the maw

breakfast at tony’s

"pull over." clearly, she's injured, and it'd only be right for us to help her.

once we're closer to the lot, nate parks the van on the curb, despite knowing that i hate him and every wretched move he makes.

i briefly thank him, before hopping out of the car and walking over to the woman as fast as i dare.

she's barely visible from this distance - i'm about 50 yards away, but the heat coming off of the road warps my vision so badly that she looks like a blob of wavering color.

once i'm close enough to make out her face and clothes, i notice that the entire torso of her dress has been soaked with damp, crimson blood, slowly drying. the rest of her dress is a dull, pigeon blue. a button-up with a crisp, white apron tied around the waist, matching the mis-matched collar on the neckline.

she's a waitress, i'm guessing. two trails of dry, black mascara leak down her cheeks, blending with the lipstick swiped from her grimacing mouth. her jaw is shuddering, and she can barely walk any further because she's in so much pain.

"help..." her words are faint, but as i near her, they become louder. "please, help me-"

she falls to her knees. the hot tarmac must be scorching on her palms, but i'm not really thinking about that right now.

i break into a run, working my legs as fast as i dare to go, just to reach her that little moment sooner.

once i get to the woman i crouch to the ground, and place a hand on her non-injured shoulder.

"are you okay? hey, come on, look at me, lady, are you okay?" as i talk to her, she seems to regain some of her senses, and she weakly raises her head to look up at me.

her deep, misty eyes, increasingly resembling the color of amber, dilate in the vulgar light of the sun as she catches her breath. her skin shines like softened bronze, although mottled with bled mascara.

"...they shot me." she mutters, wincing in pain, as a fresh pulse of blood seeps from her wound.

"s**t. okay, is that where you work?" if that building is unlocked, we can sit her down in there, and maybe i can tear up a shirt to bandage her shoulder.

"yep. tony's diner." her words seem like the verbal embodiment of a squint, as she phases in and out of consciousness. it's so hot out here, it's no place for a woman wounded.

"okay, alright, i'll get you in there, and i'll bandage you up. 'kay?" i'm so used to talking to children, that it's bleeding into how i talk to adults. i don't think this lady minds.

she only murmurs in response, so i gently raise her arm over my head, and around my shoulders, to help her walk without falling again.

as we slowly make our way back to the diner, i start to feel her becoming heavier and heavier. she's probably losing her grip on staying awake right now, which means i need to walk a hell of a lot faster if i'm going to keep her alive.

the parking lot of tony's is completely empty, save for two hatchbacks parked in the corner.

it seems the diner is one of those nostalgia-crazed 50's themed ones, where they play solely elvis and serve burgers, fries and milkshakes.

however, as our nation's love of the 1950's died out, it seems the desired image of the diner died out, too. flickering neon signs, menu boards missing entire words, cobwebs strung up on the roof like halloween decorations and last year's christmas lights still looped around every large, pink letter in 'tony's'.

it's shabby, but through the windows i can see that it's well looked-after. it still has heart, even after the years have taken their toll, and the general demand for diners have declined.

i kick open the main door, so i can lay the woman down in a leather-laden booth.

as she regains some energy, i rummage behind the bar to see if there's some kind of first-aid kit, but all i can see from where i'm crouching is sticky syrup bottles, checks not yet paid and glasses left unpolished.

it's an eerie sight, a diner abandoned. it's one thing if it's empty, but a whole different thing when it's deserted.

on the rack where the glasses are kept, there's a red box shoved up against the wall, slowly deteriorating in quality, and gathering lifetimes of dust. i reach past coke glasses with smudgy fingerprints, and pint glasses with faint rings of dishwasher bubbles, to wrap a finger around the handle of the box.

as i slide it out, i can feel the blood rushing through my head, because i refuse to break any glasses when i have something so important to do. once it's out, i crack it open on the bar's surface, and rifle through it, looking for anything that can bandage up her wound.

gauze. perfect. although it's probably stiffened over time, it'll do the job. i lope back over to her, brandishing the bandages like they'll burn me if i hold them any longer.

her eyelids are dragging with every blink, and she looks far more distant than when i last looked at her. i break open the bandages, as she tries as hard as she can to sit up.

i undo the first three buttons of her dress, and slip the sleeve over her shoulder. she winces in pain, but i can't stop right now, i need to get this side of her dress down so she can lift her arm.

"can you lift this arm up?" i ask, just in case some nerves have been damaged.

she nods, and that's a good sign - she still has control over her brain. she lifts her right arm up, so i pin the beginning of the bandage down in the shell of her armpit, and wrap the rest of it over the top of her shoulder.

i wrap, and wrap, and wrap, until i can't see the wound anymore, then i redirect the gauze to snake around her chest. awkwardly, i feed it through the other side of her dress, and retrieve it by slipping my hand into the back of her dress and taking it with the other to wrap it again.

once i'm finished. i place her hands on the center of the bandaging, where the two lines meet, and press them down.

"keep pressing it. that'll keep the blood in, and it won't bruise as bad, hopefully." i breathe the words out with a faithful smile, as my brain spills a silent prayer out to whoever's up in the sky, asking that they spare this poor woman.

"...thank you." her eyes shine once again. her hope in staying alive has been somewhat replenished, i think.

"you're welcome." it's hot outside, i think she should drink some water so she doesn't faint. i duck out of the booth, and return to the bar, where i take a coke glass from the dusty shelf.

the sink works, which i expected - it's a restaurant, i'm pretty sure they legally need to have clean, running water.

i fill it to the logo with water, as cold as it'll go. maybe i'll fill up a keg with water, and we can take it with us. it's always better to have some with you.

the waitress is still sat in the booth when i turn back around, watching the window with a placid, mildly pained expression. she unleashes her dark hair from its containment, breaking the white ribbon seal it'd been shoved into hours before.

her hair is beautiful. it reminds me of sofia's hair - unruly, warm, and dark as the night itself. she toys around with it for a bit, but after a few seconds, decides it's not worth it.

