Still Myself, Still Surviving: Part II: The Realization

by Marlin Grail

  “How the hell was I to know we’d hit something that could stop us!?” Will barks back.

  Without hesitation, I interrupt with my usual firm and monotonous tone, “Guys, not now. We need to examine what it looks like—”

  Just then, my eyes catch the alarming quake, not of earth, but of a potential threat…

  People.

  Chapter XLII

  Will and Ashton silence their emerging quarrel when they too bear witness—we all do—to the tremulous lift from where I’d identified this radius belonging to a ghost town.

  In formation, in identical apparel, one person after another show themselves over a rising hillock. It takes several moments for me to recognize they too are emitting a sustained sound. It’s the reference pitch of a note from a trumpet. Once, I’d greatly desire this sound for a song recording.

  Now, I wish I’d never heard it.

  “What band from Hell are they?” Will asks, with utter bewilderment.

  None of us know how to respond.

  I don’t have to study hard to connect these people with the cause of our truck being attacked.

  “What should we do?” Ashton asks me, while eye-signaling his inner jacket at me, with expectation I’ll suggest we be first to assault.

  They outnumber us, Ashton. The fact they haven’t charged us—yet—I take as a warning, but I also take this as an opportunity to retreat back with no one having to be attacked.

  “No,” I answer. “We get our belongings, then return back to the highway.”

  “Gary, I have the instinct that we’re bound to have to face them. We can take a few of them at a distance, the—”

  I cut Ashton off, apologizing afterwards. “Look. You see that?” I point up at another haze cloud in the sky, moving behind these potential aggressors. “That will become a problem for them. It gives us time to squeeze away from their current objectives.”

  Lissie nods, giving me a slight peck on the cheek. “I trust you.”

  The trumpet continues, remaining as a single-note of forbidding performance.

  “The moment we get out, Janice, Lissie, and I will carry the bags we have in here. Meanwhile, Will, Ashton—you two will be the dominant eyes on the people. We get what remains in the back of the truck, then flee. We’re to only fire unless they try to assault. Understood?”

  Will takes a side-stare at the hilltop, then vocally acknowledges. I hand over the lighter bags, assorted food and medicine, to Lissie and Janice, while I carry the heaviest, filled with bullets and handguns.

  I’m glad we haven’t had to consider utilizing those resources until now. It’s a new record time guns or knives haven’t had to be required and used at the living.

  I signal us off with a three count, then we swiftly pour out of our doors. The wind and trumpet are influential in boosting the speed of our actions. I bounce off my feet to reach fully towards my sword, noticing the tube and vase-like object Ashton and Will had found at the gas station.

  Ashton grabs the rifles laid out on the bed. He hands one over to Janice while warning, “Get ready, everyone! They’re aggressing!”

  If anything good came from our time with C.’s setup, it’s that Janice received firearm training with a rifle. She just might have to claim her first self-defensive kill.

  “Everyone, widespread, but keep up with running back!” I order, already gearing up for combat. I count nine total aggressors. It’s not the largest pack we’ve dealt with, but it’s overwhelming regardless.

  Their grayish-wardrobe against their skin makes it easier to depict what’s in hand. Four have melee, while the remaining five carry a unique weapon I haven’t seen out here before. Confirmation begins when darting arrows fail to directly hit us.

  “Archery men! Watch for them!” I announce.

  My eyes look upward, balancing the struggle between watching the aggressors and the haze. The dark cloud moves just as quickly as the others did, though I can tell the speed significantly decreases.

  This is where it will show what’s it’s capable of.

  My sight redirects ahead of me when one of the melee people, mace in hand, lifts it barbarically to strike.

  I’m sorry, but this won’t bode well against guns.

  My pulled triggers briskly fire bullets through his body, joggling his shocked stance until the weight of his mace pulls him forward to the ground. Another takes his place, a woman in war paint with acrobatic tendencies, apparently dictating her choice of movement towards me. She dramatically leaps onto the cab of our truck, sprinting off with enough momentum to spin her in the air.

  It’s then a burst of sharpness that flares and burns my chest. I don’t have to feel myself to know it’s a little dagger she threw that’s penetrated the skin. Though instinct wants me to look at it, I know that’s what she expects.

  My thoughts are calm by design.

  I’ve learned through fighting that it’s more of where one is mentally than physically. The more control one has over the mind the more one can beat an exceedingly controlled body.

  I bite into my lower lip fiercely as I raise my right pistol at her. She runs head first into my barrel. Even after her death, the last expression she has is the wild look of a warrior. Or an animal.

  When all else fails, and the animal can’t be tamed, then combat it with your own animal.

  I resurface to the present, quickly spotting where my group stands. While doing so, without looking, I rip out this little dagger. I’ve deemed it was too small to do serious damage, even considering the blood running underneath my shirt.

  It has to be that way because Lissie needs my assistance. She’s fighting with the third closest melee brute charging her. She fires away at him, attempting to scare him off, but he’s grown smart enough to use our vehicle as a shield.

  Janice and Ashton find themselves closing in together, but more by Janice’s demand. Her fear is driving the broken formation.

