Post by Spirk on Jan 12, 2005 19:01:57 GMT -5
The Walk
Part two: To sleep, per chance to dream
By R. M. Carroll
-2-
For two nights I moved through the city, as the dead washed over it like a tidal wave of rot and decay. I wasn’t the only one who wanted out, several million people decided it would be a good idea to leave, all at once. The bridges were clogged with cars in total gridlock. The zombies caught up with those unlucky souls stuck towards the back of the jam first and devoured them. Those closer to the bridges jumped out of their cars and ran for it, many were trampled in the panic and after they died they got up again and began to kill those unlucky enough to still be around. Most of this happened on the second day while I slept safely in a penthouse suite, the door barred and locked, the covers up over my head to keep out any stray sunlight. It wasn’t my usual resting spot but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
When I woke on that second night the first thing I did was eat the guy who lived there. I had found him that morning, just before dawn when I’d entered the penthouse. There had been two of them actually, a man and a woman. He was dressed in bikini briefs that did nothing to make him look gratifying. In fact he looked like a gorilla with the body hair that went from ankles to throat. It was the woman that had caught my eye however. When he’d yelled in surprise at the discovery of a strange woman looking down at him she’d rolled over, her one good eye went wide with surprise, it was the other eye, the one that was swollen shut that brought the growl from my lips. He was a wife beater, an insecure little prick who took his aggressions out on someone half his size.
“Get out.” I said to the woman as the man started to regain his composure.
“Wha?” She said in shock. The strangeness of the situation was beginning to sink in with them. There was a strange woman in their home she couldn’t have been more then five foot but she had a look in her eyes that would have scared a Kodiak bear. I looked severely pissed, so pissed that I might go so far as to kill someone. I didn’t blame her when she jumped out of the bed and ran for the door.
I didn’t blame the man either, when he lunged from his bed, his hands aimed for my throat. I didn’t blame him but that didn’t mean I wasn’t ready for him. He was big, six foot maybe six one and even though his body had started to go soft in the middle he still looked like he might have been a boxer or maybe a football player at one point.
“Fuck you lady.” He snarled as he rushed me, a half assed attempt to wrap his hands around my throat. His intention was to strangle me that much was obvious but he was still groggy and only human after all. Instead he fell forward, his foot caught up in my ankle as I sidestepped away from him, leaving him just enough of me to trip over. He crashed to the floor with a woofing sound as the air from his lungs expelled between his lips.
“Go on.” I told the woman as she stood near the door. It was obvious she was unsure of what to do. I knew that turning her out into the streets would probably be a death sentence with the zombie threat growing as it was but I couldn’t let her stay here. I already had plans for her but letting her stay would be too much of a risk. I couldn’t trust both of them in the apartment while I slept all day.
“But.” She said, the confusion still there as she stood in her nightgown in front of the door. I sighed as I pulled the handcuffs from out of one of the many pockets sewn into my jacket. I always carried at least one pair of cuffs on me no matter what I was wearing. You just never know when you need a good pair of cuffs.
“Are you a cop?” She asked me with wide eyes as I cuffed her husband’s hands behind his back. I couldn’t help but smile as I clicked them into place. That was a question I always got asked when I brought out the cuffs.
“No.” I replied as I looked from her husband up at the woman. She had been pretty once; long auburn hair and a figure that I was betting had once made hourglasses envious. She still could be pretty, in a more mature sexy adult sort or of way but somehow I doubted she would ever get the chance to heal. “You know what’s going on out there?” I asked her as I got to my feet and dusted off the knees of my leather pants. The dirt bag husband tried to get to his knees but a well-placed kick to the gut sent him right back down onto his stomach.
“I heard there were riots.” She said meekly as she watched me manhandle her husband. I looked from him back up to her and frowned slightly.
