The Loving Dead
A/N: Well thanks for clicking on my pilot chapter, go ahead and give yourself a pat on the back for trying something new, I'll wait. Done patting? Good, now, back to the story. I'll go ahead and say now that this is a story that does feature evil Shane, simply because I don't believe in sugar coating things. I won't make Shane a nice guy because... he wasn't. He was obsessive and frankly dangerous. And I don't think he just snapped and turned in the homicidal fellow we were left with throughout the entire second season and a bit of the first. He always had those little demons nagging at him deep down inside, I think. The end of the world pushes everyone to their limits, physically and mentally, and then pushes even more. Adapt or snap, poor Shane snapped. But, that being said, this is a tale of redemption. This fiction will narrate a two people, pushed into the deepest, darkest fathoms of our psyches, that people everywhere fear to even acknowledge, and returning from those wicked depths. As you may have noticed from the summary, Bridgette is schizophrenic. She is the worst case scenario when it comes to mental illness in the end of the world. We'll start easy and slowly get more inside her head, simply because you need to be eased in to understand her thought process. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask. If you have any comments, let's hear 'em. Oh, and before we get started I do want to say that I'm from the south and I cannot begin to describe to you how hot it gets in the summer, or how disgusting you get and feel within an hour of being outside, even in the shade. So, please, don't think I'm exagerating. Let's get started! =^.^=
Chapter One
Comfortably Numb
"There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move
But I can't hear
what you're saying
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt
just like two balloons
Now I've got that feeling once again I can't
explain
You would not understand
This is not how I am
I... have become comfortably numb"
The stretch of abandoned cars was as eternal as the stretch of highway under Bridgette's feet. Sweat drenches her brow, her dirty hair clings to her head. It hangs on her skull like a second chestnut skin. The unforgiving sun torments her once porcelain skin, it's burnt, grimey, and nearly hangs off her frame. Once lithe and pleasing to the eye, now a near-hollow shell of a broken mind and a frail soul. She shuffles along the trail of cars, eyes glazed and clothes tattered. She looks like one of them. The Family, she calls them.
"Fly away, Lil' Bird!" The voice echoes eerily and she pauses in her walk, casting her eyes to the left and spots two of the Family, sharing a still-warm meal. The Family don't spare her as much as a glance whilst they feast. "Fly away, Lil' Bird!" her eyes find the face of a boy, no more than eleven. His face is serene, but his eyes hold a wicked mockery. His nose seems too large for his face, his hair is dark and naturally curly, a genetic testament to his Italian heritage. He smiles, almost condescendingly. No, Bridgette decides, it is condescension in his features she sees.
"Fly away, Lil' Bird!" His voice changes, deepens.
"Leave her alone," Another voice cuts in and one of the Family turns to her, his face just as familiar as the first. Compassionate blue eyes meet hers. His hair is considerably lighter than the other's and his skin hints at an English descent. "Leaver her alone, man. She ain't done nothing to you." He creeps closer and Bridgette raises her revolver.
"Aw, you don't care, do you? Huh, Lil' Bird?" The first one grins wider, mocking her. "Just as long as someone'll talk to ya and not about ya, am I right?" He's aged more now. Whereas once he was a middle school boy, he looks to be a sophomore in high school.
"Don't listen to him," The second says softly, coming closer with arms extended and fingers flexing into claws. "He just don' understand." With that, Bridgette squeezes the trigger, the report makes her ears ring but the Family falls over. Dead again. Without a second thought; she fires at the remaining Family and shuffles away again, the dark-skinned meal shouting at her back: "Fly away, Lil' Bird, fly away!"
Bridgette grips the gun lightly, her fingers barely maintaining a hold on the old revolver. She found it on one of the Family a long time ago. She was grateful for the gift. Even being so kind as to feed the Family a bullet at its request.
"Fly away, Lil' Bird, fly away!" She could still hear the infernal mockery and it was grating on her nerves.
"This way for water," She said aloud, a jovial tone to lighten the mood. Her feet carried her off the highway and into the brush, vines of thorns pulling harshly at her clothes and ragged shoes as she went. The mere question of how she knew annoyed her greatly and tried her lacking social graces. There was water this way because there was. Nothing else to tell, she would say.
She dragged herself along an unseen path, shuffling through the vegetation under the command of her deepest, most primal thoughts. "Keep this way," they ordered. "This way to water."
