The Rain and It's Loneliness (part 1)

A Chapter by Ceara

After a shocking break-up with his girlfriend, a young man wanders the streets in misery, very sure that his life is over. An encounter with a dying(?) person may just change his mind.

Fitz wasn't sure what was hurting more right now; his broken nose, or his pride. Or maybe it was his leg. The b*****d had kicked him hard, right on the bone in retaliation for a punch in the face. It had been the only blow the boy had landed, right before he got the snot kicked out of him and was tossed onto the street like a bag of trash awaiting the dumpster.

They could have thrown him in the dumpster, though, so maybe that was a small bit of luck. He sure didn't feel lucky, and he didn't feel any better when he looked up towards the bitter jeering of his assailants and saw Merry's dark eyes staring down at him. He'd loved looking into her eyes. The way the colors changed depending on her mood, and even the normal navy blue shade was beautiful to him. He'd really liked her eyes.

Fitz decided what hurt the most right now was his chest. Every breath under those beautiful eyes felt like he was breathing in shards of glass. He swallowed hard, tasting something bitter and coppery in the back of his mouth. He probably should have wiped the blood off his face, or maybe just got up out of the alleyway and left altogether, but he was rooted to cold, wet stone, staring up at the love of his life. "Mer...why?" He said, hating the way his words stuck in his throat. He sounded like a toad. "Merry."

The girl who he'd loved for three years sighed, and ran her fingers in her multicolored hair. "Sorry, Fitz. It wasn't supposed to be a serious thing, remember? It was just a thing." The sounds of mockery from the crowd beyond the door was somehow drowned out, as Merry's words spilled out, quiet but heavy. He tried to ignore the arm around her waist as well, but he couldn't look anywhere else. "I'm Jon's girl, you know. Even when I'm not." This was said very lightly, and if Fitz had been looking at her face, he might have seen the mild darkness that flashed across her face when she'd said that, rather than the braying laughter of her once-again boyfriend, and his hands sliding down her hip.

The world spun as Merry stepped back inside, breaking up the scene effectively. It was too wet out here for anyone to stay and jeer anymore. When the door closed, the rest of the world became dark again.

-*-*-*-*-*-

The pouring rain suited Fitz's dark mood perfectly, but it hadn't cooled down his anger much. He stalked angrily through the dark alleys, silently daring someone to pop out at him. Just try it! He thought furiously, staring at the darkened sky. You can even pull out a damn gun, I don't care.

He probably would have wandered around all night in his fury, either until he caught a cold or a bullet, if it hadn't been for a cat. As the young man kicked a dumpster, trying to vent his anger, he startled a stray cat, who in turn startled him. The cat hissed a loud warning at him, lashing it's tail back and forth. And while Fitz normally really liked cats, he wasn't in the mood to rationally deal with one right now. He kicked the dumpster again, earning another growl and chased the cat.

He might have caught the cat, or chased it until he got tired and gave up. But not too from the dumpster, in a heap of dirty white and rainwater, was a body, slowly bleeding red into the rain. Fitz stopped in his tracks so quickly he slipped, slamming into the wall opposite of the body. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring his sore body as he stared down at the bundle.

It wasn't real, right? Just a mirage in the rain. Or someones kid's doll. It did look a little small. Maybe it was just someone sleeping--Fitz brought up his fist, cracking it against his head. Get it together! Panicking isn't going to help. If it's a body, I'll call the police. It's not like I did it. There's nothing to panic about. S**t. S**t!

He had to get it together. With shaking hands, he fumbled for his phone in his jacket. The cops would handle it. And that cat wouldn't of been there if the killer had still been around, right? Who'd be out in this weather, was he right?

Wait.

He looked around towards the body again, his heart swimming at the bottom of his stomach. Had that thing moved? He could have sworn it had been laying down, but now it was slouched against the wall. He let out a short laugh. His nerves had to be getting to him. Of course it hadn't moved. He could even see some of its insides from here, shiny flesh peeking through the blood and slashed fabric.

Now he felt sick. And he had to call the police! He tried the dial the phone with his shaking hands, but it slipped right through his fingers and clattered to the ground. He reached for it, his panic building to a heart-stopping point when someone picked it up for him. He traced the pale, bloodstained hand back to its pale body, and looked right into the eyes of the corpse, of the woman with a huge gash in her stomach, who was bleeding all over the street.

Fitz vomited, fighting the urge to run away. This was some kind of joke, right? A prank. He'd look up and suddenly notice the blood was cornstarch all along, and that that piece of shiny....grey...intestine...hanging out....he gagged again, fighting back the nausea. He spat, trying to get rid of the taste, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something rest on his back. She should have been dead. Or at least unable to move...there was bits of her hanging out of her clothes!

Pinned between the wall and the woman as she moved closer to him, Fitz felt a chill run down his spine as he thought of his fate. If she was still alive with that kind of wound...wasn't she some kind of zombie? His arms clenched his stomach, as if that could protect the soft insides that a zombie would go after. Or did they eat just the brain? I guess I'll find out soon. Too bad I can't tell anyone. He probably could of yelled, or fought back, or something, but Fitz was too panicked to even try. He clenched his eyes shut after looking into blood-red eyes, and thought of Merry...

There was a warm pressure on his forehead, which made him jump, but after a few seconds, Fitz was back to being confused. Weren't the dead supposed to be cold? Were zombies warm? Warm as living flesh? It was almost comforting. "Hm." The woman made a noise, then moved her hand to turn his face.

"Hmm." Noticing that his brains hadn't been chewed out yet, Fitz's slowly opened his eyes, only to be startled by how close the zombie girl was. She seems to be looking at something...his nose? "Don't move." The woman said, tilting his chin up, and then peering again at something. Apparently satisfied with this, she let him go, and started digging through her pockets.

"I should still have one...not it....ah!" The woman pulled out a worn scrap of cloth and thrust it at him. "Sorry it's not much...I always seem to lose those." She apologized awkwardly, running her fingers through her bloody hair. Still in a stupor, Fitz took the cloth, noticing that it was actually a beat up handkerchief, missing a few chunks here and there. He imagined it had once been something pretty and expensive, judging from the wilted lace and tiny embroidered flowers on it.

(editing)