Hiya, and welcome to my fic. It's been a while since I've written anything and I'm currently re-doing a lot of my old fics, and I have decided that I would like to continue to try a write a somewhat plausible walking dead fic.
Anyway, hope you enjoy.
Updated: 31/10/18 | Word Count: 2,247
The lost and the forgotten
Chapter one: seventeen hours and counting
"So, how's life been treating you as of late." Asks Faith, dipping one of her few remaining fries into a smear of ketchup before eating it.
She shrugs, staring out the window beside her as someone in the diner's kitchen coughs heavily, making her wonder just how safe their food was to eat. She doesn't want to end up catching that super flu that's been going around, she can't afford the time off work for one.
"Okay, I guess." She watches as people shuffle around on the street in front of her, pale in the face and coughing up a storm into their hands and coat sleeves while others do their best to avoid them. "My landlord's still a racist, sexist asshole who needs an attitude adjustment and my housemates are just as weird as ever. But, apart from that my life's been going pretty well."
Her phone vibrates then and she pulls it out of her jacket pocket to check it. Before, turning it off with a frustrated sigh, placing it back in her pocket when she sees who it is that sent her the message.
"How's your mom doing these days, Amelia?" Inquires Faith, knowing full well who the message was from, they'd talked briefly about her mother's relentless slew of messages a few days back. "She's trying to get in touch with you again, right?"
She grimaces, slouching back into her seat as she remembers the other hundred or so voicemail and text messages she had left in the passing week. "I don't know and I don't care. She can go jump off a cliff for all I care."
Her friends sighs, tapping her fingers on the table as the waitress a tall, thin girl with a freckled face and long mousy brown hair and who looks no older than fifteen appears back at the table. "Are you finished with your plates?" Inquires the girl with a timid smile.
"I am." Said Amelia. "How about you, Faith?"
"Yeah, I'm finished." She says, pausing her tapping to hand the girl her plate. "Thanks."
"Are y'all good. Do you want me to getcha anything else? Refills? Dessert?"
They both shake their heads in unison. "Nope, we're good, just finishing up actually." Replies Faith and the waitress who's name is supposedly Amber if her name tag is anything to go by smiles at them. Before, scurrying away to dispose of their plates and serve another set of sniffling customers sat on the opposite side of the diner.
"You finally done with her then?" Said Faith, resuming the tapping of her fingers on her near empty glass of cola.
Amelia shoots her friend a confused look. Until she remembers who their previous conversation had been about before they had been interrupted.
She sighs, twirling the straw of her milkshake between her fingers. "I just don't know what I'm doing any more faith." She said, watching the waitress pour a fresh cup of coffee for one of the sickly looking customers. "I'm tired. I'm tired of her lies and I'm tired of her criticisms and I'm tired of being her daughter." It hurts her to say it, kills her in fact. But, as they say, it's not like you can choose who you're related to. "It's the same old thing each and every time. She either wants me to load her some money, or she's going to beg me to take a long trip up to Atlanta to visit her again."
"And are you?" Asks Faith. "Because we both know that's a bad idea."
Amelia sighs, remembering what happened the last time she was roped into visiting her mother, and how even now, months later she's still trying to pick up the pieces and duct tape her life back together again. "I'm not picking my phone and ringing her back am I." The words sound comical even to her own ears. They both know how the story goes by now, her mother will wear her down with phone calls and text messages and even emails. Until, Amelia eventually gives in and picks up the phone and is inevitably baited into whatever it is her mother wants from her, only to be left high and dry when her mothers finally gotten what she wants from her.
"Well, I still think it's a bad idea." She says, reaching for her glass and drinking the last of her cola.
"I-" She says before cutting herself off. She's known Faith for a good long while now, to the extent where the it's sometimes hard to imagine that the smiling, down to earth redhead in front of her was once a screaming, angry mess of a girl, who'd been thrown into the nearest psych ward because nobody gave a damn to question why a fifteen-year-old girl was turning up to school with a new set of bruises each day. "It's just hard to let go, you know."
Faith hums in agreement in front of her. If anyone understands the pain of having to cut ties with their own family it's her. "It'd be for the better."
Amelia just shrugs in response, lowering her head to stare down at the table, preoccupying her thoughts by counting the various stains and stains that decorate it.
They remain silent for a few moments, the slow rhythmic tip tapping of Faith's fingers and the shushed small talk from across the diner being the only verification that time hasn't stopped, even if it feels like an eternity between each tap of Faith's fingers on the table.
She only looks up when Faith sighs, expecting her to continue the conversation about her mother. But, she doesn't and instead swipes a pesky lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes back behind her ear as she says. "I fancy something a little stronger than cola."
Amelia blinks. "Don't you have work tomorrow?"
"Yeah, well, I could go for a drink right about now and you look like you could use one." She said, ignoring the question. "We could go to that new place that's opened up across town, you know the one next to Chuck's."
Amelia shrugs, resting her head on her hand as she goes back to observing the other patrons in the diner, each submerged in their own little bubbles, as they set about drinking their steaming cups of coffee and chatting to the waitress as she mills about the diner, clearing away empty plates and cups and offering refills.
