Author's Notes: Um. I haven't written anything for a while so bear with me on this! I tried not to focus so much on the relationship between Francis and Rochelle because that is not the main feature of the story... Something else is. I intend on writing more parts, but of course reviews would let me know what to improve on for next time! I honestly would really appreciate you taking a few moments out of your time to drop me a line, letting me know what you thought. I hope you enjoy the story!
"So how does it feel," Zoey said, in between bites of her burger, "knowing that this time tomorrow you'll be married?"
Rochelle paused, a pang of nervousness striking through her belly as that fact sank in. She chewed on her food thoughtfully for a moment – swallowed – and then, "Scary" she answered, honestly. Zoey laughed.
"I'll admit, I would never have thought that Francis would be the first one of us to settle down," Zoey said, hiding a smile behind her hand. She meant no ill intent, Rochelle realised, and smiled in response. They ate their food in silence for a while, each left to their own thoughts. Rochelle's were geared towards her 'big day' tomorrow, and idly she wondered how Francis was doing. 'He's probably a nervous wreck,' she thought to herself. Unbidden, a memory of a crying bride returned to her, but she quickly shook it off, not wanting her mood to be spoiled by those memories.
A gruff voice cut through her thoughts, coming from behind Rochelle, "I expected Lewis to get hitched before the lot of you." The bride-to-be turned, expecting to see a co-worker she just hadn't noticed when she came in, but saw no one. She frowned. She could have sworn she'd heard someone addressing her and Zoey's conversation. But no – nobody was even looking at her. They were just eating their lunches, or complaining about something or another – the usual hustle and bustle of a fast food restaurant at lunchtime. Rochelle turned back to face her friend, dismissing the whole thing entirely. 'The nerves are making me hear things,' she reasoned to herself.
Suddenly, a familiar drawl came from behind Rochelle –"s'cuse me ladies, might a grubby mechanic take a seat beside yer beautiful selves?" Rochelle turned, smiling at Ellis, and gestured for him to take a seat beside her.
"How did that final rehearsal thing go on?" Ellis asked, biting enthusiastically into his food. Nick silently took a seat beside him, his smartly dressed self looking a little strange in the fast food joint, looking distastefully at his own food with a sigh. 'He must've been dragged here again by Ellis,' Rochelle thought to herself with a faint smile. Those two were just so precious together. Ellis was either completely unfazed by his boyfriends' elitism, or he genuinely didn't see it. They made a strange couple.
"It wasn't a rehearsal, Ellis," Zoey chimed in, "it was a check to make sure everything was okay with the dress."
"What's the diff'rence?" Ellis asked, after finishing his mouthful. Nick rolled his eyes.
"It means she stood in front of a mirror for an hour wearing her dress. Might as well get some extra wear out of it." Zoey shot Nick a mean look, and would have retorted to his cynical response, had her mouth not been full of burger.
"Nick, shouldn't you be with Francis? To make sure he doesn't leave me at the altar?" Rochelle asked, only half serious. Nick snorted, playing with the fries on his tray.
"He wouldn't leave you. Don't be stupid." Nick assured her, though his tone remained perfectly stoic. But that was just Nick's way, and no one would have him any other way.
"He sees things through to the end. No need to worry."
There was that voice again! Rochelle whipped around, hoping to catch whoever it was before they left. She gazed around at each person in the joint, knowing it mustn't be her imagination. Still, she saw no one looking at her, or even close to her – the mass of people from before was all but gone, most people heading back to work now that their break was over.
"Rochelle? Are you okay?" Zoey asked, noticing her friend looking around. Rochelle slowly turned back to face her friend, and realised that the group were staring at her. She smiled brightly.
"I'm fine!" She chirped, pushing her tray away from her – she couldn't stomach anymore food. She was certain she had heard a voice – but where had it come from? Maybe she was just worrying about tomorrow too much, and her brain was cracking under the pressure. That must be it. She cast her mind back, wondering whether any of her family had a history of mental illnesses. She couldn't remember. Like everyone else, Rochelle had tried to forget about life before 'the event.' People who couldn't often went crazy, wandering around in an inconsolable state, oddly reminiscent of the zombies they had once outrun and killed. Often they were seen being shoved away or avoided by other townspeople, as if somehow their depression was infectious. In some ways, perhaps it was – reminders of what happened only saddened the community, unsettling the younger children and causing all sorts of problems. Such people were rarely ever seen again after the authorities got wind of their behaviour. Again, this was something no one ever acknowledged – or, at least, not publicly. All of a sudden, Rochelle felt awful about forgetting, about never missing her parents or childhood friends. Even when asking Zoey if she would be a bridesmaid, not once did Rochelle think about the promise she had made to her best friend, Elyshia – that they would be each others' bridesmaids, that they would be the one to help the other pick out the perfect wedding dress...
