Endgame (Book 1)

by W. A. R.

  He waited for death, for a savior, and he cried when neither came. He deserved it, he knew that. That was karma for you. He simply had to accept it, but that was easier said than done. His anger, his grip on the world was slipping, and he hated himself for it. Bracing himself on his hands he forced himself forward until the sole of his shoe pressed against the glass of the passenger side window. And then he kicked. His infuriation drove him on and he kicked again, the glass splintering even more so under the pressure. Finally it caved, and he kicked out every piece of glass that stayed lodged in the crevices. He had to get out of there. He knew he wouldn’t survive and he didn’t care. He simply had to see the reason for his guilt and self-hate, the people he had betrayed, one last time. The screeching grew louder as he turned his back to the open window and pulled himself out on his elbows. The glass cut deep into his skin, and warm blood flowed freely from his arms and onto the ground below him. Once he was free of the car, he forced himself up, using the overturned car as leverage to balance on his one good leg. His mind was foggy and he felt dizzy and lightheaded, but he pushed himself through it. The screeching was almost unbearable then and he turned to see a monster trapped behind an overturned tree, its fingernails scratching against what was left of the hood of the car. The creature was huge, wide; it was bloated and gray. Chunks, not pieces, of flesh fell from its midsection as it forced itself against the tree, trying to reach him. The creature’s right arm was gone and Rick sighed. He remembered then.

  He had rounded the curve and it had been right there, the monster. He tried to avoid it, turning sharply on the gravel. He had clipped it and lost control on the loose rocks before hitting a culvert and rolling the car. The monster had tried to reach him, but had been blocked by the tree. He shook his head. How had he thought these monsters were his friends? The creature was tearing itself apart trying to reach him behind an obstacle, without a care in the world but his hunger. The monster didn’t think; none of them did.

  He glanced up at the sun, which was in the middle of the sky then. His mouth was dreadfully dry and he tried to form some saliva to swallow. All of his provisions were damaged beyond repair, and again, all he had on him was his pocket knife. Gritting his teeth, he hopped forward towards the opposite wood line, keeping his good hand on the car for balance. The agony radiated up his spine and he felt his stomach heave. He doubled over, feeling the acid of his stomach burn up his esophagus and out of his mouth, through his nose. After a moment, he simply stood there, his entire body aching and trembling. He had to go. He had to reach their house and see if he had killed them before he died himself.

  The journey was a long one, and the more the sun beat down on him through the trees the more his vision darkened. Sweat and blood soaked his body. He stumbled and fell repeatedly, landing on his broken hand, his broken leg. He knew he had to be close, and his mind began playing tricks on him.

  ‘You can’t make it. You’re weak. You betrayed them all. You killed them.’ The voices told him and he ground his teeth together.

  “Go away.” He urged them as he surged forward, his eyes shutting tightly against the pain. After a while he could no longer push himself forward hopping, his leg having given out on him and he resorted to pushing forward on his elbows, his legs dragging behind him. And still, he moved forward, dusk setting on him and the chill of the evening air washing over him. He barely noticed it, shoving it away with the rest of his agony.

  ‘Why are you even trying? They hate you.’ The voice said again. Rick narrowed his eyes as a monster made its way toward him. He stopped moving and pulled his knife from his pocket, readying it. He forced himself up to his good leg, leaning against a tree as he waited for it to near him. Once it was close enough he drove his knife into its skull before releasing the knife and falling to the ground. Everything went black for a moment before he pushed back into consciousness. He raised himself back onto his elbows and continued, his raw determination his only driving force.

  “I said go away.” He ground out before relief cascaded over him. Caught in the shine of the moonlight was the tin roof of the house just past the tree line. He smiled and lowered his head to the leaves under him in sweet reprieve, tears flowing freely from his dry eyes. He then lifted his head, his eyes searching for any sign of life, any movement. He sat there like that for about an hour, and then two, and there was not a sound, aside from his own heart beating. His smile dropped and dread weighed heavy in his gut. They were gone. They were really gone. He closed his eyes tightly and cried in the silence. After a moment he rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars. The pain was numbing him, he was thirsty, and he was defeated. His vision was again darkening around the edges, and he knew that it was coming, it was his time.

  ‘I told you not to try. You killed them.’

  ‘They are monsters now; demons.’

  ‘They are your demons.’ The voices informed him and that time, he didn’t have a response. They were right. He would die with those demons. The stars darkened even more so and he decided to let the blankness take him. He hoped it would be quick. He had nothing else left.

