by White, Amber
“I don’t think you’d hurt anyone you truly like unless they tried to hurt you.” He said.
I rolled my eyes. There was no arguing with this geezer.
“If you don’t think I’m that dangerous, then let me up.” I said.
“I don’t think so.” He said.
“Then you do think I’m dangerous.” I said.
He paused. “No, I think you’re suicidal. If I let you up, you might do something crazy to get yourself killed.
“And what if your family comes in and tries to kill me? One gun is not going to be enough. They’d capture or kill you and I’d be left to their mercy, unable to do anything.” I said.
“You’re right.” He said with a sigh.
He set to work, undoing the straps one at a time.
“I gathered up all your weapons and put them in that corner,” He said when he was done, pointing to a bundle in the far corner. “No use in them having extra guns and knives when they’re like this.”
“Thanks.” I said. My stomach rumbled.
I was getting hungry again. As kind as Brennan had been, in his own strange way, I wanted to rip his skin off and eat it raw. I didn’t look at the cell where my friends were being held, in fear that my hunger would turn to them, make me ache for their flesh inside me.
I slid slowly off the table, keeping my eyes on the ground. I couldn’t look at him, or even my friends, without that burning desire to attack rising up in my stomach. I rubbed my wrists for something to do. How was I going to get out of this? Better question, how was I going to get my friends out of this alive? They didn’t deserve to be held prisoner like this and I sure as hell didn’t want them to end up like me.
I made my way to the corner in which my guns and knives sat and began checking them, making sure they would still fire and that they were loaded. They appeared to be in perfect working order, just the way I left them before this shit-storm started. As if the zombie apocalypse wasn’t bad enough, we had to find the craziest people left in America and shack up with them, leaving me to be turned into a monster. My fingers tightened around the stock of the shotgun I was holding, it creaked a little. I could feel Brennan’s eyes on me, probably worried I was about to attack him or something. Now that I thought of it…
I set the rifle down and strode casually to Bobby’s work bench, my hand trailing along the surface, touching this and that, trying to hide the fact that I was looking for something in particular. What did Bobby keep using to put me to sleep? It was probably some form of anesthetic, but what would it be labeled? Then I found it: a small bottle labeled ‘ketamine and hydrocodone’. I fingered the bottle, silently urging Brennan to look away long enough for me to fill the syringe lying a few inches away. I glanced up. Brennan was still watching me.
I moved further down the table, still in reach of the bottle and syringe, feigning interest in the box of slides sitting next to the microscope. Each slide had a dark red splotch and was labeled ‘subject’ and a different number, except the last twelve or so. They all had the same number. My number, probably. I picked up the last one and placed it under the microscope, adjusting the magnification and focus. It was from the last blood test Bobby gave me.
“Huh.” I said, eyes pressed against the eyepiece.
“What’s that now?” Brennan asked.
“Come take a look at this.” I said. “It shows the amount of infection still left in my blood stream.”
Brennan joined me and bent over the microscope. As quietly and swiftly as I could, I grabbed the syringe, jamming it into the thin metal lid of the ketamine bottle and filled the small tube.
“That’s mighty interesting.” Brennan said, still looking down.
Reaching over his back, I slid the needle into his neck and pushed the plunger down.
“I’m sorry about this.” I said, withdrawing the needle and stepping back.
“What did you do?” He asked, holding the back of his neck in one hand.
His eyelids drooped, his knees shook a little, and then he crumpled to the floor, asleep. I reached him just in time to keep his head from cracking against anything, laying him down gently.
Hurrying to the holding cell, I unlocked the door, freeing my friends.
“What did you just do to him?” Dean asked.
“Knocked him out, same way Bobby kept doing to me.” I shrugged.
“So how are we going to get out of here?” Sully asked.
“Those assholes aren’t just going to let us walk out the front door.” Billie said.
“I know.” I said. “I have a plan. I’m going to distract them, and you guys make a break for the RV.”
“No. I won’t let you risk getting hurt like that.” Sully said, squeezing my arm in his hand.
Something surged inside of me at his touch. My stomach flipped and my chest constricted. He was so caring. The hunger rose, overpowering everything. I backed away from him.
“You have to let me do this.” I said through clenched teeth. I didn’t know how much longer I could resist. “I don’t feel pain anymore. I can withstand getting shot a few times.”
They opened their mouths to argue.
“You can’t change my mind on this.” I interrupted. “I’m the only chance,” I paused, “we,” I gulped, “have of getting out of here.” I didn’t like lying to them, but if they knew I didn’t plan to leave this house, they would do something stupid.
Sully looked at me suspiciously for a moment then said “Ok, so what’s your plan?”
Chapter twenty-eight
I slipped up the stairs, pistol strapped to my thigh, one knife hidden beneath it, another in my boot, a third on my forearm, and a rifle slung over my shoulder. My friends followed a few steps behind me, armed to the teeth with guns and knives, ready to run as soon as I had our captors’ full attention. I took a deep breath and fingered the pistol, knowing it was unnecessary for what I was about to do, but still part of the plan. A tear sprang to my eye. Even after all that had happened, I never thought it would end like this. I always thought . . . oh, never mind what I thought. I had just hoped it would be painless.
