The right thing. She was talking about doing the right thing saying he did the right thing when everyone in the goddamned room was dying! What sense did that make? He didn't understand, gun slipping from his fingers. It didn't drop far, didn't land loudly, even if it had it would have been overshadowed by the erratic sobbing coming from just about every corner in the room.
George was crying from pain, from anguish. Pixie was doing the same, still bleeding from whatever wound the black haired brat, still latched onto Malachi had chosen to make. For a minute, through blurry eyes, unable to breathe through his nose, Malachi thought that everyone in the room was crying. Crying, or dead. Except the soft, calm words were still coming from Serena.
Serena.
How had he not seen it?
"Why?" Malachi asked, barely able to choke the word out around his tongue. It felt like it was beginning to swell. Felt four times it's original size. He was having a hard time breathing, and was trying not to leak all of his fluids out of his head. Viciously he wiped a hand across his face, hoping to dry himself but it was useless. For every tear he tore from his skin, a new river was formed. "Why?!" He demanded, wrenching his arm around to knock the girl away from him.
Although looking rather insulted, Serena didn't make another move towards Malachi. If anything, she knew better than to approach him again. He needed time, just a little bit of time to get over the fact that he'd shot a girl he seemed so desperately fond of. Meanwhile, she had to take care of Luke. She knew he couldn't last much longer without the antidote, and took extra care pulling a small vile from her pocket.
"Billy, where are the needles?" "Jared?"
"Needles are right here."
The instruments were passed about the room, the small group of wouldbe chemists taking care of what they needed to take care of, while everyone else suffered in various levels of hysteria. It was amazing how unconcerned Serena, Jared, and Billy seemed to be with the many frantic individuals in the room. Malachi felt his heart breaking into the tiniest of pieces. She hadn't deserved it, and that was the part that he couldn't quite get over. What did Serena gain from Excel's death?
"Why?!" The boy screamed suddenly, whipping his head around to assure his voice projected towards the dark haired woman, standing before Luke with a needle. The fluid in the syringe may have been a translucent yellow, but from so far away it mostly looked clear. For all Malachi knew, she was injecting her friend with tap water. His shouting however caused her to flinch, nearly snapping the tip of the needle, but he didn't cower at her dark gaze. "Why?" He demanded once more, fists clenching tightly.
"Why what?" The woman asked with a sigh, tilting her head, needle poised ready to penetrate the dying mans flesh. "Why did you make me do that? What do you gain from it?"
"Less competition."
"Competition?!" He choked, lifting both hands to drag his nails over his face. "Competition. You made me kill her because you thought she was competition?!" "Why else?"
"I didn't like her!" He screamed suddenly, causing her to once more flinch, nearly breaking the needle. "Lower your voice," the young woman scolded. "The shouting makes this kind of hard."
"I didn't fucking like her!" He screamed regardless, throwing his hands into his hair, entirely frustrated. "Not like that. I did not like her! She was friendly, nice, compassionate. That's it. She was a friend. I didn't fucking"
"Try to honestly tell me you weren't attracted to her."
"I was not attracted to her," the man said with a straight face, tears and all. "But if you and her were the only women left on earth, I would have fucking picked her." "Like I said competition."
"Not because she was better looking."
This time, the needle did snap. Dark brown eyes turned to size Malachi up, trying to figure which angle he was coming from. It was obvious she didn't understand. Even while she was loading a second needle with the antidote, she was trying to figure what Malachi was getting at. It was the fact that he looked completely serious that threw her off so completely.
"Excuse me?"
"You're beautiful, Serena," Malachi spoke plainly. "You are a very attractive woman Excel was plain. But she was a human being. She knew how to treat people, obviously you don't. I don't know how to deal with that. I may not be much of a people person, but you said yourself that you think people are expendable. They're not. People are not expendable."
"You find me attractive?"
"That's not the point I was making Serena." "But you think I'm attractive?"
"Yes. I do."
"You're going to be alright, Luke. I got the dose right here, okay? I'm about to give it to you. You'll be fine. You'll be perfectly fine. I love you, Luke. I won't let you die. I won't let you be one of them. I love you. We all love you," the young woman reassured the dying man, smoothing a hand through his hair before positioning the new needle near his shoulder. "You want to know something cool? Malachi finds me attractive."
The young woman seemed to glow as she stuck Luke with the needle, quickly injecting the antidote. Immediately the boy seemed to calm. Every tense muscle melted, and he let out a shuddery breath, closing his eyes in what appeared to be relief. When his breathing evened out, and the flow of blood seemed to lessen, Serena carefully wrapped a length of cloth around it to be sure. No onlooker was entirely sure where the cloth originated from, but then it almost seemed that the small group had the whole situation planned out already.
It wasn't long before Serena had turned her back on Luke, smiling gently once more before she settled herself at Malachi's side. She rubbed his back while he was crying, whispering what would have been sweet words if not for what she'd just done. It was obvious the boy was wounded, breaking if not already broken, but she paid this no mind. She seemed to be surviving on the thought that so long as she was there, he'd turn out okay in the end.
