Quincey let Delilah cry herself out, his comforting bare arm seemed to warm her from the inside as she slowly but surely began to regain her old composure "I'm sorry about this, I just..." she began before Quincey stopped her "Don't be, let it out it's better that way"
Delilah gulped before she did just that diving straight back into her story.
"So yeah that night, the first night we spent here at the hotel it just happened" she sighed before ploughing onwards "I woke up that morning he didn't speak to me, he just got up silently and got down to business, I was happy, elated, but curious to as why he betrayed his wife, hell I was speechless as he was"
"You're always speechless" Quincey quipped lightly hoping the joke wouldn't offend her, he was glad to see it didn't as she chuckles slightly.
"No Mr Jones, I'm just cautious with my words" she replied before she went back to Day one "I thought I'd speak to him about it that evening, I remember looking at phone and seeing over 20 messages from my mother, but I didn't reply. I was search a heartless cow to her, I was so preoccupied with my work I never bothered to answer her messages"
And then she came onto the worst part.
"We were filming in the Inner City, right outside the hospital when all hell broke loose, someone in the crowd got infected somehow, it spread like wildfire, I can still hear those people screaming, Philip was reporting he kept his composure even when things went to hell and..." she was crying again "We had to run eventually, we barely got two steps before one of the Black Dead charged at me, Philip pushed me out of the way and that was it..."
She hugged herself closer as the screaming of the dying at the hospital filled her ears once again. Now it was merely the hate fuelled hissing of the dead and too her that was chilling.
"He was dead, I didn't get an answer to as why he slept with me, or why he cheated on his wife, I couldn't even get around to text my mother because the signal had died" she wiped her hand over her green iris'
"Maybe your mother survived?" Quincey suggested.
"She's 69, and lives in a care-home and she was bedridden" Delilah snapped
"Oh" Was all Quincey could say.
"I got corned by the dead and eventually I ran up this flat, yet here I am. Still thinking about Philip and Mother, I didn't even get to say goodbye I didn't get any last word or anything... just..." she pinched her nose, to try and stop herself sniffing so loud "Gone, no answers, no resolution, nothing, just death" she said staring into the abyss of the dead.
For a long time there was a heavy hissing silence between the young man and woman on the staircase. Looking down below Quincey's could only stare and wonder, how many of these people had unfinished things in their lives? Unanswered questions? It made Quincey think to a new level.
"That's why you come here, you feel as dead as they do" He said pointing at them
"It's curiosity, you wonder what each one of them was thinking before they turned, whether they panicked, whether they didn't see it coming" she sighed "The point is Philip and my mother were people and there most likely these things. I try to see them all as people, every single so called zombie here was once a person and after what happened to me, it just feels like I have to show them a shred of dignity and respect" she explained.
"I hear you, but y'know we have to kill them eventually"
The Silence between the pair was getting heavier as the hisses piled onto the silence, Delilah felt numb after letting everything off her chest was it the right thing to do?
"You know I came back to the Alps for an Stag Do?" Quincey explained.
"Yeah, my best friend Steve and his girlfriend Bea were getting married, I got to the local pub just as things broke out and I saw them both stumbling around" he creased his eyes shut at this painful memory "The trio of us were like Harry, Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter in our school days, so twenty five years off my life was gone like that" he clicked his fingers for dramatic effect.
"That's horrible" Delilah said.
"It was shit, after that I rushed to my Rose's apartment she was alive, but I had to kill my dad and step mum"
"Don't be I hated them, they kicked me out their flat I had to live here where my real mother died, so this place brings up bad memories yet" he sighed "Losing your best friends and father in the same day" he shook his head sadly "It was tough shit I know what you mean you say death gives no answers, no resolution, nothing, just death.
Delilah was staring at him now.
"But I've got Rose and you haven't got anyone so I can understand why you're feeling so dead inside, if I lost my little sis, I know I'd be the same. Yet the fact she's alive keeps me alive too, she's the reason I joke and try and make everyone else happy" he said.
"I don't know how you have the strength to be so optimistic in the face of all this" she gestured below her to the hordes of swarming dead.
"I just try to live, not survive but live and I want you too live too. Not just survive"
Delilah could finally see his point and with her confessions she knew that he would now understand her a lot better "Thank you" she said standing up "You've no idea how much this talk helped" she said beaming, her eyes radiant.
Quincey was tongue tied by her beauty, as he smiled back at her a little nervously "No, thank you for opening up It can be hard to find people to trust here"
"Well thanks to you there is one person I without a shadow of a doubt trust"
It was dark, Quincey could feel his face burning as Delilah felt some butterflies swirl inside her stomach making her smile like an idiot, they didn't even realise they were holding hands until Quincey heard the familiar, faint, Melody of "Pop Goes The Weasel" he broke apart from Delilah and turned towards the door, his blush, quickly turning into a red flush of anger
"GOD-DAMMIT ROSE!" He bellowed.