Take a Chance (Julie's Story)

by ChiefPam

A/N: I've read and enjoyed the book, but this is movieverse. We get to hear what R is thinking, a lot of the time, but we don't get the same look inside Julie's head. So this is my attempt at telling her side of the story, and bringing out some of my favorite elements. A lot of the dialog here is straight from the movie, the plot totally is, but the extra bits are mine. Wish I owned them. Don't. Played with them anyway. :)

Prologue

"Hello, and thank you for your service today." I stand with my boyfriend on one side and my best friend on the other, watching the recorded message. I'm a little nervous, but try to act unaffected. I have been on salvage runs before. No incidents.

"In the eight years since this plague destroyed our world, and we erected this wall…"

I lean towards Perry. "You think we're getting the stuff for the cure?" Probably not, but a girl can dream, right?

Perry shakes his head. "Nobody believes in a cure anymore, Jules."

Yeah, I should have known he'd say that. Still kind of hurts, though.

"…we have counted on young volunteers like yourselves to gather resources from beyond the wall." And you know why they want young volunteers? 'Cause we can run away faster.

"But first, a word of caution." The screen changes to video footage, showing a zombie, who's looking toward the camera, and then lurching forward. "Corpses look human; they are not. They do not think, they do not bleed." The corpse gets closer, then the camera angle wavers and changes to the sky. Guessing whoever took that footage isn't around anymore. "Whether they were your mother or your best friend, they are beyond your help. They are uncaring, unfeeling, incapable of remorse."

"Sound like anyone you know, Dad?" I mutter.

His recorded image keeps talking. Just like the real thing would do.

I sneak a look at Perry. We all know this, but he's had closer experience than some. He's looking grim, but no more than usual. I haven't seen him smile much, since his dad's corpse tried to kill him, last year.

"Just picture them as this." The picture switches to a dessicated skeleton running towards the camera with a scream. Yeah, I've seen it before, but that's still scary. I've seen corpses before, a few times. Never saw a skeleton.

"As sons and daughters of possibly the sole remaining human settlement on Earth, you are a critical part of what stands between us and extinction." Thinking about that, I reach for my boyfriend's hand. Another few years… "Therefore, you have an obligation to return to us safely." Perry pulls his hand away from mine, pointing at the screen instead, looking uncomfortable. "And if you remember your training, you will."

I look away from Perry, my heart sinking. Is he giving up? Right before going out on a risky mission is not the time to get all fatalistic.

"Good luck, God speed," the message concludes, "and God bless America."

Nora leans towards me, chanting softly, "U-S-A, U-S-A."

"Let's go," Perry says, to all of us.

Then we're heading for the wall, weapons ready. We're searching in a new direction today, and possibly going further out. The nearer places are already picked over. We're especially looking for drugs, medicines. Pharma-salvage. My favorite. Pills are much lighter than canned goods.

No zombie hoard right outside the wall, so we lower our guns, looking around. In spray paint on the wall of an old building it says, Welcome to the Dead Zone. Look alive out there.

I hear Nora whisper, "Sweet."

Yeah, I really hope so.

"Per, let's bail." I heft the shotgun, feeling the reassuring weight in my arms. I knew this salvage was a bad idea. Too far from the wall. With a bunch of idiots, and led by a prick. I know, I know, he's my prick – so to speak, not like I've seen it lately – but Perry's gotten so difficult to talk to, and he wouldn't listen to any of my perfectly reasonable suggestions. Like, say, post a guard. Or make a run for it when we first suspected trouble.

He doesn't even turn to look at me. "Perry?"

"We have orders, Jules," he says, in that dead tone of voice that won't be argued with. God knows I've tried, but when he gets that flat note in his voice… I swear, frickin' corpses are more reasonable. The orders I heard were that we had an obligation to make it back safely, whether we got the goods or not. The Colonel's all about staying alive to fight another day. But Perry hadn't seemed interested in that part. He moves towards the door, with his gun up at least.

Why don't we all have our guns up? It might not be as much fun as Berg's video game, but it's a little bit more important. If these guys are the best the city can do we're all doomed.

"It was nothing, anyway."

And he knows this, how, exactly?

He turns towards me, taking his attention off the door. "You're being paranoid, okay?"

