I cried for anyone who had to go through what I was witnessing. I cried for myself, and what I was about to do.
I raised the chain up, the moment the girl opened her mouth, eyes won over by the illness, body set on flesh. Sympathy for the child or not, there was no way I'd let her take Ian. No way. So I brought the chain down, as hard as I could, the moment I was sure there was no more human in there crushing the skull, and the gray matter within. I could tell. Blood sprayed on impact just a little, chunks of hair came up with the chain. I tried to convince myself that there was nothing else I could have done.
I stared at the sight before me, choking around a weird mixture of bile, and water. I guess it was water. I didn't know. But it was making breath illusive. The window beside Ian was the broken one. But something about it bothered me. Bothered me down to my gut. There, I noticed with a look, were no visible cuts on the girl. How could she have shattered the glass without getting hurt?
The answer, I thought, was that she hadn't. Something else had broken the window, and she just wound up inside. Somehow. Maybe she'd been inside already. But I doubted that. Doubted that Dustin would have allowed her to be there all alone. Unless he didn't know she was there, of course.
But I could dwell on that later.
Something had broken the window, and we didn't know what or where it was. Damn.
Damn.
"Ian, we need to go. We need to get back to the others." I tried to speak above a whisper, but my voice cracked. I was scared. I felt so terrible. So sick. I wanted, so desperately, to help that girl. That poor girl. She hadn't had the chance yet to live her life. I wished that I could have helped her. But I couldn't. I couldn't. And I couldn't accept it. I found myself incapable of getting over the fact that I was useless.
At least Ian tried to comfort her. I hadn't even been able to do that. I had to kill her, right there in the crying boys arms. A grown man turned into a sobbing mess, as easily as I
raised my arm. It made me feel like a monster. Made me question my mortality just one more time during the dark, dark night. I was beginning to hate my life.
Hate myself.
Part of me wanted to be taken down by the man-eaters. Mutilated. Hurt. Killed. I wanted to die. I wanted to be dead. But at the same time, if that were to happen, I wanted to stay dead. And whatever virus was going around would prevent that. Maybe, just maybe, if I shot myself in the head, it would be better. Maybe then everything would be okay.
And maybe little blue aliens would build a civilization in my nasal cavity.
This, I screamed in my own mind, wasn't like the movies. There was no beautiful heroine, no hero for her to love. We were all the damsels in distress, however lacking our knights in shining armor. There wasn't much chance of survival. Not with the lights going out at random. At least in Resident Evil, they knew what caused the zombies. They knew that there was a cure. As far as I knew, our zombies were mother natures way of getting revenge. Karma kicking us all swiftly in our rear ends for whatever we may have done, or neglected to do.
"Ian.." I spoke on a release of breath, not positive I could get the name out any other way. My throat felt like It had closed up completely, though I knew how untrue that was. However tight it felt, it hadn't closed up. I'd know if it had. I'd know. "Ian, come on. Come on, get up. We need to go. We really, really need to"
Hands.
Two of them.
Technically, one and a half.
A glance to the right showed one hand. It was covered (and I use that word loosely) with sickly looking, torn skin. It was obviously missing three fingers, and a fourth one up to the first knuckle. I knew what it meant, though I wished that it didn't. It meant there was a zombie behind me. It meant I was in trouble. It meant my chances of survival plummeted to the negatives.
A terrible groan behind me finally forced me into action. I spun on my heel, breaking the undead mans at least I thought it was a man grip on me. However, the moment I was facing him, he dove at me. Digging fingers into the flesh on my shoulders, as he opened his mouth to take a bite. The smell wafting from it was even worse then that which belonged to the woman earlier.
I resisted the urge to puke, and instead focused my energies on getting him away from me. The farther away he was, the less I could smell, the happier I'd be. So I pushed. I
kicked. I couldn't get my arms out nearly enough to swing the chain. Realizing this, I dropped it, and seemed to finally gain Ian's attention.
"Excel!" His voice was hoarse from crying, but loud all the same. Startling me, while the zombie kept pushing. Trying to get close to me. Trying to take a bite. Have a taste. For a moment, I wondered if the fear made us taste any better. The moment I realized I was thinking it, I was disgusted with myself. "Get away from her!"
The undead man was pushed, violently, away from me. I heard something snap, and figured it was the hand he more or less caught himself with when he fell. It was bent at an awkward angle when he rose, glaring death at us from the depths of hell. No eyes should look like that, dead or alive. Zombie or human. They shouldn't. It just wasn't natural. It was disgusting. Frightening.
I had no more time to contemplate it as Ian took hold of my wrist, ripping me from my spot in the room, out the door. The boy, a rather scrawny looking one while in his normal clothing that aspect of his body was only exemplified by the over-sized jersey didn't look as if he owned so much strength. Maybe it was fueled by fear, but he was pulling me into a run down the hall.
It was with foot stopping horror that I realized the zombie was chasing us. Not hobbling after us.
Not walking after us. Running after us.
