Marcy's Story
Disclaimer: I do not own World War Z but I do own this story.
Chapter 1: Marcy August
I meet Marcy August at a cafe on the west side of the river Thames right in the centre of London. I she told me it was for dramatic effect but I see her eyes linger fondly around the city landscape and i find I have my doubts.
Marcy is not what I had expected from out talks over the phone and I admit the image of her in my head. Far from some damsel in distress like figure Marcy is tall and lean with more long black hair than I thought possible. It only hits me after we sit down that this grown woman is the same Marcy from all the stories I had researched over the last few months.
It takes a bit for me to get set up, my microphone and notepad out to make sure I don't miss anything. I have to stop myself from laughing at the amused look on Marcy's face. Finally we are able to begin.
Marcy: Go on ask.
Me: Urrrmm...
Marcy: Ask the damn question so we can get on with the sob story.
I take a deep breath before continuing.
Me: Are you the young girl from the story Caesar and Marcy?
She lets out a brief huffing sound of amusement.
Marcy: I guess I am, though I want in there that I hate that name.
Me: Why may I ask?
Marcy: Isn't it obvious.
She waits for my response, when I give none she roles her eye and continues.
Marcy: His names not bloody Caesar. Hell do you even know his real name?
I quickly pick up my notes and check though I had taken the name to memory.
Me: Simon August.
She flashes me a wide grin.
Marcy: Well done, that makes you the first in a while to actually know that bit. Gods you have no idea how many people have spoken to me like I was saved by some hero named Caesar. Catchy yes but I always prefer Simon, I said the damn name every day for years and I promise I am not tired of it. Well go on ask your first question.
I look to my list.
Me: The common story says Cae...Simon found you in the fall of London but with your name.
She gives me another huff of laughter though this one sounds more genuine.
Marcy: Mate I took that name after we started meeting people again and before you ask, no I do not remember my parents much and nor do I want to talk about it. Don't even remember their names. But trust me, me and Simon, not related. If you had ever seen us together you could have told after a few seconds. The only thing we had in common was unmanageable hair and his was brown.
Me: So he really did find you in London?
Marcy: I don't really remember much about that bit, I was seven and there were zombells everywhere...sorry zombies. Simon used to call them zombells to make me laugh.
There is a brief pause, Marcy seems to shrink a bit in her chair. After a moment she is back to normal and looking at me expectantly.
Marcy: Well go on then, what else do you want to know.
Me: Well everything really, this is all meant to be the truth of the story. Your story.
Marcy: You really mean that?
I nod without thinking, nearing knocking my drink onto my notes and microphone in my enthusiasm. Marcy laughs at this and seems to relax more.
Marcy: All right mate but if you want the whole story we are going to have get some food.
We order a round of food from the counter and Marcy props her feet up and starts her story, half a bagel still in her mouth.
Marcy: Ok let's start with year one, you pipe in whenever K. I start crying just leave me to it, it will end quickly. I promise you now that I'll tell you the truth of this, I know people have said I edited my first version a bit. No this one is all truth.