Shit. There's movement behind him, on the far side of the door. I feel electrified, sick with adrenaline, and briefly furious with Perry for putting us all in such a bad spot. "Perry!"

The door slams open, and corpses start pouring in, growling loudly. Perry hits the first one in the face with the butt of his gun, knocking him down, for all the good that will do. I drop to one knee for better balance and fire.

From the corner of my eye, I see Perry jump up on a counter. "Aim for their heads!"

The room erupts in gunfire as the others belatedly realize the danger, but the corpses keep coming, moving fast, jumping over the counter. Berg is pulled down and killed just a few feet in front of me. OMG, I'm going to die. I move behind the counter, diving for cover as if I think they're going to shoot me.

I try to put all that fear behind a glass wall, like Dad told me to. Do what you have to, to survive, he says. Have a breakdown about it later.

The growling and groaning from the corpses continues to fill the air. The gun shots get fewer. I can hear people getting knocked down, and screaming. Briefly. I see one corpse head explode, at least. But there are too many of them.

Deep breath. I scoot back out into the open, keeping low to avoid friendly fire.

The corpse on top of Berg is – was – a black woman. She rears up and snarls at me. Too easy a shot for me to miss. Bam, she goes over backwards. Down for the count. I recock the gun.

The one that Perry knocked down is still on the floor, half way to getting back up. But he's not moving. It's like he's frozen in place. Staring right at me with wide, unblinking eyes. Damn, that's creepy. I should shoot him, but for some reason I hesitate. Maybe he's frozen me, too, by that unnatural stillness. He's not an active threat, yet. Got to make all my shots count.

I move back behind the counter, keeping an eye on him until I move out of sight. Perry fires again; I can hear the cartridge bounce on the floor of the lab. I hope he took his own advice and aimed for the head. Not nearly enough gunfire, guys, this is not good at all. Someone else screams and I hear a thud. Kicking, punching. Damn, I hope that's not Perry.

If he gets himself killed by a zombie, I hope he comes back – just so I can shoot him in the head for being so stubborn. No, I don't mean that. Do I? I don't know what I'm feeling under the icy blanket of fear.

I move towards the other end of the counter. I get a couple of them, but there are way too many bodies on the floor. The creepiest thing about zombies, I think, is that if you get bit, you change sides in the war, and won't even realize if you kill your own family. Though I'm probably safe, there. The Colonel wouldn't hesitate to shoot a Julie-corpse in the head. I don't know if that's reassuring or depressing.

Stop thinking so much, Julie. I make myself stand back up, and move towards the center of the lab, looking for good targets. And Perry. "Perry?. Perry!" He's not on the counter anymore. Shit, shit, shit. "Where are you? Answer me!"

Machine gun fire on the next row over; we're not all dead yet, anyway. I hear growling and gasping from Nora's direction, and swivel towards the source of the rapid gunfire. A huge corpse is literally lifting her up. I aim between the shelves and the counter top, and it's another good hit. His head explodes and he falls. Pulling Nora with him.

I go to recock but it doesn't work. I stare at my gun in horror. Am I empty? Do I have spares? What if I'm the last person left alive in here? A crash from behind me claims my attention and I swing around. Zombie coming straight at me. Acting on instinct I slam the barrel of the gun into him; it hits him hard enough to flip him before he drops to the ground.

Where's my bag? I had extra shells… I can't find them, and a growing sense of horror fills me as the room gets quieter. The gun slips from my fingers. Movement in front of me. I look up – it's the corpse in the red hoodie, now on his feet and moving towards me, still staring at me. With fresh blood on its face.

C'mon, Julie, think! I reach down into my boot to pull out my knife and hurl it across the room towards him. Surprisingly, it hits him, burying itself to the hilt. But in his chest, not in his head. All that's going to do is piss him off.

He pauses and looks down briefly, pulls the knife out and drops it on the ground. Then he looks back up, still staring. I expect a snarl or grimace, but he only seems mildly confused, and… if he were still human I'd think his feelings were hurt. Which is insane. He starts towards me again, his long legs closing the distance much too quickly even though he's not especially hurrying.

I back up a little, reaching for the support of the counter behind me as I realize this is it. I'm going to die. I can't look away from my death, ambling across the room towards me.

