FicWad

It had been one week. One week since we found the beheaded corpse of Frank’s girlfriend Roxanne, one week since we had buried her, and one week since Frank had spoken, or moved from one spot in the kitchen. No matter what we said to him, how hard we tried, he remained as quiet and still as ever. We had tried speaking rationally, shouting, begging, but through it all, he had remained speechless, and motionless. After a few days, we decided just to leave him be, thinking he would come round. He hadn’t yet. We left food and water within easy reach, but he had barely touched it. Late at night, when we saw Frank curled in his spot on the kitchen floor, we would discuss why he was acting the way he was. I thought he was depressed, and badly so, but Mandy had a different idea. “Maybe he is trying to go back to how things were before… y’know…” I thought about it. It made a weird kind of sense.



Before we had left, Frank had been sitting there, in the kitchen, he hadn’t been eating or talking or anything so it made sense that he would be trying to recreate that time as much as possible, so he could almost believe it hadn’t happened yet. I sighed. I wished I could believe it too, but some things just can’t be forgotten. I decided to go and reason with Frank one more time, and see if I couldn’t bribe him out of the kitchen with something. I walked into the dingy room, and crouched beside Frank, who was gazing at the wall with an almost frightening intensity. “Frank?” He turned to look at me questioningly, but didn’t speak. I hadn’t expected him to. I hesitated. If this didn’t work, nothing would. “Will you come to visit Roxanne with me?” His eyes widened. I silently prayed … He nodded. I smiled with relief. “Come on then.” I stood up, and offered him my hand. He took it tentatively, and I pulled him up. He stretched stiffly, having been in a sitting position for so long. I led him out of the kitchen, and Mandy looked up through the smoke of her cigarette. She gasped and stood up, hurrying over. She stopped, looking up at Frank (yes, she was that short) and looked uncertain. He smiled, almost as though he had forgotten how, and threw herself into them. He hugged her back. He still hadn’t spoken, but he was moving, he was responding to people- it was a start, at least.



We made our way outside, blinking in the bright sun, clutching our weapons. We hadn’t seen or heard a zombie in a while, but better safe than dead. We began the rather long walk to the makeshift graveyard. Nobody spoke. When we arrived, the first thing we heard was voices. Frank lifted his head slowly, and walked faster, before breaking into a run. We crashed after him, nearly crashing into him when he stopped dead upon seeing the people gathered round the grave.



There was a black haired girl, wearing a sunshine yellow top; she was sitting alone, not talking. I guessed this was Christine, since the other four were paired off. There was a pink haired girl, a black and pink haired boy with a cigarette in his mouth, a boy with brown hair and a girl with a blue fringe. I assumed they were Connie, Mark, Sam and Dean, although I had no idea who was who. They looked up, eyes wide as they saw us, and Frank. They all scrambled to their feet. “Frank!” Christine cried, rushing over. “Frank, what happened to you? Are you okay?” She threw her arms round him, and then backed away when he didn’t return the hug. “Frank?” There was silence. “You…Killed Roxy.” Frank said, his voice hoarse from lack of use, but accusatory all the same. I sensed danger. I leapt forward but it was too late.



With a cracked yell Frank smashed her skull open with his sharp sword, splashing blood all over Mandy and me. I knew that Frank had finally snapped, that his grief had built up and built up until the dam in his head broke, and sent a flood of hatred and accusation and pain out to the one he believed responsible for his girlfriend’s death. I also knew that it would be a very very bad idea to approach him right now, half wild with pain and anger. “Frank!” Yelled the brown haired boy, as the others screamed and shouted. I yelled for him to stay back, but he either couldn’t or wouldn’t hear. He charged forward, perhaps intending to get the sword away, but with an almighty swing Frank decapitated him. The girl with the blue fringe screamed. “MARK! NOOOOO!” I saw her reach into her waistband. “Fuck!” I swore, as Mandy said “Will- That’s a gun!” The girl, it had to be Connie, took aim quickly, and before any of us could move, she fired. There was an almighty bang, and Frank toppled backwards, as if in slow motion. I could hear a far off scream, but my ears didn’t seem to be in full working order. I ignored the scream, although it continued, louder as my ears began to recover. Frank convulsed on the ground, his sword dropping from his hand with an audible clunk. I ran over. “Frank!” I cried, despite the futility of the situation. I could hear a horrible bubbly, sucking sound, and red liquid was spilling out of a hole in his chest. I pressed my hands over it, trying to stop the flow, but it merely spilled over my fingers. Frank was jerking now, gurgling as blood filled his mouth. I knew what that meant. He had been shot in the lung. I also knew that Frank was going to die.



