It was the same dream. It always was.
Melanie was making her way up the hill, her backpack bulging with medical supplies and a few goodies – namely, an expired little bag of Reese's Pieces, a box of used crayons (some were broken, but she didn't think Lilly would mind), and a Spiderman coloring book. It was either that, or a Disney Princess activity book, and judging by the girl's awesome vintage Power Rangers shirt, she didn't see her as the "girly-girl" type that wanted to be a princess. Maybe the pink ranger, but definitely not a princess.
She rounded the hill, and the first thing she noticed was a walker off to her left, coming toward her. Her first thought was, Gun. Where's my gun – oh God, please –
Her hand fluttered around her waistline, found the pistol there, and in a flash she drew it and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. She looked at the pistol, her hands shaking now, located the safety, flipped it off, and shot again without lining it up. The sound was jarring, not just to her ear drums, but to her body – she could feel the leftover power from the force vibrating in every nerve.
A small puff of dirt sprayed back a few inches from where the bullet hit the ground just behind and to the side of the walker. It continued coming toward her, faster now, scratchy groans coming from it's throat. Melanie took a quick breath, held it while she aimed for the walker's head. She could see the whites of its eyes – a yellowish gray in color, now that it was no longer living. Her breath came out slowly through her mouth. She pulled the trigger. The walker's head jerked back as the bullet entered its right eye, and it crumpled to the ground in an awkward heap.
Melanie's heart was racing like a wild bird flapping around in a small cage. Her second thought was, wasn't Brian supposed to be taking evening watch with the boss? She swallowed hard, her throat dry, and quickly rounded the hill with her pistol at the ready. Though, it was a dream – the same, reoccurring dream she'd had since the day her old group was killed – nothing could prepare her for what she saw once she reached the top of the hill.
Walkers. Blood. Bodies. Not just any bodies – people she knew and trusted and cared about. Samantha was sprawled on the ground, face down, with a bullet hole in the back of her head and two walkers chewing at her legs. Brian, throat slit with stab wounds in his temple. There was a gaping hole in his stomach where walkers had ripped him open, spilling what was once inside, out. Mrs. Cole was by the RV – she was the worst of all to witness.
Melanie tore her eyes away, aware that she was dreaming, and aware that she could not wake up from it. That didn't stop her from trying, though.
She knew was supposed to happen next, what happened in this dream every time she had it. She was supposed to see Lilly's body. But Melanie refused to look at the camp, and instead took off running down the hill the way she had come up. Walkers were everywhere – hundreds of them, all wandering around aimlessly, until they saw her dashing by.
Melanie felt her legs starting to slow, as though the air was becoming as thick as molasses. The walkers were slower than her, but were catching up to her a little easier now. She shimmied the backpack off her shoulders and dropped it as she ran, hoping to increase her speed. Then she saw Lilly's body-
NO!
Melanie turned right and ran, keeping her eyes firmly on the treeline ahead. If she could make it to the woods, she might be able to escape the walkers around her, and maybe even escape the dream. Her legs continued to fight the heavy feeling of the air, and walkers reached out at her from both sides, barely missing her arms. Something was lying just at the treeline in the distance. Lilly's body.
STOP IT!
Melanie turned left, screaming. Tears flowed freely down her face. Her legs slowed even more now, and walkers were actually touching her, grabbing her, scratching her. She could feel their grip on her arms. She could feel their nails on her back. With a cry of defeat, she dropped to the ground on her knees and covered her head, sobbing in great, shaking heaves. She waited for the pain. For them to bite her, rip her apart. Nothing happened.
Still sobbing, Melanie slowly lowered her arms from her head and looked all around her She was alone. No walkers. Just her. Then, she looked back in front of her.
Lilly. The girl was mutilated almost beyond recognition. The walkers had ripped off one of her arms. The other had been bitten and chewed to the bone up near her shoulder. Intestines were spilled out over the side of her stomach. Half of her face had been ripped off, eaten. A trickle of blood lead a trail from the bullet wound in her forehead, down the side of her little nose to her chin. She had one eye – one bright, beautiful eye the color of milk chocolate – and it stared at her. It accused her. It blinked.
