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Finding Weakness

Dawn.

For most, it had formerly meant just the beginning of another workday. Now, it meant something new. It meant you'd succeeded in spending another day in the skeleton of New York City. The whole city, once so alive, was dead, just charred remnants littering the sidewalks. It was living (the word used rather loosely) proof that silence could be louder than noise.

Through the quiet strode a tall young man, as confident and proud as his namesake, Lucifer. The expression on his face was a mild one, as though barely surprised by the level of destruction that had occurred. The fools brought this on themselves. He told himself over and over again as he passed partially eaten corpses strewn at the curbside, adding their stench to the ever-present aroma of death. A gun rested against the palm of his hand, dangling muzzle-down. They brought it on themselves.

It had always been assumed to be a figment of horror imagination. Zombie. Even the word sounds like something invented to amuse children. But, as Lucifer noted, it would take some pretty sick children to dream up this kind of devastation. He stopped moving, raven hair falling back as he tilted his head upward to search for a telltale sound. It came to him, almost immediately, horror to accompany the sights and scents of the zombie outbreak. It was a moaning, deathly in its tone. It took him but moments to locate the approximate source of the sound, to his left and about five yards behind him. He whirled, eying his predator, a decomposing corpse, with steel gray eyes. They never changed as he watch the creature shuffle closer, arms outstretched, blood dripping from its decaying mouth. Its mouth widened as its cry grew louder. He raised one arm in a similar fashion to the zombie’s, the zombie’s movements and the length of his arm leaving only about four feet between the two of them. The zombie didn’t seem to notice the gun, despite blank eyes staring directly at the barrel. With ease, he pulled the trigger, the
explosion of the bullet leaving the gun breaking the eerie cry. There was no reaction to the kick of the gun, his feet firmly planted.

New York City was once again silent.

He peered down at his victim a detached air about him. After all, he hunted zombies. It was to be expected. “Now, where’s your last snack, beastie?” He murmured to the corpse. There had to be some other victim that the zombie had been pursuing beforehand. Considering his silence prior to seeing him, and perhaps the blood about his mouth, they weren’t as fortunate as Lucifer had been.

“Anyone there?” He called, taking a few strides forward.

“Me,” Sounded a timid voice. Glancing about, he couldn’t detect the origin of the feminine voice. “Up here.” Craning his neck upward, he located a telephone pole with a teenage girl about fifteen feet up, clinging for dear life. In shock, the two stared at each other for a long time, blue irises onto gray. The first though to come to his stunned mind was, She knew to go up. Plenty of stronger, more experienced people had died in such a situation by just lack of that precise piece of knowledge. “I don’t like heights. How do I get down?” She asked, bringing him back to earth. A smirk crossed his face as he looked up at her.


“Same way you got up.” He turned and began abandoning her, despite a genuine interest in a girl that knew instinctively how to escape. She was just lucky, he told himself, and shook thought of her away.

“WAAAAAIIIIIIIIT!”

He heard pounding footsteps after him, too quick to be a zombie’s. He looked back over his shoulder to see the little blonde teenager racing after him. “That was SO COOL! How do you DO that?!” She exclaimed. Lucifer raised his eyebrows with a startled blink.

“What are you talking about?” She took a few more steps to be alongside the now motionless zombie hunter.
“
You just killed one of those-those-those...things!” She enthused, eyes hopeful. “And you weren’t afraid or trying to run away, you just....shot it. I’ve never seen anyone do that!”

He looked down at her with an expression of absolute disbelief. “Er...thanks. Now, go...do whatever you do.” He turned and began walking in another direction. He really didn’t need to be anywhere, and the last thing he needed was some overenthusiastic girl tagging along at his heels. To his pleasure, she stood still, feet planted on the sidewalk where he’d abandoned her. He let his head return to it’s normal position, and his boots sounded against the pavement as he walked away again.

“WAAAAAIIIIIIIIT!”

And there she was again, sneakers slapping against the pavement in harmony with his slowe footfalls, chasing him down. “Don’t leave me alone!”

Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes as if to block out the irritation. “Why are you following me?” She cut in front of him and met his gaze.

“I don’t know what’s happening, I’m totally lost, and I don’t want to be alone.” The young man grit his teeth, then placed his hands on her shoulders. “Listen. I HUNT zombies. I don’t need you around. Do you understand that?”