The sun had reached its highest perch in the sky when she heard it: the sound of splashing water. Not the steady trickle and fall of a creek or small stream, but erratic splashing. Her pace quickened and soon she heard laughter, loud and enticing. She nearly stumbled out of the tree line. Bridgette sank to her knees, carefully observing the group of women. Settled in a line on the adjacent bank of the quarry and all dutifully scrubbing clothes. Nearest the water, leaning against the steep downward slope a pretty blonde woman ocassionally reached into the water and splashed the younger woman of similiar hair beside her. Bridgette was content to watch the women work and provide her with some semblance of what the world used to be. A thing Bridgette couldn't quite recall. The revolver slipped from her fingers and she bed herself on the leaves of the forest floor while she watched the living work.
A harsh prod at her neck made her stiffen, Bridgette turned her head and stared up the neck of a crossbow, ready to fire. "Don' you fuckin' move," A thickly accented voice commanded. Bridgette looked about the ground, a puzzled look on her face.
"Have you seen my gun?" She asked sweetly. "It was a gift and I think I misplaced it. I would hate to lose it. It was a gift, you know."
The crossbow was thrust closer to her face. "You gon' have a lot more ta worry 'bout if ya don' hold still!"
Bridgette slowly rose to her feet, the crossbow remaining perfectly level with her forehead as she stood. She held a single finger to her lips. "Hush now," She whispered. "Make not a peep. You'll disturb the Family in their sleep."
His blue eyes narrowed as they bore into her listless own. "Have you seen my gun?" She asked again. "It was a gift, you know."
"Yeah, I heard," He answered sharply. "How long you been out here?"
"Oh," She exhaled loudly. "Impossible to know."
A hand roughly grabbed her shoulder and directed her towards the quarry. "Don't do anything stupid, girl." He hissed and the crossbow was pressed into her back, prodding her forward.
"Yes, yes, that seems fair," she agreed.
The women on the bank stopped their work to watch Bridgette pass. She offered a smile and a wave. "Pleasure to meet you!" She greeted, but none were returned.
Up the slope and following a rough trail, Bridgette was escorted through a ring of tents and into a large clearing. Atop an R.V an older man watched the two approach, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Sit down," The crossbow was shoved into her side and Bridgette made a seat of the gravel.
"Fly away, Lil' Bird!" The voice pricked at her ears again. She searched the clearing for the source only to find none. "Fly away, Lil' Bird!" Another direction this time. She resolved to ignore it.
"What's this all about?" A rougher voice asked.
"Found her spying on the women," The weilder of the crossbow answered. "Couldn't just let her go."
Bridgette watched military boots approach through the curtain of her dirty hair while she kept her head bowed. "What's your name?" The new arrival asked.
Bridgette's mind was elsewhere, she gave no reply save for the twitch of her fingers.
"She ain't right," Her escort grumbled. "Somethin's wrong with her."
She continued to stare at the ground and the new arrival crouched down in front of her. "Hey, what's your name?" His voice was softer this time.
Bridgette raised her head and met his gaze. Yes, this was the same man. She was sure of it. His nose seemed a bit more crooked now, though still a bit too large. His thick curly hair had yet to change over the years.
"Can you tell me your name?" He pushed.
Bridgette leaned against him, cupping a hand to his ear as if to share a secret. "Fly away, Lil' Bird," She whispered.
He drew back from her as if she had struck him. His brown eyes squinted at her, a hand came up to move aside a few strands of her hair away from her face and recognition dawned on him. "Bridgette Miller?" He asked, a bit unbelieving of what he sees before him.
The listless, dull grey left her eyes then, if only for a moment. In that moment, the old, intelligent blue sparkled again. But faded just as quickly as it came. "Have you seen my gun?" She touched his shoulder. "It was a gift and I think I misplaced it."
"That's the fourth time she's said that," The other grumbled.
"Oh, God," His voice was mournful, Bridgette could hear a low sob deep in his chest. He took her hand, "Oh, Lil' Bird, what happened to you?"
A/N: Well, there it is: the first chapter. Let me know what you think. I am going to update soon and I have the second chapter in the works as we speak. But if I don't get any feedback, I won't think finishing it and posting it is worth the effort. So please, at least take a moment to say "This isn't a waste of time!". It would be greatly appreciated.
-Kat
