"I'm doing it Mariam and you can't stop me!"
"This is madness Heather! You should stop and think about..."
"I have! Okay!? I'm going down there and that's that!"
Heather face was redder than red as she bellowed her argument towards an hawk-like Mariam who had plucked out the flaws with her "plan" and begged the goth girl not to go for her own safety.
"You've lost weight but you still can't do this!" Mariam finally spat out, it always felt terrible of her to call Heather "Fat" in whatever shape or form, even though Heather never seemed fazed about. Yet Mariam had broken her disinterested front and found the scared girl inside.
"I know I'm as fat as whale! But I have to do this!" Heather screamed.
"ON WHAT LOGIC HEATHER!?" Mariam roared, finally losing it "YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED THE LAST TIME A FAT WOMAN WAS ON A ROPE! WHAT I DID TO THAT WOMAN!?" She was panting now, as the tears slowly slid down her ageing cheeks, as she sat slowly, cupping her face into her hands as she sobbed on.
"That is not going to happen to me, I swear" Heather reassured her.
"But why!?" Mariam begged through her fingers as she sobbed on harder than ever. Heather bit her nail before finally replying in a quiet voice "I... want to prove myself. I need to know I can fight those things and be okay"
"You have nothing to prove" Mariam said as she reached out and touched the teenage girl's shoulder in reassurance "You're fine as you are, just... stay here Sandy laughs at the faces you pull. We'll both be worried sick if you're down there" she reasoned as Heather sadly but surely shook her head.
"I have too, I'm doing this to get you and Sandy food I can't be the lackey here, I just... have too okay? I can't sit around doing nothing I did that when this thing started and I lost my mother. I can't lose another" Heather summarised feeling her eyes get hot.
Mariam patted her shoulder and croaked "Be careful, I don't want to lose anymore family"
Heather looked up as the elder woman smiled at her. Now she was determined to prove herself with Mariam's acceptance, she may have been scared deep down but she was more excited to finally prove to the group that she could be an asset.
Quincey knew she'd be there staring at the Black Dead, seeing the back of her curls didn't surprise him in the slightest he simply sat next to her as they watched the patchwork of moving hands and heads below them.
"You're going tomorrow aren't you?" Quincey asked.
"Of course" Delilah replied, Quincey dragged a hand through his growing white strands of hair.
"I was going to tell you to stay, look after yourself and Rose while I went down as your knight in shining armour but I'm assuming I'm wasting my breath?" he inquired of a glossy green eyed reporter, whose iris' now reflected the forms of the zombies hissing and reaching at them below her, after a while she finally answered his question.
"Yes and you're going too?" She shot back at him.
"Don't waste your breath convincing me not to go" Quincey started instantly.
"I wasn't going too, I guess it will be better if we have each other's backs down there" she summarised as her gaze swept over the endless zombies below her.
"Remember, aim for the head if were hitting them" Quincey reminded her, he could see she was staring at the dead.
"What, you think I haven't seen a zombie flick before?" she asked beaming as she raised a thin eyebrow. "Well... you don't seem like the type to watch those kind of things" Quincey babbled aware himself going red and keeping a sharp ear out for so much so as a whift of the "Pop Goes the Weasel" melody.
"Were in a zombie movie, I guess we can't go by types anymore" She said as she stretched and yawned she leant away from the railing and turned to Quincey "I'm tired, staring at the Black Dead all night isn't going to increase our chances of beating them, sleep will however"
"Fair point" Quincey said stretching.
They returned to their room silently, not to awake a dozing Rose. In her mind Delilah wasn't too scared about her choice up until now, as she lay there her stomach started to tie in unpleasant knots as she curled into herself. It wasn't death that scared her, but the thought of becoming a torn up body bag, roaming around the lower floors in less than 24 hours.
It would hurt if she died. She remembered hearing Philip screaming from behind her. The easy going Philip, screaming in agony. The noise still sent shivers down her spine as she ran she never looked back, but what was left to the imagination made it worse for her. She found herself tossing and turning as her nerves overcome her, finally Quincey laid out a his warm arm and pulled her closer to him.
"You're scared" he muttered to her.
"You are too" she noted, she wasn't the only one who had been tossing and turning.
"Come closer" was the last thing he drawled, as Delilah rested her head on his chest. Somehow next to each other, curled up against one another like lovers they were able to sleep, a warmth spreading through their stomachs that undid the knots and calmed them down. Delilah gripped him tightly, he felt so much like Philip (the exercise lessons had beefed Quincey up quite a bit)
"Please don't die like him" she begged of Quincey, of God or of anyone who was listening.
Camden had convinced Victoria to stay put, but she couldn't talk him out of it, he was going down there, he would get the food that the group needed.
He had fought these things on a staircase before, but with a knife he no longer had.
He lay there, still baby faced even after a month of no shaving, his scalp still bald than it ever had been. (He had been using nail scissors to clip his facial hair and hair on his head short. However since that broke today, things were going to get "hairy").
He ran a hand over his scalp as he turned over in bed, certain that he wanted to do this. To prove himself, to become a new man in this apocalypse he would never get back to that mentally Ill, cowardly wreck that he had been a month ago.
This was his chance to kick some ass, he was going to take it.