Last One To Die

by Thomas Hall

  ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ Margaret said.

  Tim nodded, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her.

  She sucked air through her teeth as if the pain had suddenly increased. She closed her eyes and he saw her mouth move, silently saying something that wasn’t meant for him. He didn’t know if she was religious but she seemed to be praying.

  ‘Are you cold?’ Tim said. ‘I can get you another blanket.’ He started to stand but she grabbed his arm and stopped him. He looked at her. She didn’t say anything but he could tell that she wanted to. ‘What is it? What do you need?”

  She took a deep breath. ‘I need you to do something for me Tim.’

  He nodded, eager to help. ‘Anything. What is it?’

  Another deep breath and he couldn’t imagine what she was going to ask him. He wanted to push her to answer more quickly, there was no need for her to suffer when he would gladly get her anything she asked for.

  ‘Downstairs,’ Margaret said.

  He glanced at the stairs and down to the bar below. ‘What is it? Do you need something to drink?’

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘I need you to...’ she paused to breathe. ‘...there’s a gun...’

  She was worried that there was still someone in there with them, he realised, but she needn’t be. ‘It’s okay Margaret,’ he said. He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed gently. ‘We’re safe now.’

  ‘No...’

  He started to argue with her but he realised she wasn’t disagreeing with him. He couldn’t imagine why they needed a gun unless she thought they were still in danger.

  Then she told him.

  “No,’ Tim said. He shook his head and tried to back away from her. ‘No I can’t.’

  She held him firmly, the last of her strength being used to push her sharp nails into the flesh of his arm. ‘Yes,’ she said, a bloody lisp that coated her chin. ‘You have to Tim.’

  He shook his head. “I don’t. I won’t.”

  “Please Tim,” Margaret said.

  ‘You want me to kill you!”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. ‘I’m dead anyway, if you don’t kill me this,’ she looked down at her chest but he understood she was really looking at the wound in her stomach, ‘this will. You can make it easier for me Tim.’

  She was right and that was almost the worst of it, if you didn’t count the horrible thought of having to put a gun to the head of someone you loved and pulling the trigger. He realised he was crying. ‘I don’t think I can.’

  The fingers that had been digging into his arm softened and he looked down, startled, thinking that he might have been saved the horrible decision he had to make. She stroked his arm and spread the thin blood that she had drawn. ‘You can Tim. I know you can.’

  By the time he had engaged in the argument he had lost it. They talked some more, she told him that it was the right thing to do, that it would save her suffering, that he was her only hope. His argument boiled down to the fact that he didn’t want to do it and that, he realised, wasn’t enough. She was right and he was wrong.

  CHAPTER 10

  DOWNSTAIRS EVERYONE SEEMED TO HAVE A GUN, EITHER still in their hands or on the floor nearby. She’d told him to make sure it was loaded, preferably a revolver, that if she had the strength she would do it herself and save him the trouble.

  He found a silver revolver on the floor by the bar. A little thing, it was like a toy. Blond Susan lay close by, her arms wide apart, the two men that she had been talking to were on the floor beside her. Tim picked up the gun, found it surprisingly heavy, and made his way back to Margaret, in no hurry to reach her and help end her life. In no time at all he was back by her side.

  ‘Is it loaded?’ Margaret said.

  He showed her how he had opened it and checked. It had four bullets in the chambers, it hadn’t been fired at all during the fight.

  ‘Let me...’ she said, holding out her hand. He moved the little gun away from her and held it close to his chest.

  ‘What about me?’ Tim said.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘What happens to me when...’ he swallowed, found it difficult to say the words, how was he supposed to kill her if he couldn’t even talk about it? ‘What happens to me when you’re gone?’

  She sighed, her breath sounded wheezy and wet. He was starting to believe that whether he shot her or not she wouldn’t be around for long. ‘You’re a good boy Tim,’ she said. She took a long pause to gather herself before she could continue. ‘Maybe this is a good thing.’

  ‘A good thing?’

  ‘You’re free now. You can go where you want.’

  He wanted to ask her where he could go, what he could do, but he couldn’t get past the tears.

  ‘You’ll be alright Tim,’ she said.

  Margaret held out her hand for the gun and after a moments reluctance he handed it over. He could see how difficult it was for her to hold it, to manipulate it around so the barrel was facing her and get her finger on the trigger. He let her try for a moment, but her frustration was agony for him.

  ‘Here,’ Tim said. He put his hand over hers. She looked at him and let him take the gun.

  ‘Thank you,’ Margaret said, her voice barely a whisper.

  It was the kind thing to do, he told himself, but it didn’t make it any easier. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He couldn’t see and he couldn’t speak. There were a dozen things that he wanted to say to her but he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to say one.

  ‘I’m ready,’ Margaret said.

  He nodded and tried to focus through the tears. He couldn’t look. He had to look. He wanted to remember her as she was, as his friend and surrogate mother. He already missed her and she wasn’t even gone yet.

  ‘Thank you Margaret,’ he said. ‘Thank you for looking after me.’

  She smiled but said no more. He squeezed the trigger and the shot rang out. Later he would think that he had felt her sole leave her body but what he really felt was a little bit of his own depart. He looked away and cried. When he turned back again she was gone. Her body was still there but he could see no trace of her in it.

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  About the Author

  Thomas Hall is really James Loscombe in disguise.

  It is an open pen name used for publishing post-apocalyptic fiction.

  Thomas / James is based in the UK, which might explain a thing or two about why he finds end of the world scenarios so fascinating.