When The Light Goes Out

by Jack Thompson

  "Are ye threatenin' me, kiddo?!"

  "Yes, I'm threatening you! Ian hasn't done anything wrong! If he gets hurt, it's on your head." "He could've stayed."

  "I don't blame him for wanting to get away from you!" "What're ye tryin' to say?!"

  "Go die somewhere!" "Excel!"

  "No!" "Excel!" "Shut up!" "Excel!" "What?!"

  "Let me deal with him, okay?" "What?"

  I found myself confused then, but nodded my head anyway.

  "Blaz, behave or there's a bullseye on your forehead, and a bullet in this gun with your name on it." "Okiedokie."

  That one was most definitely said out of fear. Blaz wanted to die about as badly as the rest of us did. He was ready to live a long full life, and didn't want a bullet between the eyes. And I couldn't agree more. Malachi wouldn't miss, but I could see him making it so that the man suffered as long as possible before finally passing.

  "Now, what do you say?"

  Everyone stared, unable to believe what Malachi was doing. There wasn't a single one of us in the group, and one could tell by every expression, whose parents hadn't pulled the very same gag on us countless times during our childhoods. A demand for apology, or thanks without outright requesting it.

  Jesus. Malachi. Pushing it.

  So pushing it.

  "Do ye honestly believe"

  Blaz froze when Malachi cocked his gun. He continued his threat (which is most definitely what the action was; a threat) by stretching his arm forward, quite lazily, as if he was actually picturing the bullseye. Making sure he wouldn't miss. Blaz was sweating. We all were. We wanted to know what would happen next, if he'd actually go through with it. If Blaz would break first.

  "All right, all right. I apologize to ye, kiddo's." Like glass.

  He broke like glass. "Atta boy."

  The look in Blaz's eye told us all that the boy was pushing it. But then again, he was the one with the gun, so no one could say a god-damned thing to him. No one wanted to. We were afraid to. The gun didn't look very nice when pointed at a nonzombie.

  "Ian!"

  I started moving in the direction the boy'd gone, desperate to find him since the situation had cleared up. He had no reason to stay gone, Blaz promised to stop being a butt wipe, so it was okay. I entertained the thought that he'd just stayed hidden behind the nearest house. That he'd pop out any second.

  However the only thing that popped out was a dead man. "Jesus!"

  Bang.

  There it was again. Malachi saving my life.

  "Come on, Excel. Let's keep going." But why?

  "Ian.."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Of everything that could possibly be normal for me calm isn't. It was brought to my attention, while walking with my group of assorted misfits that I take to panic like a fat kid takes to cake. Quickly. I take a grip on it that a crow bar couldn't break. A crow bar to the head that is. But I didn't remotely care about what they thought, and wanted to say. I didn't care if they wanted to leave me behind really. They could if that's what they felt best and I wouldn't give a flaming crap.

  Ian was out there somewhere. I just hoped he was okay.

  I wasn't entirely sure where my weapon had gone. I couldn't remember if I'd dropped it or not. Scratch that, I knew I'd dropped it, as it wasn't in my grasp. The thing was that I

  couldn't remember where I'd dropped it. I couldn't remember if Ian had a weapon when he ran off. That scared me. I didn't want him hurt.

  I definitely didn't want him hurt because of Blaz. "Where the hell is he?"

  Looking around probably wasn't very helpful since we were moving in the opposite direction that Ian had. It definitely wasn't helpful that occasionally the world became a roller coaster, and I was aware of exactly how quickly the planet was spinning on its axis. On these fine occasions I found myself frozen in place, swaying as if at sea.

  Goddammit.

  Why the hell was it always me?!

  I was the unlucky one for some ungodly reason. I was the one who got my ass kicked regularly for about the same. I wanted to know why the hell Blaz existed, why anyone had accepted his apology. I wanted to know, but I didn't have the guts to ask.

  "Jesus. Where the hell did he go?!" I took a chance by calling out. "Ian?" Cautiously yes, but still calling out. "Ian?" "'e won't 'ear ye. Went th'other direction."

  "I know that."

  "Then why're ye callin' to 'em?" "Because I'm worried."

  "Stupid brat." "Conceited fool."

  "What did I tell you two about playing nice?"

  I just looked at Malachi, eyes going wide as I noticed the way his hair was cropped short. I wasn't sure why I hadn't noticed the glaringly obvious detail earlier, but there it was. It wasn't the bandage wrapped about him that had seemed so odd, it was the lack of pony tail.

  I couldn't figure out when.

  I couldn't figure out where, or why, or who the hell had the nerve to do it. All I knew was that the boy was missing a good couple inches.

  He seemed to notice my sudden attention. "Safety precaution." Was his lame excuse. "Bullshit." Was my comeback.

  Then the two of us just stared. Me at him, him at anything but me. Maybe he was shocked that I'd called his bluff. Shocked that I knew he wasn't happy about the hair cut at all. Even a little bit. He'd just seemed way too damn attached to it when I had to deal with it at the school, I couldn't imagine him willingly cutting it off.

  I didn't want to imagine him willingly cutting it off. His hair was beautiful.

