Hey, so if you've read my other story Aftermath which is still in progress here's another one. That last episode had me so surprised, I had so many thoughts on the many things that could've happened I decided to write one. At first I thought the Beth & Darryl thing was kind of weird, but after that episode I've noticed how much chemistry they have. I hope he finds her!
I watch them as they as they walk past the gravestones of the cemetery. The girl with the injured foot on top of the man's back as he carries her to the house. I had been preparing a body for a burial when I saw them; I was half way done with the make up to make them look how they were when they were alive. Douglas, a white shaggy haired mutt that I had found after the apocalypse, was the reason I had noticed them, without his barking I would've gone about my day like any other.
They were the first people I have seen since the dead had begun to rise, (I suppose it makes since why most people had avoided cemeteries) but no it had been much longer than that since I had last seen people. I didn't have a family, I wasn't one for friends, and you certainly didn't make friends on the job when you were a mortician.
The girl had caught my eye; so young with beautiful skin, blonde hair, and innocent. My heart raced just looking at her, I was immediately drawn to her.
As they approach the house, I let Douglas out the back door then walk back to the hall to open up the attic door and climb inside the dark humid space. As I close the door I hear the door to the house open followed by a few thuds and talking. The heat envelopes me as I crawl deeper into the attic following the sound of their footsteps. I sit silently and wait to hear more talking or the echoe of their footsteps traveling deeper into the house. Suddenly I hear the quiet sound of talking; it's to distant to make out any words yet it sounded like it was right next to me, I follow the sound until I find a cylindrical pipe.
They're in the prep. room where I ready the corpses for burial. It was the lowest room in the house, but the pipe (that must've had some conventional use when it was made 80 years ago) led all the way down to that room.
I put my ear to the pipe and listen intently.
"I think it's beautiful. Whoever did this they still remember that these things used to be people." As I hear the girl say the words it's like music to my ears. She had seen the bodies of the dead that I was trying to make seem human again. She understands why I do this; she doesn't think I'm a creep or a freak. I've never felt more understood; a flood of joy fills me.
I think off the man that's with her, he surely could not appreciate her qualities like I can. He doesn't deserve her company. I couldn't win him in fight, though I was taller than him my lanky build didn't compete with his brute muscle.
How do I get that man away from her long enough to take her away?
The hot sun beats away at my back; I swipe the sweat of my forehead and focus on the task at hand. I clang the pans together making a loud ping ring through the forest, in a matter of minutes the hungry growls of the dead closes in. Once they're in eyesight I walk backwards watching my step heading back to my house. By the time I reach the tree line that opens up to the cemetery, the crowd has grown to dozens and the sun has long since been replaced the moon. The dead herd followed by their goal to tear the flesh off my bones will, if all goes well, instead feed on the man. I risk killing the girl, but I'm not faced with many options.
I get into my car that's parked at the forests edge and pull up to the house. As the dead hoard gets closer to the house, I grab Douglas who was sitting on the side of the house and carry him to the front of the house. This morning the man had come to the door when he heard Douglas, he'll probably do it again. The dog barks at the approaching dead; shaking with fear he yelps scrambling to get out of my arms. I run back to the car as the dead walk up the stairs of the porch. I hear the door open and the screaming that follows. I stuff Douglas in the backseat of my car and wait outside, watching all the exits to see wear the girl could exit.
Eventually the girl comes running out, surprise etches her face as she stares into mine.
"What's going on?! I just got here," I say feigning the best worried facade I'm capable of.
"Walkers got in the house! There's still a person inside; we have to help!" She says then spins back around appaarnetly set on saving him whether I helped or not.
"Woah, you can't go back there," I pull her arm and stare down at her, "he's probably already dead."
Her face is blank but suddenly a thought finally triggers, "How did you know it was a guy?"
I sigh, "I wished it didn't have to happen this way." Immediately I begin to drag her with me back to the car. She puts up a fit hitting, kicking, and screaming. I hold one arm pinned behind her back and try to reach for the other when she kicks my groin. I nearly kneel over in pain as she runs back to the house. I groan and go after her, tackling her down and punching her side hard enough to make my knuckles sore. In this one second that she's distracted by the pain I drag her by her hair back to the car and lift her up. She thrashes back and forth hitting me with a bag. She pulls out her knife as I pull out my gun and is about to make a lethal stab when I thrash the gun against her head. I grab the knife and stash it in my pocket as her limb hand lets go of it. The bag falls to the ground and I stuff her unconscious body in the trunk.
Just as I start the car and begin to drive away the man comes out of the house. Damn, I thought he died. I stare at the review mirror as he stares at the back of the car, for a brief second it was although I stared him straight in the eye.
He chases after us, screaming her name, "Beth! BETH!"
I drive away with a sense of accomplishment, though the girl was more difficult than I thought she would be to capture and the man didn't die; I still pulled it off.
Maybe it's the fading of an adrenaline rush or the loss of my home, but a small tension rises inside me that I can't put a finger on. The only thing that I can think of is the expression of the man's face, a hard calloused look that was angered and yet still worried, an expression you'd expect to find on a dog after taking away one of its possessions; it was not an expression that I wanted directed at me.