/AN: So my aunt sent me this meme that said, "I hope I can still remember the choreography for 'Thriller' when I become a zombie," and then almost forty five minutes later, this fic was born!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Walking Dead, Thriller, or the meme I got this inspiration from./
Rick and Daryl are back to back, their breaths shallow and ragged. Daryl had used his last arrow on a walker a few yards away and Rick hadn't seen a bullet for quite some time. Rick took a look at his bloodied knife and then at the horde of zombies that were quickly surrounding them.
"Looks like this is it," he said, not seeing any other escape route.
Daryl didn't reply. He was tired, so tired. They had both lost so many people... He had never really believed in an afterlife. It had always seemed too good to be true. Death would come as a relief after running for so long... but he wouldn't go down without a fight.
"If I'm going down, I'm taking all of these SOB's with me. Daryl replied at last.
The smallest of smiles graced Rick's rough features. He mustered up the last bit of fight he had in him and nodded.
"Alright then."
The walkers were close enough now that Daryl could smell their rancid, sour breath and see the whites of their rolling, unfocused eyes. Just as he was about to lunge for the kill, the horde of undead paused in their tracks.
The geek that was closest to Rick looked like an old wind up toy that had lost its go power. Daryl glanced at Rick for a brief second gauging the expression he found there. Rick looked just as confused as he felt.
Suddenly, and with no warning, the usually unwavering legion of undead stood straight up and began moving all at once. They moved as if they had been choreographed, to the left, the the right, Rick and Darryl watched.
"Is that - are they?" Darryl couldn't find the words.
"Looks like they're dancing to Thriller without the music..." Rick replied slowly, not believing his eyes. He had to be dreaming. None of this could be real.
As Rick and Darryl watched on in shock, the crowd of zombies began to part down the middle, dancing still, until finally the Governor himself appeared in front of the pair, dressed as Michael Jackson.
"Enjoy the show, boys? I know i did." A psychotic grin played on Phillip's lips. He too, then began to dance along, seemingly leading the others and -
Rik woke in a cold sweat, panting hard. He ran a hand down his face and sat up. What had he ate last night that caused him to dream up such crazy things?
He looked at Lori who was still asleep next to him and then to the tequila bottle on the bedside table. Rick sighed in spite of himself and willed his hands to stop shaking.
Finally, his ears began to pick up a noise from down stairs. Quietly, he grabbed the wooden baseball bat that he kept just inside the door to their room and began the decent into the den.
The glow in the dark clock on the wall had been installed mostly for Carl, but Rick and Lori both had found it useful. It read, 3:43.
Once Rick had reached the den, he found Carl asleep on the couch. The tv had been left on and MTV was playing a late night Michael Jackson special.
That, compared with the tequila definitely explained the weird dream. Rick took a breath and set down the bat so that he could pick up Carl and tuck him back in bed. He would have a talk with him in the morning before school. In the mean time, he would go back to bed and remember to stay far away from tequila and classic 80s music... or maybe just the alcohol.
/AN: So this was my first Walking Dead fanfic, and I'm not sure how it did, especially because it was written so quickly. Leave a review and tell me how I did, please!
-Kit/