by Marlin Grail
“Yes. Let’s.”
Chapter XV
(Gary)
This shocks me significantly. Trey?
“What are you doing?” I question with an unmistakable tremble in my voice.
Trey deflates his lungs, and refuses to stare back at me, but his gun won’t let off my direction. “I…” he hesitates. “I can’t let you do this.”
“After all I’ve told you, and you still hold loyalty to him?”
He allows my hands to flail from shock, but when I make a quiet step towards him, he’s submerges back to hostility. “You don’t understand. The people back there, our supervisor, they believe in this. My people are split in half, literally, but I don’t want them to be that way on their stances. I don’t need them knowing this confused crisis.”
He melds confidence in his words to his submissiveness from being mind-melded by Claw.
“No. Trey,” I steady my tone, to relax his visible uneasiness towards me. “You and your people, all the people that’s under C., can live freely again—”
“You don’t get it!” he barks. “I was one of the first groups to form C.’s organization.” He twitches his finger on and off his trigger, but I could purely be imagining that, considering I haven’t once broken eye contact with him. “Maybe,” he starts again, not as certain in assertiveness as he’s been, “maybe your group didn’t get the greatest introduction. I get that—”
“No, you don’t,” I interrupt, blindly daring him with firmness. “You’ve only seen what he’s shown you. You didn’t even know about his and O.’s immunity. He kept that secret because—”
“Because it was to protect us?” he asks, trying to challenge my offense. “Because people like you would go against someone different from others?”
I know what it’s like to be different, Trey. I’ve known it my whole life.
Rather than verbally hammer down more frustrated defense points, and keep a debate not worth the risk of letting the undead coming closer and closer to us, I cut straight to my clincher. One I hope can make us both fulfilled.
“Trey…I’m immune, too.”
Astonishment widens his eyes. Then, in a moment of internally-loudened fear in my mind of how he’ll take it in, I grow depressed when he speeds towards me.
Trey, don’t have us—
“Move!” he demands.
I rouse back to process the present surroundings that’s not stopped proceeding just because Trey and I had.
An undead’s hands at my shoulders makes that apparent.
The survivor in me accelerates my millisecond response to those disturbingly soft, and deceptively mimicking hands of a gentle being. They felt, in that short time, like a friendly bypassing person in need of my attention. I would’ve turned to that anonymous person a year ago with kindness.
Part of me still wanted to turn around. It was hardwired into me, ever since I was a kid, to trust not everyone has bad intentions. That kid, still within me somewhere, never would know the difference from those undead’s hands to that of a regular person. The kid in me wants to complement their soft and gentle fingertips.
As I flinch to swat those hands off, while simultaneously taking a lunging step forward, Trey moves in for the kill, which now I can see was the kill he always intended the moment he advanced into my space.
I go to thank him after he shoots their head to a mess, but he won’t cease our conversation because of this interruption. “Do you plan on taking his place after he’s killed?”
Even though I won’t erase my gratefulness from the fact he saved me, I do gesture irritation as I groan. “Trey, don’t you see? Once he, O., and C.F.O.G.’s no more, then there is no more being controlled. You and your people, and all those back at the setup, don’t have to follow a regime like his anymore. You all could live harmoniously with one another, without his ridiculous enforcement of intimidation and death.”
Trey can stare at me, but his gun doesn’t have to for him. As a matter of fact, he aims it to the crowd of undead, loose and ready to go off, just like his choice to be my friend, or to be an enemy.
He must make that decision this instant.
Here. Now.
“You really believe that?” he asks, sounding like he’s finally coming around.
“Absolutely.”
The breathing he puffs out comes from lower in his chest, no longer anxious. His eyes start to blink again, clearing up the mugginess of confusion.
“All right, Gary. I’ll help.”
Chapter XVI
It’s a proud moment for both of us, to come to an agreement when it can’t be denied how better off the people are without Claw, or O., in control of them.
Trey’s for the people. He’d make a better leader by a long stretch over Claw, who was only about presentation. Not anymore, Claw.
The time we’ve spent by this end of the street, though only short, was more than enough to multiply the stress on how to travel through these undead. A little shuffling swerve, near the middle of this horde, and I finally spot a distinctive from the undead.
It’s supported more when the back of their neck isn’t flushed with grey, and hair so blond and full it isn’t hard to confuse with the monochromatic undead and their dull hair.
O.!
I raise up my Glock, a fury in me that Trey recognizes, and he forces me to hold on firing. At first, I feel a flash of anger at him, thinking he’s still hesitant to go against what he knows is right. He then diverts that anger to challenge me in acting smarter.
“You fire, and we give ourselves away to the shooters in the building.”
I can’t argue against his valid reason, but, I’m getting overwhelmed because of these high numbers in undead. Their repeating faces that don’t brace me on their ugliness has me at a loss.
“What do we do?” I ask.
“Well, how is O., and I’d imagine C. too, getting through them?”
I go to shrug as my immediate response, but it’s purely from frustration. My instant gesture to Trey communicates that I don’t know. It was unintentionally a lie.
I know how they’re getting through the horde.