The corpse's face contorts as he studies me, and a low sound escapes. With the blood pounding in my ears I can't make it out. He's coming closer, he's right in front of me.

My knees give way and I sink down, staring at him, my back sliding against the cupboard doors. He follows me down, never looking away from my face, putting an arm against the edge of the counter, but not touching me.

My vision is going. He's going to bite me, I know he is, but he's taking his time about it, still studying my face. I can't take the suspense, please just kill me now. Pale skin, dark hair, wide gray eyes. Blood around his mouth. I can't breathe properly.

I look past him, desperately trying to block out the whole situation, expecting any second to feel teeth ripping into my throat. What is he waiting for?

In the deadly quiet of that room, his voice grabs my attention back… wait, he said my name! Am I hallucinating? I can't help it, I focus on his face again, searching desperately for any trace of humanity.

He's just looking at me. Why is he just looking at me? This is weird, and I grab onto that distraction. Anything to avoid dwelling on my impending demise.

He pulls away – away! – slightly, looking around the room. Looking behind him, although his body doesn't move, keeping me trapped against the cabinet with one arm. Not that I could move at the moment. All I hear is death, shuffling and groaning and sniffing out prey.

When he turns back to face me, his eyes widen further, and I swear he looks frightened. What the hell does he have to be scared of? I'm the one who's about to be zombie chow! He meets my eyes briefly, then looks down. A moment later, he's raising one of his hands to my face, palm towards me. I close my eyes, flinching as I feel cold slimy wetness touching my cheek. He's… painting me with something. The touch is strangely gentle, but that substance has got to be blood. It smells awful. I feel a tear escape.

His hand drags down then pulls away, and he hasn't yet killed me. I open my eyes again, insanely hoping that he'll be gone. That they'll all be gone, and I'll wake up, and be able to joke with Nora about the corpse who covered me with barbeque sauce.

He's still there. Still staring. He leans in towards my throat, close enough that his hair brushes my cheek, and I shudder. If he rips my throat out, at least that should be quick, right? He doesn't touch me, though, just sniffs a few times, then moves back out where I can see him again, a vaguely satisfied look on his face. He looks me in the eyes again and very clearly says, "Safe".

Yes, I've clearly lost it. I've never been less safe in my life. I'll never be safe again.

In the aisle, I can see the corpses gathering. Apparently they're done eating. My stomach churns and my breath hitches at the thought. But… they're not coming towards me. I know they can see me, but they don't seem to care. Maybe… if I stay very still… they'll go away?

Except that the corpse in front of me is still there, still staring at me. He's trying to talk again. Did he say "come"? I can't help it, I have to ask, "What?" It comes out more like "wha?" – just a whisper of a sound.

He backs away, still staring at me, standing to his feet and pulling me to mine, grabbing onto my arm by the sleeve. This is not happening. It really can't be. It's impossible.

Part of me wants to scream and fight and run away. But I can hear my dad's voice in my head, "Survive. Stay alive, no matter what. Wait for your chance." And I'm too numb, too weak to put up much of a struggle, so I let him drag me along with the pack of corpses towards the door. It smells awful in here. They smell awful.

As I'm drawn towards the door, I can't help looking for Nora. To my shock, she's still alive, hiding under a desk, behind the corpse I killed, dark splotches on her face. She meets my eyes but I know she can't do anything. I look away, not wanting to alert them to her presence, and the corpse drags me out of her sight.

The pack of corpses has reverted to a slow walking pace, so different than their speed when hungry. It's not hard for me to keep up with them. The one in the red hoodie let go of me after a little while, but he's staying close, and keeps looking at me. If I try to run, they'll kill me. The only reason I'm still alive is… that they think I'm dead?

Oh, God, maybe I am. Maybe I died, and just didn't notice. One hand creeps up to my throat, which seems to still be undamaged. If a little slimy on one side, but that was from his hand, not my blood.

I don't understand, and I just let my mind drift for a while, looking at the ground and trying hard to imagine that none of this is happening.

