Unlike most stories - and assumptions - Ellis and the others will be making no entrance in this story. Enjoy.
Who was I...? Where was I...? I don't... Sarah Buckby. My name was Sarah Buckby. I was sixteen years old. I had a boyfriend named Jerome; he died. Parents: dead. Friends: dead. Me: ... what was I?
The scene: a dark city street. Two weeks after the Green Flu breakout. Bodies littered the road; cars sat abandoned with their lights on, doors open, alarm blinker going. One out of every ten lamplight might've been lit. One person, one sole living being, walked the streets.
She continued walking, sobbing stridently, her arms close to her side. Her clothes were in tatters. A torn top rested loosely over her growing breasts; a white pair of panties was discernible under torn, nearly non-existent jeans. Her hair shimmered softly in the yellow lamplight, looking orange with golden highlights. She walked back into the dark, and the orange illusion left; her hair was truly white. She dropped an arm, letting it hang by her side. Her fingers were nearly six inches long. Three-inch claws had formed at the tips.
Poppop! Poppop! Rattata-BOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The girl screamed, looking around, her white hair flying wildly as she frantically searched around for the cause of the deafening sounds. She then started running, her hands over hear head. She ran for five minutes, then slowed, recognizing silence. She also recognized darkness. She collapsed, pulling one of her hideous claws up to cover her face, her white hair framing her dirty visage. Her pupils dilated, and suddenly went white as the light they collected reflected. She rested her other claw on her leg, then started sobbing again. The sobs were lonely and heartbreaking, wavering eerily into the dark night.
Hours crawled by. Light crept into the darkness. She whimpered, and covered her face, rising and walking around again. She heard something weird. She stopped, dropped her claws, and tilted her head. What was that sound? It had a name. G... gr... growling? That was it. She heard growling.
Growling from what?
She looked around, and saw something approaching her. The growling was coming from that. She screamed and ran again. She ducked inside somewhere, and hid under a desk. There she sat and cried again. She stopped crying, hearing voices. "Shh... hear that? I hear... a Witch."
She started crying again, the words having no meaning to her.
"Damn it! No! Leave her alone!"
She gasped and looked up as a chocolate-skinned man walked into her vision. The black guy stumbled back. "WITCH!"
He turned and ran. No one came back. She started crying again, feeling hated and more alone than ever. No one came through there again. She was left alone to wallow in self-pity, to cry her little heart out. She stopped crying again after a while - her stomach rumbled. She stood, and stumbled forward, her eyes watering from the harsh rays of the sun. She sniffed the air. A faint sweet smell tickled her nose, and she became oblivious to all but that. She wanted that sweet.
She stumbled forward, sniffing. Where was her Sweet? She walked on, for what seemed like forever, before the smell even strengthened. Encouraged, she continued, her hands folded against her chest like a hamster's. She sniffed the air, and took a few steps more. Suddenly, the sweet smell changed courses. Confused, she did as well. It then changed courses again, and she followed. Now she was going in the original direction again.
She looked around. She walked up to a pane of glass, and looked inside. People. She moved on, and sighed. She started humming to herself, the promise of food putting her in lifted spirits. She stumbled over corpses like they were nothing. She screamed and zipped forward when something grabbed at her ankle. She stopped soon, afraid she'd lose the smell. She saw some weird things as she walked. Bright colors. Happiness. Smiling faces. Did those even exist anymore? Happiness and smiles?
Down the street. Through an alley. Run. Stop. Down another street. It led her into a building. She walked around, hopeful that it was on the first floor. No such luck. She then wandered, searching for the stairs. Finding them, she began her ascent, her claw sliding absently along the rail. She dropped it when she reached the top, then sniffed. She hooked a left, into a room, then to the far wall. She looked around, and growled, irritated. The wall was gone. The smell was leading her back to the ground. She bent her knees, and dropped, landing with a sigh. She continued onward, humming to herself again, watching the ground idly. She took no notice of the voices she approached; her mind was on the sweet smell only.
She turned around a wall, and approached a door. She paused in front of it, then turned, sniffing. The smell was gone, masked by a different smell. One she'd smelled before. She frowned, then heard something mess with the door off to her left. She turned just as it opened. She gasped, and looked up. Her eyes widened, and she screamed. Her scream was cut short as she fell, fainting.