  Not that beautiful is a good way to describe a boy, but it's true. Very true.

  Feels like I've gone through all of this before.

  My head was still fuzzy, and when Malachi grew a second head I opted to turn away from him. Two headed humans probably wouldn't settle me anymore then the zombie sneaking around the corner. He, at least I thought it was a he, seemed to be so careful about it. Regardless of the limp.

  Wait. Zombie.

  There was a zombie.

  And he was sneaking around the corner. "Holy Jesus, what's next?"

  "What?" "Zombie." Everyone looked.

  Apparently it wasn't what any of us were expecting.

  Malachi leveled his gun without a hint of hesitation however, aiming and taking the monster down in two shots. We were all relieved when he didn't get back up, but didn't go over to check for vital signs. I couldn't blame anyone for it, as I wasn't moving to do so myself.

  I found myself frozen in place.

  Zombies were sneaking around like they knew things, and Ian was out there. Somewhere.

  He was out there. "Ian.."

  "Calm down, Excel. I know you two were close. I know why you're worried. But he'll be okay." That was accompanied by a bit of a smile. Not much, but enough to make an impression. Sort of. "He's lasted this long, he's stronger then you think. Your buddy will be back soon."

  "That's the problem." "Excuse me?"

  "We weren't really buddies." "What?"

  "I mean, yeah, I considered him one, but before this situation it's not like we were close. S'not like we went out for pizza and shit." "You didn't need to."

  "I don't know if he considers me a buddy." "Means nothing."

  "Yes it does." "Why?"

  "Because I like my friendships to be mutual even if you don't, smart-ass." "He'll be fine."

  "What about Dustin, and Pixie? They've been gone for a good while now. My God, what if they're dead? What if they just dragged Pixie off the share the meal, and got dessert in the form of Dustin. Oh my good Lord. They're dead." Okay, so I was getting a little hysterical.

  Big deal.

  I could get as hysterical as I wanted. I could even hit Malachi. Which I did, on cue. Smacked him once in the chest and started moving. Wondering in the back of my mind what help

  I'd be. Weaponless. Dizzy. Beginning to feel decidedly ill. I wondered what help I'd be as I spun to hit Malachi again and nearly fell on him, losing my feet with the quick movement. "Holy Jesus."

&nbs
p; "Exactly the reason why you can't go after them." "Bite me."

  "Bad choice of words with zombies on the loose, you know?" I groaned a pitiful little groan then.

  "It's not worth it to run off right now, Excel. You wouldn't make it. Hell, you probably wouldn't make it under regular circumstances. As it is right now you're bleeding from your head, you're pale, and you don't seem capable of even walking a straight line on your own. You're zombie food if you leave this group right now." The boy had a solid argument.

  One I was obligated to be insulted by.

  "Bastard!" I snapped out, glaring death at the boy. Weakly, yes, but it was an honorable attempt. "I know all that crap, and I can to walk a straight line!" "Prove it."

  "I don't need to prove anything!"

  I turned on my heel at that point, readying to take off running. I ignored the way that the world began to spin. I ignored the fact that my entire body got tingly, and I felt a decided sway. I ignored everything and just kept moving, determined to not only find our missing comrades, but to prove I could do it.

  Then arms were wrapped about my waist, lifting me off the ground and I was turned back towards the group. I kicked. I twisted. I even took the chance of bashing my head back, and immediately regretted the action. Not only did it fail to help the cause, but it sent the skin throbbing again, and stopped my struggles.

  "Excel, don't be such a damned idiot," The voice at my ear snapped. It took me a moment to realize that it wasn't Malachi who'd gone after me, but one of the other young men in the group. Both of his hands were locked about either wrist in front of me, and I knew it was useless to try to get away. His hold was most definitely solid.

  Then he put me on my feet. I turned to move again.

  Gasping only at the savagery with which Malachi grabbed my wrist. He did so in such a way that brought tears about the fronts of my eyes, and I didn't even consider pulling away. It would probably do no more than cause greater pain, and I wanted anything but that. Anything but that.

  Light brown eyes shown with anger.

  I couldn't believe he was angry at me. Technically I hadn't done anything to him. Except defy his authority of course.

  Well.. and hit him.

  Still, I defied his authority.

  But I it wasn't like I was a responsible adult yet, I still had a little rebellion left in me. It was my job to defy authority.

  "Stop trying to run off you brat! You'll get hurt."

  "Why the hell do you care?" I was surprised I managed to demand the answer in a hiss. "Back at the school you were threatening to feed me to our little undead friends. Why the sudden change?"

  "I didn't expect you to last this long.." His hiss came out even more threatening than my own, and I almost flinched. "Now stop being such a"

  I took that moment to strike out, smacking him dead across the face. His grip did loosen, for approximately two and a half seconds before it got even tighter than it originally was. Pissed wasn't quite the word to describe the boy. Hair cropped. Head bandaged. Eyes narrowed. No. Pissed wouldn't be accurate at all.

  Homicidally furious would be a bit more on the mark.

  "Get off of me!" I didn't mean to sound so desperate, but that was the tone I wound up with regardless. Dammit.

  Dammit.

