All I remember of the dream was that there were a group of nutso guys that would set up an "invisible audience" outside of houses, then the audience would get a kick out of watching them raid people's houses and kill everyone inside. So me and my group went through houses but had to keep moving around so as not to be a part of it, but because there was the Rick guy from The Walking Dead I kind of assumed it was after the zombie apocalypse and there was no government still to put an end to the act.
The piece is a loose interpretation of this, and is as follows:
After
the apocalypse that nearly drowned out the human race, groups are still
fighting to gain back the civilization they lost from the Flesheaters during a 7-year
fight for survival. Cosette, an unlikely survivor lucky enough to have survived
with a group of people who are about the closest thing left to humanity finds
their small attempts to colonize in vain when another group of uncanny
survivors are making sure that nothing, dead or living, goes unscathed in the
world. Now she and her group must band together once again to escape their
increasing wrath in order to restore hope to humanity, all the while finding
out that some battles are lost before they even begin.
As to not spoil everything, that's all I'll give for now (as well as the first chapter), but I want to know if anyone thinks it's worth writing or if it's better off to keep as a dream.
Anyway, I have two titles in question because for now I'm going to stick with it.
1. Die Anyway
2. Among the Living
But enough of my ranting, here's a first draft of Chapter One
Hugo
died in his mind. I remembered the image of him sitting on the chair after Mark
and Jason chased him into the hospital building, and I dragged myself in after
them because I felt like I had to contribute something other than scavenged
food. His arms clung to the arm rests, the veins in his arms popping out as he
creased the brow in his forehead and stared forward absently.
“Hue,
it’s time to go outside. Vince said if you’re not out there in ten minutes then
we’re moving on without you.”
I never
saw his eyes look so crazy before. He was usually just quiet and hung around me
fiddling with a stick in his hand or carving one with his knife behind the rest
of the group. I’d taken some comfort in having him linger by most of these past
seven years, even though I knew he wouldn’t have been the most dependable if
something were to happen. I just liked him anyway, though.
Hugo’s
eyes met mine as he gave a cold glare then with a breath that sounded annoyed
he said, “You. Don’t lie to me. Is it over?”
I kept
silent for a second and glanced to Jason because I felt like maybe he would
step in and answer for me, but he just turned and waited for my response.
“I… I
don’t know,” I replied, a bit confused. “I mean. Vince said it is.”
“Well,
I’m not asking Vince, gringa. I’m asking you what you think.”
I still
didn’t know what I was supposed to say. “Look, Hue,” Jason started, but Hugo
wouldn’t have any of it as he stood up and pounded his fist against the nearby
wall.
“She
can answer herself, I know she talks once in a while considering that she has a
hard time shutting up when everyone else is trying to sleep. Is it over,
blondie?”
I was a
bit hurt, to be quite honest. I guess even though he never said much I had
still kind of thought we were friends. Before, I’d never gotten any indication
that he found me in the least bit annoying or stupid. When I tried to tell
jokes, he would smile at them, and when I would ask questions he would at least
respond. Being as self-conscious as I am, I would even tell him that I was
talking too much and promise that I wouldn’t talk anymore, but he would shrug
and say, “I don’t mind it. Nice to fill thoughts with words sometimes, amiga.”
I tried
not to show my hurt, though, when I reminded myself that it was time to stop
acting like a child and to start acting my age. “You saw what was going on last
time we got to Salt Lake. I’d say that was a pretty good indication that even
if it’s not over just yet, it’s close. It’s been at least a month since we’ve
seen a Flesheater, which, you know. Is saying something. I think Vince is
right.”
“You
know what else we haven’t seen?” he asked as a maniacal chuckle escape from him
as he paced across the floor, away from all of us and towards the window. He
tugged on the blinds, opening them up for all of us to see the starry night sky
and vast desert of nothingness. “Compadres. People. Indication that God isn’t
some sick-minded joker and we’re in some alternative reality where we’re
walking aimlessly, continuously afraid and waiting to see what’s at the end of
this hell-bound nothingness.”
“Vince
thinks-“
“To
hell with Vince! My family is dead because of that son of a gun. But of course
he’s fine and dandy because he has his wife and brother with his gringa little
daughter.”
I kept
silent, even though I knew Hugo was wrong. His family was a group of
flesheaters. I guess it had never occurred to me that maybe he hadn’t seen that
in them.
“Hey,
Hue, man, we gotta head back down before the group leaves without us,” Mark
tried after a few minutes of silence.
“Go
then, I’ll catch up when I feel like it’s right for me. Maybe. If I feel like
coming.”
Jason
and Mark exchanged a few glances then nodded as if coming to an unspoken conclusion.
“Alright Cosette, come on.”
Though
I was admittedly a bit sad to see him go, I turned to leave with Mark who gave
me a meaningful glance as if to say he was sorry. Mark was, after all, the only
person who I knew without any uncertainty who cared for me at all. Back before
the Fire Age began, I worked with him while I was working in a minimum wage
call center to help pay for college. At the time he was kind of a joke to the
office because he spoke loudly, but he was everything but annoying. Now he
still had a bit of his humor to him, but there was also a caring side that I
never would have guessed he had if I hadn’t been stuck around him for the past
two years.
Before
I walked out, Hugo’s voice came behind me saying, “Just a second Cosy, I just
want one second. Alone.” Because I wasn’t sure if we had the time for this, I
looked to Jason and Mark for permission and they both nodded to say it was
okay. They walked out and Hugo asked me to close the door, so I did.
“Come
here, I don’t want them to hear,” Hugo said, his voice sounded deeper as he
closed his eyes. “It will just take a minute.”
I came
over to him, a part of me hoping he was about to offer an apology or something.
A hopeful part of me even wanted something along the lines of, “Thanks, gringa.
You’ve been a good friend to me over these years. Who knows, maybe we’ll run
into each other again some day.”
My hope
was shattered when suddenly my back was being pressed up against the wall and I
was staring into bloodshot eyes, his hand gripped around my throat and cutting
off all the air from entering into my lungs. Pure shock kept me silent for a
second, but after a few seconds I processed what was happening and attempted to
scream, but to no avail.
He brought
his lips close to my ear, then whispered, “Like I said, it will only take a
minute,” at which point I tried clawing myself free from his grasp but I might
as well have been an ant trying to move a boulder. I finally gained enough
sense to beat against the wall behind me.
I wish
I could say I felt afraid. But that was an emotion that I had become completely
void of over the past couple of years. All I felt was stupid for having fell
into the trap. Seven years of surviving an apocalypse of flesh eating humans
and I meet my end from the living. Typical.
I guess
I had become unaware of everything else going on around me because I was too
set on choking to death, but Mark and Jason had come in the door and the next
thing I knew the grip around my neck had loosened but he didn’t stop staring.
In fact, he was still staring as he dropped to the floor as if he were a 3-D
mode of the Mona Lisa that looked every which way you went. The first breath of
air felt as if I swallowed too much water and I had to choke it back out. All of
this happened before I even realized what had just happened as I glanced to the
corner of the room, Mark hand extended upwards with a gun aimed my way and a
dead body was at my feet.
For the
first time, I understood what Vince meant when he kept saying, “We don’t need
worry about flesheaters anymore.” With the third kill in a week within our already
small group, it was clear that the living were hardly anything more than serial
killers who no longer get their fill.
