so he could look over the aisles. "How about a six pack for the road?"
Morgan walked over and laughed when he saw Reid wielding a pack of Bud Light. "You are under 21 and I'm a cop. Did you even think this through before you opened your mouth?"
"What are you going to do? Cuff me?" Reid held his hands out. "Come on. I've been a bad boy."
Morgan coughed nervously. "Yeah, uh, fuck it. Bring the beer."
"But we're only going to have one at a time. We have to stay on guard."
"Yes officer. Warm beer is gross. I hope the next camp has a fridge."
"I hope it has beds that weren't locked in a room with zombies."
"Good point. Beds are better than cold beer."
Further down the block, they finally found an ammunition store. They searched the perimeter and moved inside only to be greeted with a shotgun in their faces.
"What do you want?" the man snarled.
"We're just looking for ammo," Morgan replied calmly.
"You can't have any," the man said. He pointed to the sign that hung above the counter. "See that? Hotchner's Ammunition. I'm Hotchner."
"We'll pay you," Reid said quickly.
"What good is money?" Hotchner asked.
"Good point," Reid replied. "We can trade. We got beer."
"No, no deal. I don't want to be drunk when those things come back."
"How about food?" Morgan suggested.
"Okay, here's the deal," Hotchner said. "You guys cook for us a nice meal, keep me company for awhile and you can have all the ammo you need."
"Deal, "Morgan said and both men lowered their weapons.
"Let me properly introduce myself," Hotchner said. "Aaron Hotchner." He shook their hands vigorously.
"I'm Derek Morgan and that's Spencer Reid."
"Pleasure. Now come on upstairs."
Hotchner led them up to the second floor. He bolted the door shut and sat the shotgun next to five other weapons lined up nearby.
"You've live hear since the outbreak?" Morgan asked.
"Yeah, I was lucky in a way having owned a store ready to outlast any major attack."
"There haven't been many attacks in California," Reid said. There was no need to mention L.A. "So you're lucky in more ways than one."
"Not really. I lost my wife and son in the initial outbreak."
"I'm sorry," Morgan said.
"It's alright. Everyone has lost someone. It's nice to have company again. So, uh, let me show you the kitchen."
"I'll cook," Reid offered. "Morgan insists on doing all the driving. He needs the rest."
"Hey. No way I'm letting you drive my bike kid," Morgan said laughing.
"So where are you guys going?" Hotchner asked as Reid began making some pasta.
"Chicago," Morgan said. "You can come with us, if you want. It may seem safe here since it's quiet, but it's not contained."
"Thanks, but no. I have to stay here. It's hard to explain."
"No need," Reid said.
The men ate and shared stories of loved ones lost, or in Morgna's case, out of touch. Hotchner suggested they stay for the night and Reid quickly said 'Yes!' Hotchner showed them to his son Jack's old room.
"I hope you don't mind bunk beds," he said with a laugh. "I'll get you up at 8:00 and we'll get you that ammo."
"Thanks Hotchner," Morgan said. "Goodnight."
Hotchner closed the door and Reid raced up the ladder of the beds.
"I call top bunk," he said.
"I honestly don't care. I just need a mattress and I'm happy." Morgan collapsed on the bed and toed off his shoes.
"I think I had these dinosaur sheets when I was a boy," Reid said.
"I had one of those beds shaped like a race car," Morgan admitted.
"Now why doesn't that surprise me?"
"Shut up and go to sleep."
"Goodnight to you too Morgan."
Morning came faster than they would have liked. Hotchner helped them carry their ammunition outside and into the sidecar.
"I'd say if you were ever in the area, drop in and say hi, but..."
"You never know," Reid said. He hugged Hotchner. "Thank you."
"And thank you. You guys be safe."
"You too," Morgan said. He started the bike and they drove out of Victorsburg and out of California.