Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. - Wishful thinking aside.
Warnings: This is my fill response to prompt posted on LJ at the TWD_Kink meme: ""How do they die? Is it the walkers, or other survivors? Is there anyone who dies of old age, or someone who can't take it anymore? A 'what if' story." *Rated for: adult language, adult situations, gore, and character death.
Authors Note: Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism.
The Phantom Scream
She shuddered into the curve of the wall, scrambling delicately along the underside of counter as she pushed herself out of sight. - Limbs barely ghosting along the crisp edged tile as she shoved herself into the farthest corner from the milling horde. Wriggling and squeezing until her back slammed into the unforgiving chrome siding and she could go no further.
Her lips trembled in a silent scream as the flat footed shuffle of the undead echoed from just behind the restaurant counter. The sound barely distracting her from the cold, unfeeling press of the filthy stainless steel siding that was already biting through the thin fabric of her long sleeve button up. Cutting right down to the quick like an over sharpened blade seeking the warmth of bare flesh. - But more then anything it made her remember how much she hated the cold.
Cold hands.. Biting fingers.. Clammy skin.. Iron scented flesh.. Amy..
Bile rose up in her throat as the sound of decaying flesh, husk dry tendons and long bared sinew echoed in the close the space. Slip sliding and grating as torn skin brushed against the crisp, moisture parched edges of equally as ravaged skin. – Slamming into one another as the horde milled around in confusion, unable to locate the prey they'd been chasing only a few seconds earlier.
Her ankle throbbed. Pain coasting up through the shattered nerves and bruised flesh. – The consequences of her uncoordinated vault over the diner counter. A last ditch attempt to escape the crowd that had been all but nipping at her heels. Literally. They'd been just around the corner when she'd caught sight of the counter and launched herself over it. Hitting the unforgiving, green and white tiles behind the serving stall a split second before her undead entourage had stumbled into the diner after her.
…When Amy had been three she'd taken a heart stopping header down the stairs. They'd never figured out how she'd done it. Somehow wriggling through the baby gate their mother had put up to ward off just such an event. – But in the aftermath she'd been the first one to her side. Scooping her up in her arms and holding her close. Murmuring teenage nonsense into her ears as she'd bullshitted her way through most of the verses of "Under the Sea" from the Little Mermaid. Singing and rocking her in time with the rhythm until those pudgy little baby hands had curled into her hair. Fisting her curls as Amy had watched her raptly through her tears. A watery smile slowly working it's way across her trembling lips. - It had made her feel like she could do anything. ..Like she might just be the best big sister in world after all…
She could almost hear Shane's hard edged voice in the back of her head, cussing her out for being so careless. And despite the bastard being long since gone, having taken off in the dead of night just like he'd promised a few weeks after Hershel's and the disaster that had been Fort Bennett, she couldn't help but admit that he was right. - Because this was all her fault.
She hadn't meant to. She'd just reacted. Turning the corner just a bit too confidently, outpacing T-dog who'd been cautiously following just off to the side. Still gesturing at her angrily with the barrel of his Remington a mere second before it happened, clearly miming for her to slow the fuck down. - To just think about what she was doing for one god damned second…
But instead she'd put her chin up and deliberately ignored him, tired of all the well meant, misogynistic coddling as she pushed forward. Forcing him to fall back, and shadow her rather then risk making anymore noise then they already had too as they made their way though the back of the small hunting supply store they'd targeted for supplies. Unwilling to venture any further into its unlit depths until they were certain it was walker free.
But even then, she hadn't been expecting it when that walker had appeared. - Rounding the corner not ten centimeters right in front of her face, all gnashing teeth and nibbled off lips. It had been a gut reaction, a knee jerk type of stand still where her hand and forefinger had simply slammed down on the trigger without a second thought. Alerting every walker within half a mile to their position in less time then it took to blink.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. – And all for the sake of her fucking pride.
A geek brushed against the serving gate. The only entrance that led back to where she was hiding and the kitchens that lay beyond. Causing it to swing back and forth on rusty hinges as the geek in question looked down at it confusion. It's dry, blood stained fingers spidering down to probe the overstuffed cafe cushions and stained vinyl as it cocked its head at the sound. – She held her breath.
And out of the sliver of space between the two counters tops, she watched as the walker stumbled, pushed to the side as a trio of geeks jostled it from behind. The milling crowd growing by the second as yet more walkers crushed through the front entrance. – And that right there should have been the end of it. The walker should have just groaned and shuffled on. …But it didn't.
It had been a woman once, a curvy, young thing sporting a trendy shoulder length, bob and a Shirley Temple mole on the corner of her upper lip. She was dressed in a pinstriped apron and black slacks. Something she abruptly realized was probably the waitressing uniform for the diner itself as she vaguely recognized the logo from outside. - Her suspicions were only confirmed a few seconds later when the geek shifted. With the dull sheen of a burnished gold name tag being clearly visible through the filthy curtain of her lanky auburn hair. The letters partially obscured by a long dried arc of blood splatter and gore.
…The woman's name had started with an "A". – It could have been Amy..Or even Andrea. She just couldn't tell…
She looked perfect at an angle. Normal. At least until she turned, because her entire front was bathed in red. Her clothing was stiff with it, crusted over in a rust red hue that seemed to encompass her very form. A mess of drip dried sprays that arrowed down from the shredded hole that marked where her right arm used to be. The torn sleeve left to flutter, limp and empty at her side. Flickering an old, fire hydrant red in the low light, the color flirting with the half darkened shadows as the horde fanned out around her. – Moaning in frustrated hunger.
But she only had eyes for one, the woman, because after a long tottering moment the same geek slowly threaded her way back towards the gate. Staring down at it blankly before it suddenly leaned in. – It's pale, blood shot stare going strangely focused as it thrust a limp-wristed hand against the curved, wood paneled surface. Pushing against the gate until it swung forward once again. Flinging forward with a dull, echoing bang that made the other geeks whirl in place, chins tipping skyward, like a pack of hunting dogs scenting the air for prey.
She hissed a breath of air between her clenched teeth, horror rising up her throat like the acidic tang of fresh adrenaline and old bile. Like the moment of nausea that comes just before the gut wrenching spasms and the iconic, liquid based splatter of churned up food and stomach acid as it meets that of watered down porcelain.
- Because this time the action had been deliberate.
This time the geek had watched with growing interest as the gate had clicked back and forth. Following the movement until it slowed to a gradual stop. Growling gutturally as it stilled before it slumped forward and did it again. …It knew…
She clamped down on a horrified scream. But only just.
A/N: If there is interest I will finish this up with a second chapter. There was just a natural chapter break here. - Please let me know what you think. Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!
"Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them." - George Eliot
