This is an OC story for right now, but they will eventually meet the main group, not to worry!
So far, I DO own the rights to the characters! Just… not the zombies… or yes the zombies? Who owns zombies?
Somewhere else entirely…
She wanted to kill him. She wanted it so bad she was trembling, not out of anger; she was excited. This wasn't the "I was so mad I could have killed him" urge. No. She didn't even know this man. This was a deep desire to hurt. She didn't just want him dead, oh no. It was the process she wanted. If he was alive after she finished having her fun, she wouldn't mind, but with what she wanted to do, there was no chance. It would surprise her if he lived through half.
She was insane, she had to be. She was sure that normal people didn't want to inflict mass amounts of pain on a complete stranger for their own enjoyment. But in a zombie-infested apocalyptic wasteland polluted with survivors as bat-shit crazy as her, what was normal anyway? Pre-plague, that question had a teen angst feel of diversity and acceptance; it had such a different connotation now. Opportunities were getting scarcer.
No, even in today's standards, she was fucked up. But this was nothing new to her. She didn't go as far as cannibalism, like some people had. She lost interest as soon as the light faded from their eyes. It was the hunt, the blood, the process. She was sick, she knew this, but she could be worse. The people she killed were not usually good people. Hardly anyone was good these days. Mothers who had sacrificed their children for minutes more of precious life. There were men who tried to force themselves inside of her just before she forced her knife inside of them. No one would miss these people. Yet, sometimes, when the thirst was too great, like now, anyone who crossed her path was fair game.
As evil as she was, no child had ever fallen under her knife. There was something in a child's eyes in that moment of absolute terror, usually in her most gratifying moment, that made her stomach ache and her appendix burst. Besides, they didn't have enough blood. She got close once, close enough to know that she hated it. They weren't even able to put up a substantial fight. Although, some full grown men that she'd hunted were less of a struggle. They blundered through the woods, leaving trails infants could follow. When she showed herself, they would just roll over and give themselves over. The blood was so much less satisfying when it wasn't earned.
She was hoping that this man might prove an adventure. As she examined him from atop her tree, she smiled to herself and felt the giddiness rise into her throat. She had picked her prey well, maybe the best yet. And to think it had been sheer luck! He was quite the man; late 20s, well-proportioned body, both agile and strong. She knew if she rushed him, he would overpower her in a second if he had any survival instincts at all.
As she watched him move around his small fire, she knew this would be no easy task. He was both smart and cautious, that much was evident. His campsite was well chosen with lots of foliage to hide the light of the fire. He kept his huge club out of the way, but accessible. He leaned over the small pot on the fire, she glimpsed his face for the first time. The cover of darkness allowed her to be much closer to him than she had been all day. He was attractive; he had a strong jawline and his eyes were hard, merciless and dangerous. There was something about him that drew her attention. She would have loved to study him a bit more, but the hunger was at its peak. It would be difficult, but her body ached in anticipation of the challenge. There was no time, it had to be tonight.
He hadn't let up his guard once in the past 18 hours she had watched him. She saw no opening. She put her head in her hand and pouted like a child. How was she supposed to incapacitate him so that she could have her fun? He was more imposing, and he was almost too tall. Her only chance was to catch him off guard. Sure, she was petite, but she wasn't that small and he appeared almost a foot taller.
She heard a rustle behind her. Leave it to a squirrel to ruin her position. It was getting louder; she had better move if she wanted to stay hidden. It was coming faster now, it had smelled something it liked. There was a howl, and she groaned, knowing that it was no animal. The bushes all around the man's campsite began trembling and then they burst out, surrounding the man in a circle of undead flesh. Fuck that. If they killed him, she would have no one to play with.
All day he was uneasy. Not just like someone was watching him, but like he was under assessment. He bent over his pot of beans and stirred the last of his food with bits of the rabbit he snared. His head snapped up when the rustle came. The movement he saw did not correspond with the sound. It was slight and fluid, like a wisp of coffee steam. God, he missed coffee. He gaged the distance between himself and the mace. He had just picked it up at the house of a private collector, isolated and alone in these woods. He hadn't even know about the plague; he didn't have a TV, radio, or a phone.
As he moved for the weapon, the howl came. Not a real howl, but there was no other way to describe primal blood lust made into sound as it gurgles on its own esophagus. The bushes all around him lit up as they burst through. He swung the mace up and lunged at the first rotting carcass, sticking the spikes halfway through its already half missing face. He swung around, taking a zombie behind the knee as he flipped him and buried the spikes in his skull.
When he sprung at his next target, he saw a small figure drop from the branches into the fray. He moved towards the child without thinking, to protect it, but soon found it protecting him. As he unstuck the mace out of the last creature's eye, he saw the kid toying with its last contestant. As he watched, he pulled out a blood dried towel and wiped the infected blood from the mace. The child finally got tired of playing with the beast after he severed its legs. It was crawling towards him, dragging its intestines in the dirt after it. The kid pulled out the knife in his waistband and buried it up to the hilt in its eye socket.