"It's okay, Malachi, it's okay. Everything's going to be alright."
Blurry brown eyes opened, a hand raised to wipe away the tears, because if he was going to kill Serena, he needed to have the upper hand. It just happened that the upper hand started with clear vision. His jaw clenched, visibly a he slowly lowered a hand to pick the gun up from where he'd dropped it. The tears were still falling, but now his resolve was strong. Distantly he noted Jared, leaning down to poke at the bleeding wound on George, Billy examining Blazs cane from the bottom noting how well crafted it was.
It took him the longest moment to realize he was being stared at. Wide eyes set into a delicate face were looking straight into him, when they'd been closed moments before, as his fingers wrapped firmly around the weapon. How, he wondered, was this possible? Unless Excel, the wonderful, caring girl that she was, had turned suddenly. He wished for this to
be the case, so that she could have her revenge. He hoped she was now a zombie, waiting for the opportunity to eat his brain, because he shouldn't have shot her. It wasn't fair.
Except there was no red in her eyes, save that caused by tears. Her pupils were of a normal size. Her skin, though stained in blood from various sources, probably various donors, was not drawn back. It did not resemble that of the dead. She was alive, and she wasn't looking at him. Her lips, he noticed, because she was all he was noticing then, parted as he eyes widened even more. She was staring at something. She seemed scared. Her lips moved as, silently, she said something. But what did she
"Ugn."
"Excuse me?" He choked, noting the noise came from somewhere slightly behind him. Why was Serena making strange noises? "Uggn."
"Seren"
The scream let loose inches from his ear was deafening, it forced him to spin entirely around, rising to his feet as he did so, noticing what should have been a healing young man sinking pure white teeth into the bloody flesh of a murderers throat. Luke. Luke was tearing Serena to pieces as she screamed and struggled, reaching out a single hand to grab frantically at Malachi's legs, obviously terrified. But then, who wouldn't be, if they were being eaten alive? As her fingers grew closer
to him, he moved out of the way, just out of her reach, watching.
"Kai," she gargled, "Help me."
For maybe a single second, Malachi considered helping the beautiful young woman, laying there with a zombie half on her, black hair strewn across the floor, her face, her wounds, Luke. For all she'd done the pain she must have been suffering seemed immense. Almost unjust. But he made no attempt to move forward, even as Jared was sweeping past him, screaming the young womans name. Though he managed to rip Luke off of the woman, he didn't stay that way long, latching onto the flesh of Jareds wrist, pulling until it's natural elasticity gave way, and the sloppy, ripping sound reverberated off the walls.
Serena was screaming weakly, while Jared was screaming loud and strong, both begging for help, as they didn't know how to handle their friend. It was obvious he needed to die, and even more apparent that they didn't want to be the ones to kill him. Who would want to kill their friend?
Shuffling back to the wall, Malachi slid down beside a gently panting Excel. She was obviously in pain but, at the very least. She was alive.
I didn't know whether to be disgusted, or ecstatic. For once karma seemed to be working properly, as I watched with morbid excitement the cannibalistic tendencies of the creature in the room with us. All of us. It had two bodies within hands distance to feast on, and was doing so happily, so I was content to sit there and watch while he was distracted. Yes, I should have been moving to help, but the fucking bitch had tried to kill me. Well, she tried to get someone else to kill me. I didn't know which stroke of luck caused the young man, leaning heavily on an arm I couldn't even feel, to miss.
Everything was so loud. The screaming of the two dying young adults, the shouting of Billy, the old man who moved to help. The bludgeoning of the undead Luke. The groaning, scratching, and pounding from beyond our barricaded door. Even Georges motionlessness, and Blazs silence was loud to the point of pain. Gently, I felt a gun pushed into my hand, and felt the pressure on my shoulder increase.
"Do whatever you want with it," Malachi insisted, in the most pitiful voice I'd ever heard him use. "Whatever you want. Shoot me if you need to. Please jus just"
"I'm not mad," I muttered, finding it difficult to raise my voice. "My arm fucking hurts, and the blood running down it feels weird, but I'm not mad. You did what you needed to do, even if it didn't work out entirely as planned."
"No," he begged over the sound of Billy's sobbing. The man was obviously distraught about Serena's condition, holding her gently in his lap as she shuddered, and bled. "No. Be mad. Excel, you have to be mad."
"Why do I have to be mad?" I asked, looking over as I wondered how many of our companions were still alive. No one seemed to be moving, except for the dying, and Billy. But none of them were companions anyway. They were just people I found myself stuck with.
"Because I shot you," he whispered.
I felt the man, who suddenly seemed a lot more like a boy, crying into my shoulder. I felt the wet, unless that was blood too. I didn't know. But then again it didn't matter, because there was no doubt in my mind that we were all going to die. All of us. Every last person in the room, because there were the sounds of wood cracking, and Serena was beginning to jerk around in the throes of what had to be death. How many bullet did we have left?
"Because I asked you to," I explained. "But I shot you."