  She’s afraid, and why can’t she be? Though, when there’s an opportunity to share my concerns later on, I will. In a firefight, the leader’s not the only person responsible for all of their people’s lives.

  Again it’s those kind of thoughts that help keep me together in the midst of bloody chaos. I have to believe that there’ll be a next time to teach Janice how to keep it together after this.

  Will stands farthest left to us all, his single-hand grip shooting at the archery shooters, while in turn digging in his pocket to apply his brass knuckles to the battle.

  One worry at a time, Gary! Focus on Lissie!

  I switch to the first and foremost closest aggressor—the man hiding behind the truck. Instead of yelling for Lissie to halt fire, I let the efforts proceed, even as I close behind where this man is.

  Lissie has great reaction time. I entrust she can release the trigger the instant us friendlies appear in her peripheral vision.

  Before I can pull a trick shot at the man, and sidestep gallop at his general cover, the heated battle proves to be cumbersome for both groups now.

  A swirling drop of haze instantaneously explodes to the ground on impact, spreading between him and me.

  Chapter XLIII

  I hurry away, blind-firing recklessly in the center of the black burst.

  Either the haze took him, or I did.

  At this moment, though luckily an aid on our part, this unprecedented move from the haze chooses no sides. It’s proven, through the now scattered drops of what I’d describe as “haze bombs” that come from impact with the ground, that it’s coordinating itself to follow the nearest living flesh it sees.

  I knew the haze clouds could fall to the ground in a large mass of itself, but not like an air raid! I’ve certainly never seen them morph like deliberate mortar strikes!

  At this moment, I don’t care about the enemy, or the sight of unnatural hazes attacking.

  All I worry about right now is regrouping everyone back together. In the scrimmage for survival, the archery and remaining chargers cease their at
tack, retreating from over the hill.

  They likely will return to where they’ve made their den, where they’ll try again another day.

  “Gary! Gary! Gary!” I hear the one word being shrieked over and over again by Lissie.

  I immediately lock my gaze onto her. Her voice hurries in speed while her eyes grow bulbous. Then, I feel something that grabs my attention completely.

  It’s a slight tap to my shoe.

  The green oval object of destruction is right under my feet. A grenade. Many thoughts cram in my head. They revolve around flight, around self-anger, and around death.

  However, there is one word those thoughts can all agree on.

  Run!

  I dash away from it with as far as a stride my legs can possibly make. Not only does running matter now, but also avoiding the already-landed hazes. Both objectives keeps me on a maze track, and I’m tempted to simply dive past some of them.

  If I hold my breath, less than a second within one, could I still be safe?

  This course to race away from the grenade works my pivoting abilities. Dimly, I wonder if a track athlete would appreciate this kind of physical conditioning.

  Unfortunately, the strain was admirable, but has ultimately failed me. I’m boxed in by three large haze forms. Their outer fogs intertwine together. I’ve been circled in by them, with no choice but to do one of two things.

  Stand here and accept my fate.

  Storm straight through them.

  No, Gary. They’re too wide and thick to get through in time. I’ve seen it, myself. The body slows down, likely the functions shutting down. I won’t make it without having irrevocable damage done.

  My reflexive head turn to my left is with hope I see my four most important people. They don’t let me down, but I fear I’ve done so for them this time.

  I have to accept I’m not making it out of this entrapment.

  “Gary!!!” I hear Lissie scream in the loudest, most painful wail she can possibly make.

  Any motion of my mouth would inhale the haze directly into me at this point, but, since I must come to peace with my fate…

  “I love you, Lissie!!!” I roar at the top of my lungs.

  I sound off all of their names, though her face is the last one I can see. Now, only blackness engulfs my vision, circling in a whirlwind of merciless particles I spit out of my mouth every second.

  Gary, this is the end…I’m sorry… Die silently, please? Please die silently, for them…for Lissie…

  Chapter XLIV

  I feel as though my spirit is transcending, when I suddenly hear a voice call my name. I don’t hear it with my ears, but rather internally.

  “Are you hearing me?” it asks.

  The tranquil tone is new to me. At first. Though the layers of its voice is human, it’s free of emotion like a calculated A.I. intended to talk. It’s too unique to not forget—even in the midst of dying.

  The voice from the school. It’s here, and it’s talking to me?

  “Yes. Are you here to take me to the other side?” I question, certain it will hear our telepathic communication loud and clear.

  “You are special…you can speak to me because you’re dropped somewhere from the rest of the world. Do you know why you’re in a haze, but still yourself?”

  The question opens my eyes, both literally and mentally.

  I realize everything around me isn’t distorted from how I saw it last. I’m not sick, nor do I feel what I’ve seen a haze do to people. They die in pain, relatively the first few moments they enter it.

  “Y-yes?”

  I tread carefully with what I’m to hear next. Before the communication between us can happen again, I convert it to my incessant need to know all the information here. This very instant.

  “I’m immune, aren’t I? O. knew I heard you. He’s immune, too. You’re connected with this, aren’t you?”

  The seconds fade to a minute later, when the voice returns back, not susceptible to my louder commands.

