This Lullaby ( Kaylor )

( dead and gone )

I would apologize for this chapter but...I'm not sorry.  Get the pitchforks ready, tbh.

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Karlie was looking absently through shelves of hair dye, hearing Taylor rustling through something down the aisle.  The blonde was looking for better supplies to care for the wound on Karlie's leg, something to stabalize it better so the former model would be able to walk with less of a limp.  But when Taylor was in a mode of determination, Karlie knew better than to try to help--she'd only manage to get in the way somehow.

As she studied a box of hair dye, she was startled to find her own face looking back at her.  It was like a knife straight into her guts.  Had she really once been that happy?  Had she really once found joy in posing for a camera to end up in lingerie ads and on boxes of "copper" hair dye?  It seemed like another world, another life.  Her hand lifted to her cheekbones, feeling how gaunt they were now compared to the photo.

She reached out, gripped the box, and turned it around so the back was facing her rather than her own reflection from years before.  Taylor's shoes tapped on the floor as she walked back over, and Karlie turned to face her.  The blonde lifted an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing.  Hey, do you want to go try to find food and stuff?" Karlie asked.  This was a Walmart, after all.  It was huge and empty and with dying generators powering it, the lights were barely there and flickered like ghosts.  It was like a fucking horror movie, honestly.

Taylor nodded her consent and together they walked down the silent, chillingly empty aisles until they reached the food.  They gave the refrigerated sections wide bearth, trying to avoid the smell of rotten food.  It was the kind of scent that clung to the lining of your nose for hours and made you gag if you focused on it too long.

Eventually, however, they found shelves lined with cans of soup, fruit, and other non-perishable items.  Some things had been picked clean by other survivors, but there was still too much to carry.  They shoved cans into their backpacks until the bags were almost too heavy.  Taylor was grinning and it looked like the sun, "God, I was tired of goddamn protein bars."

"Me too," Karlie said, stomach growling at the thought of injesting all of this food.  Taylor chuckled lightly at the sound, and Karlie tilted her head down, a little embarrassed, nose crinklng into a sheepish smile.

They finished gathering supplies, and Karlie leaned against Taylor's shoulder so she could take some weight off of her bad leg, "I think we're doing pretty well, you know?  For a couple of young city girls who were so used to being wealthy and not having to really want for anything."

"I think you're right.  We're actually pretty badass," Taylor said.  She was still smiling, and Karlie couldn't help but lean in and press a kiss to those perfect lips.

When they pulled apart, there was another growl.  Taylor laughed and poked a finger above Karlie's navel, "Your stomach is louder than your mouth is, somehow."

But Karlie just felt sick.  She shook her head, eyes wide, panic rising like lava in her chest, "Taylor, that wasn't me."

"What?" Taylor asked, voice dropping and growing sharp all at once.

Another growl.  They peered around the end of the aisle.  From the direction they'd come, undead had crawled through the shattered glass of the front door.  There were at least 10 of them, stumbling and rattling and trying to trace the source of Karlie and Taylor's scent.

"Fuck," Karlie whispered.  They were trapped now, weren't they?  The undead were blocking the exit.  Ten was too many.  They'd never fought off more than six.  Her head spun on her shoulders like a rollarcoaster, but without the beautiful exhileration.  Adrenaline made her throat burn, and she swallowed back vomit.

Taylor was just staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, looking ready to burst into tears.  Karlie watched the way her chest started moving more rapidly, speed of her breaths quickening as a panic attack set in. 

Karlie gripped Taylor's arm, murmured, "Come on" and pulled her down the aisle.  She could see what looked like a back exit, but they'd have to cross the central aisle to get to it, and there was no way they'd miss being detected.  It was with shaking hands and fear crushing her lungs that she made her choice.

She took the extra clip for her gun and shoved it into Taylor's belt.  The other girl looked at her, panicked, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"We're going to have to run.  Tay, I can't.  Not with my leg.  So I'm gonna distract them, and you're going to get out and find safety and not fucking die," Karlie said, surprised that her voice sounded so calm when inside she was crumbling like the pillars of Rome.

Taylor stared at her in horror, "Are you fucking crazy?"

"Taylor, I can't---"

She was interrupted by a firm kiss, almost bruising with the force it was pressed against her mouth.  A whistle of breath escaped her, and Karlie closed her eyes, trying to memorize the feeling.  Taylor looked at her with those blue eyes like all of the oceans and whispered, "I need you."

"I know," Karlie whispered back.

Taylor caught her arm and pulled her along.  Running hurt, and Karlie was reduced to an awkward, hobbling jog, not much faster than the undead they were trying to avoid.  The low tone of the death rattles grew louder when they were spotted, and Karlie let out a sob, hating herself for slowing Taylor down.

They burst through aisles, knocking over a display of DVDs and CDs (and hysterically, Karlie noticed a few of Taylor's 1989 albums clattering to the floor).  The pace was painful and clumsy and slow, slow, too damn slow.   By the time they'd reached the door, the undead had gained far too much ground.

In the last desprate rush, Karlie slipped, fell to the floor, rolled once.  She felt stitches tear and pop, and warm blood soaked the leg of her pants.  Agony shot up through her muscles like thunderbolts.  She laid on the floor, aching and knowing that it was the death blow.  Taylor yanked the door open then moved to help Karlie to her feet.  But the other girl waved her off, "I got it.  Go, I'll be there in just a second."

The valliant effort of pushing herself to her feet was enough to convince Taylor that Karlie would be fine.  She slipped out of the door, and Karlie looked up.  By the time she'd manage to stand, the undead would be ripping her throat out and swimming out the door to do the same to Taylor.

So she made a decision, and in a split second of bravery, she realized it was her only real choice.  Her voice quivered, and two words cut her lips as they spilled from her mouth, "I'm sorry."

Then, as hard as she could, she rammed her shoulder into the door.

Locking herself in.

And locking Taylor out.