“Is that what those things are?”

With a groan, he closed his eyes again. “Yes. That’s what those things are.” He said in the tone you’d take to explain something was to a small child. “I hunt them down, and I kill them. Being with me won’t help you.” He released her, going about his way. She followed him yet again, taking two steps for each one of his.

“But we could be, like, companions. Partners.” She remained quiet for a moment, debating which to go with. “Compartners!”

Lucifer slowly closed his hands into fists, fingernails pressing against pale skin. “No, we’re not, kid.”

She caught his sleeve before he could walk again, desperate. “I’m Emily.” She stated. “And I could help you, or...or...something.” Lucifer hung his head, slowly shaking it back and forth, causing his hair to wave slightly as though there was a breeze. He slowed in surrender, a look of irritation on his face. He had tired of the fight, incapable of arguing with her.

“Fine. But I won’t babysit. Do you get that? Stay quiet and do what I say.”

She nodded, tempted to salute. “Yes, sir.”

The pair continued on for a few paces, hers faster to keep up with him. Lucifer stole a glance at her. It was a lost cause. She couldn’t be much more than what, five feet? Give her a weapon and it’ll probably weigh more than her. He turned his attention to the streets, leading her way. There was a long pause before she piped up, “What’s your name?”

“...Lucifer.” He consented to let her have a name to call him. This apparently made her - blissfully enough- quiet. It might have even been five minutes before she did anything to make herself noticed.

"Can I call you Luci?" She asked, full of questions. Lucifer glared back at her, regretting permitting her to join him.

In response, she hugged him. “Hi, Lucifer!” He twisted his body about in his shock, dismayed at her touch. Pulling from her grasp, he was rendered as speechless as he’d hoped she’d be.

When he finally found his voice, he hissed, “Do. Not. Do that.” He shoved hands into black jean pockets and continued going, steaming to himself. What have I gotten myself into?

Emily sighed, feeling rather hurt at the rejection. What was wrong with hugging? As if to make up for it, she wrapped her arms around herself and continued that way for a long time more, chattering needlessly, but only to fall on Lucifer’s deaf, regretting ears. He yawned, ignoring something about anime. They’d need to stop soon; he’d been traveling all night and from the look of Emily, she had been up defending herself, too.

“Do you see any places to stop and rest?” He asked abruptly, ending her babbling. She peered around.

“There’s a house...” She said uncertainly, pointing towards a smaller home. He opened his mouth to reject it immediately, before studying it harder. The windows were barred, and the door was well reinforced. Ugly though it was, in its peeling yellow paint, it would be more than functional. The windows were darkened with its abandonment; it was of course instinctual to attempt to flee an infested city. Without saying anything to his charge, he turned, walking down a colorless cement path to the doorstep. He pushed a gun back at her.

“Hold onto this. Shoot zombies in the head if they come at you.” He fished around in a leather knapsack for a moment before locating another gun. When he turned back to look at her, she was staring at the gun with a look of uncertainty of her face. He kicked the door, slamming the ball of his foot hard into it, and it swung open with ease, crashing against the wall. “HERE, ZOMBIES!” He screamed. Emily let her jaw fall open, gaping as a few ghouls shambled down the hall, moaning in a rather choral fashion. He raised the gun to his shoulder and fired with great care, watching three fall with four bullets. He made a face to himself as a response to the wasted spare bullet. He began hollering again, as a rather frightened Emily stared in horror. He turned to her.

“Think they’re gone.” Lucifer stepped into the house, treading across the carpet as he surveyed the house. “It’ll work if we go upstairs. He pushed against the door, arm going over her head as it slammed shut. He began locking down the house, a silent way of communicating that he had deemed it worthy. He began leading a very bewildered Emily upstairs, stopping at every closed door to yell and make a fuss, then open the door. When every door had been cleared, he turned to her, as though this were totally normal. “Why do you look so scared?” He asked in his cold voice, confused. Emily smiled up at him, reassured by his attitude that she was safe.

“Nothing. I’m all right.” She walked through a door, cautiously peering around the unlit room. The whole house looked as though people had been in a rush to escape its clutches. “Is this good?” She questioned, looking back at him. Lucifer nodded without bothering to thank her as he strode in.

“You can take first shift sleeping.” Glancing about the lavender walls, he noticed several askew crayon drawings and assorted stuffed animals. Ballerinas. Unicorns. It was the bedroom of a rather cherished little girl.