"some water," i set the glass down on the table in front of her, and swing myself around to sit on the leather bench opposite. "so you don't faint."

before saying anything in response, she chugs down about half of the glass, in the kind of thirst i've only felt after running. she clears her throat, takes a breath, and then focuses her wandering gaze on me.

"...who are you?" her voice is clear as day, but has a sort of rasp to it, like she's lived an eventful life - more than she lets on.

"i'm leah. i came out from l.a, 'cause, uh... i don't suppose you've seen the-" i don't know how to break this to her, in the odd case of her not knowing what's going down in the city.

"living dead? i have, yeah." a half-assed smile tilts her lips, like she finds it sort of funny how people are rotting, but still walking. "there was one out front. a group of men having coffee here saw it, and they just picked up their guns and headed on out. i mean, it was just a 'lil kid."

"and what happened? did they kill it?" i shift in my seat, leaning forward, in the subtle hopes that she'll tell me everything. she has no reason to, but i'm interested.

"no. i didn't know why they were shooting, so i ran out, and started screamin'. i was saying, 'don't do it, please,' but they just shot me, and shot that baby hollow. it still ate 'em all, though. my boss cleared 'em out with his truck, but he's still not back." she watches the window as she speaks. maybe she's watching out for her boss, but i don't think he'll ever come back.

"i'm so sorry you had to see that. it's complete c*****e in the city, too, just a wreck. fires, gunshots, blood everywhere. we had to get out." it's refreshingly human to share this with her, it feels like we're talking about something else completely.

"we? you have people with you?" her eyes flit to the window, and her brows twitch in a fit of concealed nerves.

"yeah. my foster siblings, and our neighbor. we have no weapons, don't worry." i never learned her name. i should probably ask. "what's your name?"

"i'm melanie." she's still not in the condition to fend for herself alone out here, so i think she should come with us. i wouldn't be myself if i didn't ask, that's the least i can do.

"okay, melanie. that's a nice name." i pause, so i can think of how to offer her a seat on our road trip with me, some douchebag and six kids. "...do you want to come with us? i can't leave you here in good conscience when you're injured like this."

"oh." melanie's eyes widen in surprise, as a faint smile haunts her grief-stricken face. "i'd like that, thank you. i don't have much to offer, but i studied botany in college if you're going into the woods. i might be able to help there."

"don't worry about it, it's fine. i don't really know where we're going, but as long as we're far away from the city, i think we'll definitely be safer." i rise to a stand, and so does she, which is oddly timed with the glimpse i catch of the van parked outside.

"hold on. i need to wait for my boss, i can't just leave him out there." she dips into a room behind the bar for a moment after saying this, but i don't think she understands the volume of the situation.

when she comes out, she's clutching a lumpy khaki purse, her fingers dancing over the clasp of it - she seems relucant to let go of it. i wonder what's in there.

"he said he'd be back after a couple minutes." if melanie won't leave without him, i guess we have no other choice but to wait along with her.

"how long has he been gone?" maybe not. it all depends on whether there's an actual chance that he might come back, because i won't make the kids in the van wait for any longer than they already have.

"...an hour and a half." there's a somewhat desolate look on her face, and i think she knows exactly what's happened to him.

"i don't want to be rude, melanie, but we need to go. it didn't take those things long to take over the biggest city in california, they move fast." i've gleaned this from an hour of that van trundling through the chaos-ridden streets. i haven't been among them, but although they move like sloths, they strike and devour like nothing else.

it's alien how they eat. the discs in their spines stretching the thin, leathery skin of their backs as they hunch over, tearing into people with shining, wet, rotting teeth. when they're finished, there's blood everywhere.

on their grisly, bug-eyed faces. in their torn-out, hay-like hair. seeping into the seams of their clothing.

"hello? leah?" melanie taps me on the shoulder, and i'm torn from my hellish daydream. we're closer to the door, so it seems i convinced her with that short sentence. "are you alright?"

"what? yeah, i'm fine." i collect my bearings, as the heat outside sears the clouds from connecting above us. the only thing it won't touch is that wandering group of gnashers in that field, their forms wavering in the distortion. "so, are you coming with us?"

"i am. let's go, quickly, before they get out here." with that, we hustle out of the diner. the van's parked outside, and nate looks a little relieved that we're out. that's probably because we took so long.

those things walking towards us have only gotten closer, and they're almost on the road.

i jump into the van first, so no one has to sit next to a total stranger. i know how much people hate doing that - especially people like nate.

in a weird way, i thought he'd be looking at me like i'm a stain on his shoe. he just looks neutral. as if my being here hasn't affected him in the slightest.

"everything okay? who's this?" he leans forwards to look at my straggler, but we don't have time for meet and greets.

"this is melanie, she got shot. look, we need to go, there's a bunch of those things about to cross the road. i don't want the kids to see them, or hear them." i urge him, so we don't have to stay here any longer.

he starts the car, but something's obviously lingering on his mind. he'll say it, he's never held anything back with me. in the worst way possible.

"...you're gonna have to tell them soon." what the hell does he know? he didn't even get the clue that he was supposed to help me look after them until this 'road trip'.

"not if i can help it."

i watch the road with an iron-laden stare, as we drive away from tony's, and away from those lumbering dead people, birthed from their graves in god's cruel idea of a joke.

whoever they were is nothing, all they are is what they appear as - bony, blood-covered ghouls, with a craving for flesh.

and i won't let one lay a single finger on my siblings. i'll die before that happens.