"And I forgive you," I assured, raising my arm a bit. "Steady me?" I asked as the gun shook terribly in my grip. Malachi's hand wrapping around my own, supporting my arm as I aimed and cocked the gun felt good. He was warm, and I was cold right then, closing one eye like I'd seen in the movies as I hoped I didn't miss. When I pulled the trigger, and Billy went down, I knew I hadn't.
"Excel?" Malachi questioned, looking at me with bloodshot eyes, and a puffy face. But I grinned.
"Get him out of the way first," I muttered once, letting my head fall to the side to rest on Malachi's shoulder, switching the position we'd been in before I lifted the gun. "Aren't you going to shoot her too?"
"No."
"What?!" Malachi suddenly sounded alarmed. "Why?!" "I want to see her suffer."
And if her turning into a zombie, the way I'd seen that young girl turn way back during the first night of this catastrophe, wasn't just the one thing I wanted to see most in the world. The process had seemed so painful way back then, before I'd had any real experience whatsoever. It had seemed so terrible, so gruesome, and at the time I wouldn't have wished it on anyone else in the world. But now I was wishing it on the little bitch who was bleeding to death in her dead grandpa's lap.
Yes, it made me a murderer. Yes, the thought of being a murderer brought tears to my eyes. But killing that terrible man, watching this woman die, just to kill her again, I would have willingly made it my dying wish. I was, dare I say, happy. Except for the fact that I was disappointed that I couldn't do away with Luke as well. That had been done for me.
"Hey, Kai?" "Yeah?"
"Go get Blazs cane." "Why?"
I clicked the gun.
"Somewhere along the way we ran out of bullets. Either way, knifing her zombie body seems like it would be more amusing." And didn't it just?
Serena: Black hair, black eyes. Estimated age, twenty five. Deceased. Killed by way of zombie attack, disposed of by cane sword Excel and Malachi. Jared: Whitish blond hair, blue eyes. Estimated age, twenty six. Deceased. Killed by way of zombie attack, disposed of by cane sword Excel and Malachi.
Luke: Redish brown hair, brown eyes. Estimated age, twenty six. Deceased. Killed by way of injection of the RVirus administered accidentally by Serena, disposed of by bludgeoning Billy.
Wolfgang A.K.A Billy: Gray hair, brown eyes. Estimated age, dust
Malachi stabbed me roughly with his finger, appearing sorrowful for only a second when I cringed away and groaned. He'd been helping me write in my journal, originally doing the writing for me until I had a fit, and demanded I get to write it myself. I was the owner of the journal. Not him. We'd already decided that, depending on which one of us died first, the second would write a final farewell in the small notebook. I swear, we were about to move onto writing in blood, with the way I'd been taking notes. I'd written about every person I'd met on my terrible journey, detailed manners of death, and disposal. Everything we knew about the virus was documented, and we even wrapped the vials of "antidote" in a chunk of cloth, and attached them to the book for whoever found it in the future.
Watching Serena turn had been more enjoyable than I originally hoped. Except we didn't re-dead her as well as we originally thought, and she'd crawled over to bite Pixie when we weren't paying attention. You can imagine my heart break when we gave the young girl the antidote, immediately, but all she did was turn maybe ten seconds later. It was Malachi who came to the conclusion that, when Criss, or Serena or whoever identified the virus that was causing the zombies in their studies, in the first place, they hadn't made an antidote from it, just concentrated the virus. However, they'd also probably done this by accident. I almost died when we had to kill Pixie.
But now we were sitting there, Malachi reading over my shoulder, as we documented the dead bodies in the room around us. "Well," I demanded, "How old do you think he is?"
"Mark him at sixty."
"He has to be older than sixty."
"Fine then, range him sixty to seventy." "Better."
Wolfgang A.K.A Billy: Gray hair, brown eyes. Estimated age, sixty seventy. Killed by gun shot wound to the forehead Excel.
Rowan A.K.A Pixie: Red hair, green eyes. Age eight. Killed by accidental injection of the RVirus administered by Excel, disposed of by cane sword Malachi.
I closed my eyes, deciding I didn't want to write anymore just yet, and willingly handed over the book so Malachi could finish. I was hungry, but neither of us were willing to resort to cannibalism. Not with infected bodies, first of all. And secondly, we didn't want to be like the zombies. Living zombies. No, neither of us could do that knowingly. The very thought churned
my stomach, and I would have thrown up if not for the fact that there was nothing in me to throw up.
"How much longer do you think we'll make it?" I asked quietly, laying on the arm that didn't burn. The bullet wound, Malachi had decided, was infected. But, the regular pus filled kind, not the exceptionally gross, "you're going to be a zombie soon," kind. Except I probably was infected, even more so than I had been. Blood had probably gotten into the open wound while sleeping on the floor. We didn't have the materials to sew it up, so I decided it was fine the way it was, covered in a strip of cloth. "How much longer do we have?"
"Not long." "Good." "Good?"
"No one is going to get here, and save us," I explained. "All we are is fresh meat for the zombies out there. I've had to kill my friends. We've had to kill our friends. And the only thing keeping me from taking you out of your misery, the only thing keeping you from taking me out of mine, is that fact that neither of us want to outright commit suicide."
When The Light Goes Out Page 34