The Last Alive

by H. L. Wampler

  “Emma!” I looked back as two of the larger men grabbed his arms and drug him back into the fort.

  Liz stood there and Taz punched the gate. A tear slid down my cheek as I turned back to Meaghan. She pulled at her hair as more zombies closed in on us.

  “I hope you aren’t too fond of having long hair,” I said to her.

  “Why?”

  “I’m chopping it off.” I pulled my knife out.

  “Just don’t chop off my head. Okay?” She cringed and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “I won’t,” I said, raising the knife above my head and bringing it down right in front of the zombie’s hands.

  Both Meaghan and the zombie went flying in opposite direction. She scrambled to her feet and looked around wildly. Her new short hair swung around in her eyes. The zombie slowly got up and continued its quest for fresh flesh, ours.

  “Let’s go!” she yelled, looking toward the gate.

  “Sounds good to me!” I stabbed a zombie through the eye. The decaying eyeball exploded and a bit of the liquid splashed on my face. I choked back the bile that rose in my throat. “Oh that was disgusting. Oh my God that was disgusting.”

  “Worry about it later! We need to get back to the gate before they close it,” Meaghan cried.

  “Emma! Behind you!” a man’s voice called from somewhere above me. I turned quickly and slammed my knife into the side of another zombies head. It was a sickening thud. The corpse slid to the ground and I yanked out my black-blood covered knife.

  I looked up at Nathan who snatched a rifle out of George’s hands. He took aim and fired, hitting an undead that was closing in on Meaghan. The hoard seemed to circle me. I couldn’t even see Meaghan through them all.

  “Get to the gate!” I yelled at her over the groaning.

  “You came back for me, I’m not leaving you,” she called back to me.

  “I’ll be fine. Get inside.”

  “No, Emma!” she cried.

  “Don’t argue with me. Go. I’ll be okay. I have more weapons than you do.”

  “How many arrows do you have left?” she asked.

  “Enough. Now go!”

  “I can’t,” she wailed. “No! No, let me go!” Her father had her arm and was struggling to pull her inside.

  I sighed heavily and nodded, someone else ran out for her. At least if we both couldn’t make it, she would. A loud bang dragged me out of my happy cloud as it rang out, dropping a zombie right behind me. I looked back as its hands smacked the back of my leg.

  “That is too close for comfort,” I muttered to myself.

  “Stop daydreaming or whatever you are doing, and get your ass back in the city!” Nathan yelled, reloading the rifle.

  “I’m trying.”

  “You’re not trying hard enough.” He raised the scope to his eye. “Will one of you other guys please help? There’s a woman fighting for her life right now.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry,” someone called from up above.

  Another shot whizzed past my face.

  “I got your six, boss lady,” Taz shouted from behind me.

  “Thanks!”

  An arrow sailed by overhead. “Don’t think I’m letting just the men get some fun in, Emma.”

  “I know you’re there, Liz.”

  Shots rang out and bodies dropped. Not enough bodies, but it was getting better. I pulled my last arrow out and nocked it. Breathing slowly, I lifted my bow and let the string go. I hoped that the zombies’ heads were soft enough that the arrow would go straight through. I watched as it spun through three heads. I slung the bow back over my shoulder and was left with nothing but my knife.

  There is no way I could get through them all. How? I only have my one knife and there are so many of them. So many.

  “It’s time to run, Emma!” Nathan hollered at me.

  “It’s hard to run when there is an entire horde of zombies in front of you,” I shouted back.

  “We’ll clear you a path. You run.

  “How are you going to clear a path? There are too many.”

  “We have guns,” another man’s voice called down.

  “Dad?” I looked up at my elderly father who cocked a shotgun.

  “Meaghan came and told us. I’m not about to let my last daughter be turned into zombie food. Now haul ass, darling.”

  I looked up at the man in disbelief for a moment, but did as they said. I ran. Greyish green hands reached for me. The undead were salivating like Pavlov just rang the dinner bell.

  Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

  I could only hope the line of men at the top of the fort were all crack shots and would clear a path for me. One of the hands grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me back. I lost my balance for a moment and fell. Me falling seemed to throw them all into a frenzy. The decaying bodies leapt on me; pulling at my hair, arms, legs, and drooling on me. I swung my knife wildly, making contact with a few. Shots rang out and the undead that surrounded me began to fall; their sticky, bloody splattering my face. I wiped furiously trying to get as much of the vile liquid off as possible. I climbed to my feet and ran again. I was almost there. Another few feet and I’d be safe.

  “How are you?” Nathan called down.

  “I’ve been better.” I stabbed a zombie in the forehead. “You guys kind of suck at clearing paths.”

  “Hey, we’re doing the best we can!” another man shouted.

  “Well if I fall again I doubt I’ll be getting back up,” I grunted, stabbing another undead in the head. “And these things smell horrible!”

  “I don’t think they care much about personal hygiene.” Nathan shot at another.

  “I’m going to take the longest shower. Someone start heating up the water.”

  “Alright, Emma, a few more feet and you’re there!” Dad shouted.

  “Thank God.” I sighed.