  ‘Rick…’ his mother clouded his vision, interrupting his blurry view of the stars through the branches. She was human again, normal. His father’s face entered his vision beside her, and beside him was Charlotte. He smiled up at them. His mother smiled back. He was more than happy to let them take him away, to end his miserable existence. They were waiting for him and he found that comforting. His mother leaned down and brushed his long hair from his face. ‘You have really fucked up, honey. And now you are going to die.’ She told him lovingly and his smile dropped. He realized then that hers was one of the voices in his head, as was his father’s and Charlotte’s. They had haunted him, and he had not even realized it. Charlotte rounded his feet and walked up, her feet next to his head. She then knelt and looked at him tenderly. He was shaking with rage and fear. He wanted to leave but he couldn’t. He was too damaged, to beaten to move.

  ‘We told you not to come here. We warned you. But you just had to see for yourself, didn’t you?’

  His father kicked at his broken leg and he winced. ‘You let us die and now you know that you let them die too. You are so weak. I hope you die wallowing in the regret that you made for yourself.’ He told Rick on a gentle smile, and before Rick realized it, the darkness finally closed in around him.

  “…our cousin Rick.” He heard a voice, a familiar voice. It delved into his subconscious and he peered through the miniscule portion of his lifted eyelid. It was Amber; it was a monstrous creature. An eye was missing from her socket, blood coating her body and her neck was sliced open and he figured it was justice to die at their hands. He wished he already was dead. Again, he delved into the darkness.

  When he awoke next he was in a house, being given water, and he drank it greedily before looking around him. There were these abominations surrounding him. Glancing at the cup in his hand he saw that it was not water, and instead a warm red liquid filled it. He tasted it on his lips. Blood. The cup fell from his hands and his eyes flashed to Amber. She was as he had last seen her; her eyes lifeless and her skin sallow and almost missing. The others were similar to her, their mouths open and their eyes hungry. Their fingers gripping at his clothing, his flesh and he thrashed against them. They were all monsters, all of them. Their fingers dug into him, coating the floor and table crimson with his blood. His head was suddenly jerked back and frozen. Cassie…oh sweet Cassie… She held his head down and stared at him with her lifeless eyes, skin hanging from her cheek. He didn’t deserve this torture. He couldn’t handle it. Their hands pressed against him hard, and a sudden blinding pain hit him. His eyes flashed down to see blood running down his leg and this female monster biting at his broken leg. He jerked back, his mind pleading for mercy. This female creature, this bloated hunger filled abomination began reaching for his broken fingers and he lashed out at her, jerking her hair into his now free hand. Skin and blood poured from her and he thrived in it
. Flesh fell from her bones as she kicked against him, her teeth searching for any piece of flesh she could find. All too suddenly, however, he was driven back into the darkness, his head throbbing.

  Rick had awoken the last time with his memory intact, and his anger at himself evident. He remembered what he had hallucinated, and yet he couldn’t remember what had really happened. He didn’t care, however, as his focus was spent maintaining the nervous energy rebounding within his body. He couldn’t handle the guilty look in Brian’s eyes. He hated himself for putting that look there, for putting his own self-hate into his best friend’s eyes. Things, he knew, were still too raw and over time, he knew he would tell him everything that had happened. He just had to wait.

  Fast forward to the hunt. When Brian had left that morning, he had decided that that was the day he would tell him everything and would ask and hope for forgiveness. What Brian said should have hurt him, but instead it stabbed him with a yearning for the truth. It was time to admit his faults and his shortcomings. He was sure that Brian would understand eventually. He didn’t get that chance however, as George rushed in, breathless and shouting for Bobby-Jean and Katie, telling them that Jackson had been bitten. Of course, all of the others had rushed out with them, leaving damaged Rick there alone in the house. He wasn’t fast enough to keep up with them, he knew that. He was merely a liability in a time when they couldn’t help him if need be. And so, he stood in the kitchen, stretching his broken leg as best he could. He needed to get it healed and fast. Thoughts and worry about Jackson tugged at his heart and he shoved it into the back of his mind until they all returned. He would drive himself mad with worry if he allowed it. He was doing this whenever he saw Damien run in through the back gate. Excitedly, he wondered as quickly as he could to the garage door, seeing that Damien had aimed for the shed. He hoped he could be of some help. When he rounded the corner to the shed, he felt everything inside of him go cold. There were two strange men with him and they had immediately seen him. He hadn’t even had a chance to react. He was sent flying back when a lead pipe cracked against his skull, knocking him back into the darkness where he wished not to go.

