Dead Paper Birds

by Megan McKinney

  His face was turning tomato red and his eyes were beginning to bulge out of his face. His hands left mine and reached up to grab onto my face. I pulled my head back as far as I could go and kept twisting my face so he couldn’t get a grip. As he ran out of oxygen he became more desperate. One hand grabbed at my bra and pulled it down while the other tried grabbing onto my throat. When he couldn’t reach my throat, he grabbed at my shoulder to dig his fingers into the bullet hole. I had to use every bit of self-control to not scream at the amount of pain that was traveling from my shoulder to the rest of my body, the amount of pain almost, almost made me let go. I just had to keep holding on. It was almost over. His face slowly went from red to a bluish-purple color. His movements were getting more and more frantic. He kept shoving his hand further and further into my wound, enough that even more of my blood was rolling down his arm and my body painting him and I crimson. His other hand stopped grabbing at my bra and grabbed my throat. I didn’t move back fast enough, allowing him to hold onto it. He couldn’t get a good grip so I was able to breathe, it was hindered but doable. Under me he stopped moving, his eyes bulged out of his head. Slowly, almost gently his hand around my throat loosened and the one that was digging at my shoulder stopped, while his eyes stared into mine. Both of his hands dropped to his sides, one fell off the side of the bed and dangled there. My blood dripping off of his fingers. I couldn’t feel a pulse through his throat but I held onto him a moment longer to make sure that he was indeed dead.

  I let go and stared down at him. He looked like pathetic lifelike doll. If he’d used his actual head then maybe he wouldn’t be dead. I crawled off of the bed where I had to use the wall to catch me. The room was rocking from the pain and blood loss. I clutched at my arm and held it close to me. Pain was running all the way down my right arm to my fingertips. My whole right side, down to my pants was stained with fresh blood, the entirety of the front of my body was covered in some amount of blood. My blood. I felt awful, I felt almost disconnected from my body. There was darkness swirling around the perimeter of my eyesight. My head was pounding and it was only being compounded by my shoulder and my arms, my stomach was trying to crawl up my throat. I kept trying to swallow but saliva kept building up in my mouth and I knew I was going to throw up. I hated throwing up. My arms hurt but my shoulder. It hurt, it hurt so much worse than anything else. I tried to make a fist with my right hand but all I could do was curl my fingers in, any more than that and it was just too painful to do. Focus on that later. There’s still too much to do. Who knows how much longer I was going to have before they came in to investigate on what was taking so long. I have to find Dean and Richard. I have to find them.

  Once I was standing on my own, not using the wall to keep me upright I readjusted my bra, the right side of it was soaked with blood and I didn’t bring an extra one with me. If I didn’t wash it was going to stink. Good job Alice. My shirt though, it was completely ruined. Not to mention there was the fact that I had used it to kill him by stuffing it in his mouth. Yeah, there ah, was no way that I was even going to try to salvage it.

  I looked slowly around me. If I moved any faster and the room would spin around me. I started to pick up his jacket but the stench of his sweat made me dry heave. I very nearly lost the contents of my stomach. There was a pile of suitcases on the other side of the room. I sighed. Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will have left a wearable shirt in there. I bit my cheek and walked unsteadily to the suitcase. I unzipped it and flipped the lid open. I started digging through the clothing. Most of it was dress shirts and clothing I wouldn’t want to wear, almost all of them were covered in greenish mold. Near the bottom I found a large green/grey t-shirt. I pulled it on over my head whimpering when I had to pull my right arm through it. The shirt was only mostly covered in mold which explained the green hue color. Ick, but beggars can’t be choosers. As soon as the shirt sat flush against me, it started absorbing the blood off of my skin that didn’t matter at this point. I grabbed his knife off of the table and his gun. There was even an extra magazine, it was full as well as the magazine within the gun. My hand couldn’t fit comfortably around the pistol. It had a fat grip that made it almost impossible to wrap my hand around it but it was something at this point. If I could use both of my hands it wouldn’t be a big deal but my right hand wasn’t working. This wasn’t fair. How am I supposed to do anything with one hand? Huh? How? Through the pain I squeezed my fist as tightly as possible. These bastards screwed up. I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all.