  It was always me. Always me. I was always the one who couldn't quite control the emotions. The tones. The words. I wish I had more selfcontrol, given that was the problem, of course. Sometimes it was nice to be able to rip loose and attack people on cue. But sometimes it would have been great to have the capabilities to not talk.

  Like that one time during hideandgoseek where my allowance was on the line.

  Or that other time when the teacher said, "Shut the hell up or repeat the course next term." And, of course, there was that other

  "Who the hell do you think you are, Excel?" "I"

  "Do you think you're immune to the rules of basic courtesy?" "No, I"

  "Do you think Blaz is the only one I can threaten with a gun?" "Wouldn't be the first time you threatened me."

  "Bitch."

  "Look who's talking."

  Why? A question asked far too often, with far too many answers, and hidden meanings. Why? A question without a reasonable answer no matter how many there were in total. Now, the word "why" with other things attached is more my type of question.

  The newest, best question was, "Why do I always start problems?"

  Because at that very moment, with the look Malachi was giving me, I really did wonder. I wondered why I was so damned angry, I couldn't blame the entire thing on the pain I was in. No matter the fact that my skull still felt wet. No matter the fact that there had to be a lump there. No matter the fact that that his fists were clenching, and he was quite obviously at the end of his rope.

  I swung first though.

  I hadn't been aiming when I clenched my fist, and pulled back. If anything at all I'd been aiming to miss when I swung at the boys face, but contact was made. My knuckles got past his lips, and I felt the scrape of teeth against the skin. Felt the warmth as my own blood starting flowing there. The boy had the mind to move with the blow, raising a hand to wipe our combined blood from his mouth before letting go of me.

  I was sure I was dead.

  I was positive he was going to kill me.

  But at the very least he no longer had his hold on me, so I turned to run. Yes run. As in away. As cowardly as the act is, I was about to do it without the slightest bit of hesitation. I

  didn't want to know what Malachi would do. I didn't want to face his wrath, however it chose to manifest. "Don't you dare move."

  It was more the tone than the words that froze me in place. The boy almost sounded calm, and that was frightening. His eyes said I was dead, but his voice betrayed nothing. I

  could only dream of having so much control over such nuances. I could only imagine what it would be like to be able to simply hold back the way he seemed so fond of doing.

  I took two steps back for every one Malachi took forward, more than willing to run the hell away if things got nasty. Or, at the very least, that's what I was telling myself. I hadn't run away yet, so really; who could tell for sure what I'd do?

  "Kids, enough. Ye were yellin' at me for being immature, but look at the two of ye now. Tryin' to kill each other" "I'm not going down until you do old man."

  "Hey, I was only sayin'"

  "Don't get me started on you, you annoying sack of" "Excel!"

  "Malachi!"

  For a minute there I swore the boy was raising a hand to slap me, and I almost blushed at the fact that I was cringing before I even had any proof. I was mocking him when he most definitely had the upper hand. I was an idiot. I really was a nimrod at best, there were no other ways to describe it. I was acting like a fool.

  "Excel, I don't think this is a good time to be mocking him." Came the helpful advice of one girl. I can't be too sure if I successfully glared at her, or not. But I certainly tried to. Knocking my chin over my shoulder to send her a rather haphazard squinty face.

  "You really think?" "Yes, I do actually."

  I rolled my eyes, sighing, "Just watch as the sarcasm drips from my voice." The girl blushed.

  Before I could say anything further Malachi gripped my chin and forced me to look at him. Aversion of the eyes merely forced him to shake me, and gave "migraine" a whole new meaning. My head was still throbbing, his grip was painful, and the shaking was making me dizzy so I looked at him like he wanted. I didn't quite make eye contact, but I did my best, for certain.

  "Excel."

  He got me to struggle just by speaking my name. I tried to pull away, but he didn't allow that – obviously. Doing so would have ruined his scolding for sure, he couldn't have possibly wanted that. So, to keep me from breaking his grip he took hold of my arm as well.

  Stupid bastard.

  "Excel, stop struggling like an idiot, and listen, all right?" To my shock the boy didn't sound angry anymore.

  He
sounded tired.

  "Better. Now, Excel.." He let go of my chin and wiped his mouth. I almost felt guilty that he was bleeding. "I know how you're feeling" "No you don't."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You didn't know Ian." "I never said I did."

  "Then how could you possibly know how I'm feeling?" "By comparison."

  "What?"

  "I've got friends too you know."

  It was almost a shock that I'd never considered the possibility. It never once crossed my mind that the boy had people out there to worry about, and I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because of how he acted when I first met him, as if he didn't give two craps about anything. Selfcentered. He didn't seem the friendly type.

  "I"

  "Hard to believe, right? I've got friends out there somewhere too. Martial arts partners, school friends, and even some buddies from my childhood. They are all out there somewhere. I know where they are about as confidently as you know where Ian is."

  "But they can protect themselves!"

  "Yeah, the ones who spent twelve years learning how to fight can. That's maybe two of them, not including myself. They've been training longer than me, so their fighting skills are far superior to my own as it stands. Chances are I'll die long before they even get bruised." He raised a hand to his mouth again.