They don’t give R any chances sneak a nip in. The muzzle comes off and when he lunges at the closest Living, heady with the smell, R instead finds himself trying to eat glass instead of that arm he’d been eyeing the whole trip. Sucks, but hey, it happens.
R’s mouth smears against the glass, leaving a dirty streak as he stares at the guard on the other side who is way more competent than he would’ve thought. The zombie pulls back in surprise as the platform under him starts going up…and away from the first meal he would’ve had in days. With Julie he hadn’t eaten. For some reason he didn’t felt like it. But with her gone, with that emptiness inside growing as he made his way back to the airport, now the urge is back like it never left. It’s another reminder things are going back to Before.
The zombie comes up near the Cornucopia bundled in the parka he doesn’t even need, the glasses sliding off his nose and eventually plopping into the snow. White glares into R’s face. It burns and sears and he thinks dimly he doesn’t like it. After awhile he forgets it hurts. Instead he decides I want to walk after a moment swaying in place, trying to remember how to work his body when he can barely see. It’s the barely-there tang in the air that finally propels him off the platform and into the snow. R thuds down with a dead man’s weight, rights himself, and swings toward the smell.
Blood, but no bodies. No scraps either. Talk about picked clean: he’s never seen such a clean kill-site before. It’s a little freaky.
“Huh.” R heaves a disappointed sigh.
Stiffness from the cold sets in as R picks a direction and starts to put one foot in front of the other, his legs going at it, robotic . It beats standing around. Not that he can’t do that too – he’s a pro at it like any other Dead – but today he doesn’t want sit there thinking of Julie’s face closing off to him. It doesn't take longer than a few hours before he's good and lost and back where he's started, just in time to see another shape standing against the snow.
He raises his arm. The "hi" gets caught in his throat but whatever. Close enough.
Newbie and newbie Tributes? :D
R’s mouth smears against the glass, leaving a dirty streak as he stares at the guard on the other side who is way more competent than he would’ve thought. The zombie pulls back in surprise as the platform under him starts going up…and away from the first meal he would’ve had in days. With Julie he hadn’t eaten. For some reason he didn’t felt like it. But with her gone, with that emptiness inside growing as he made his way back to the airport, now the urge is back like it never left. It’s another reminder things are going back to Before.
The zombie comes up near the Cornucopia bundled in the parka he doesn’t even need, the glasses sliding off his nose and eventually plopping into the snow. White glares into R’s face. It burns and sears and he thinks dimly he doesn’t like it. After awhile he forgets it hurts. Instead he decides I want to walk after a moment swaying in place, trying to remember how to work his body when he can barely see. It’s the barely-there tang in the air that finally propels him off the platform and into the snow. R thuds down with a dead man’s weight, rights himself, and swings toward the smell.
Blood, but no bodies. No scraps either. Talk about picked clean: he’s never seen such a clean kill-site before. It’s a little freaky.
“Huh.” R heaves a disappointed sigh.
Stiffness from the cold sets in as R picks a direction and starts to put one foot in front of the other, his legs going at it, robotic . It beats standing around. Not that he can’t do that too – he’s a pro at it like any other Dead – but today he doesn’t want sit there thinking of Julie’s face closing off to him. It doesn't take longer than a few hours before he's good and lost and back where he's started, just in time to see another shape standing against the snow.
He raises his arm. The "hi" gets caught in his throat but whatever. Close enough.