All clearly dead, battered and mangled by the crash. How he had survived, he didn't know. Fate seemed to be toying with him and he didn't like it. To live, while so many others died, seemed obscene. What had he done to deserve such seemingly unstoppable survival?
He knelt down, grabbed his rifle, and started off down the street. He walked, stumbling as he did, for an hour or more, when he saw a car on the horizon slowly approaching. Another car came into view, followed by a truck. Panicking, he ducked down off the side of the road and hid in a bush. He watched with tense muscles and held breath as the fleet of vehicles came closer. They stopped about twenty feet away.
A voice called out to him. “You can come out now. We won't hurt you.” He hesitated before deciding to press his luck further. Stepping into view, he held his rifle over his head, palms facing them. “Don't shoot!”
Get in.” A tall, grizzled man hopped out of the back of a pickup truck and walked up to Vincent. “I'm Seamus, and these here, well, you'll meet them all in due time. Get on in, so we can get going.”
“We ain't gonna shoot you, you damned fool.
“Who are you people?” “ We're just a bunch of lucky survivors, scooping up as many able-bodied people as we can. And from the look of your uniform, I think it's safe to say that you know your way around a gun.”
Vincent looked down at his blood-stained, dirty prison uniform, and grinned. “Yeah, I can handle myself all right.”
“Well, enough blabbering, get on in.” Vincent walked over and felt the eyes of the others on him. He did his best to remain calm and climbed into the back of the pickup truck. A woman with a toothy grin and a rifle greeted him, and next to her a shabbily dressed man with a trucker's hat nodded solemnly. He nodded back and sat down.
The grizzled man climbed in after him and put his hand on Vincent's shoulder.
“Welcome to the caravan.” Chapter Forty Eight
Silence
Paul looked down the side of the burning building and saw the mass of infected swarm in through the front door. Eileen ran back to the rooftop entrance and slammed the door shut, piling the flimsy barricade back together.
“Help me, quick!” He stood unmoving and swallowed hard. It was over. All over, and there was nothing he could do about it. He turned to watch her pile the cinder blocks back against the door, wondering whether she realized the futility of her actions. She called again for help and he walked over slowly, tossing the last of the scraps against the door.
“What we do, Paul?” She started crying again. “Hold me.”
“What?” “ Just hold me.” He sank to his knees and she stood over him, staring deep into his eyes. She fell into his embrace and they clutched each other tightly.
The roaring inferno rose steadily higher. He could see the first of the flames lick over the ledge. Within a brief moment, the door started shuddering, and he heard the cries of the infected as they bashed their bodies against the thick wooden frame.
He pulled her tighter and felt her hot tears stain the front of his shirt. He too started crying, and a flood of emotions washed over him as the numbness evaporated, replaced by a confused mixture of grief and guilt and sorrow and helplessness. He rested his head on hers and smelled her hair. It reminded him of all the things he had lost, and would lose yet.
He let the tears stream down his face freely and he knew what he would have to do.
“I love you, Eileen.” He whispered in her ear.
She pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. “I love you too, Paul.” He pulled her back again and smiled bitterly. “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear those words.”
Clutching her tightly, he raised his left hand. “Goodbye.” With a loud bang, she fell limp in his arms. He continued to hold her. Blood trickled down his arms, and he listened as the door started to crack open.
Still holding her in his arms, he then raised the pistol to his temple. The sun was shining bright overhead and the sky was a brilliant shade of clear blue. He stared up at it, wincing at the bright light, and he smiled. It was the last time he would ever see the sky again, and he wanted to enjoy it.
The door cracked open further and a pair of arms shot through the slits, grasping wildly. He took the gun away from his head and fired into the door. He heard a satisfying groan, but the pounding continued. The flames reached over the ledge and started crawling towards him across the rooftop, crackling violently and sputtering as they chewed across the gravelly floor.
He raised the gun to his head and felt his lips twist into a terrible frown.
“Goodbye.”
He squeezed the trigger, and the world vanished from sight. It was over.
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