The muscular man in the vest who'd opened the door looked down at the limp pale white body. He'd watched those strange blue eyes look at him, then roll back in her head as she fainted. "Ah, hell."
He lifted her and slung her over his shoulder. He'd rather blast her full of lead... but she seemed different. For one, she hadn't attacked him, or even tried. She'd screamed and fainted. He then stopped, and pulled her back. White skin... blue eyes? He draped her over his shoulder again, and walked back to the others. This was great. This was just totally great.
He knocked his fist against the wall he was walking along three times as he neared the others: a black man, an old war veteran, and a pretty, young college student. "Hey, looky here what I found."
He walked to the table, and surprisingly gently laid his catch on it. The college girl gasped. "Francis, what the hell did you do to her?"
The guy in the vest held his hands up defensively. "I didn't do nuthin', I swear! She fainted when I opened the door!"
The black guy chuckled softly. "Yeah, right, and I'm president of Pluto."
The war veteran looked the girl over. "No... I think Francis here is telling the truth. Only wound I can see is on the back of her head. Had it been Francis, her skull'd be caved in."
Francis scowled. "I'm not that rough."
The college girl looked up at him. "Actually, biker boy, you are. Remember what my waist looked like after the first time?"
Francis blushed, an odd look on his face. "Don't remind me... I don't wanna think of being that rough with you."
The college girl grinned. The war veteran prodded her gently on the shoulder. "Zoey, do we have any bottled water?"
Zoey arched a brow, and gave him one. He opened the plastic container of the cold clear liquid, and poured a little on the white Witch's face. She gasped and came to. She saw Francis, and screamed, scrambling back, almost off the table. The war vet caught her. She looked behind her and screamed again, trying to pull away. But he held on tightly. "No, no, calm down. We're not gonna hurt ya."
She instantly quieted, sitting on the table, looking at them all. Francis huffed. "Huh. Obedient little bi-OW! Don't hit me, damn it!"
Zoey shook her hand slightly, stinging from the hard punch she'd just delivered to Francis' arm. "Then don't call her that. She's done nothing to you."
Francis arched a brow. "Maybe, but she's a Wiiiitch."
He held the word out some, pointing at the white girl on the table in an exaggerated fashion. She growled at him, causing him to jump back. Zoey chuckled. The war vet tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned, whimpering slightly and pulling away. He smiled kindly, holding the water out. "Drink?"
She looked at the water, then reached up to take it, pausing. She turned her hand at an awkward angle, trying to match his fingers to hers. He frowned, then pulled his hand away. Zoey grabbed his wrist. "Wait!"
She took the water bottle from his hand, then splayed it. The Witch pressed her clawed digits against it, frowning, staring at the difference in confusion. He turned his hand slightly, and his fingers accidentally slid between hers. Reflexively, she grasped it. The war vet jerked and tried to yank his hand back. The Witch watched him, then let go, her lip trembling. Zoey looked at the war vet. "Bill... she... It looks like she liked that. I think you hurt her feelings."
Francis chuckled. "Yeah right, what feelings? Towards Bill? Watch; it's general."
He held his hand out, fingers splayed. The Witch pressed hers to it. Francis purposely turned his hand and slid his fingers between hers. She grasped his hand as well, only this time tighter, looking into his eyes with those freaky deep ocean blues. Francis paused, the normal hard exterior melting away as he looked in her eyes, replaced by soft understanding. Zoey prodded his shoulder. "Uh, Francis...? Hello, Earth to Francis?"
Francis jerked, and the biker was back to normal. He gently pried her fingers from his, pulling his hand back. He cleared his throat. "See? I told you... it's general."
He looked back at the Witch. Her eyes were swimming and dropping tears periodically. He sighed, then grabbed the water bottle and held it up. "Drink?"
The Witch reached up to take it, but Francis pulled it away. She let her hands drop, her lip trembling, wondering why they kept teasing her. Francis shook his head. "Don't try and take it, girl. Just drink. I'll hold it."
He held it out to her again. She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the bottle's end - it was the kind you had to suck on or squeeze to get the water out. She reached up and wrapped her hands around Francis' wrists, then began to suckle on the bottle like a lamb to a milk bottle, without all the dribbling. She did dribble, just not as much.