He looked at me, his mouth opening and closing as if he was trying to speak, but no words came out- just a trickle of cherry red blood. He let out a long sigh, and his eyes became fixed. I realised with a terrible wrench that he had died. I froze, still holding his body. Fuck. How did you deal with the death of a friend? I realised with a horrible clarity that that was precisely what the survivors of the group were going through with the death of Christine. I lay Frank on the ground. I would bury him in a minute, when I had dealt with the others. I turned and stood up. Mandy was right behind me, tears drying on her cheeks. I hugged her, feeling too numb to cry. The tears would come later.



Suddenly, somebody screamed. “Connie!” I turned to see the blue fringed girl lying over the torso of her boyfriend. There was a horrible sort of peace on her face as she pressed the gun to her right temple. I saw the remaining girl, I guessed Sam, being held back by the last boy, obviously Dean. She was trying to get to Connie, but she was too late- There was another gunshot, and Connie’s head exploded in a fine mist of blood and brain matter. The corpse slumped over Mark’s body, still clutching the gun. I looked past the bodies. There was no help for them now. Sam had stopped struggling, and was crying in Dean’s arms. He was hugging her, looking shaken, murmuring “She could have shot you… I couldn’t let you go over there Sam… There was nothing you could have done; you would only have got hurt.” I agreed with the unknown Dean, who was taking a deep drag of his cigarette looking shell shocked, and like he needed the comfort the habit brought. He was right. I turned back to Mandy, wanting nothing more than to curl up in the foetal position and stay there forever, but I knew that wasn’t really an option. “We have to stay with them.” I muttered. “We need more survivors.” Mandy nodded in agreement. “We can help each other.” She said.



I reached for her hand, and we walked over together. I noticed that they were both wearing bike jackets, and was impressed that at least one of them knew their stuff. Sam made a valiant effort to pull herself together as we walked nearer, and Dean pulled himself round her in a protective gesture that made me instantly respect him. We stopped in front of them. “Um…We’re sorry about your losses.” I said, awkwardly but honestly. They nodded, and Sam attempted a watery smile. They seemed… Lost. Like they didn’t know what to do next. I gestured behind me. “Do you want to bury them?” I asked. Dean shook his head. “I know that Connie and Mark wanted to be cremated together.” He said. “Frank wanted to be with Roxy.” Sam spoke up. She wiped her eyes. “I’ll dig.” She turned to a tent, unzipped it and unexpectedly pulled out a spade. “M-Mark killed zombies with it.” She said as I took in its bloody appearance. I nodded. He wouldn’t be using it again. She began to uncover Roxanne, while Mandy went to work wrapping Frank in a blanket from Mark and Connie’s tent. The rest of us collected firewood, stacking it into a funeral pyre. Once it seemed big enough, Dean and I lifted the bodies onto the pile. Dean pulled a can of lighter fluid and a Zippo lighter out of his bag, and began to light the wood, closely followed by another cigarette.



As the wood caught, Sam called over. Roxanne was uncovered. Between the four of us we lifted Frank into the grave, and arranged his corpse so he was next to Roxanne’s. As we stared at the bodies, there was a silence. Nobody could sum up their feelings in words, until Mandy spoke. “Frankie, I only knew you for a short time- only a few weeks, in fact- but that’s all the time it took to become your friend. You were always so caring, and you were never ashamed to wear your heart on your sleeve. I’m sure Sam and Dean will have something to add, but Frank… All I need to say is, I’ll miss you. I hope you and Roxanne are happy together, somewhere over the stars.”



I swallowed and said “She’s right, Frankie. I’ll miss you too. All I can really say differently is goodbye, and rest in peace.” Sam and Dean said their pieces, and we began to fill in the grave. By the time we were done, the pyre was burning ferociously, and the smell of burning flesh began to fill the air. We said our goodbyes to Connie and Mark, then left the woods. There was nothing left to say, nothing to do except mourn the dead. We began to walk away, me, Mandy, Sam and Dean. They stayed close to each other, their anxiety seeming to lessen with the distance between them. They held hands, and clutched weapons in the other hands. Dean carried Mark’s spade, and Sam carried a hockey stick. She saw me looking and smiled. “Today is the first time I’ve ever used this thing. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the sporty type.” I laughed. She certainly didn’t look the sporty type. She was wearing a tight T-shirt with a ribcage on it, a tiny skirt with a safety pin design and black tights. Combined with pink hair, piercings and battered converse, she didn’t seem the type to exercise obsessively. Dean didn’t either- Okay, he was stronger than he looked and certainly had defined arms, but he was wearing a Nirvana shirt that was in all probability a girls, it was so tight, equally tight skinny jeans that looked, um, restrictive, and converse boots. This and the fact I hadn’t yet seen him with a cigarette out of his mouth led me to believe he wasn’t the exercising type.



This thought sparked the need for a fag. I fished around in my pocket, pulling out my near empty packet. I slid out the last two, crushing the empty box back into my pocket. I passed one to Mandy, and lit my own. I heard the familiar sound or a lighter behind me, and turned to grin at Sam and Dean. They smiled back, all of us brought together by our love of toxic smoke inhalation. Dean summed it up in a sentence by saying “If we are going to get eaten by zombies, might as well smoke. If we don’t get eaten by zombies, well, we can deal with quitting when it comes to it.” We all laughed. It was the moment that brought us from acquaintances into friends.



