The Runaways

I'm dead. But it's not that bad. The fear and anger have subsided into a bothersome rash. This is the new world. The new order I don't entirely follow. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. My clothes are far from clean, my posture is horrible. I mean, come on, stand up straighter. But, oh yeah, I'm dead. I shouldn't be putting myself down, everyone on my home planet is. We're all rotting, walking corpses. But I'm not as far as ripping my own skin away from my cheek bones. No, that's just unsanitary and hard to watch. Especially if, once upon a time, you knew the guy. Or girl. It's hard to differentiate the genders when the hair and most body features are completely gone. Meaning, no one tends to have relationships or anything too personal on our world. It'd just be weird if something unintended happens when you think the girl or boy is really the opposite of what they are. I'm never good with names, especially my own. It starts with an "R", but one letter is as far as I can generally get. There are those certain occasions where a few more letters pop up, but just like Lennie from.. I'll stop there. Trying to remember that title will take longer than me pronouncing "R". It comes out sounding more like a growling noise.

Our world is a sister world. Near Earth, but unnoticed to the citizens there. I was once human. My whole world was once human. Now it is the Dead looming over the remaining Living. We are alien to them, as well as the population of Earth. They know of our existence, they know each vessel they send to our planet has Living on it that we devour.

I am walking, my grey eyes locked onto the settling ship. 72 more life forms to kill and feast upon. My fellow members of the Dead push my shoulders, shoving against me to get to their meals. I blink, glancing around before approaching the rising crowds. Moans and groans, fingers scratching against shriveled skin as they anxiously wait. I am new to this side of life. My skin is pale and marked, but not deteriorating. My dark hair needs a trim, tangled and limp on my forehead. Though I am not trying too hard to impress anyone here.

Slowly, the rocket lowers itself. I blink again. In seconds, the doors creak open. Our meals have found themselves their plate, their final resting place. I wait patiently, blocked by several heads. I bow my head, staring at my black converses as the Living begin to pile out.

Terry stumbled forward, a hand on her elbow and another hand on her shoulder. She didn't know who was touching her, or pushing her, but she wished it would stop. Biting her lip, Terry's eyes roamed over the sea of dead in front of her and her small unit of 72. She had signed up for this listing without her mother's permission, taking a trip to a foreign planet for the first time to see someone she hardly remembered. Ryan, the one who had saved her from an unknown more than once. Another shove down the ramp and Terry winced, yanking her arm and body away from the shaking people behind her. She peaked over her shoulder, attempting to see whomever was scratching at her arms. They were food for whomever and whatever was waiting. The updates they were given were few, hardly anything. Terry knew there were more things than zombies down there, but that's all she needed to stress about at the moment. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she approached the bottom of the ramp. Dead hands clawed at her, begging for her meat. Her eyes racked the crowd, surveying everything there was to see. And the tall boy waiting at the edge. Bright grey eyes, less dead than everyone else. "Ryan," she whispered, taking a slow step, but forced backwards once again. The dead were surrounding her. Going back onto the ramp was not an option, bodies pushed against her from all directions. "Ryan... Ryan!" Terry screamed, her arms getting pinned to her sides as her head lashed from side to side.

I lift my head. My eyes survey the crowd of Living and Dead. Did I hear my name? Do I have a name? Yes, I have something... I grimace, dragging myself back to the world around me. Terry. It was Terry. My eyes widen in mild surprise and I push myself forward. I shove the bodies to the sides with any strength I could muster, propelling through the crowd until my eyes land on her. Terry, the blonde Australian girl who couldn't find her mother. I try a smile on for size, then quickly rub it away. Why she is here I cannot begin to decipher, though I try not to. She is here and she needs me. I push through the last of the crowd, staring down Terry until I was able to touch her. My hand catches hers and I pull her forward. "Terr-...y." I croak, the name forcing it's way up my throat and out my lips. "Terry." It sounds better this time and I decide to praise myself later. My grip is strong enough to keep in contact with her, rope her towards me until I feel all her body heat. More and more Living around me are dying, turning into something like me or actually, truthfully... Dying. Something that does not happen often. "What... Doing here?" I ask softly once she is in ear shot, my head lowering to meet her eyes. She is close enough to me that her scent is masked. Around us, they assume she is another member.