  “Control. Alice remember control.” My dad’s voice whispered. His voice sounded so real I could almost imagine him standing next to me. “Don’t let it rule you. Make it your tool. Make it sharp and wield it precisely.” I closed my eyes and held my breath while counting to thirty. Once I reached thirty, I let go of my breath. Before counting to thirty again I pulled in another breath and held it. This time I only had to repeat the process twice before I was cool enough to think this through.

  If anyone is in the hallway then the knife won’t be any good. I’d only be able to use it in close quarters and out there they’d see me before I could get in close enough. If I could throw it then that would be a different story. I bounced the knife in my palm anxiously. The gun was too loud, it would bring all of them down at once then whatever chance we had of escaping would be gone. I bit down on my cheek and ran my empty hand through my hair. My hair twisted around my sweaty fingers, tangling even worse. I yanked my hand out angrily, heedless of the hair I ripped out, my rubber band had disappeared somewhere, I should just lop it all off.

  First things first, I needed to find Dean and Richard, because there was no way in hell they were being left behind. And I needed to find them sooner rather than later, who knows what’s happening to them right now. As long as I was able, no matter how much they picked under my skin, I couldn’t lose anyone else. If they died then it would be because I’d died. My conscience wouldn’t be able to handle it, losing anyone else. I’d lose what little I had left of my mind and there wasn’t much there.

  The only advantage that I had was that they still think he’s in here with me. I barely glanced at the corpse lying on the bed. I can’t do much in here, I need to see, and I need to know the layout of what I’m dealing with. I shoved the gun into one of my pockets and held the knife securely in my left hand before I tip-toed to the door. The door opened into the room not out into the hall, thank goodness. I set my ear against the door to listen. There was nothing for me to hear, which really didn’t tell me much. I positioned myself behind the door but to where I was able to peek out with the smallest chance of being seen. I held my breath before I pulled the door open a crack and looked out. There was no one in sight that I could see from here. I poked one eye out to look the other way. It was empty too. They must be in different rooms or patrolling the hallways. But how many were there? I strained my mind to remember but the drug they gave me made it hard, everything was fuzzy except the part where they shot me. Four? Five? Not very many but considering there was only three of us it was enough to outnumber us. If they called in reinforcements then we’d be done for sure. Not to mention the radio. I turned to look at the black device sitting on the table. There was someone out there that was killing off their patrols. Well the enemy of my enemy. I grinned. I scooped up the radio, flipping it off before shoving it in another pocket.

  I looked both ways before I stepped the rest of the way into the hall, carefully shutting the door behind me as quietly as I could. My nerves were singing under my skin. I’d rather deal with infected than the living. The door that was across from me was cracked open. I crossed the hall stepping as lightly as I could to avoid making the floor creak and to avoid the litter strewn across the floor. I flattened myself against the wall next to the door. Breathing as softly as possible I tried to peer into the room but the door wasn’t open far enough. It was open only a sliver. But it was enough for sound to float out. There was a slap and a grunt from inside. Tor
ture. I let my eyes slide closed. I was tired. Tired enough that I could fall asleep right here and now. I reopened my eyes. Of course, they would try to torture them too. They would want all the information they could get. Where did we come from? Where were we going? How many of us were there? Was this all of our supplies? The questions would go on and on until they were satisfied.

  Something down the hall made a noise. I flipped my head fast enough that my vision blurred and the hall rocked around me. It sounded like a floorboard creaking. But there was nothing that I could see, but that didn’t mean that it was nothing. In my experience it was always something. About three feet from me was a bookcase standing on its side. I crouched down beside it and waited, staring through the cracks. Maybe fifteen seconds later a man came from around the corner holding a rifle. He walked steadily down the hallway with a bored, almost ancy expression on his face. He was wearing a beanie that looked too small for his head and a thick black jacket that was zipped up. I was a little past the room that I had originally been in so he would have to pass me first if he wanted to go in there. I tightened my grip on the knife and waited to see where he would go, if he would stop and retrace his steps or continue down the hallway. He walked past me where he stopped with his back to me and stared at the door where I had been held and it was obvious that he was either waiting to replace the man that was in there or he was just waiting. I shuddered and gripped the knife even tighter with my left hand. Both hands were slick with sweat and blood. I waited for him to decide what he would do and this was going to be the tricky part. If I had to, I would have to kill him without alerting the other men that I was mobile but I don’t know if I was strong enough to kill him. I should kill him now, while he’s completely unaware, off guard would be my only chance to take him down silently.