Eventually, we approach an old airport. At least I think that's what it is. I haven't been to an airport since I was a kid. There are zombies everywhere, now, just sort of wandering around. It's fascinating in a horrifying sort of way. My corpse/captor grabs my arm again, pulling me in the direction he wants to go, and I don't fight it. We go into the terminal, through it, and then out the other side, emerging onto an airfield in the gathering dusk. It's gotten colder, and my adrenaline from earlier has disappeared, leaving me feeling so tired.

He guides me to a boarding ramp, leading up to an airplane. Climbing those stairs, seeing the door open and hearing it close, it hits me. I'm going to die here. I'll never see the sky again. I realize that I'm crying.

The seats are covered in… stuff. Clutter. In the low light I can't really tell what any of it is, and I'm too scattered to focus, anyway. The corpse touches my shoulder and I flinch, turning towards him. He drops his hand, ducks his head, and says "H…home". He points to a row of seats. There's nowhere to run, so I crawl to the furthest seat, huddling up by the window, crying a little harder.

I look up at him again, and he's still staring at me. After a second, though, he jerkily turns his head and walks past the row of seats I'm in. I don't know why, I don't care, I don't understand anything. The overhead compartment is covered in bloody fingerprints.

He's coming back towards me, shuffling quietly in the aisle. This is it. Perry, I'm sorry I was so mad at you. You were right, the world is going to hell and we're all going with it. You and I are just going a little sooner than some others.

He comes even with my seat row, then steps a little away from me, and sits across the aisle. He doesn't even look at me at first – which is a change, seems like he's been staring at me for hours, days, an eternity. He puts his hands up to his face and… fixes his hair? Pushes it back from his forehead. There's drying blood on his fingers.

He slowly looks sideways, towards me, his eyes fixed to the floor of the plane. "Not… eat." he says, then looks up to meet my eyes. Almost shy. He leans out over the aisle a little, pointing towards me. He turns his arm to point to his mouth, and chomps his teeth. His blood-stained teeth. Then he sort of shakes his head, still looking right at me.

I close my eyes, turning towards the window. I just can't even process this right now. It's been too long of a day, too bizarre. I think my brain shut down, back in that lab. Easier not to think, right now, because… this is not a situation I want to think about.

"Keep… you safe."

I can't possibly have heard that correctly. I look back over at him. He's got a perfectly serious expression, inasmuch as he has expressions. He hasn't actually hurt me. Yet. He's barely made any threatening moves. You know, other than kidnapping me.

He's a corpse. I hear my dad's voice in my head. Corpses are uncaring, unfeeling, incapable of remorse.

He stands up, surprisingly tall, then leans towards me. I gasp and huddle closer to the window.

He stops moving, just looking at me for a long moment, then he turns away. Walks up the aisle. Out the door. Off the plane.

Maybe this is my chance? One last shot of adrenaline tries to perk me up. I frantically look around to see if there are any other corpses on the plane, then peer out the window. It's getting dark out there. I can see red hoodie walking across the tarmac (turning around briefly to look back at the plane), along with three or four other corpses lurching along, seemingly aimless. I'm trapped, and I collapse back into tears.

I indulge in a good cry for a little while, but then the urgency of the situation intrudes again. Sure, the corpse left, but it's a good bet he's coming back – especially if, like he said, this is his home. What a weird concept, but I guess even zombies have to have somewhere to hang out. And in this case, somewhere to keep his stuff.

That reminder stirs me to action, and with a cautious glance out the window – still a few corpses wandering but no flashes of red out there that I can see – I make myself get up and start looking around. This guy has an amazing collection of junk. There's got to be some sort of weapon in here somewhere.

By the time he gets back, I've managed to find a small blade – not very sharp, but it's something. I'm probably still going to die but I'm too proud to do it lying down. Where there's life, there's… not always hope, exactly, but the possibility of it, I guess. I'm crouched on a seat, with the blade in front of me.

He walks into the cabin, looking a little less gross than before. His body language is weird, all jerky and uncoordinated, but I know that can be deceiving. He's tall, and lanky, like maybe he's just barely out of his teens. You know, before he died. His head swings as he searches the plane for me, then he starts shuffling in my direction.

The repeated bouts of terror have worn me out; I can only shiver and wait. He approaches me, staring with those creepy eyes. He walks close, seems to look me over, then turns around, reaching upward. He opens a compartment and takes out something.