I only realized that I'd actually stopped moving when I nearly fell with the force of Ian's tug. He was panicking, and I couldn't blame him. I really couldn't. The moment I snapped out of my mesmerized state, I started to panic too, tried to continue running. However my legs had turned into rubber sometime in the quickly passing seconds, and I fell to the floor. Staring as Ian went down with me.
The zombie was getting closer.
I couldn't shake the thought that we were about to die. But suddenly the sound of gun fire rang out.
Footsteps were obvious from behind us. A careless glance showed Dustin, and Cathy running in our direction. But Cathy didn't have her pistol drawn. That just confused me. It got me to stare at them for a moment, before looking back at our pursuer. There was no way she could have hidden her pistol in her skin tight pants, in the time it took me to look back.
Someone else was there. On the other side.
The zombie went down, to my relief. But I saw no one behind him. No broken glass, so it couldn't have come from outside. I was dying to know where the multiple shots had come from. But instead of being the idiot who went, again, to investigate, I squirmed over to Ian, and grabbed the hand that had lost grip on my own. Squeezing hard enough to crack his knuckles for him.
There was this unexplainable fear. This pain. But.. no. No, I lied. It was explainable. I couldn't get over what I'd just done. I couldn't get over the fact that, just a for a moment back there, with the zombies hands wrapped about my shoulders, I considered not fighting. In the back of my mind, yes. But the thought had been there. I never thought I'd consider
such a thing.
I never figured I'd ever survive a zombie invasion.
Even for the short amount of time the invasion had been going on.
My friends, and I had all entertained the thought of a zombie invasion, while we were growing up. There was always the joke that the brain craving creatures would come and kill us all. The question had always been the same, "What would you do, if zombies suddenly invaded?" The answers to the question varied. It went anywhere from stories of how kick ass we'd be, surviving to the very end only to be taken out in a terrible taco accident, to how we'd be taken out in the first couple minutes of the ordeal.
I'd always said, being completely honest, that I'd probably curl up in a corner, crying for my mommy. Which I really did
begin to contemplate. I never thought I'd make it. I'd become the proverbial cry baby that held the group back. With the way things always seemed to work out, if it wasn't the zombies that killed me, it would be my comrades.
Because I'm just that lucky.
"Excel! Ian! Are you all right?!" Dustin shouted it, as he approached us. Falling to his knees maybe two inches from my side to look me over. "Jesus, where'd these bruises come from?" He asked, examining my arms where the zombie had grabbed me so tightly before.
"He grabbed me.." I mumbled, motioning where the zombie had just fallen.
The comment brought a frantic Cathy to my side. She was worried, I could tell. She looked a bit sick, actually. Maybe it was the sight of the zombie chasing us that brought on her pallor. She was sickly pale. Her eyes were wide, shifting from side to side like she was panicked.
She probably was panicked.
I couldn't blame her if she was. I really couldn't.
"Well.." Cathy was a bit breathless as she spoke, smiling weakly at me as she pulled my sleeves back down my arms. "He didn't break the skin, so you'll be okay. Unless he grabbed you anywhere else. Bit you. Something like that. He didn't, did he?" She smiled when I shook my head in the negative. "Good."
"How's Ian?"
"He's fine." Dustin grinned, looking up at me from checking Ian over. "Except he's upset." "I know."
"Why?"
I felt my eyes water a bit, and my nose go red from holding in the tears as I shook my head. Telling him I didn't want to talk about it. Saying I didn't care. Telling them it was a mystery to me. It depended on how they translated my head shake.
"Excel?" I glanced up at Dustin when he addressed me. Smiling a bit at his worry. His eyes told all. He was bothered. He couldn't hide it. But he pulled a still tearing Ian to his feet, while he looked at me, being pulled to mine. "Excel, tell me what happened." There was gentle authority in his tone. But I didn't open my mouth, I just shook my head, not wanting to admit what I'd done.
"She was a kid.." Ian spoke, raising a shaking hand to wipe his face. No doubt he was feeling like a child. Like a girl, as I'd heard it put so many times before. He probably felt inferior, being a boy that was so openly crying. "She couldn't have been out of high school. Barely in high school. She"
"Was she turned?" Cathy asked, helping to steady me on my quivering legs. "She was.. turning." My mouth worked without the permission of my brain. "Turning? She was in the middle of it?"
"She was completely aware of it." Ian wailed, ripping his arm from Dustin's grip, but not moving any further away.
"She was begging for help. Saying she didn't want to be one of them." I said, as way of explanation, feeling myself begin to cry again. I tried not to though. I squeezed my eyes shut, and didn't allow the salty water freedom. I breathed deeply until I felt my eyes finally stop leaking. "I had to kill her."
"Oh, no. Oh, God." Apparently Cathy knew why we were so upset. She went so far as to hug me, she rocked me a little bit. I hoped that she was older then me, realizing how stupid it would be to be rocked by someone younger then myself.
"Let's go back, the others are worried.. it'll be okay, you two. It'll be all right." Dustin said, softly. Gently guiding both Ian, and myself in the direction of the group. I was amazed at how calm he was being. How gentle he was. No one should have been able to act that way, in the situation we were in.