Pressing my ear against the door, I listened carefully, trying to figure out where everyone was. I could hear low voices, seeming far away. I cracked the door open. The voices were still low, coming from several rooms away. I opened the door further, giving me just enough space to slip out while still concealing my friends and closed it quietly behind me, leaving an imperceptible crack for my friends to hear through.
I looked around. No one was in sight. The voices were coming from the kitchen. I couldn’t tell who all was talking or what they were saying but it was clear that they were arguing. Taking another deep breath, I tiptoed through the entryway, staying out of sight of the door. The floorboards squeaked softly under my feet, threatening to give away my position. I heard the basement door open slightly and the feeling of more than one set of eyes watching my progress.
It was difficult to get through the living room doorway while remaining hidden from the kitchen. Luckily, two broad backs stood facing me, blocking everyone’s view. Slinking toward the kitchen, I pressed my back against the wall and sidestepped closer to the open window. The voices got louder. I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the thundering beating of several hearts, the rush of blood, the smell of adrenaline and anger. My mouth watered. The hunger was rising again, pushing its way past my resolve, urging me to turn around and attack them right then. I gritted my teeth against it and shimmied out the window and onto the porch where I crouched low and crept to the other side of the back door, praying that no one in the kitchen was looking in that direction. Slipping the rifle off my shoulder, I took aim at the back of Steven’s head and pulled the trigger.
The gun went off with a deafening bang. Blood and bits of skull and brains splattered the stunned faces of those sitting and standing in front of Steven’s crumpled corpse. Before they had time to react, I took aim again and killed Megan, Todd, and Mary in quick successio
n, their blood mixing with Steven’s on the walls and ceiling.
The remaining members of the family and Bobby finally spun around to stare wide eyed at the door. They were terrified. I instantly regretted shooting their loved ones, but it was the only way I could insure that my plan would work. That, and none of them cared that they were harming people in their house. They were all guilty, and I had to remember that.
Tears streamed down my face as I set the rifle down and stood up, gripping the door handle firmly in my ashen fist. The engine of the RV growled to a start on the other side of the house. They would realize soon enough that I wasn’t coming with them. Licking my lips, I stepped through the door, hunting knife in my free hand, and hurled myself at Bobby, letting the blade sink into his side as I bit into his face. His flesh was so warm and chewy, I almost didn’t stop to turn and attack the others. I sat there on the floor on top of Bobby, holding him down as he slowly bled out.
I felt my body go slack as I faced the three humans left in the room. Their horrified faces loomed above me. Amy and Andy were too afraid to move, frozen in place where they sat. It was up to Elizabeth to end this for me.
She lifted a gun in one shaking hand. I licked my lips at her, spreading blood over them in what must have looked like a bad impression of The Joker. Footsteps thundered through the house. My friends were coming for me.
“Jo! NO!” Sully shouted.
Elizabeth pulled the trigger.
Epilogue
“Where’s Jo?” I asked, looking franticly around.
“I don’t know.” Billie said.
I poked my head out of the door, searching. There had been four gunshots, signaling we had our chance to escape, then nothing. Where was she?
“We have to go back and get her!” I said, rushing back to the house.
Billie and Dean were right behind me, pistols at the ready. I bolted to the kitchen, skidding a little on the floor.
Jo was straddling Bobby, fresh blood on her face, chewing something. Bodies surrounded her on the floor, while Andy, Amy, and Elizabeth sat at the table, open mouthed. Elizabeth raised her gun to point it at Jo’s head.
“Jo! NO!” I shouted, but it was too late.
Elizabeth pulled the trigger. The force of the shot knocked Jo backward, her head snapping up and back, blood spraying from her forehead as the bullet drove its way through her skull.
Billie and Dean gaped for a moment on either side of me before raising their own guns and firing. Elizabeth sailed backward in her chair, her blood spattering against the gore soaked walls and floor.
“Jo? Jo?” I said, tears streaking down my cheeks. She just couldn’t be dead.
I ran to her, kneeling down and holding her limp body to my chest. We had all lost so much in the last year; I couldn’t face a reality without her. I loved her more than anything else. She was all I had left in this world, and now she was gone. I held her tighter to me.
“Sully?” Billie said softly behind me. “Sully, we need to go.”
I don’t remember getting up or walking outside, but I found myself back in the RV, soaked in Jo’s blood. Billie sat beside me, crying silently. I couldn’t see Dean’s face, but his shoulders shook as he drove, his head hung low. We traveled in silence for what seemed like forever before Dean finally spoke.
“Let’s get some music going, shall we?” He said, turning on the radio.
The CD player whirred to life. Someone had been listening to music in here recently and turned the power off in the middle of a song. M. Shadow’s voice rasped from the speakers:
“And just like that mistakes are made. You know, tonight the world dies.”
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Amber White
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