Chapter 2: Nellie's Backstory
Nellie runs her hand through her hair. She stares out the safe door window, watching the zombies mill around the street.
Francis snores loudly across the room.
She hugs her knees to her chest. She feels a hand touch her shoulder and she jumps. A chuckle from behind her. Nellie looks to see who it is, and Bill stands in front of her, lighting a cigarette and chuckling lightly.
He puts the light cigarette into his mouth and the lighter into his pocket. He sits next to Nellie, the smoke starting to curl toward the ceiling.
"I thought you were sleeping?" whispers Nellie, so quiet he hardly hears her.
"Wasn't sleeping well. Besides," he says and points at the night sky. "Not every day you get to appreciate the moon in this damn thing." He lets his hand drop to his side. A few moments pass by, and suddenly he blurts out, "So what's your story?" She looks at him weird before responding.
"My story? You mean before this whole damn thing happened? Or the reason why I was in that house with a witch in front of the door?" she asks. Bill shrugged.
"Whichever you feel like sharin'."
Nellie thinks and rests her head on her kneecaps. Hugging her legs closer to her body, she starts to talk. "The story I feel like sharin'... Well I guess I'll try to make this interesting.
"I never was very popular in school. I never was very smart in school stuff, either. The only thing I was smart on was video games, mostly zombie based video games. So when this hit, I was glad I did what I did, researching all types of zombies. So when my parents started to mutate, I knew what they would become." Tears start to fill her eyes, threatening to pour over any second if she continued. "My mother was going to become a witch, while my father was becoming a hunter." She pauses. "My mother started a journal before I kicked her out because of her becoming a witch. I found it after she turned, and I now know how a witch works." Nellie pauses once again. "Twelve hours after your first bit, the infection decides what you will become: witch, regular, hunter, tank, boomer, or smoker. So my moms decided she would be a witch. If you read her journal, she said about constant headaches and a voice that wasn't her own. She talked about a constant urge for sugar. She said something about becoming depressed. Later, she says that she wanted to cry more and more and want sugar more and more. Days began to blend together and soon she didn't recognize me or my father. This was close to the time when she began to turn. On one entry, it told of the feeling of her claws growing in and shredding her clothes. That was the last entry, I saw her the next day and kicked her out because I knew what she was becoming. That's answering both: My story and about the witch." Tears are streaming down her face.
Bill scoots closer to her. He puts his arm around her and scoots her closer.
She continues through the tears.
"My father was a different story, after twelve hours his mutation was much faster. He became more agile all of a sudden. And I knew he was becoming a hunter. I wasn't sure what to do. I wanted him to stay, but I knew that he was turning and fast. Any second he could lunge at me. So I talked to my mom... and she let him outside herself. A few moments later, I heard a hunter cry. And I knew I had made the right choice."
Tears were coming in pools now, and she was hiccupping. Bill knew that if she continued at this pace, she would wake up Francis.
Making sure everyone was still asleep, Bill brings Nellie into a hug. She cries softly into his shoulder, feeling comforted by the old man's presence.
He pet her hair until she stops crying. He pulls her face away.
Bill's hands rest on her cheeks.
"Are you okay, Nellie?" he asks.
She slowly nods and rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. "Yeah, Bill," she responds, sniffling.
"Yeah, I have to be okay."
Bill might not have noticed, but Francis's snores had ceased a bit ago.