  The gate began to open more, but the look of horror on Art’s face made my blood run cold. That was not a happy good you’re here kind of look. That was an oh shit you’re dead kind of look.

  Then I felt the arms around my waist and I was falling. The bite came next. I didn’t feel pain at first. It was a burning sensation as the zombie sank its teeth into my neck.

  “No!” Nathan screamed.

  I looked up at him as a tear slid down my cheek.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The End of Emma?

  As the zombie’s teeth sank further into my arm, I screamed. The pain was excruciating, and I knew what it meant. I was going to be one of them. I wasn’t going to survive. The tears flowed as I focused on Nathan. I couldn’t look down. I couldn’t think about it. I didn’t want to think about it.

  “No! No, Emma!” Nathan yelled.

  “Emma!” Liz shouted.

  A shot rang out and gooey, black blood spattered on my face. The undead’s grip on me loosened as it fell, dead again. I reached to my arm and held the wound. I could feel the slimy zombie drool mixed with my own sticky blood.

  I was infected.

  “Get in here, Emma!”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. It-it bit me.”

  “She’s infected,” someone else shouted.

  “Leave her!” someone else yelled.

  The words stung, but they were true. I could never be around anyone else again. Of course, in a few short hours I’d be trying to eat their brains.

  “We’re not leaving her,” Nathan said.

  “She can’t come in here,” George retorted.

  “Backup. Now!” Taz held his weapon in the man’s face. “I swear I will shoot you.”

  “Shut up, George. We have isolation containment for a reason, you ninny. Now let her in.”

  “Isolation?” a few asked.

  “You must be joking! What do you think happens to those who are bit but before they’re turned?”

  “We shoot them,” Art said.

  “Nobody is shooting my daughter,” Dad screamed.

  I sank to my knees sobbing for the se
cond time in years.

  “After they turn. And we do it in isolation containment. You all really don’t know anything that goes on around here.”

  Nathan slipped through the gate and ran to me. Grabbing my hand, he yanked me to my feet.

  “Let’s go.”

  “I can’t. I was bit.”

  “Then you’ll go in isolation until you turn.” He held my arm examining the bit quickly. “You still have at least two hours.”

  “Then what, Nathan? You’ll shoot me between the eyes?” I looked down at my wound as more tears welled in my eyes.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let’s get somewhere safe.”

  “If I’m there it won’t be safe,” I replied through tears.

  “Emma, stop being so fucking emotional! Shit, I think I preferred it when you were an emotionally hardened basket case. At least you were logical then.”

  “What?” I sniffled.

  “You’re being ridiculous. Stop it.”

  I glowered at the man, stunned and embarrassed he was being so careless. I didn’t argue anymore. It was pointless. He grabbed my hand and dragged me inside. The men who stood near the gate quickly backed away raising their guns.

  “Knock it off, she hasn’t turned yet.” Nathan smacked a barrel of one of the guns pointed at me.

  “Can’t be too careful,” an older man with a death grip on his shotgun said, pointing it at my head.

  Nathan raised his gun and pointed it at the man’s head. “How about I point it at you?”

  “I’m not the monster.”

  “Ridiculous.” Nathan lowered his gun and dragged me toward the courthouse.

  “Will I be locked away with others?”

  “No. Infected are kept separated.”

  “How many others are there?” I tried to keep the sobs from escaping. He was right, even though in a few hours I was going to be a zombie, I had to stay logical for as long as my brain would hold out.

  “The last time I was there they had four people in isolation.”

  “Who?” I asked quietly, hoping it wasn’t anyone I was particularly fond of.

  “The Johnsons’. The group that was rescued. The isolation was strictly precaution.”

  “Oh.”

  “Emma!” I turned and saw Meaghan running toward us. Her cheeks were stained by tears and her eyes bloodshot.

  “Hi, Meaghan.”

  “Please tell me it’s not true! You’re fine right? That’s why Nathan is taking you home.”

  “It’s true. I was bit.”

  “Wh…” her voice broke as she began sobbing. The poor girl threw her arms around my neck and held me.

  “It’s going to be okay, Meaghan. Don’t worry.”

  “How can you say it’s going to be okay? It’s not,” she sobbed.

  Liz wrapped her arms around the girl, trying to get her to stop crying.

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “I’m sorry, Meaghan, but I need to get Emma into isolation,” Nathan said gently.

  “Isolation? Like she was just one of them?”

  “She’s not one of them,” Taz grumbled.

  “Yes. I know it sucks, but in a few hours she will be one of them.”

  “Who is going to do it?” she asked, wiping her eyes.

  “I don’t know yet,” he said.

  My heart sank and my mind spun. They were talking about who would shoot me in the head.

  Who was going to put me out of my misery? Nathan? My dad? Meaghan?

  I hugged Meaghan one last time and continued along Grant Street with Nathan.

  “Why didn’t you listen to me?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “I told you to just leave Meaghan and get to safety. Why didn’t you listen?”

  “I couldn’t leave my best friend to die,” I mumbled.

  “Yeah? Well now you’re going to die. How is that any better? I’m losing you, Emma,” he said as a tear slid down his cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Nathan.” I blinked a few times as tears fell down my cheeks.