“Riots, yeah right.” I muttered. She left not long after, well actually I threw her out because the sun was coming up and I needed to get to the safety of the bed. Like I said, I felt bad about turning her loose among the zombies but if it was me or her guess whom I’m choosing.
The husband I locked in the bathroom after I tied him to the showerhead. He was cuffed and bound he wasn’t going anywhere, not unless I let him out anyway. I stripped down to nothing and slid into the bed, pulling the covers over my head to help keep the sunlight away from me as it began its daily trek across the sky. I slept, and I dreamed.
Lorien was someone I had met over a century ago in London. He was an evil creature who enjoyed gutting streetwalkers in the ‘Gaslight’ Section of old London Town and then reading about it in the papers the next evening. They called him Jack the Ripper; I called him a sick bastard. Yet there he was, in my dreams, a nasty demon who thrived on chaos and bathed in the blood of innocents.
“Seline.” He whispered softly as I stood in the fog entrenched streets of old London. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there nonetheless. “Seline.” He whispered again, closer this time, I knew it was a dream; I knew he was playing with me but what I didn’t know was why.
“What is it Lorien.” I called out, my voice soft yet firm as he moved about me in the fog. I could see him now, only glimpses as he moved in and out of the fog.
“Oh please Seline.” He said with a purr, “Call me Jack, you know I love it when people call me Jack.”<br>
“Stop with the games and show yourself to me Lorien.” I growled as my fangs distended, my diamond hard nails sprang from their sheaths. I was beyond pissed off and terrified at the same time.
“Oh no, no, no.” Lorien whispered with a smile. “Not yet my lovely, but soon, soon we will play among the dead ones.” My eyes snapped open as the sun sank beneath the skyline, my body covered in a cold bloody sweat.
I needed to take a shower but I’d left the wife beater tied up to the showerhead so I ate him first to prevent any difficulties before I slid into the shower and washed the light coating of bloodsweat from my body. Lorien, he was watching me, was in my dreams. If the zombie plague that was ripping through this place wasn’t bad enough I had a demon wanting to play little games among the corpses. I was really starting to hate this town.
Part two: To sleep, per chance to dream
By R. M. Carroll
-2-
For two nights I moved through the city, as the dead washed over it like a tidal wave of rot and decay. I wasn’t the only one who wanted out, several million people decided it would be a good idea to leave, all at once. The bridges were clogged with cars in total gridlock. The zombies caught up with those unlucky souls stuck towards the back of the jam first and devoured them. Those closer to the bridges jumped out of their cars and ran for it, many were trampled in the panic and after they died they got up again and began to kill those unlucky enough to still be around. Most of this happened on the second day while I slept safely in a penthouse suite, the door barred and locked, the covers up over my head to keep out any stray sunlight. It wasn’t my usual resting spot but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
When I woke on that second night the first thing I did was eat the guy who lived there. I had found him that morning, just before dawn when I’d entered the penthouse. There had been two of them actually, a man and a woman. He was dressed in bikini briefs that did nothing to make him look gratifying. In fact he looked like a gorilla with the body hair that went from ankles to throat. It was the woman that had caught my eye however. When he’d yelled in surprise at the discovery of a strange woman looking down at him she’d rolled over, her one good eye went wide with surprise, it was the other eye, the one that was swollen shut that brought the growl from my lips. He was a wife beater, an insecure little prick who took his aggressions out on someone half his size.
“Get out.” I said to the woman as the man started to regain his composure.
“Wha?” She said in shock. The strangeness of the situation was beginning to sink in with them. There was a strange woman in their home she couldn’t have been more then five foot but she had a look in her eyes that would have scared a Kodiak bear. I looked severely pissed, so pissed that I might go so far as to kill someone. I didn’t blame her when she jumped out of the bed and ran for the door.
I didn’t blame the man either, when he lunged from his bed, his hands aimed for my throat. I didn’t blame him but that didn’t mean I wasn’t ready for him. He was big, six foot maybe six one and even though his body had started to go soft in the middle he still looked like he might have been a boxer or maybe a football player at one point.