Francis watched her as she swallowed, looking like she was swallowing golf balls instead of water. She gripped his wrists tighter, but still remained gentle, gently tugging on the bottle as she drank.
Bill frowned softly. "Only thing I've ever seen drink like that was a hand-reared foal on my grandad's land."
Francis scowled. "Haven't you noticed that people act more animal-like nowadays, old man?"
Bill sighed. "Yes, I've noticed the Infection brings the primitive side out. Rabies does that to you. But... this? This is infantile animal behavior."
Francis shrugged and watched the Witch with an odd smile and she neared the last of the water content. Zoey frowned. "Francis, are you okay? You're acting..."
"All mushy over that Witch," finished the black guy.
Francis scowled. "Shut up, Louis. I'm not acting mushy... I'm just being nice."
The college girl arched a brow, then shrugged her shoulders. "Francis, for you? Nice is mushy. You've said so yourself."
Francis frowned, then went back to watching the Witch suckle the water bottle. Her eyes were slightly closed, and water occasionally dribbled from the corners of her mouth, sliding down her throat and soaking her top. When she neared then end of the bottle, then finished it, she frowned. She suckled a little more, then sighed and pushed it away, wiping her mouth. She then reached forward, and attempted to hug Francis.
But Francis wasn't having any of that. He grabbed her arms, and shoved her back. "Hey, hey!"
The Witch picked herself back up, sitting on the table. She stuck her lower lip out, and tears formed in her strange blue eyes, spilling over and sliding down her cheeks. She started sobbing quietly; all she'd wanted was a hug. She wrapped her arms about herself, and started rocking softly, staring at him and crying. Francis grew uneasy under the teary gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked away, but he still felt it. He sighed, dropped his hand, and looked back at her. "Fine... I'll give ya a hug."
He walked forward. The Witch's grin nearly split her face, her tears stopped. She rose to her knees, threw her arms wide, and wrapped them tightly around Francis. He grunted softly at how strong her grip was from those twig-thin arms. He looked at her mane of white hair, then wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug. Zoey gasped softly. "No way!"
The Witch kept the hug, and so did he. Soon she was crying. He loosened his hold, but she tightened hers. He grunted again, but tightened his hold, rubbing her back gently. He looked up at them. "Why do I always make people cry?"
He was slightly stumped from their smiles. Louis chuckled softly. "You wouldn't be asking that if you could see her smile, Francis."
Francis frowned, and looked down, pulling away slightly to look. It was the biggest, happiest grin he'd ever seen surrounded by tears. His own eyes got a little moist, but he kept himself under control. He rubbed her back gently, and she gave him a squeeze, then loosened again. She reached up, placed a kiss on his cheek, then drew back, letting go, tears still falling.
Francis grunted, a slight smile on his lips, and nodded, running a hand quickly over his eyes. "She's nice. Huh. Never knew Infected were..."
The Witch tilted her head, and looked at him. He smiled softly, but it quickly disappeared. "Capable of emotions other than rage," he finished.
Francis sighed, and backed away. The Witch's lip started trembling, and Francis frowned softly. Louis came forward, and smiled softly when the Witch's arms wrapped around him instead. He patted her back gently. "Hey now... it's okay. It's not that he doesn't like you. He's just not used to giving or receiving hugs."
Francis frowned, then shrugged. "It's true. I'm not."
The Witch still didn't look all that happy. Louis rubbed her back gently, then looked at her and kissed the top of her head. He felt her body go rigid, and tried to pull back to see what he'd done. Her eyes were bright and moist, and fireworks seemed to be going off in them. Francis looked and laughed. "Seems you got yourself an electric kiss there, Manager."
Louis frowned, and leaned back enough to look at the Witch's face. He chuckled softly, and resumed rubbing her back. The Witch loosened, and looked up at him, her blue eyes locking with his brown ones. Louis smiled as she dropped her arms. He then backed up just a little, still close enough she could hug him again, and cleared his throat. "I'm Louis."
He held his hand out. The Witch gingerly took it, and shook. She frowned. "L... Lll... Llllouisss...?"
Louis grinned. "Yes, my name is Louis."
The Witch let go of his hand. "Llouiss," she said with much greater lucidity.