We walked through the deserted town where Gerard and Mikey had met their demise. We walked past the very spot, and I warned the others that there was at least one zombie loose. They nodded, and we drew closer. I shuddered as we passed Mikey’s skeleton, most of the flesh eaten away by god knows what. “You know him?” Dean asked. “For about twenty minutes.” I shrugged, trying not to look into the cavernous eye sockets. I was glad when we got out of the town, and even more glad when we got back into the church. Sam and Dean looked around, mildly interested in the fact we were hiding in a church. They put their bags in a pew, and laid their weapons beside ours. We all sat down, and began to talk, about nothing in particular, just the small talk of people trying to get to know each other.



The conversation started off innocent enough, such as asking when they got together, how long we’d been together, and that kind of stuff, then the conversation somehow turned to sex. One example of a question asked by Mandy- “Where’s the weirdest place you’ve done stuff?” The answer/s made me laugh. School toilets, in a tent, in several fields, in a pub garden, underneath some steps, in a library, on a bus, in a church, in a bathroom, on a kitchen table, in a bus shelter… the list was endless. Our answer of the church seemed almost normal by comparison. Her next question was, what’s your weirdest turn on? We all answered. I was forced to admit that I had a thing for girls not wearing underwear. Mandy grinned, and quickly put my hand on her boob. I fought the urge to grope her then and there with the other two watching. Mandy admitted that she liked tattoos. Sam blushed, and confessed to liking pain and domination. “Kinky!” Mandy cheered, making her laugh. Dean claimed not to have any weird turn ons, just that he preferred small boobs to big boobs. I was slightly relieved. Good, that meant I wouldn’t have to kill him for hitting on Mandy.



I looked back at her, and saw that ‘Fuck-Me’ look appearing again. She bit her lip, smiled, and pressed my hands to her boobs again. It was my turn to bit my lip as I felt cotton T-shirt directly against skin. I glanced at Sam and Dean, and noticed that Dean had Sam pinned by the wrists with one hand and that they were a bit too busy doing some groping of their own to notice what I was doing. I quickly stuck my hand up Mandy’s top, and began to stroke. She squirmed a little, and pulled at the neck of my top. “Off.” She whispered, her eyes alight with lust and a little bit of naughtiness. My head was saying, not in front of people, my underwear covered bits were saying, to hell with in front of people, take her right now! In the end, my head won, and I stood, picking Mandy up with me. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, and began to suck on my neck. “Guys-we’re-going-in-the-kitchen-don’t-come-in!” I said in one breath as I felt my knees begin to buckle. All I got in response was a moan, and the click of Dean’s belt buckle hitting the floor.



I carried Mandy into the kitchen faster than I thought I was capable of, pausing only to kick the door shut. I sat her on the counter, and we began to tear each other’s clothes off, her legs still wrapped around my waist. I began to thrust my hips against her, making sure to torture her as much as possible before our underwear came off. She made a noise halfway between a growl and a moan, and began attacking my tattooed chest with her lips and tongue. I returned the favour, and in what felt like seconds, her underwear was flicked past me like lacy black lightning. “Fuck me.” She demanded, still on the counter, and I was more than happy to oblige.



We walked out of the kitchen an hour or so later, doing the well-known walk of shame- when you have to walk out of a place, when everybody present knows you have had sex in there. Luckily, the shame was unnecessary, seeing as Sam and Dean were sitting on the floor, very much entwined and with their clothes all messed up. Sam’s skirt was on backwards, and Dean appeared to have forgotten to zip his trousers. They both had messy hair and smudged eyeliner. Sam was covered in love bites, not to mention literal bite marks. Ouch. They were definitely going to bruise. The fact that they were both smoking and looking very satisfied was also a giveaway. Since it was no secret that everyone was fucking anyway, I decided to have a cigarette myself. I even opened a new pack to celebrate instead of having one of Mandy’s. We sat and smoked, chatting quietly, each couple ignoring the fact that the other knew that they had had sex within feet of each other. Some things are better left unacknowledged. Soon it got to the point where everybody was sleepy, not surprising after a day of blood, sex and death. We yawned our goodnights, and stumbled off to sleep. I cuddled Mandy close to my chest, and fell asleep in minutes.





So... Another attempt at sex. I'm not gonna lie, I have no idea what the rating should be. It's not too explicit, so I'm sticking to R I think :) Let me know if I should change it, or if I should change anything in the story. I hope it isn't too shitty, R&R if possible? And I know it is considered lame to put yourself into a story, but I really couldn't be bothered to invent two new characters, soI just threw me and my boyfriend in. Thanks :) -Sam XO