I turn round so I mimic U's position against the railings of the bed, and fight the tears. I'm might consider being jealous, but I'm not. He has a name, or the beginnings of one, something to be referred to. What did I have?
I feel a set of fingers brush my arm, and I turn my face to him. He's starting up at me, slouching over to get a look. His eyes look like an attempt at sadness. His lips open, move up and down, and his eyes move away in concentration. Pity swells with my chest, and I feel as though im watching a man with a stutter struggle against his own thoughts. Finally, he looks back up, and instead silently reaches for my eyes. I don't realise until his shiny finger pulls out back into my vision that I am indeed crying.
He shakes his head, and whispers in his raspy voice, "Don't…c-cry."
"You should keep talking," I breathe, wiping my tears away. "You're getting better. Could you talk before?"
"N-nev-ver…t-tr-ied."
I can't help but gaze at him in disbelief. His eyes shift beneath my eyes, and he backs away to his original stoic position, his face always turned my way. His chin length black hair falls into his eyes, but it doesn't bother him.
"How do you…do that? Did I dream the zombie apocalypse bit?"
He shakes his head. "N-no. It..Ha-happened. T-to..me." His hand places itself on his chest again.
"But…are there others like you? Who can…talk?"
He shrugs. I prefer that to a blunt 'no'.
…
Why is she looking at me that way? I knew why, "zombies don't talk," and all that. But why isn't she disgusted, visibly, by the fact that she's talking to a corpse? Why isn't she sickened that my rotted teeth cant form words as fast as she can?
Why is she still in this building with me, in this room?
Why am i?
The trivial matter of time fades into awareness, and while I don't give it much thought usually, I find its affecting my otherwise uninterrupted routine of wondering and groaning discernibly at M. I attempt to stand, but the small issue of the girl is affecting me. What do I do with her? I'm guessing you can't expect to kill someone after establishing a rapor with them and not feel a twinge of guilt. I also know I can't leave her here. I don't know, getting out of here could be tricky with all the Boney's on the ground floor. I'd be fine, but a living girl? She stands out anyway, but as a lifer all she needs is blood and a pulse to push it into the tissues, and she's irresistible.
I stand eventually, and her panicked eyes stare up at me. "Where're we going?" I like how she's automatically paired us up, it makes it easier. Still, I feel her life in my hands like a delicate ornament I never want to break. I check the old blood on her neck, and sniff.
"C-cop-py…me."
How I could ever get her to look dead, I don't know. But the Boney's don't notice anything that smells like us. It's the others I worry about.