  Before I had the chance to follow through, he opened the door and stepped into the doorway. He froze and stared at what had happened in the room. I jumped to my feet and rushed him. He started to turn around but I was already right behind him. I jammed the knife into the side of his throat and ripped it out in an arc spraying blood everywhere. He dropped his rifle to the ground and tried to stop the blood flow by grabbing onto his neck with both of his hands. The blood ran through his fingers, painting the front of his body red. He dropped to his knees and wobbled there before I grabbed him under the elbows and gently lowered him the rest of the way to the floor. His body kicked and jerked for a few moments before coming still. Underneath him, his blood was pooling around him. His life essence was draining away. The magic smoke I guess you could say was gone. He was gone, no coming back for him.

  My left hand and part of my forearm was covered in even more blood. It was warm and sticky. I wiped it the best I could on the back of his jacket. I hated getting blood on me, let alone letting it dry on me. It always made me feel dirty and gross, my blood was one thing but someone else’s. No thanks. The only perk here was that it wasn’t infected blood, just normal human blood. The cuts on my arms stung from the pressure of wiping my arm off. Even as I sat there watching them, they started to ooze more blood. I shook my head. I can’t do this. Behind me there was a screech of pain. It drove me to my feet. I stumbled but stayed on my feet.

  I looked both ways before crossing the hall again, there wouldn’t be much I could do if someone were to come out right now. Now it was a rush against time. If anyone saw me right now there would be no second chances, if they see into the room there’d be no second chances. I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of my shoulders. At the door I hesitated, if there was only the one guy in there, if I rushed him, I could get him before he did anything then I’d have the upper hand. But if there were two, I would have to get lucky, any more than that and I’d go down swinging. I planted my back against the door, I didn’t want to bang it open but I needed to open it quickly. I wasn’t afraid to die, but I was afraid of how. Being stabbed or shot wasn’t one of them, I’d already been shot and diced up today. As long as it’s quick. Time to go. I shoved the door open and stepped into the room.

  The man looked up right as I entered from where he was leaning in Richard’s face with a bloody knife resting on his neck. His beard covered the lower half of his face, so all I could see was his eyes go wide. Richard was strapped to a chair. His arms and torso were tied to a chair in the same position I had been in, there was a gag in his mouth that looked suspiciously like a dirty sock. His head was hanging to the side, his chest was barely moving up and down. A car battery with cables running from it was sitting on the ground beside the chair, neatly twisted. He raised his knife from Richard’s neck but before he could finish turning to face me Richard kicked him in the side of the leg. His leg bent sideways with a crack, he bent over and grabbed his leg, screaming. Shit. I took the opportunity and rushed him. He looked up, his eyes if any possible opened wider. I brought the knife up and it plunged through the underside of his mouth with a wet sound. He immediately went down the sound cutting off mid scream. I let his body fall to the floor with a thud.

  Once he was on the ground, I pulled the knife out of his head with a sickening suction like sound. Immediately blood started bubbling out of the wound. His eyes were wide open, almost like I’d scared him to death. Manic laughter threatened to spill over, oh man. Don’t lose it yet. Not here not now. Well here was another one on my list. One of these days I’ll be the one on the ground with my magic smoke pouring out. I shook my head trying to clear it.