  “You are much more special than you realize…”

  Chapter XLV

  (Will)

  Gary…

  It can’t be true…

  Numbly I watch as Ashton bear hugs Lissie in order to keep her from going where she wants to go. “Lissie! It’s not safe! He’s...dead!”

  I see Ashton break down in tears behind her, both of them shielding each other’s sadness. Janice lets her rifle dangle by her side, tightly closing her eyes. Every one of them are shedding tears, and I’m struggling to allow myself to do the same.

  I have to do what Gary would expect me to. I have to get the group to safety. I can’t fail him.

  “This area’s still dangerous!” I round up their faces towards mine. “We need to keep moving! He’d want rationality to guide what we do now!”

  Their reaction absolutely comes from their pain-stricken grief. I know this. I understand it.

  Ashton’s the first to try and shout at me. Then, with his finger high in the air, he seems to recognize my words are meant with the fullest respect towards the situation.

  And towards Gary.

  “He’s right. Come on—we have to move.”

  I try to concentrate on the plan, reiterating what Gary said to do, but it’s stressful. Especially when Lissie turns from complete sorrow to full fury.

  “Come on, you damn hazes! Let me see him! I want to see him!”

  Ashton grabs hold of her wrist, but she snatches it back the same instant. “Lissie! No, you don’t want to see him! If you do…it won’t be him!”

  You screwed up, Will. Had you paid attention more to the road, we wouldn’t be here. This is what leading really has to offer, doesn’t it, Gary? The self-critiquing begins the moment you’re responsible for more than yourself? Shit, I’ve already been doing this every day for the last year.

  “I should’ve respected him more.” I faintly say this under my breath, fully exposing my vision to the dark vortex.

  It doesn’t care about what’s been taken. It fully takes without remorse.

  We run from death, but death is a part of life.

  Not much life exists in this world anymore.

  We thought we couldn’t be touched. We are just as vulnerable as the nameless people we’ve killed. I have to accept this is part of God’s plan, like how his plan involved taking the person most important in my life.

  Pain unleashes in my heart, making it hard to breathe. I take back my focus so it stays in the present.

  As a leader, I will learn to expand that list of important people. There’s always a reason for these deaths. I have to keep faith.

  “Guys, let’s—”

  All of their heads crane upwards. The haze drops are gone at this point, but there’s a new sight to besiege us. Repetitive, fast chops in the wind revs up their swirls. Much like the speed a large four-bladed main rotor makes.

  “Helicopters. They’re helicopters coming from a haze!” Ashton shouts over the dull roar.

  Chapter XLVI

  Our perplexed voices quickly become weaker, triumphed over by numerous helicopters descending quickly.

  I snap my fingers, like I would a pack of dogs, but far more respectfully, in order to huddle us together.

  This is a damn-near shock to me, but we can’t deny the danger of this coincidental arrival.

  However, the idea of it having no connection is abruptly thrown back in my face.

  In almost perfect synchronicity, the hazes remaining in the sky, and those of the ground, get attracted to the helicopters, like a vacuum sucking up the dirt.

  Though my voice is muffled, I physically cover Lissie’s eyes. I don’t want her to not bear witness to Gary’s vacant body. Ashton begins to hyperventilate. It’s clear to me he’s adrenalizing himself to prepare for using his knife work on Gary’s body.

  I’m sorry, Ashton. I really am. But, I’d imagine Gary would want someone as close as you to do it.

  The helicopters, uniform in a diagonal line behind t
he haze whirlwind sucks away the remaining blackness shielding us from the horrific sight of…Gary’s living movement.

  His eyes, hands, and head are trembling just as much as ours. Yet his very vivid actions signaling he’s alive jar us to just as vivid anxiety. Then relief. And back again.

  Yes, I’m happy he’s alive. Still, what does this mean? I already know the answer. I just never thought any of our group would be immune.

  Lissie is physically numb from this. She falls to her knees, appearing even sadder than when he was gone. But I know it’s the misery people willingly take with the flame of love.

  Gary doesn’t keep us in a phase of suspense.

  He comes practically crashing directly into Lissie’s kneeled position. The helicopters initially prevent us from hearing any of our voices. All I know is Gary’s not embarrassed when glues all of us into a circle hug.

  It’s here when his message becomes clear.

  “If I had more time, I’d share everything! I’m grateful for you! There’s not much time, so please listen to me! I’m told to trust these transporters!”

  I can’t process it, but somehow find a way to accept his words.

  How would you know, Gary? How’s that possible? I suppose anything’s possible these days though.

  “ON THE GROUND!” An armed person, backed up by three more, demands of us all.

  Without much freedom to have any other choice, we quickly nail all our arms up in the air, collapsing straight down as commanded. I feel bold hands smudge its gruff fingers in all of my pockets, then, like nothing offensive, I feel the lips by my ear bellow, “Don’t lie! Did you come from the black?”

  They truly are related! Those other hazes we saw earlier must also be related—

  “Answer me!” he orders, then forcing my whole face to meet his ear.

  I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to give Gary up.

  But Gary told us we all need to go with these people. Should I just deny it or should I tell the truth?