Title:Sleepwalkers Dream
Author:Bloodrope
Fandom:The Walking Dead
Genre:Horror/Mystery
Rating:M
Disclaimer:This content belongs solely to the author (Bloodrope) and cannot and shall not be authorized without a concise written agreement acknowledging that content can be used. The characters belong to Robert Kirkman and the creators, produces and cast of AMC's The Walking dead. The author owns the Characters (Cadelyn Allyson) and minor characters that haven't been shown on the Television or the Comic books. Also that Cadelyn Allyson is portrayed by Evangeline Lilly and that the actress doesn't have any affiliation to this work of fiction. Please also note that similarities to persons living or dead aren't intended and that this is a work of fiction and to not Sue the author.
© Bloodrope™ 2012 ®
Recommended Playlist:
Solitary Ground- Epica
Search and Destroy- Thirty Seconds to Mars
Only You- Portishead
Sail- AWOLNation
Not Afraid- Earshot
Don't say a word- Halestorm
Miss Nothing- The Pretty Reckless
Seven Devils- Florence + The Machines
Breath of Life- Florence + The Machines
Through Hell- We are the Fallen
The Gathering- Delain
Chapter 1: Broken
"Save yourself from all the lies of the beautiful people. It's time to run"
-Lies of the Beautiful People: Sixx A.M.-
She spent days living in the small second story of an abandoned 3 bedroom home. What was once lavish started to decay if it hadn't already been looted by thieves and mongrels who only wanted to survive. There wasn't any reason for her to hold malice to them. Hell, she too was surviving in this makeshift of a fucked up world. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that her childhood nightmares were now the reality she was living in. Zombies. Flesh eating, dead zombies were walking together in herds searching for their next meal. It was funny trying to imagine them sharing something that their body just couldn't not only digest but properly sustain without losing a part of their putrefying bodies.
She had witnessed firsthand the terror of the undead and being alone in a home where the windows had been shattered, the doors practically hanging on their hinges, and barely any non-rotting food, Cade was one hundred percent fucked. The only good thing going for her at the moment was the fact none of the walking undead had gotten to the second floor and those that were dead in the first two rooms had actually stayed dead.
It was sickening and sad what she had seen. The bodies of two children who had perfect circular holes drilled in between their eyes and destroying the brain from the inside made sure that they couldn't come back. There was no chance for reanimation. Hell, there wasn't even a point in trying to conjure what these two children had to go through. Wonder if they suffered through pain or were they blessed enough to be drugged. In the end though, she had a temporary safe-haven that was until her last 3 cans of expired spam would run out and her canteen of water emptied.
Cade knew that she had to leave this house, leave the conjured protection that it barely held and venture back out into the warzone where the enemy outnumbered her not just by 10 but by the thousands. Her hand stilled when the audible groan made it to her now sensitive ears. From her placement above she couldn't smell the vomit-inducing stench that came with the zombie and for that she sent up an invisible mocking prayer to the God who perhaps did or did not exist. Being religious seemed to be something that humans clung to in the time of despair or when troubling times were to come. It was apparently salvation but those of other faiths were doing exactly what the dead were. Killing. Fighting over their religion as though it were a piece of juicy bloody meat that needed to be invisibly ingested yet couldn't.
Being a stealth ninja warrior had always been a dream of Cade's but even from her adolescent years she knew that the task was almost impossible however keeping the mindset to stay away from the left side of the floor that dipped slightly from age and wear, and that would creak and moan she lifted the sheer curtain. Overlooking the beauty that was shockingly enough the earths green landscape were trees still soaring up to the sky, their trunks still fighting against this unknowable disease which housed life. Birds chirped and would fly every morning from their domestic nests to bring in their hunt and the shaking of branches and the leaves rustling against one another before being snapped back into place due to squirrels leaping now seldom caused a reaction.
Her eyes shifted downward to the vision of hells opened mouth. Cars had been left in a haphazard; doors opened and drained of fuel. Some had even been rolled onto their roofs and the webbing of glass weaved across what was once transparent and visible. Blood even spattered with remains of previous meals were rubbed and had fallen onto the ground. The undead had a matted patch of hair that was lined with crusted dirt, rips of tethered leaves as well as a color of tar that the only thing that she could imagine it be was blood. A limb was shifted in an ungodly position, the leg which bared no flesh showed the dirtied bone that should've proven life, which should've been as clear as a milks color. Shafts seemed to be broken towards where the calf muscle would've been and gave the undead woman it appeared a drastic limp. The groaning and moans seemed to however become louder more pronounced and from her placement it wasn't just the one that was having a hard time walking.
There had to be more. While the sun was still up Cade thought about checking below but it would cause more harm than good. One of the wooden wardrobes had blocked off the stairs from the second floor and that was by her own doing. She didn't want to stand out; all that she wanted was for the dead to leave her, to give her peace even if it was for a short while. Wasn't she granted that much?
Remints of glass shattered and it all seemed to go straight to hell for her. In her mind she was conjuring elaborate and even at times silly ways for her to escape should the time come. Now it was that time and the days of planning and being meticulous she had nothing. Her mind drew to a blank and with a shaking hand her palm pressed against the harsh contours of her face.