O. said his control isn’t about time, as he originally thought, but he can connect with them through self-awareness.
My sword comes out when an undead lurches toward me. I naturally recoil to watch its flimsy skin tear open, some of it sticking to my blade after I kick it off.
He sees beauty in them I haven’t. Could that also be the key?
Trey urges us to try heading from a different direction, seeing as how our street’s beginning to clog from undead becoming more aware of us. Even as we take steps backwards, my mind wants to pursue this forward.
You can do this, Gary. They can do it because they’re immune. They have supernatural abilities because of it, and you’ve been having supernatural encounters. You are immune. You must feel the symbiosis with the undead.
You are them. They are you.
Embrace you’re one of the same.
I hear Trey call my name, but it’s weirdly muffled, which shouldn’t be, considering he’s right beside my left ear.
This is a good sign. Keep going, Gary. Embrace…and love them. They are not hideous. They are beautiful beings.
A high-pitched noise rings in both ears. Gunfire isn’t nearly as pounding with impact against them—they’re more like puny fireworks.
They are you, Gary. You are one of them.
It’s as though I plummeted into a dreamscape, with nothing to fear, except wondering how I didn’t feel this before. I can freely look at them, see them at attention, awaiting my silent shrill of an order. I can hear them, growling, but best described as telepathic, what they want me to do.
I fabricate a mental voice, a voice that’s chilling to me, the same voice from that beautiful undead in the sewers. Its pitch is all warbled, enigmatic, but strong.
LET US THROUGH!
I thought my eyes were open this whole time, then Trey rocks me from dar
kness. “Gary, look,” he says, completely flabbergasted.
My nerves operate awake again. I feel my hand palmed to an undead’s forehead. It’s looking at me, raucous with its snarls, but not motivated to attack. They are all lions, and they have all been tamed.
By me.
BEAUTIFUL BEINGS, LET US PASS YOU ALL!
This is my own representation of the Exodus, the sea splitting in two, only this time, it’s undead limping off to the sides. Trey, eyes looking ready to pop out of their sockets from amazement, reflects how I feel on the inside. But I won’t derail us by accident from breaking concentration.
You are me. I’m you. We are one.
I take the first uneasy step, while nervously slipping my hand off the undead’s forehead, but, again, I won’t break concentration to our symbiosis.
“Trey, come,” I order. There is a deepness to my tone I never knew my voice could go. He acquiesces. Trembling exercises every visible muscle in his body, as though he’s in below-freezing weather. Certain statements just pour out without having to think. “Don’t be afraid of them, Trey.”
They are friends. They are part of this world, too.
When the blockage from their bodies steer away from us, the line of sight to O. becomes clearer. Then, I finally spot Claw. He spotted us, and our spectacle, first.
If I lose concentration now, we might get trapped, and no longer be friends to these beautiful beings.
“Gary!” he calls out, ecstatic. “Why, it looks like you’ve found your place!”
Don’t break concentration, Gary. Don’t even let out a growl at him.
O. turns his head sideways to Claw, giving an inaudible message, which Claw has no problem sharing along with his distant chatter. “No, Ominous, don’t disrupt him! Let’s watch them walk to us! Hell, let’s all meet at the Capitol’s wall!”
Yes, Claw, and name newly found out Ominous. Let’s all meet there.
There’s an avoidance of appreciation on Trey’s and my part, watching Ominous provide more of an easy gap in-between the undead. Claw remains fixated in our direction, walking backward and mockingly aiming his revolver at us.
At me.
You’re very lucky Casey’s unit haven’t figured out your disturbance to the land with your voice.
We are snails in a race, a race which likely would consider them winners.
There’s no doubt in my mind they’ll reach the building first, but it doesn’t mean they’re going to get the prize they want. Footstep after footstep, puff after puff from undead exhaling down our necks, the grueling march meets a threshold.
The windows.
“Well, Gary, here we are!”
Claw’s gloating infuriates me.
I get a chance for answers. Your time is near, Claw. But it doesn’t mean you don’t have a right for final words.
“Yes, here we are,” I taunt back. “You think you’ve won? Look at Trey here. He’s not under your leadership anymore. None of them are.”
As Claw angles his sight towards Trey, I do the same for Ominous. Not one of them deserve the avoid of oppression in my tense eyes and clenched fists.
I should’ve counted on Trey not being able to look out for my blindside.
Chapter XVII
“Gotcha!” Claw intolerably mocks after kneeing me in the crotch.
I lurch over, fighting to control my reaction against the nauseating sharpness that tentacles all throughout my body. My shackles break off with the opening I notice past Ominous, one free to evade undead nearby the area.
Forget last words, Claw. Time to die.
I launch upwards in an uppercut. Unfortunately, I miss him. I’m also forgetful of Ominous’ closeness, which is detrimental to my next move. Instead of freely getting my Glock arm bent upward to C.’s stomach, O. shoves me with a running shoulder, knocking me off balance.
Trey’s shell-shocked arms fortunately give barely enough effort to keep us both off the ground, though it does take time for him. It’s time thrown out the window, while Claw shoots at a ground-level one.
“You’ve failed, Gary!”
