A Walking Dead tale...
Corner of Cavendish and Lincoln St
162 days post-outbreak
0120 Hours
The walker had died instantly, a single throwing blade puncturing its left eye just above the cheek. It had toppled forward over a stone railing into the courtyard below, its skull shattering with a loud crack as he hit the pavement. A puddle of blood the darkest crimson in the moonlight began to pool around him. Once, it had been a bright and friendly nineteen year old. Good grades, excellent at athletics and a promising future in biology. Then the Black Fever took him, and he would never know joy or love or even fear again. He would never be late for class or feel tired after running practice. Only hunger. An insatiable hunger for the flesh of the living.
Silently, a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows and darted down the stairway to the courtyard. Dark, keen eyes scanned the vicinity for danger and once finding none, slunk down over the corpse with an agile hand. Quickly she moved through pocket and pouch with deft ease, and the figure rose to examine the bounty. A golden pocketwatch, frozen in time. The moonlight danced across the polished glass surface. Enscribed on the back was "Dale Vinci Sr 1956" She tucked it back inside the pocket and kept searching. The usual things a teenager would carry. A phone, a wallet...nothing of interest...
A half eaten packet of gum. Mint flavor.
Useless...
Retrieving the throwing blade with a sickening pop, the figure paused to wipe clean its honed edge on the sweater of the corpse below her. A sticky trail of coagulated blood oozed from blade. Rolling the corpse over she checked the back pockets and found a small multitool. This she retrieved, having lost her own a few weeks back in an office block.
Footsteps...below...coming nearer...
Danger.
She slid to the edge of the building and hunched down, drawing her dark trenchcoat around her. On the back were patterns of dark grey and dark blue which served to cover and conceal when drawn around oneself, so only her steel blue eyes penetrated the night through her hood. Carefully she peered over the edge.
A group of men were slowly coming up the terrace below towards them. Further down the street amongst the smouldering ruins of cars and debris, dark shapes shambled and stumbled through the night. The dead eyes of mankind lost stared out into an abyss. She shot a glance back at the door above, feeling a slight tingling sensation just above her brow as a bead of sweat splashed to the slick obsidian tile floor. She closed her eyes and thought of Marie hiding in the room above her.
I'm...scared...
Her gloved hand unconciously gripped the holster of the .22 semi-automatic tucked into her belt. Swiftly she moved to the landing above and through the doorway. Trouble was coming...they had to leave.
Through the door into the darkness of the apartment building, she gingerly stepped over fallen debris and broken glass, moving towards the staircase in the corner. The floorboards creaked and groaned softly as she inched toward a small room opposite the stairs. As her eyes adjusted to the murky dark, she made out a shape...a small girl with long waist length black hair. Big, dark innocent eyes stared up at her, round with fear.
"Jora..." the girl whimpered. Jora darted to the childs side, gently placing a hand over her mouth and embraced her close. Her skin was cold against Jora's cheek, and her body trembled.
Moving slowly to the opposite corner she held Marie against her side as she peered out the second story window to the street below,
Six of them...armed...
Her gaze narrowed as the men came into view. They were tall and dark skinned, bandanas fashioned into masks concealing their faces. They wore thick sweatshirts and dark tracksuits of various sporting designs and logos.
Bandits...probably Flannerys crew...shit
One strode slightly ahead of the others. A brute of a man, his massive biceps were heavily tattooed and he wore basketball cap to one side. In his left hand was a large aluminium baseball bat, which he swung back and forth as the group came down the street. The other men brandished crowbars and hammers, one was swinging a chain...whatever tools of violence was at hand. Jora strained to hear against the almost deafening silence of the night. She heard shouting...no...laughing...
"...was totally dope man! You like, totally blew your chances..."
She strained harder to hear more...they were only a hundred yards or so away.
"I don't give a fuck Browny...if we go back to Flannery empty handed a blown chance is the least of ya worries now shut the fuck up and lets clear these houses..."
The man named Browny cast smirk and flipped the other man the finger. He turned to the remaining men behind him and barked muffled orders as they spread out around the street below.
Well at least we know the chain of command...
The men disappeared out of view.
Her heart was pounding in her chest now, a thin line of persperation trickling down her face. She gulped the musty night air and brushed it aside. She could hear them rummaging around the loading dock behind the building, tossing about rubble and junk with complete disregard to the lurking horrors of the dark.
Fools...a fool and his life are soon parted...
Jora lifted the back of Marie's sweater to expose a bandage wrapped around her lower abdomen. The bite had mostly, and mysteriously, healed but it was still dark and angry red around the edges. It was warm to the touch unlike the rest of the small girls' flesh.
"Marie we have to go there's trouble..."
A window smashed downstairs, the loud shattering sound piercing her heart as surely as if the shards had done so. They were surrounded. She clutched the gun in her belt absent-mindedly with her right hand, her left going to the throwing knives inside her coat. She squeezed shut her eyes and almost forgot breathe.
Only enough bullets for us...
Marie quivered with fear, clutchig Jora around the waist tightly. She peered up with frightened eyes as she fought back tears. Her mouth opened and closed slightly but nothing came out.
"I...I'm scared." she fumbled to say.
I want to go home!
Jora almost staggered with the intensity of the emotion, her vision swimming and fading slightly. She caught her breath and closed her eyes, before holding Marie against her chest tightly. Jora caressed her hair, brushing it from her eyes and wiping away the tears. She held her hands and looked at her firmly.
"I'm scared too," she whispered, "Follow me, be quiet...and keep your thoughts down...we must concentrate..." Marie nodded silently, grasping Jora's palms with a whiteknuckle grip. Jora silently drew the .22 and ejected the magazine. Four bullets. Slapping the magazine back in and cocking the weapon, the pair edged to the top of the stairs and peered into the cavenous darkness below...