“Fuck you lady.” He snarled as he rushed me, a half assed attempt to wrap his hands around my throat. His intention was to strangle me that much was obvious but he was still groggy and only human after all. Instead he fell forward, his foot caught up in my ankle as I sidestepped away from him, leaving him just enough of me to trip over. He crashed to the floor with a woofing sound as the air from his lungs expelled between his lips.
“Go on.” I told the woman as she stood near the door. It was obvious she was unsure of what to do. I knew that turning her out into the streets would probably be a death sentence with the zombie threat growing as it was but I couldn’t let her stay here. I already had plans for her but letting her stay would be too much of a risk. I couldn’t trust both of them in the apartment while I slept all day.
“But.” She said, the confusion still there as she stood in her nightgown in front of the door. I sighed as I pulled the handcuffs from out of one of the many pockets sewn into my jacket. I always carried at least one pair of cuffs on me no matter what I was wearing. You just never know when you need a good pair of cuffs.
“Are you a cop?” She asked me with wide eyes as I cuffed her husband’s hands behind his back. I couldn’t help but smile as I clicked them into place. That was a question I always got asked when I brought out the cuffs.
“No.” I replied as I looked from her husband up at the woman. She had been pretty once; long auburn hair and a figure that I was betting had once made hourglasses envious. She still could be pretty, in a more mature sexy adult sort or of way but somehow I doubted she would ever get the chance to heal. “You know what’s going on out there?” I asked her as I got to my feet and dusted off the knees of my leather pants. The dirt bag husband tried to get to his knees but a well-placed kick to the gut sent him right back down onto his stomach.
“I heard there were riots.” She said meekly as she watched me manhandle her husband. I looked from him back up to her and frowned slightly.
“Riots, yeah right.” I muttered. She left not long after, well actually I threw her out because the sun was coming up and I needed to get to the safety of the bed. Like I said, I felt bad about turning her loose among the zombies but if it was me or her guess whom I’m choosing.
The husband I locked in the bathroom after I tied him to the showerhead. He was cuffed and bound he wasn’t going anywhere, not unless I let him out anyway. I stripped down to nothing and slid into the bed, pulling the covers over my head to help keep the sunlight away from me as it began its daily trek across the sky. I slept, and I dreamed.
Lorien was someone I had met over a century ago in London. He was an evil creature who enjoyed gutting streetwalkers in the ‘Gaslight’ Section of old London Town and then reading about it in the papers the next evening. They called him Jack the Ripper; I called him a sick bastard. Yet there he was, in my dreams, a nasty demon who thrived on chaos and bathed in the blood of innocents.
“Seline.” He whispered softly as I stood in the fog entrenched streets of old London. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there nonetheless. “Seline.” He whispered again, closer this time, I knew it was a dream; I knew he was playing with me but what I didn’t know was why.
“What is it Lorien.” I called out, my voice soft yet firm as he moved about me in the fog. I could see him now, only glimpses as he moved in and out of the fog.
“Oh please Seline.” He said with a purr, “Call me Jack, you know I love it when people call me Jack.”<br>
“Stop with the games and show yourself to me Lorien.” I growled as my fangs distended, my diamond hard nails sprang from their sheaths. I was beyond pissed off and terrified at the same time.
“Oh no, no, no.” Lorien whispered with a smile. “Not yet my lovely, but soon, soon we will play among the dead ones.” My eyes snapped open as the sun sank beneath the skyline, my body covered in a cold bloody sweat.
I needed to take a shower but I’d left the wife beater tied up to the showerhead so I ate him first to prevent any difficulties before I slid into the shower and washed the light coating of bloodsweat from my body. Lorien, he was watching me, was in my dreams. If the zombie plague that was ripping through this place wasn’t bad enough I had a demon wanting to play little games among the corpses. I was really starting to hate this town.