"Rochelle, are you okay? You don't look well," Zoey asked, concerned. She leaned forward to check her friend's temperature, but her hand was swatted away.
"I'm fine," Rochelle insisted, forcing a smile, turning away from those dark thoughts. It would only make her sad on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, if she considered such things now. And Rochelle wasn't prepared to have her wedding day to the man she loved clouded by ghosts from the past. "Really," she added, firmly, seeing the look of disbelief on her friends' face. Even Ellis was considering her features with a thoughtful look on his face. She shook her head, hoping that her memories would be shaken off with it.
Nick, having only eaten half of his fries, put the rest of it on Ellis' tray, along with his salad and drink. "I don't want it," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with a napkin and rising to his feet. "I guess I'd better see where your future husband is," he announced with a wink at Rochelle, who rolled her eyes playfully in response. He glanced only for a second at Ellis. "See you later, Ellis."
"Yeah, see you," Ellis said, bent over his tray in apparent earnest. Rochelle's heart panged with sorrow for them. When a society was trying to rebuild itself, doing so by repopulating the community with fresh, unblemished persons, people such as Ellis and Nick were frowned upon. So in public they could not hold hands, or kiss, or do anything remotely romantic, lest it gave the game away and they were ostracized by their peers. Nick always said that he didn't care what anyone else thought, but he appreciated that life was a lot easier without the hassle being together publicly would bring. So he simply left – instead of kissing Ellis on the cheek, he clapped him on the shoulder, a mere expression of friendship, and left the joint without looking back.
Sometimes, Ellis would not look back either, because he knew it was bad and he could get himself – and Nick – into major trouble for it. But this time, he slyly snuck a glance over his shoulder as Nick left, under the pretence he was getting more sauce for his fries. Rochelle felt for them, she truly did. Hopefully they would be able to express themselves tomorrow more than they normally would, she reasoned with herself. It will be dark, and alcohol would be the perfect excuse for any public displays of affection noticed by anyone likely to blab. It wasn't good enough, and Rochelle knew that, and she wished things were different for them – but this was how it was, and that was that.
The rest of the day occurred without incident. Rochelle received many phone calls from her co-workers, wishing her a great day tomorrow and suchlike. After the event, Rochelle had been given the job of a reporter. Though she had never done anything like this during her time before the event, the Government were so hard pressed for people willing to do it that she had no choice but to accept. Similarly, Coach found himself teaching a small group of seven year olds, rather than physical education for older kids – Ellis worked for a long time on military vehicles, and was only recently receiving custom from citizens who had been able to buy a car – As for Nick, he drifted from job to job, never really being clear as to what work he was involved in from one day to the next. It drove Ellis mad sometimes, but everyone else had learned to just let Nick get on with it. He would never let himself – or Ellis, for that matter – starve, and that was the important thing, in Rochelle's mind. He took good care of her friend.
Initially, Rochelle had been sent on assignments designed to boost morale of the new community. She did a few pieces on Coach's efforts to educate young children (naturally, Coach's curriculum boasted a strong emphasis on sports and fitness, of course), and often went to the reopening of buildings and offices. Now, she was reporting on 'real' news, and that suited her fine. She got to meet many interesting people, and as more people were allowed to settle in their little community, the news crew grew in size and soon enough, Rochelle was teaching enthusiastic trainees how to operate the equipment. Though some of these people dropped out, or went to work for other news stations that were springing up after a while, they had always thought and spoke highly of her, and Rochelle was touched by their thoughtfulness before her big day. It did increase her nervousness however, and she found herself becoming more subdued as the day went on, much to Zoey's distress – she wasn't convinced that her friend was well. Nevertheless, Rochelle made a conscious effort to appear as composed as always, for her friends' sake as much as it was for her own.
And yet, while she was enjoying herself and trying to quash her nervousness, she couldn't help but feel uneasy. She just knew she had heard a voice speak to her earlier. There was no way she could have imagined it. Occasionally she would glance behind her, uneasily. She just couldn't shake off the feeling that somehow she was being watched.
Still, she got through the day, and she didn't hear the voice again. They were back at Rochelle and Francis' house – though Francis wasn't there, of course; he would be staying at Nick and Ellis' for the evening. Zoey shuffled on her feet uneasily at the doorway. Her instinct told her that even if it was just nerves, something wasn't right with Rochelle.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay tonight? I honestly don't mind," Zoey offered, for the hundredth time that evening. Her brow was creased in concern for her friend.