Francis watched them, arching a brow. He cleared his throat, getting the white Witch's attention, and held his hand out in the same manner. "My name is Francis."
She gently shook his hand. He found himself surprised at how gentle she could be. She looked at him for a while, and he was about to repeat his name when she opened her mouth the speak. "F... Fffffr... Ffffraannnnccisss..."
Francis smiled and nodded. Encouraged by the big man's smile, she said it again. "Ffranciss..."
Francis smile widened, and she giggled softly, earning stares. She looked around, confused. Zoey smiled softly, and held her hand out. "Hi. I'm Zoey."
The Witch shook her hand. "Hhiii, Z... Zzoooh... Zzzoeeeeey..."
Zoey grinned, and gripped the girl's hand. The Witch looked at her her hand, then gently gripped hers. "Zzooooeyy..."
She smiled softly, and Francis chuckled. "Seems your name is harder, Zo."
She frowned and looked up at him. "Shut up, Francine."
The Witch frowned, and looked back at Francis, confused. "Ffraancciiiinne?" she asked, pointing at Francis.
Francis pointed to himself, brows up. "Me? No, I-" He started laughing, running his hand over his hair. "N-no, my name is not Francine. It's Francis."
Everyone, except the Witch, chuckled. Zoey pulled the Witch's hand over to Bill, and the Witch turned. This time, it was the Witch who held her hand out. Bill looked at it, then the Witch, his thumbs hooked into his belt. The Witch tilted her head, and pushed her hand slightly forward, saying with her actions she wanted him to shake it. Bill continued looking between her claw and her. After a few moments of this, then Witch slowly drew it back, her lip trembling again.
Zoey sighed. "Bill! Just shake her hand. She's not going to kill you. Do we look killed?"
Bill looked at them, then jumped slightly when the Witch sniffled and whimpered. "Biiiillllll," she said, almost clear on her first try.
He sighed, a soft smile playing with his bearded lips. He slowly reached forward and grasped the Witch's bony white hand. She gripped his tightly but gently, and shook it. "Bill," she said with perfect clarity, smiling.
Bill nodded and smiled. The Witch seemed to giggle with joy at seeing his smile, which caused it to strengthen and warm. The Witch gently tugged Bill forward, and hugged him. He went rigid for a few seconds, then loosened, and patted her back. She let go. He cleared his throat. "So. You know our names. Tell us yours?"
The Witch opened her mouth to say it, then paused. What was her name? "Sss..." Yes... it started with an 'S'. What came after?
Francis frowned. "Did she just go snake on us?"
Louis shook his head. "No... she's thinking. It looks like she forgot."
The Witch thought harder. "Saarrrrr..."
Zoey frowned. "Sar... Sarah? Is your name Sarah?"
Ting! The Witch perked, and nodded. "Yesss... mmy naaamesss Ssarrah..."
Francis nodded, smiling. "Nice to meet ya, Sarah... um, what's your last name?"
Louis arched a brow. "Does it matter, Francis?"
He shrugged. "No, I just want to see if she remembers."
Sarah frowned, tears spilling when she couldn't remember her last name. Louis jumped slightly when Sarah's arms wrapped around his waist, then hugged her back, rubbing her back to soothe and stop her crying. Francis sighed. "How come I always make people cry?"
Zoey went to answer, a mischievous look to her eye, but Francis cupped his hand over her mouth. "No one wants to hear that, Zo."
She smiled and licked his hand. He kissed the top of her head, and wiped his hand on his jeans. Louis went to take a step back but Sarah tightened her grip. Louis held her arms. "We... should continue... Francis'll carry you."
Francis looked up from Zoey's face. "Wait, what? I'll do what?"
Louis smirked. "You'll carry Sarah."
Bill frowned. "I don't know, Louis. I don't like the idea of an Infected in the team..."
Louis gently brought one of Sarah's hands out. "Bill, look at these. Think of how much damage she could deal with these things, to help us. She likes us. Why leave her when we could make it better for her?"
He helped Sarah off the table. Francis picked his shotgun up, and pumped it. "I know how to make it easier for her."
He pointed the gun at her head. She turned, saw it, and screamed, and rushed behind Louis. Seconds later, there was a dull thud and a sharp slap. Sarah had fainted once again, and Zoey had reached up and slapped him as hard as she could across the face, leaving an angry red mark.