When we finally entered the front room, no one was there, so we crossed through into the auditorium, where maybe fifteen people were staring at us. The location confused me. I didn't now why they'd chosen the auditorium to keep us all in. Other then the seats, I mean. There were countless, large windows to be broken in. Multiple doors for the creatures to gain entrance. I didn't know why they thought it was safe. I really didn't. But I didn't know if I should ask. Would it scare the others if I asked?
It didn't quite matter to me as much as it should have. I needed peace of mind.
"Dustin?" I nodded my head when he looked, and asked my question. "Why the auditorium?" "Because as many entrances as they may have here, we have just as many exits."
"Good point." "Thank you."
The explanation did calm my nerves quite a bit. It told me that thought had gone into picking our hiding place. In fact, it gave me the thought that maybe argument had gone into it. Which, considering the fact that Professor Floyd was sitting there regardless of the look of agony was not only a possibility, but more likely then anything else at that moment in time.
I smiled, a small, nervous little thing as I claimed myself one of the uncomfortable chairs in the back. I wanted to sit, and hate myself without interruption. Maybe, if I sat in the back, I'd die first. Or last, as the case may be. I almost hit myself for the thought. A zombie invasion is not the best time to go suicidal, not even a good time.
Damn.
Damn.
I nearly jumped four rows in front of my seat when something crashed loudly against the door behind me. I couldn't suppress the fear that it was a horde of zombies, wanting to eat me. Which really was kind of stupid, seeing as I was only just considering letting them do exactly that.
Then the crash came again.
Weapons were raised save for mine, lost somewhere in the school and we all shifted towards the back of the room. Then the doorknob turned.
Crap.
CHAPTER FOUR
All of us got a bit antsy, at the opening of the door. But instead of zombies being quite smart enough to figure that one out, a living, breathing, bleeding boy popped in. Completely out of breath, and in the middle of forcing the door closed behind him. I couldn't help but notice his rather long hair, pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck, continuing to hang maybe two inches below that. Couldn't help but take note of the two guns in his left hand. One couldn't tell his skin color, as he was absolutely drenched in blood, but his eyes were brown. A light brown that reminded me of my brother.
Everything reminded me of my brother.
"You okay, kid?" Dustin asked, already moving toward the panting man. He didn't look like a kid. In fact, he looked at least in his midtwenties.
Part of me wondered where Dustin got his heart from. I, as a person, no matter how much I cared, would not have been able to approach the bloody boy. Even an entire auditorium away from him, he scared me. I couldn't figure how he got quite so much blood on him. He was outright dripping. But he didn't appear to be wounded. There was no way all the blood was his, he'd have died from loss already.
Damn.
I, along with maybe ten other students, stared in various levels of horror. At the boy. At the way Dustin approached him. The way he was carelessly looking him over. At the blood. The guns in his hand. I was staring at a combination of them. Eyes flickering constantly from one point to the other. I felt terrible staring at him, like he was diseased.
But there was an undeniable chance that he was. Shit.
"Excel!"
I jumped when Dustin called out my name, turning wide eyes to him. Was I the only one staring? Looking around, everyone seemed to have turned their gaze to me. What did he want? I was borderline frantic as I took a single step forward, not quite willing to get close.
"Excel, come on. He's not bitten!" So?
He could still be infected.
My brother hadn't been bitten.
But I stepped forward anyway, wondering what was required of me. The bloody boy looked completely calm but that didn't set me anymore on my ease. If anything, it made me even more paranoid. He was covered with blood from head to toe. His hair was plastered to his neck. His shirt was sticking to his chest.
He wasn't wearing shoes.
I didn't know why he wasn't wearing shoes.
"Dustin?"
"Are there any sinks, Excel? Some sort of water supply? Not necessarily drinking water. But.. anything." Dustin spoke in well measured words. His accent shining through clearly without hindering my understanding of the question. I didn't know how he did it. I didn't know why he asked me
. There were some teachers, and several other students.
Me.
He trusted me.
"There are sinks in the Chemistry lab," I recalled having taken a very short Chemistry course. Giving up the first time I lost an article of clothing, and a tidy bit of flesh. "Yeah, the
Chemistry room. 234. Up the left stair" "Take him there."
"What?"
"Take him there. Help him get cleaned up. Come back down." Dustin laid out his instructions exactly. Every bit of them. But he smiled at me, gently, all the same. Probably seeing the fear on my face. "He's got two, fully loaded guns, and refills. You'll be safe. Go."
That wasn't what I was worried about.
When he shot me a look I nodded my head, however reluctantly. I turned my head to the boy standing there. I gave him a good look, before beginning to walk. I couldn't help but wonder where the blood was from in the first place. It looked like he'd been swimming in it. I had to wonder who he was. Would he be an ally? Would he cause trouble? Where did he get the guns?
"Well.." I wasn't so sure what to say as we entered the hallway. He was being completely silent. Walking with both of his hands shoved in his pockets, save for the fingers hooked around the guns hanging outside of the fabric. A solemn expression on his face. He had a nice face, come to think of it. Although it was an altogether inappropriate time to think about who was attractive, and who wasn't. "I'm Excel."
When The Light Goes Out Page 4