“‘Night!” She said, laying down on the floor. Her words went in one end of Lucifer’s head and the other. The little girl’s probably dead already. Or a zombie. He looked down at Emily, whose eyes were already closing despite the lack of a pillow or a blanket. I wonder if you’re anything like her. He always felt pity for children ravaged by zombies. They couldn’t make choices. He raised one arm, stripping off a leather jacket to expose just a black T-shirt, and, assuming she was asleep, lifted her head up and placed a jacket under her head. She opened one eye. “What are you doing?”

He resumed his gruff act. “If you don’t rest, I’ll be stuck with the consequences.” She acted like she was asleep, letting her chest rise and fall slower with sleep.

“Will you stay?” She asked in a soft voice, almost like she was terrified that he’d leave. He glanced down at her, sarcastic retorts on the edge of his tongue. But it felt almost disrespectful to the little girl to say any of them, so he kept his gaze on her drawings.

“Yeah.” He answered tersely.

She slept on for about a half an hour, head about level with his lap beside her. He was sitting now, legs crossed as he peered about. What would he be like, if he’d been like that little girl?

“Grandpa!” He’d cried in his high-pitched voice. “Where are you going?”His grandfather turned back to look at him, a smile crossing his face.

“Westledge is being attacked.” He said in his voice, soft with age but still with a certain sort of power. He’d looked up in awe. His grandfather always spoke of zombies that he’d encountered when he was a child. It had to be. In very much the same fashion Emily had done before, he ran to catch up with him.

“Can I come?”

Lucifer lowered his head, anger filling his heart.

He’d been so victorious. He’d beaten them at his grandfather’s side, like his grandfather had always said they’d would. He’d been so preoccupied...

He grit his teeth, trying to rid himself of his own thoughts.

“Lucifer.” His voice had sounded so resigned then. “I want you to kill me.”
He’d looked horrified.

“What? Why?” His grandfather’s piercing eyes, the ones that he’d always been told he’d inherited, met his daughter’s son’s.

“I was bitten.” He said quietly. “And I need you to kill me.”

Lucifer stared down at Emily, eyes echoing the past. He couldn’t do this. Death was just too common for him. He didn’t feel grief. He didn’t feel hate. He just felt...empty. Too empty to ever have someone fill that up, that gave capacity to hurt. I’m breaking my promise. Strangely enough, it felt like an emotional high to him. He could get on with life. Pushing himself to his feet, he took a last look at the little girl’s room before opening the door and walking down the stairs. Escaping, but leaving behind his grandfather’s jacket.

I’m leaving it because I’m empty. Right?

When Emily awoke, it was around high noon. She’d managed to avoid any zombies coming prowling into her room, but she was alone. She sat up, gripping the jacket in her hands. She clung to it with her fingers, unsure of where to go.

A guttural moan sounded from down the hall. Her eyes widened with fear, and she felt her stomach twist with disgust. I’m going to die. I’m going to die alone. She scrambled around in Lucifer’s pockets, desperate for anything she could use to defend herself. The gun she’d taken yesterday? Her head shot up, only to spot it missing from its place beside her. The moan grew louder as it came up the hall, the floor creaking under the weight its shuffling feet. Spurred into further action by its approach, she was digging through pockets, scrabbling for a weapon. Her hand hit cold metal, and she discovered a crowbar.

The zombie was practically at the door now. The door was shut, but she could sense its presence similar to the way a prey animal did its predator. She lifted the crowbar, feeling its weight against her hand, cold metal against warm flash. A loud noise from the door made her jump, and a slight whimper escaped her throat. He’d lied to her. And now she would have to combat a zombie, and there was nowhere left to climb. It was throwing itself against the door in a desperate attempt to reach her, and she was throughly unprepared.
Another loud noise sounded, and she could swear she heard the splintering of bone against the door. There was now a conspicuous dent in the wood, a display of the zombie’s efforts. She wouldn’t have been nearly as frightened if there was someone next to her. They all leave me. She swallowed her pain. Her mother and brother were whereabouts unknown, and now Lucifer had abandoned her too.

There was another splintering sound, this time of solid wood, before a decomposing body stumbled through the solid door. It was more horrifying than anything Emily would have suspected. It had the standard, rotting corpse, the blood, but...it was a little, redheaded girl in a torn dress, eyes drilling holes into hers as she approaching.