I can't help it, I quaver out, "What are you doing?"

He turns back around, holding a small bundle that looks like… a blanket?

"Please… leave me alone."

He shakes out the blanket. What the hell is he planning to do with that? Smother me? He leans towards me, hands extended, and I can't move, caught between terror and curiosity. What the…?

His hands don't quite touch me. He lays the blanket over me, gently tucking it in above my shoulder so it won't fall. Seriously, what the hell? He straightens back up and gives me the weirdest look – definitely non threatening, almost… apologetic. Incapable of remorse… My dad's voice is in my head again, but it's getting fainter.

"Why me?" The question comes out without conscious thought. If he's truly not going to eat me, then what does he want from me? "Why did you save me?" Unless this is just his way of keeping his snack warm for later.

He shakes his head a tiny bit, looking sad now. "D..don't…" he forces the words out; it's obviously difficult for him to talk. I have to listen closely to figure out what he's saying. He stammers a hard c sound, which eventually comes out as "cry."

Wait, what? "Don't cry"?

He reaches out a hand towards me – offering comfort? For a second I just stare, then I remember what he is, and flinch back. I won't let him take my only weapon, even if it is pitiful. I have to look away from him for a second. I am not seeing compassion on the face of a corpse. It's just not possible. Uncaring, unfeeling.

He withdraws his hand, the movement prompting me to look at him again. For a second he just stands there, unsure, somehow vaguely sad. He drops his gaze, then turns. I watch him cross to the other side of the plane, looking in one of the overhead compartments.

I huddle into the blanket, putting the knife down on the seat next to me. Apparently I won't be needing it just yet. If he were going to attack me, he'd have done it hours ago. Right? Assuming the takeout theory doesn't hold water, and honestly, it sounds a little unlikely. Turning around again, peering around the edge of my seat, I can see his back. He's holding something. Bringing it up to his face then… blowing on it?

I barely have time to process that it's an actual ancient record before music starts playing. I have got to be hallucinating. Maybe the pharma salvage was a huge success, and we found some really good drugs… no, I can't convince myself. I couldn't possibly come up with something as bizarre as a zombie playing records.

A guitar begins to play. He turns towards me and I duck back behind the seat. Someone starts whistling a tune. I look sideways as he comes back even with me, my hand tightening on the knife, just in case. He's further away than a minute ago, and settles himself, sitting on the arm rest of the seat on the other side of the plane.

He's staring at me again. During lulls of the music, he says, "Safe." He's almost whispering. A pause while he gathers his breath. "Keep you safe." His soulful eyes are begging me to believe him. I just stare back, my puzzlement probably showing on my face.

He slowly closes his eyes, leans slightly to one side, then back to the other. It takes a moment to process that he's actually swaying to the music. The phrase "music hath charms to soothe the savage beast" pops into my head. I lean forward a little, unwillingly fascinated by this behavior. This is so far from what I'd been taught to expect from a corpse; he could be a different species. For another few bars I just watch, then the question slips out. "What are you?"

He heard me. His eyes open. I regret interrupting his enjoyment of the music, hating to break the spell. He meets my eyes briefly before looking down. Self-conscious? Almost gracefully, he slips backwards over the arm rest to settle into the seat. He leans back against the head rest, then turns to look at me again. His expression is… almost peaceful. Deliberately, he presses the control to recline his seat, still looking at me.

The music switches from whistling to words as he turns away to look at the ceiling. Does he do this a lot? "Shed a tear 'cause I'm missing you," the singer croons. "I'm still alright to smile."

Is this another way to say, "don't cry"?

He doesn't move as I watch, and I find myself listening to the words of the song, trying to decide if he's actually using it to communicate. Maybe not. Sounds like a love song, if kind of a sad one. Then the chorus starts. "Sad woman, take it slow. It'll work itself out fine. All we need is just a little patience."

Right. That's got to be a message. He's still not moving, just staring into space. Seriously, does he ever blink? I guess he wouldn't really need to. The lack of threat, warmth from the blanket and the soft music is overcoming me. So far he hasn't hurt me, and I can't stay awake forever. I let my eyes close and my thoughts grow fuzzy. All we need is patience? Yeah, I don't think so, but maybe it'll do for now. Just a little patience…