  “I can’t see you turn into one of those. There has to be some way to stop it,” he muttered more to himself than talking to me.

  “There is no way, Nathan. Once you’re bit that’s it. You become a zombie. An undead being that doesn’t know a loved one from a steak.”

  “I’m a doctor, I can figure something out.” He turned his head from me.

  I stopped walking and grabbed his hand. “Nathan, the reality of the situation is that I’m going to turn. I don’t have a lot of time so I’m going to tell you this. I love you. I have for years. And I want you to be the one to do it.”

  “Do it? Do what?”

  “Shoot me. I don’t want one of those other guys to just shoot me in the face. I want it to be you.”

  “Why me?” he asked.

  “Because there is no one I trust more than you. I know you won’t let me suffer once that time comes.”

  “I-I can’t, Emma.”

  “It’s your turn to stop being emotional. We don’t have time for emotional. Remember? Logic, Nathan.”

  “Alright. I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you,” I said grabbing his hand. “Are my parents coming to say good-bye?”

  “I don’t know. You’re dad left right before you came back in.”

  “Oh.” I looked up at the large courthouse. Giant statues of Lions stood on either side of the doors, protecting those within.

  I hope they can protect me.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Why Am I Not Turning?

  Nathan held my hand as he led me past the guards that stood their posts. They glared as I glanced up. I dropped my head and my gaze to the floor. I felt like an outsider in a different world now. The cold linoleum was friendlier than they were. Nathan squeezed my hand as we walked down the silent hall. The courtrooms were empty and the walls barren. It felt so sterile and final.

  “Are you taking me to the isolation cells?” I squeaked out.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Not really. I was bit by a zombie, I’m going to turn, and then you’re going to shoot me. I’m kind of freaking out on the inside,” I mumbled.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” I sighed. “You tried to save me. It was my idiocy that got me here.”

  “I wouldn’t call it idiocy. It was more bravery than anything.”

  “Eh,” I mumbled.

  “You are brave, Emma. You saved your best friend from being torn to shreds. I shouldn’t have been mad at you for that.”

  “Yeah and in the meantime got myself bit. Now I’m going to die.”

  He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but sighed instead. He knew I was right. There was no bright side to it. Simple fact of the matter was in a few short hours I was going to die.

  Maybe I should just do it myself. Before I turn. I don’t want Nathan’s last memory of me to be that of a monster. I shuddered at the thought of turning into one of those mindless flesh eaters.

  He led me down a darkened stairwell to a darkened hallway. A few torches threw a soft orange glow against the cobblestone walls and floor. I had led so many people down here over the years. The feeling when you go down as the infected is completely different. You swap sorrow and pity for fear. That gnawing pain in your stomach when you know you’re going to die.

  “This is rather middle ages. I feel like a prisoner being led to her execution,” I grumbled.

  “Emma, please…”

  “Please what, Nathan? How am I supposed to feel?”

  He stared straight ahead clenching and unclenching his jaw. My heart sped up as we approached the end of the hall. A large iron door with bars for a window stood waiting for me. I slowed as we drew closer. Terror took over. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to t
urn. I wanted to go to my cruddy old mattress on the floor. Nathan rapped on the door. The heavy knock reverberated down the hallway. The door creaked and slowly opened. A tall, burly man stood on the other side. He didn’t glare at me. He looked at me with pity. Nathan led me past him to a row of cells.

  I felt like I was in the bowels of hell.

  “Don’t make me go,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  I looked up at Nathan with tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t make me go in there. I-I can’t go in there, Nathan.”

  “Emma…”

  “I won’t turn. I’ll fight it. I’ll try. Please. Please. Please,” I begged.

  He wrapped his arms around me as my body was racked with shudders from my sobs.

  “I’m not going to leave you. I promise I’ll stay with you till…”

  “Till you kill me?”

  “Until the infection takes over,” he said softly.

  “I don’t want to die, Nathan.”

  “I know, honey. I know. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I sniffed.

  Tears continued to flow down my cheeks as I stepped into the cell. I turned expecting the door to be shut and I would be left in isolation alone, but Nathan entered with me. He sat on the bench against the wall and held me.

  “You sure you wanna be in there?” the big man asked.

  “I’m positive.”

  “What about when she turns?” he asked.

  “I’ll deal with the situation then.”

  That’s all I am. Nothing more than a situation now. A problem that needs taken care of. Do they even see me as human anymore? Am I already an undead? What about my parents? Will they see my body after I turn? How will they hide the bullet hole in my head? Will they burn my body? Am I going to be nothing more than a pile of ashes by tomorrow?

  “Stop worrying,” Nathan said softly.

  “I’m not.” I lied.

  “I know you are.”

  “I’m not.”

  “What are you thinking about then?” he asked.

  “My parents.”

  “What about them?”

  “What’s going to happen to them after I’m dead,” I cried.

  “They will mourn you. They’ll miss you.”

  “What about you?”

  He was silent for a long while. I sat up and looked into his face. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed. His eyes glassed over and a tear slid down his cheek.