The rest was a blur to Emily, barely managing to make it through. She closed her eyes, raised her crowbar, and slammed the sharpened edge through the little girl’s eye socket, with a sickening noise. Opening one eye at a time, she saw the little girl’s crumpled form. The need to vomit rose in her mouth. Emily wound up on all fours, on the ground, seeing the few contents of her stomach again as she trembled.

Pale fingers pulled her hair from her face as she fell back into a kneeling position, head near her kneecaps. “Shhh,” Lucifer soothed, using his arms to hold her upright as he almost cradled her. He hadn’t been able to leave. She has a chance to live a normal life. She shouldn’t suffer because I don’t. He murmured gently in her ear, “You know, I could use a ‘compartner’....”

Wow. You caught mistakes that my representative didn't! Heh heh.

The reason the Grandfather substory thing got brought in so quickly is that this story is actually being sent to a state writer's thing...and I'm probably going to representing an entire school district. I was trying to get it to stay conside, but I'm only going to be entered if I can get the bloody thing edited down in time. 1500 characters.

Who writes something that good and that short?

Here's the address the the rest of the critisisms.

1) Heh heh. Normally I get REALLY caught up with my description, but I wouldn't let myself. Besides, I think that half the tension between this pair comes from communication, as they do have very different types. There probably would be more, but when this story, was written, I was sitting at my desk, trying to type with my eyes closed because I blew them out writing to hit a deadline, and too much description would actually be physically painful. I regret that, but it makes my editing easier!

2) I was trying to keep Lucifer away from too much of the badass. My feeling about him is that he's very logical. He's realized (or feels?) that the world he's in really isn't rooting for the humans. He's just decided that he's not going to die. But maybe in the meantime, seeing so many human corpses-some zombie, some human, they're both homo sapiens, and he's sort of adjusted to seeing them dead. He's become happy in his own little world, not because he's all 'kickasslookatmyak47MAAAAACHO!', but because he's developed a pattern that allows him to survive. Then comes Emily, which throws him off some. She's not really a good fighter, she's extra weight, extra provisions, and generally violates the way of life he's lived. She's not a corpse. Does that make sense? Probably not.

3) I will try to edit that down some! It's probably going once the whole thing gets edited, mainly because it just doesn't seem to work out. Like you said, it seems the narration has "opinions". Thanks for the advice!

4) See the very first paragrah waaaaaaay up there.

5) I think in this little story--which was always planned as a short-- that it was really Lucifer that was eventually the more of the changing character, but I felt that I hadn't given a decent basis for that. It's also kind of a longer ministory...and something else my representative/advisor suggests I edit down. So, it may end up more hinted, etc., etc...but maybe not. It seems like the best moment to hint it, since I cannot do too much back-and-forth dialogue between the two. My advisor will eat my nonexistant babies.

6) This is an interesting story. -takes a deep breath- So, when I started out on this, my advisor-rep person made a bunch of us, use these special forms. I mean, they were cool. They really got into in-depth characters, etc., etc., but lacked a description section. I vowed I'd do it on my own, but my deadline prevented that one. It's still something in progress, that I do plan to do.

7) Ah, right. Gotcha! Wow. My advisor never caught those. eek

cool Thank you!

ooc;; I have NO idea what it's called. I'll find the paper...it's for students...short story, narrative, poem, and uh...other stuff...

I'll go look for the paper!

3p) I toyed with putting 'this', and now that I look at it, you're probably right. Arrrrgh.

4p) I felt that since it was referring to the word, rather than Lucifer's thoughts on the word...hmm, I'll check with my local Grammar Nazi on that one. It's a legitimate point, though.

From there on, all good corrections...but...

12.5p) The floating quotation mark...that GODDAMN QUOTATION MARK IS THE BANE OF MY EXISTANCE. I must have corrected in twelve times, then had my computer shut off on me in some cirsumstances and lost it again. GAHHH!!!!

It was supposed to start off the 13th paragraph.

14)It is the same line of reasoning, actually. Though typed up very awkwardly, it was meant to refer to the fact that he didn't need a certain path, and his reasoning for changing being that and that he didn't need Emily tagging along.

Good points! Thank you! n_n And yes, semi-colons are my LOVER. 3nodding