  Reluctantly I pushed off of the ground and back onto my feet. I had to move carefully, the room was spinning slowly around me. I really didn’t feel like falling over, mostly because I don’t think I’d be able to get back up. I stopped in front of Richard so I could cut the rope. Dully, not fully paying attention, I ran the knife through the ropes that held him down. They were knotted tightly enough that I should have been more careful so I wouldn’t cut him but my fingers felt tingly, they weren’t wanting to work correctly. I wish I could say I’d had worse but so far this was the topper on the cake. Give me a few hours though and I’ll be back on my game. The only physical things wrong with Richard was the massive cut going down the side of his face and the bruises that were showing on his body. The cut wasn’t going to heal pretty, he’d have that physical reminder for the rest of whatever short life he had left. But that alone shouldn’t have him sitting like this. My eyes traveled down to the battery sitting innocently on the ground. Oh.

  “Richard? Can you walk?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I think.”

  I rubbed his shoulder. “I’ll get you and Dean out. I just need you to get up, walk and maybe help Dean or have him help you. I’ll do the rest.” Now how in the world am I going to do this? I was back at the door looking out. It was quiet, there was no movement which was good. But they had to of heard his screaming. How many were left? One maybe two? Any luck and they’d think that it was infected and not us. But since when has luck been on my side?

  I had no idea where Dean was or any of our supplies, and there were so many doors that they both could be hidden behind. Or Dean wasn’t even here anymore. He could be dead or dying. My chest constricted hard enough that I couldn’t pull in enough air. No, turn off the imagination. Concentrate. Dean is alive, he has to be. Just think positive. We’ll find him and then we’ll look for our supplies, because without them we wouldn’t survive very long. “Ok, Richard. We need to find Dean. Are you up for that? Richard?” I looked back to see him grabbing the knife from off the floor that the man had dropped. It was coated in half congealed blood. Richard had already balled up his shirt and was using it to apply pressure to the side of his face. Our eyes met and his eyes burned with anger. I jerked my head towards the hallway. He dropped his gaze to the body. He kicked the body as hard as he could. The body absorbed the kick and settled back into place. He kicked it again. And again.

  I let him have his few moments but when he didn’t stop, I had to hiss at him. He looked up at me then spit on the body. “Where’s Dean?” He whisper
ed, his voice still rumbling in his chest, when he came to stand beside me.

  I shook my head, the question grated along my nerves. I blinked slowly while pushing air out through my teeth. “I don’t know. I think he’s in one of the rooms. Which one I’m not sure, I only figured out you were in the room because of the noise. But there should only be one or two left.”

  “You killed the rest of them?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I killed them.” He was standing almost too close for me. I could feel the heat coming off of him. I wanted to back away but if I did then he would be in the direct line of the door. Some part of me, some instinct wanted to protect him even though he insists on asking questions that he knows that I don’t know the answer to. He’s a fully-grown adult. But he’s inexperienced he needs some protecting. Out here at least but back inside the wall he’s on his own.

  “Good. They deserved it.” He dropped his head and pulled in a long shuddering breath. “Before this, all this I thought I would never want to kill someone in my life. I didn’t think I even had it in me to kill someone, I still don’t know if I do, but these ‘people’-“ he spat the word, “they don’t. They don’t deserve to live. If this is what they do then I see why Romero built the wall and doesn’t let people in or out.”

  His statement shocked me especially coming from him. Here was the guy who didn’t want me killing infected just on the off chance that they might still hold some humanity in their skulls. He was glad that I killed them. There wasn’t that satisfaction for me. I did what I had to do. I was just emotionally empty when it came down to it. For me, in a way I hated myself for not feeling upset about taking a life. Killing was easy, it was just something that I did. They weren’t infected, so shouldn’t I feel something for killing them, remorse of some kind? There weren’t that many people left, infected outnumbered us by who knows how much. I should feel something but I don’t. Just empty. No remorse but no joy either, I’d turned off all emotion when it came down to it. Out here there was just no room for it, no time. It should be simple, they enjoy hurting people. They enjoy it that has to mean that something is wrong with them! Not me. That’s some sort of justification, I guess. But I just don’t know. They’re people I feel like I should feel something! I can’t just go through killing people and just feeling numb, it’s proving that something is wrong with me too. But what’s wrong with me? Is it just that I’ve managed to turn off my emotions completely? Or that it’s the only way and I’ve accepted it? You know what Alice, you can question your morality when you find Dean and you’re on your way out of here. Deal? Deal.