It’s hate-filled. So is his lack of him or Ominous doing anything else to Trey and me.
He wants me to scramble. To him, it’d be worthless to forcibly pull him out here.
Suddenly, they both dive hard through the window, careless if little shards cut their fronts.
“Get back here!” I shout in a guttural growl.
Trey and I hurry after them with our tripping and wobbly knees. The undead have now lost my mystic reign over them, and we have no choice but to enter the building through the same broken window. I first check that there’s not gunfire that will travel our way from the inside.
I call out Trey’s name. He’s frightened and jittery to everything. “Head over there,” I guide.
A cylinder pillar, looking like it touches this floor all the way to the ceiling, is the optimal cover I’ve pinpointed him to be—where he’s least of the worry.
I fire several bullets behind us to the languid undead, then aid Trey’s lethargic figure through the window sill.
We’ve driven Ominous and Claw in. Surely, if they get one or two distracted soldiers, maybe three more, and we’ll be there to end them. We have nothing more to fear from those two.
I manage to fit my body inside, violently kicking at the undead’s arms violating my personal space. Then, I slide down to the ground, a slippery slide to glass particles all around. The abrasiveness is forgiven when I look up to see a satisfying scene.
Two officers work Claw’s and Ominous’ arms into a gooseneck wristlock. They then push them up to separate walls.
Trey tries to shrivel against his pillar, attempting to hide from two more heading up towards me, but I already know one’s meant to get him. “I came with Ernie! We came from your base grounds!” I hurriedly explain to the approaching figure.
“Just get up!” the soldier grunts, while already in the middle of pulling me to stand.
His rugged grip under my armpit, and swat at my Glock makes it fall out of my hand, but I couldn’t care less at this point. I don’t even care that all of these soldiers look to be in casual clothing.
Trey’s throat visibly strains in holding back panic. I reinforce his need to remain centered, by barking his name. “Remember, we, your, people, they are all the good ones.” I look to the officers guiding us to reassure myself they’re listening, but they don’t break their traction to mobilize us into the center of this Capitol’s main hall.
Once Casey hears me out, he’ll get his unit to stop firing at Ernie, Jefald, Holcomb, and all of those people. Claw and Ominous were desperate coming in here, and they don’t have any testimony to say otherwise.
“Spread your legs!” the officer detaining me demands. He firmly shoves me against a granite wall, one all four of us are being forced to stand against.
He pats me down, pocket to pocket, and even feeling within my shirt for any weapons. Of course, he takes my gun, and slips out my sword, letting them slide far across the floor. “Infiltrators, huh?” he rasps against my ear.
“They are.” I point the two fingers to my right, to Claw and Ominous’ struggling bodies. “Like I said, I came from your base, with our squad leader Ernie. Do you know Ernie?”
Claw maintains the strength in his jolted and manhandled body to laugh over in my direction. It gets louder. He sounds like his sides are broken from the humor he feels. It takes him a bit to regain audible speech, but when he does, it’s worrisome.
“It doesn’t matter, Gary, because you’ve just made the worst mistake of your life.”
Chapter XVIII
My noses flares. Rage makes deep grooves across my face. I have to receive extra physical restraint by my soldier to prevent me from reaching my way over to Claw’s smug face.
“Once Casey makes himself known, you’ll realize you’ve made the worst mistake of your life! But it’s still not as cruel as what you did to my group!”
Claw give
s a strongly perplexed expression, which is the first I’ve ever seen him visibly show. It’s foul on his part. Then, recognition finally strikes him.
“Oh, you and your people went to the base!” He switches gears with his tone, verbally confident he knows what I meant, but I can’t deny to myself that I know, to some degree, he genuinely had no idea.
What does that mean? Did Feral do it on his own? Was it towards me and my people? I have to believe it, since it’s what’s fueled my fire this whole time.
“I’m going to kill you,” I threaten softly.
“We’ll see about that, Gar,” he eggs me on.
Before I can react further, I hear loud steps descend down the glossy stairs I saw before being pinned here with Trey. The steps stop, and nothing, until the last echo of them fades. Then comes a statement. I’m certain it’s about me and Trey.
“Let them go,” the stranger sternly commands.
My hands are ready to take off, land down to their sides, and forget this harsh treatment I’ve received with Casey’s unit, but, it’s hard to forget when this officer slams the space I started to make back up to the wall.
Like a cliché villain when victorious, one twirling his little curly mustache, Claw instead flashes a smirk this time around. He is relieved of his soldier’s pressure, then Ominous is let off too.
Ominous doesn’t look in my direction at all, or anywhere for that matter, besides at the broken window with undead starting to trickle through. He appears solely fixated on them.
I’m at my breaking point.
No. No. No.
“The one you want to kill now, Gary, is the only person who will even consider giving you an explanation, seeing as how much fun you’ve been!” Claw rubs his hands playfully together, walking closer and closer to my personal space. “Yeah, considering I killed your people, it seems you would deserve an explanation.”
He shows a vain look of severely pitying me. I give him reason to, because my eyes glisten with denial. When he motions a hand command to my officer, letting me free, the truth becomes all too real.