"I'm game if you are." She responds, realising she could, in fact, use a drink right about now to dull the stresses of the day. "Just so long as you're buying the first round."
Faith smirks at her. "Sure thing, sister." grabbing her jacket as Amelia flags down the waitress to pay for their meals, handing the girl more than enough and receiving a surprised "Thank you." From the waitress as she realises she's been left a more than generous tip.
Amelia just smiles at her and thanks her for the food. Before she follows her friend out of the diner, cool night air hitting her as they head out towards the empty parking lot towards Faith's car. The diner behind them serving as the only stable source of light as the street lights in around of them buzz and flicker haltingly, but fail to produce much light.
"Excuse me." Comes a small croaky voice behind them, interrupting their conversation. "Excuse me, miss." It says again, causing the duo to turn around to see who was calling to them.
"Uh, hello?" Says Amelia, coming face to face with a short middle-aged women. "Um, we're not interested in converting to any religion." She adds, turning to look at Faith as she notes the many flyers the women is carrying.
The women shakes her head at them. "No, no... I'm-Ah...I'm not an evangelist...I just." The women pauses, taking a deep steadying breath to calm herself. "I was wondering if either of you had possibly seen this boy." She adds, showing them both one of the flyers she's carrying.
The word "Missing" decorates the top of the flyer in bold red letters, resting atop a large picture of a smiling teenage boy, with cheerful blue eyes and spiky dirty blond hair a couple of shades darker than the women's.
"He's my son." Explains the women, handing them both a flyer. "He went missing two days ago while walking home, if you know anything, anything at all. Please tell me."
Amelia studies the picture in front of her as Faith asks. "Have you, you know." She shrugs, thinking of a polite way to ask her question. "Gone to the police about this. I'm sure they'd be more help than us."
The women casts solemn eyes at the duo, her shoulders sagging as tears well in the corners of her tired eyes. "I've been to the police." Said the women voice brittle and cracking. "But, they won't do anything. He's seventeen you see and they keep telling me he's probably off partying somewhere with friends." She frowns at that part, staring at the picture of the smiling boy, her eyes distant and perturbed. "But, I know he's not. I've checked with all his friends you see and all of them are certain that he said he was going home on the night he disappeared. He's a good boy my Lucas. It's just not In his nature to up and vanish like this."
The duo shares a look with each other out of the corner of their eyes. Before, turning their attentions back to the women, who appears likely to burst into tears at any moment. They know how useless the police can be with these sorts of matters. In another life, it'd be almost comical how no one seems to care if you're missing, unless you're under the age of fourteen, or you just so happen to have a certain amount of swing in the community. In fact, the police probably just told the lady to fuck off when she first wandered on into the station, hoping for a little understanding and some hope. Well, they wouldn't have said those words exactly, but they would have said them in a similar way, which conveyed just as much disbelief and ridicule.
Amelia sighs, once upon a time she'd been in the same shoes as the women, handing out flyers and searching the streets for a loved one that no one else seemed to give a damn about. She knows what it's like to search and search, grasping whatever hope you can find. Before, you get that ill-fated knock on the door and an unsympathetic apology, which means nothing to you, because they're dead, and you're never going to see them smile again, never going to hear them laugh, never going to get the chance to say goodbye, to apologise for every argument and insignificant little t thing you've ever said or done to them.
She stares picture in front of her, studying the boy's features as she tries to remember if she had seen or heard anything about the boy. "I'm sorry." She says, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes when she realises she can't place the boy. "I haven't seen him."
"Me neither, ma'am." Adds Faith beside her, fidgeting with her keys.
"It's okay." Responds the women not meeting their eyes as she stares at her hands, curling into herself. "Well, thank your time." She adds her voice stiff and monotone as her bottom lip quivers slightly. "Please hold on to those flyers, my details are at the bottom if you happen to see or hear anything."
"We will." Says Faith as Amelia nods at the women, who gives them a weak smile before walking off to the diner, no doubt hoping to find someone in there that has more information on her son.
Amelia has to hold herself back from reaching out to the women as she shuffles her way into the diner. For what reason she doesn't know. It's not like she could be of any help to the women, her lack of information proving that already. But, there's something about the women's doleful expression and resigned way of talking, which makes her want to reach out and hug her, as crazy as that may seem. Since the lady most certainly wouldn't want random strangers grabbing at her, pitying her for something she cannot control. Something which leaves her grasping at straws while the local enforcement sits by and does nothing.
The thought of this poor woman being reduced to begging for information makes her blood boil, she doesn't even realise that her free hand has formed into a fist until Faith taps her on her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"Come on, Amelia. Let's go." She says, trying to usher her in the direction of her car and away from the diner. "Come on." She says again, grabbing the hand still curled into a fist into her own, interlocking it with hers and tugging on it gently when her friend remains motionless beside her. Looking, unseeing into the diner through fogged windows as the women tries to hand out more flyers.
"Okay," Said Amelia, finally responding to her friend, voice soft and distant as she snaps out of her trance-like state. "Okay." She says again, her feet finally beginning to move as she allows Faith to guide her towards the car.