Zoey gripped her wrist, staring at her hand. It stung like mad. Francis growled, then fisted his hand and swung it at Zoey. The college girl squeaked and ducked, just barely dodging. Francis growled, and shot his hand at her throat, closing around it. He lifted her. "You. Don't. Hit. Me."
He flung her down, and she gasped, hearing something in her arm snap. Bills scowled at Francis, and punched him hard in the gut. The biker fell to his knees, winded, gasping in air.
Louis knelt, gently nudging the pale Witch on the floor. "Sarah...? Sarah, are you okay?"
She wasn't out long. Soon her blue eyes fluttered open, and she smiled softly, Louis' chocolate mug the first thing she saw. Then she looked to the side, and saw Francis trying to get at Zoey, Bill between. She growled, then screamed. The three brawlers stopped, and looked at her, something akin to fright in their eyes. She stood, and wobbled. Louis helped her, and she smiled softly, then scowled again. "Ssstooop. Sstop f-ffffiiighting. You," she said, pointing a claw at Francis, who actually gulped. "Yyoou d-dooon't hiiiiiit giiirllllss... Yoou," she said, pointing at Zoey. "Doon't hiiit F-Ffff-Fraaanciiine... gets hiim maaad..."
She blinked. That had taken something, but she'd actually managed to get it out. Francis blinked, staring at her, then scowled. "Do not call me Francine."
Louis sighed. "Francis, stop. Everyone, stop. We need to get moving. And I don't feel like leaving Sarah behind. No more pointing your shotgun at her, Francis, that wasn't very nice."
Francis started laughing. "You think I care if it was nice or not? She's a Witch! She doesn't even deserve for me to point my shotgun at her!"
Sarah jerked, and her lip started trembling. Her big blue eyes started filling with tears, shimmering in the light. Francis frowned, suddenly not angry anymore. Not at her, leastways. "Sarah... I... Listen. I-I'm... sorry..."
Sarah sniffled, hiding behind Louis, and choked out a soft sob, trying not to cry. She looked away, not wanting to look at him anymore. Louis rubbed her shoulder gently. "We have to get moving. Bill?"
Bill nodded, holding his cigarette and coughing. "Louis is right. We have to move. C'mon kids... there's still a ways yet."
Louis nodded, then looked at Sarah. "Sarah... can Francis carry you?"
She shook her head, holding on to him tightly. He sighed, then crouched. "Alright then, climb aboard. Just try not to stick me, okay?" He smiled softly.
Sarah returned his smile, then carefully folded her arms around his neck, holding her hands. He stood, frowning. "You're light... you feel too light."
She frowned. "Nnnooo foooodd."
Louis frowned deeply. "No food? Guys, do we have anything?"
Zoey frowned softly. "What do Witches eat?"
"Ssssuuugaaarrrr..."
They shook their heads. "No... we have no sugar. But we'll keep an eye out for some. Let's go."
Louis started walking, Zoey and Bill ahead of him, Francis bringing up the rear. Sarah rested her head on the black man's shoulder, breathing in his scent, closing her eyes. Louis looked at her, and smiled softly, rubbing a leg gently. The Witch opened her vivid blue eyes, looking into his soft brown ones.
Louis looked at her face. It was soft and round, young. She couldn't've been out of highschool. He looked ahead, watching Zoey hold an enthusiastic one-sided conversation with Bill.
He thought about Bill. William 'Bill' Overbeck, a veteran of the US Army Special Forces Group. It was quite an honor, in his mind, to meet him, let alone fight with him. For being his age - around sixty, at the least - he was incredibly fit and physical, with larger flights of stairs and prolonged running/climbing being the only things to fatigue him quickly.
Then the college girl, Zoey. She wouldn't tell her last name, only where she'd been. She'd been in college, but had spent most of the time skipping classes and watching old horror movies, specifically the ones involving zombies. I guess she was studying the right subject after all, Louis thought, chuckling softly.
And Francis. Again, no last name. Even if he hadn't said a word to them, his past was pretty easy to tell: stained muscle shirt, 'Hell's Legion' tattooed in several places on him, black leather vest, jeans, boots. All that amalgamating to biker. He was rough - though gentle with Zoey - and crude, not stepping down, and loved a good brawl. A lot of the times, with the Common Infected, he'd save his ammo and go toe-to-toe with the bastards, crushing faces and heads with his hands and feet. He was a good guy to have around, and he was hilarious in his ignorance at times.