The small figure straightened up and turned to him, but the eyes under the hood were not those of a child. They were fierce and black, almost resembling those of a great white. Those eyes looked at him the same as would a ravenous shark. As soon as he saw it, the ferocious light dimmed from the girl's eyes as she composed herself. She pulled the surgical mask from her dark narrow face as she approached him. He pushed his own blood splattered bandana around his neck and looked down over a foot at her. She looked up at him without a word and held out a hand for the bloody towel, then began wiping her blades of the black toxic blood.
As she cleaned, he removed his bulky goggles and studied the slender framed girl. She let down her hood and stared at him. She couldn't be much younger than him, but by the way her hands moved, she was much older in the business of killing. Her raven hair was long, tangled and half dreadlocked, already streaked with gray and peppered with stress. She had a thin, defined scar cutting through her eyebrow, trailing up into her hairline, which was shaved on that side. Her clothes were dark and formfitting. She looked like she stepped straight out of a movie, except that she was tiny. He was well over 6 feet, but damn, she was more than a foot below that. Her eyes locked on his as he examined her, those large, dark, terrifying eyes. A slight smile drew upon the corner of her mouth and sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't the kind of smile he usually got from pretty girls.
He was much cuter when he was killing things, she almost let him kill them all. It was a shame that she had to give up her position, but he wouldn't have made it out of that attack alone. As she finished with her blades she handed the soiled towel back to her prey as she stood. Fuck. She had misjudged his height. He was way too tall and far too broad. There was no way that she could handle this man. She knew her limits, and this specimen far exceeded them.
"I'm Leah." That was weird, she didn't mean to say that. She meant to say something like, I want to leave you, stalk you until you break an ankle, so that I can torture, kill you and bathe in your blood.
"Kame. Want some food?" She nodded. Shit! She didn't want any beans, why did she nod? She should have let the undead injure him a bit before she stepped in. He stepped towards her and she thought he was going to attack her for a moment when he glowered down at her. As he passed he let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She turned to see if she could push him into the fire, but he was already squatting on the other side and way eying her through the flames. She slid her pack to the ground as she crouched, huddled against the wind across from him.
"How long have you been following me?"
"Long enough." She said surveying his supplies. His pack was almost empty, this must be the last of his food. Good, if you have no food you will get weaker and easier to kill. Perfect.
As if he could read her thoughts, his head snapped up. "Why were you following me?"
"To see if I could trust you." Her words were not entirely a lie, which she was proud of.
He looked at her expectantly, "And?" He asked. He unzipped his waterproof shell, and laid over a nearby branch. She was now very thankful the undead had attacked when they did. He was in better shape than she had expected.
"And… you're a big guy." She said, appraising him with a sinful grin. His long-sleeved undershirt was loose and worn, his muscles underneath seemed to be trying to escape their thin fabric cage. "A girl has to be careful around a big man." She murmured, her black eyes shining their malicious light on his skin.
"You think you can trust me?" He said raising an eyebrow sardonically.
"I don't know. Can I?"
"I don't think so."
She smiled broad, "And what about me?"
He smirked, "I think you are about as deadly as they come." Her smile widened and he admired a row of straight white teeth. "You are pretty, though. Probably why you're still alive." People get distracted by pretty girls, even women. No one expects a sociopath in a sweet little package.
She laughed, "Yeah, I don't have a lot of competition nowadays." She motioned to the body next to her.
He glanced at it and shrugged, "A bit of makeup and a pretty dress can do wonders for a corpse." She laughed and he smiled. She really was lovely. Dainty and trim, but her eyes held the bloodlust. It was the same look in his brother's eyes when they were children, right before he slaughtered the family dogs like pigs. After that they locked him away; he was pretty sure Cas died there years ago.
As he passed the pot of beans and rabbit, she found that her tiny breakfast didn't hold her off as long as she had hoped. As she ate, she wondered if she could kill him in his sleep. Maybe she could slit that beautifully sculpted throat. She had been so excited all day with the kill to come, but now she felt as disappointed as a little girl with no Christmas presents. He wasn't right. It was unfair. Just a few inches shorter and scrawnier, she could make it work, but she might as well give up on him now. A small part of her felt guilty about killing someone so magnificently constructed. That was new. She pouted and stared across the flames.
She considered him as she played with the long scar that cut across her face into her short hair. He looked like he was born of this forest. He was entirely composed of earth tones. His eyes were a dull green that perfectly matched the foliage around them. He reminded her of a big, unconquerable tree, strong and resolute. A tree she couldn't cut down.
He already knew she was following her for some dubious reason, she was sure. That alone shed enough light on her intentions to protect him from all harm on her end. His eyes were wary, watching her movements. He knew, but how? The way he looked at her, he almost anticipated her thoughts and desires. He looked like he was weighing whether the risk of having her in camp was worth the comfort of human companionship.
She could never get him now. Now that he knew she was here and knew what she was. She would leave in the night, in search of another. She couldn't stay here any longer. The desire had to be dealt with.
As I was writing this Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation came on my Pandora. So fitting. Please review!