"Trust me, I'm fine," Rochelle said again, very firmly this time. She appreciated Zoey's concern, but she just wanted her own space now to reflect on the enormity of what was happening tomorrow. "You're coming over early tomorrow morning, so I won't be alone for long. I will be FINE." She said, putting extra emphasis on the last word. Zoey tilted her head to the side, as if considering her friend. She must have been satisfied with what she saw, because she sighed.
"Okay, you win. I'll see you in the morning, okay? If you need anything, just call. If not, then I'll just see you at 8am sharp!" Zoey waved her goodbye, wandering off into the night. Rochelle smiled, shaking her head after her friend and locking the door behind her as she stepped into the house. She kicked off her shoes and simply listened to the quiet around her. There was no noise from inside the house. It was unusual. Francis would normally be there to greet her, or there would be a note from him on the table. But today was no ordinary day, and so there was no greeting – he was staying at Ellis and Nick's house for the evening – and so there was no note.
Usually this wouldn't bother Rochelle. She had faced scary stuff before, in the event. But her anxiety over hearing voices earlier, coupled with her nervousness for the wedding tomorrow made her feel really uneasy. Her stomach wasn't quite at the stage where she felt sick, but she could feel it getting there.
Rochelle shook her head, as if that would dispel the nervousness. It didn't. She closed and then opened her eyes again. She decided to go to her bedroom, and threw herself down onto the bed, without bothering to turn the light on; there was enough light coming in from the lamppost outside. She caught a whiff of Francis' natural scent on the sheets, and sighed, inhaling deeply to try and gain more of that scent. She would miss him tonight. They had barely been apart since they were assigned to the same little area after the event. But one night apart in exchange for a lifetime of evenings together was well worth the wait, she decided to herself with a small smile, though this thought only caused her nervousness to resurface. She felt her heart flutter at the thought of being his wife, and inhaled his scent again. It soothed her somewhat, quashing her pre-marital fears.
'If anyone could see me,' Rochelle thought to herself, sinking her face into the crisp, clean sheets, rocking her body from side to side as she began to feel calm and relaxed, 'they would think I'm nuts, going around sniffing the bed sheets like this...'
The sound of a cigarette lighter opening startled Rochelle from her reverie. She bolted upright and grabbed the gun in her bedside cabinet, eyes frantically scanning the room for signs of life. Her mouth went dry, her heart pounding in her ears.
There, in the corner, sat an old man wearing a green beret and matching military garb. His face was stern-looking, grizzled by a shock of white hair reaching from the beret to his chin. He shielded the flame from his lighter from a breeze that wasn't there, and Rochelle's blood ran cold as realisation dawned upon her...
"What?" The veteran asked, completely nonchalant. He lit his cigarette, and the flame extinguished, casting his face into darkness once again. Rochelle could barely make out his outline in the darkened room, but she knew his intense, blue eyes were looking right at her, as if they could pierce her skin and look into her very soul. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Rochelle kept her pistol carefully trained on the figure in the corner, trying to tell herself that this wasn't happening, she wasn't really seeing a ghost in her room, let alone a ghost with a sour sense of humour, that she was dreaming and she would wake up any second now, any second now...
"Jesus H Christ woman, if you're gonna shoot me, might as well get it over with," Bill said, not at all threatened by the gun in Rochelle's shaking hands. He wasn't smiling. She could really go ahead and shoot, if she felt it would make a difference.
Rochelle lowered the gun. She simply stared. She wanted to say so many things, about how well Zoey, Lewis and Francis - her dear, dear Francis – spoke about him, how she was sorry for the way in which he died, that Zoey has never forgiven herself, that Lewis has always felt that it should have been him that died that night...
"You look so real," She said bluntly, stupidly. Bill nodded indulgently, patiently. He still wasn't smiling. He smoked his cigarette. He flicked ash towards the carpet, but it never landed, simply dissipating in midair before it could reach the floor. Rochelle was thankful for that, somewhere in her mind.
"So you were the one talking to me earlier today," Rochelle said, sinking backwards onto the bed behind her. Never once did she take her eyes off Bill, lest he disappear and she could honestly say that yes, she was crazy. She even felt uncomfortable blinking.
Bill nodded, eyeing a photograph of Francis and Rochelle on the wall. They were standing outside their house on the day they moved in together, and were radiant with happiness. 'Taciturn, just as he has always been described by the others,' Rochelle thought dimly to herself.