Himself. A systems analyst who'd been too cowardly to quit his job. Now, here he was, giving a Witch a piggy-back ride, holding guns and using them against people. Well, he corrected himself. I wouldn't call them 'people' so much as 'creatures' now. So, if I put it that way, it doesn't seem as bad.
He heard an excited giggle from Zoey. "Hey! I can see a safe house! C'mon, let's run to it."
Bill interjected. "Young lady, I cannot see the reason behind running to a safe house that's maybe thirty yards away."
Zoey sighed dejectedly. "Yeah... I forgot that's a bit far for you."
Bill frowned softly. "I never said that..."
Zoey grinned. "Then what are we waiting for?" Before anyone could say anything, she was taking off towards the red metal door.
Bill sighed, and Louis quickened his pace slightly. "I'll stay back here with you. She might be light, but I still can't safely run."
Bill nodded. "Thanks, kid."
Francis ran past them, and Zoey came back out, holding a jar of some liquid. Sarah instantly stiffened, and was off his back in a flash, running her fastest towards the safe house.
Louis chuckled. "Feeding time for the Witch."
Both he and Bill paused as they heard a roar, and the ground started shaking. Sarah looked around in horror, her hands raised from trying to get the jar from Zoey, and quickly darted through the door. Zoey followed, and Francis stayed at the door. "C'mon, you guys, hurry up! You've got a- TANK!"
Bill and Louis whirled just as the prodigious pink Infected raised a fist and bashed it against Louis. The black man tumbled away while Bill ran his fastest towards the safe house. Francis closed the door as the Tank remained on Louis, pounding him into the ground. His howl of pain ended abruptly as the blood-thirsty monster crushed his chest with one final blow.
Sarah stuck her arm through the bars, screaming, horror in her eyes, reaching out for the broken black man. Francis and Bill pointed their weapons out, and started shooting at the Tank, downing it. Sarah opened the door, and ran out to Louis. Francis chased her.
Sarah fell to her knees where Louis lay. Louis looked at her, still alive, albeit barely. Francis slowly dropped behind her, his visage that of sorrow, rubbing her shoulders as the Witch began to sob, rocking back and forth. She then turned to Francis, hiding her face against his not-diminutive belly. Francis wrapped his arms around her, then pulled her up to cry on his shoulder so he could stand. "It's not fair, Manager... you were supposed to stick it out to the end... you weren't supposed to leave this little girl alone. Or us, for that matter."
Louis' bleeding stopped, except for that which leaked out by gravity, and his eyes dulled. Francis cleared his throat as he stood, holding Sarah comfortingly, her thin white shoulders bobbing, her chest heaving with pained sobs and cries. He rubbed his eyes, then turned and walked back, closing the door behind him and locking it.
Zoey looked at them as they walked in, then scooched on the couch to provide room for Francis. The big biker dropped down slowly, stretching his legs out and letting them rest, rubbing the Witch's back. The college girl looked at the biker. "Louis...?"
Francis shook his head, then held Sarah tighter as the mention of the black man's name caused her to cry harder. Francis sighed. "Don't nobody say his name anymore. Not when she's around. No one deserves to feel a death like this."
Zoey and Bill both nodded in silent solemn agreement. Zoey leaned against Francis, and closed her eyes, Sarah quieting as she cried herself to sleep. Francis turned his face to Sarah's silky platinum tresses, and closed his eyes, falling asleep as well.
Bill watched them, and kept himself awake. Someone needed to keep watch, and though he was drop-dead tired, he decided he would. He'd wake Francis if it became too much. He sat up straight, and stared at the jar Zoey had been holding, what had saved Sarah's life from the Tank but doomed Louis. It was a jar of honey.
He cursed himself. He felt it was his fault the young analyst had died. If he hadn't been against running the distance, Louis would still be alive. He leaned back again, and stared at the ceiling, wishing he could rewind time and take it back.
But he couldn't. And as heavy thinking works, his eyelids drooped with lead-bearing sleep, and closed. He fell limp as he fell asleep, his cigarette drooping as well.