Terry's eyes roamed back to Ryan's face, one she had been deprived of seeing for quite some time. And in all honesty, she actually missed him... Whatever he was. Because this is what leftovers of the human race were in this day and age. What wasn't wanted or who wasn't needed became food or a walker. Terry bit her lip, squeezing Ryan's hand with a soft smile. "I came for a few reasons. Because I... I wanted to see you. And warn you." She said, pressing tighter against him as she squirmed away from other zombies roaming about. They weren't after her though, they didn't give her the time of day. "UNIT is coming to take out the problem they've been tracking on this planet. That 'problem' being you, Ryan."

I grind my teeth together. My head lolls side to side as my mind works through detail upon detail. I look back at Terry, nodding my head out of habit as I flinch at a sudden noise. A gun has gone off. Where has a Living found a gun? "It's... Okay." I say and my voice is shaky. How can I reassure her if I cannot find a balance in my vocal cords? I sound as if I am on the verge of tears, but I no longer contain such a miracle. "Already... Dead." I add, hoping it would add some sort of foundation to work off of. I suspect it doesn't, but I cannot risk a glance at Terry's face. I feel ashamed, worse off than I had been moments ago. When I was preparing myself for a meal. For the warmth of meat and blood. But now I have UNIT chasing after me. I shiver, pushing myself through more agonizing thoughts than necessary. My brain feels as if it wants to shut down, power itself off and sleep for an eternity. No. Terry needs me. I shrug, look back at her and say, "I... Can handle." Yep, definitely. That's for sure.

Terry dramatically rolled her eyes, "yeah, no. I don't think you understand. They'll shoot you, Ryan. In the head. You won't come back, you'll be gone. Do you get that?" She snapped, stopping in her tracks. Her grip on Ryan was hopefully enough to keep him at her side. "Ryan, you're something special. You speak and you understand... While your friends over there chew on people I spent days riding with. They had names, stories, families they had hopes of getting back to. I got out on one lucky shot." She lowered her voice, running a hand through her blonde hair as she sighed. "I can't begin to understand how the hell you're not groaing and SHAME ON YOU to get over there, but I can see it in the way you're looking at me. And looking around. Hell, you look at the ground like its a masterpiece." Terry began to walk again, dragging Ryan along at her new pace. "Just get me out of here." She muttered, her whole mood shifting as she gave up hope on explaining this to him.

Terry's sudden change shocks me. Her demeanor flips like a light switch. One moment she contains a bright beacon of hope, a rechargeable energy handed the task of saving me. This one time. This undesirable task of saving a dead man. I gulp, bow my head and follow after her. "This... Way." I say after a long, dreadful silence. With silence comes the pain filled cries of the remaining Living. I shrivel away from the scenes. My eyes dart to the clear, blue sky. Ironic, because the atmosphere is heavy with the weight of a 72 dead. The air smells of blood, the stench forcing my dark liquids to squirm and plead with me. My blood is no longer red, I bleed black. When I do bleed, that is. I don't generally find myself at the end of a gun. I continuously find myself blaming the disease for that, though I fear it is something greater. I drag Terry to an abandoned shop, the sign beaten from years of uncaring and deprived of acknowledgment. I shove the door open, stepping in as I usher her in after me. I shut the door soundlessly. "Safe... For now."

Terry nodded, biting her lip before dropping Ryan's hand. "Thank you." She whispered, rubbing her bare arms as she sighed. "Look, I'm sorry." She mumbled after a moment, lowering herself onto the floor as she crossed her legs, looking up at him with a smile. "But you can't do it all yourself, Ryan. Whether you like it or not, you have my help." Terry said, her tone getting stronger as she continued to speak. "You trust me, don't you?"

I sit down directly across from her. My eyes never leave her blue ones, as if a spell has kept me trapped. Is that was this is? Some new way this disease is willing to attack us? I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I nod. "Yes," I say in a rush, knowing the replies I get when I don't use my words around her. She tries to improve me and I fail to keep up constantly. But I look forward to the things she will teach me. "I... Trust." I say through bared teeth as I offer a mocking smile. It feels raw and Cheshire on my face and I immediately dispose of it.

Terry laughed, rocking backwards so her back was pressed against the cold ground. She sighed, peaking at Ryan quickly. "I like your smile." She said softly, biting her lip after a moment with a smile. "I mean, when you smile, its hard to believe you're... Like this. In this... State. A zombie or whatever." She propped herself up on one elbow, smirking as she stretched a hand out, grabbing his. "Like you're wearing stage makeup or something." Terry squeezed his hand, then released it and sighed loudly. "Well. Enough of that. What're we gonna do here?"