"Why are you here?" Rochelle asked, wondering why on earth she was fighting to get a conversation out of someone who had appeared to her. Surely he had some message, or divine guidance for her that he needed to impart before reaching his final resting place?
Bill shot her a firm look. "Do I need a reason to see an old friend?"
"Francis isn't here," she replied, her eyes misting as she thought of him not being able to see his good friend. Bill waved a hand at that, as if impatient with her.
"I'll be seeing them all later, don't worry about that," He lit another cigarette. He puffed a cloud of not-really-real smoke towards her, perhaps unintentionally. It was odourless – yet another reminder to Rochelle that this man was no longer of this world.
Bill considered her, sizing her up. It made Rochelle feel uncomfortable. What did he mean by calling her an old friend? Had he been watching her for a while now? Had she seen him before the event and just simply forgotten about him?
"I think you two make a good match," Bill said finally, scratching at his beard in thought. Once again, those piercing grey eyes were fixed on Rochelle, and the look was so intense she nearly had to look away. "You've both got a fire in your bellies. And you make him happy. It's good to see him settling down at last." He shot her a smile, the first she had seen on his face all evening, and it made Rochelle's heart ache. She could tell from that smile that Bill had always genuinely cared for and loved her husband-to-be – his sacrifice had not been made in vain. Francis was achieving things he would not have been able to, had it not been for Bill's love for them all. It almost pained Rochelle that she had not had the opportunity to meet with the fellow while he was alive; he was obviously an astonishing man.
"And, hell, I'm glad he's finally found something else he doesn't hate," Bill finished, with a chuckle. He sounded so heartfelt that Rochelle couldn't help but laugh along with him. Illusion or not – and Rochelle wasn't quite sure whether he was or he wasn't at this point – she felt tears brim and overflow from her eyes. It was a happy kind of sadness – happy in that she had the opportunity to meet with the person who had ensured Francis' survival – but sad that this encounter could not last. Bill must have known intuitively why she was upset, and he grimaced a little, but didn't say anything.
They stayed like that for a little while longer. Rochelle made sure to memorise every detail of Bill at that moment in time – from the way his lighter illuminated his face as he lit yet another cigarette, from the way he sat, the hue of his clothes... everything. She truly felt sorrowful that she had not known Bill during his lifetime, because now she was certain she had never met him before. It made Rochelle crave for things she would have had in her life before the event – she would have been able to pay her respects at an actual gravesite, for instance. But this just wasn't possible – like the rest of the bodies found – whether those of the infected, or those of survivors who, like Bill, were just unlucky – they were burned en masse by the government and the ashes secured away somewhere. Bill didn't seem to mind the quiet perusal, and seemed content simply with sitting in the presence of another.
It seemed like a long time before Bill stirred, tucking away his cigarettes and lighter inside his jacket. "I suppose I'd better be making a move. Got a lot of stops to make tonight. I'm like goddamn Santa on Christmas Eve."
Rochelle nodded, understanding, smiling a little at the joke.
Bill tipped his hat to the young lady, giving her a small smile. "May tomorrow be the happiest day of your life," he said. Rochelle's eyes once again filled with tears, and she nodded again.
"Thank you," she whispered, her throat sore from crying. "Could you make me a promise?" She blurted out, just as Bill was turning away from her. He faced her again, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Rochelle swallowed the lump in her throat.
"Please... Make sure you visit Zoey tonight. She took..." How did Rochelle put it? Bill was obviously aware that he was dead, but would he be offended if he was reminded of the fact? "... She took what happened harder than the others," she continued truthfully. She absently fiddled with the gun in her hands, embarrassed. "I think she hides it from the others, but Louis, especially, worries about her."
Bill considered Rochelle again for a long moment, and for a second, it looked as if a trace of fear crossed the veteran's face. It could have simply been a trick of the light – Bill was not described by the others as having fear. No, Rochelle decided, she must have been mistaken. For him to have sacrificed what he did for the sake of the others' happiness, to ensure that they go on living without him in a zombie-free future, Bill could not have had any fear. He was a fearless warrior, and Rochelle had no doubts in her mind that even as those Tanks had descended upon him, Bill had felt no regrets or fear in his heart.
Then, the moment was gone, and Bill broke eye contact with the bride-to-be. He nodded. "There's no point in making a promise when that's what I was going to do anyway," Bill told her, quietly. He turned away from her again, and without saying goodbye, left Rochelle alone in her room, staring at the now empty corner. She let herself fall back against her bed, cushioned by the soft mattress. She glanced over at the clock at her bedside: 23:03.
She really needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
Author's Notes: I intend on writing more parts based on the interactions with other characters and Bill. Um. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, as always! Take care!