Calm down. You can do this; you've done this for weeks. You know how to survive. Think. What is the first step?
She immediately thought of the backside of the house where her motorbike was. Her keys were in her pocket, where they always would be and there was still at least a quarter of a tank. It should get her far away from the dead. It would have to.
Good. Now before you get to the bike what do you have to do? She ran it through her mind and pulled on her biker boots, locking the buckle across her foot and tucked the starting to ravel hem into the hole. Grabbing her satchel with the remaining food, Cade grabbed the throwing knives and attached the leg sheaths to her upper thigh where their sharp counter-points would nestle against the fabric. And finally she grabbed her 12 gauge shot-gun. Technically it should've held the 6 rounds, but there was only 3 and that included the one if she so needed to use on herself.
It made her remember her brother, the marine who should've been there with her. Who should've taught her better, hell, she should've listened better. Guns weren't her thing, she remembered. She didn't have the guts to pull the trigger and end something's life. It was why she carried knives. Not because they were silent but she could do more with them. Cut her hair, slice her food, throw them at suspecting targets and darkly kill the undead if they crossed her path.
You're such a hypocrite Cade. Being afraid of taking a life and yet you're ending many.
Such patronizing and true words struck hard but there wasn't any time for her to try and justify to her brain that these undead were still people. She wouldn't have time to grab the lantern nor would she be able to grab a blanket. Time was of the essence. Cade could hear the rutted footsteps and the muted groans from behind her make-shift barrier wall.
Creaks from her footsteps had to alert those below of her presence as she locked the door that held a decaying man and what she assumed to be his wife. Matter sprayed above and spewed in an arc where crusted red glued itself onto once floral wallpaper designs. There wouldn't be a second glance at the bodies until she opened the French doors and peered down towards the balcony.
Below held at least an 11 foot drop and taking a deep calming breath she took quick glances towards the wood line which was eerily empty. A quick turn towards the lock door was her own goodbye to the ratted farmhouse that she had called home, even if it was with its previous tenants. Her lithe toned leg crossed onto the white wooden barrier, nails gripping the bark. It was as though she was scared to jump. But it wasn't because she'd be jumping over a foot story building down onto the non-caressing earth but because of what could be hiding. There would always be that chance that a half-rotting flesh eater would be hiding, awaiting to strike like a python having found its prey. Its appearance could always vary from a face that was missing half of the once supple and toned flesh which could currently show the bones and the ragged teeth that would hold remains of its previous "meal" that would be logged into its teeth or everything about the undeads face could be more gruesome, more horrid.
That and the fact that the stench of rotting flesh never did sit well with her stomach. She would sit on the flat two by four mark of wood and listen. Steps were groaning and creaking and the patting against walls and growls started to become louder, more pronounced. It wouldn't be long until the ratting of mix-matched clothes and shoes would be hitting against the wardrobes unlocked doors.
"Fuck, well big Guy, if you're taking prayers after this shit let's just be clear. I am not dying yet. You better mark that down cause I'm jumping," she hushed in a harsh crisp breath.
There wouldn't be any point in closing her eyes and hoping for the jump to happen, that would be just comical if she did though, however she pushed her body off and watched her braid from her peripheral flow up into the sky.
The ground wasn't as sweet when she landed. Her knees would bend to absorb the force and her body would roll into the gritty and dirty grass and soil. Her breath was lodged in her mouth, locked as though a waiting to see if she'd catch any of the attention of hunters that were out. Her neck would whip behind her and she'd just be able to see the last form of one of the undead heading up towards with the rest of the herd. A silent thank you would be sent up into the puffy and ivory clouds into the heavens as her legs snapped to unlock themselves and taking her towards the blocky shadowed motorcycle that wouldn't really give much protection if any lingering counterparts decided to linger.
Her hands knuckled around the chain, pulling out the silver key and fitted it into the center of her hopeful savior. Her right foot kicked the starter while her left rose up the stand and the right hand gunning the throaty throttle. The tempered snarl and roar of her bike made her smile despite her situation. The two sets of index fingers and middle digits released the brakes and her body thrusted forward and away from the home.
While rounding the corner she cursed. It should've hit her that the cars would be blocking her and it did pass her thought but the section also held 4 roaming walkers that all had their cloudy and undead eyes trained on her.
"Mother-chucker and Saint Christopher."
There was no way that she could pull out the shot-gun. Not without attracting the attention of the others who were too busy lodged at the stairs. Weaving the wheel she rounded and fumbled at her side for her long blade skinning knife. It wasn't her ideal weapon; all that she hoped was that she wouldn't need it to gut a fish or game soon before she could sterilize it.
The bike idled and growled louder than the 4 together as they inched limping towards her. A man who had seen better days had his gut liquefying out from a large gash was the closest to her by a few good feet. As his mouth started to chop
and the teeth started to grind, his arms lifted into the air in attempt to grip and she slashed her arm out towards his missing eye socket and pushed up into the stem of his brain, disconnecting it from the rest of his body and ultimately silencing him for the last time. The others she didn't need to take out as they were now away from the cars and wouldn't have enough time to make it towards her.
The motorcycle weaved and she took off towards the lonely and desolate road with a passing thought.
No place was safe.