  When he came to, he felt a pair of hands on each ankle, and a pair on his shoulders. His hands were tied behind his back and there was nothing but darkness around him. The fabric of the bag made it hard to breath and he began panicking. He had let his family down again. He began struggling and he felt pain radiate up his spine as one of the men hit him hard where he had broken his leg. He tried crying out but the fabric that was in his mouth hindered him from doing so. There was nothing he could do. He wished he could say that he was terrified, but the truth was, he was numb to their actions, too petrified to consider the things they were going to do to him, to the family that he had recently found again.

  Before long, they dropped him roughly on the ground before dragging his back to sit against what he guessed was a tree. They untied his hands, only to retie them around the tree, to ensure he could go nowhere, say nothing, and see nothing. He was completely helpless and he hated that feeling.

  “You’re probably wondering why we wish to kill you this way.” One of them men said and Rick refused to grace them with an answer. “You are weak and useless. If it wasn’t today, it was going to happen later. You are no good to us.” He paused and Rick could smell the rankness of the man’s breath through the fabric of the bag. “You’re crazy and damaged. You would fail every single test we put you through. So, you have to die here, alone. ”

  “Now the others…what are their names?” the other man asked, and when Rick didn’t answer the first man did on a laugh. His voice was rough and bitter, his words laced with maliciousness. Rick bit own on the gag and seethed at him through the bag.

  “Let’s see…there’s Buddy, Brian, Derek, Miles, Shelly, and Amber. Those six are the ones we are really after. They are leaders. They are strong and resilient; healthy. I think they will be perfect for what we have planned for them.” Rick refused to let him wander to thoughts of those possibilities. “On the bright side, they get to live for what we have planned.”

  The other man laughed as well. “And you know what else Rick? Everyone else besides them will provide us with some kind of service, one way or another. Like all of those females…and that includes Shelly and Amber. All those pretty women, those girls…we are going to show them that a real man takes what he wants from them…It’s been a long three months from home. We have watched every single move that every one of you has made.” Rick felt his anger build, combining with his fear and yet still, he refused to move, to say anything. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. The silence grew, and he knew they were thinking of new ways to taunt him. He wasn’t sure why they wanted to torture him; maybe they wished to leave him emotionally incapacitated. They had a rude awakening for them, however; he would do what he could to get out of there, and when he did it would be hell. He heard the rustling of leaves as they shifted on their feet.

  “Just think about it Rick: Damien is going to help us ambush them on their little run tomorrow. Once we have those three, the others will fall shortly behind them. Don’t worry though. We will be taking everyone that survives back with us.” He said, and Rick knew that they were standing above him. He froze. They had them then. They were going to attack his family while they were separated, while they were at their weakest. His fear escalated and he could practically feel their triumph at his reaction. Their feet crunched on the leaves as they began departing and Rick tested the pull of the ropes that bind his hands. He was terrified; he needed to save them, warn them.

  “Oh, and one more thing Rick…” the second man said suddenly, startling Rick where he sat. The man was close to his ear, and Rick wished he could break free and kill them both with his bare hands. “Just know before you die that you were too weak to save them…we are going to cut them into pieces, turn them into monsters. If they want to be part of the problem, they will simply be forced to be part of the solution, one way or another.” And with that, they had left him to his demise.

  Rick opened his eyes and stared at the staircase across from him. He had survived the night merely on luck, on the group calling for him, searching for him. He remained perfectly still and motionless, unable to see if there was a threat anywhere near him, unable to call out for them. He had spent the night terrified, and oddly enough, no longer ready to die. He couldn’t. He knew that they would come look for him and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks for allowing him to miraculously survive the night. If he hadn’t…he shuddered, unable to consider it. He shook his head in remorse, his mind drifting back towards Brian and Amber. He hoped like hell they made it back safely. He owed them an explanation, an apology. He stretched his broken leg out in front of him, anger rising anew in him. Yes, he decided, those two men were his and he was going to kill them both.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Brian stood at the entryway to Amber’s old house, his bag pressing against his shoulders and he sighed, urging the door open with his fingers. When deciding on everywhere they needed to go, they had decided to stop by a few familiar houses and search for weapons and food. While he knew that Amber had already gathered whatever perishable food she had, he thought that she may have had some weapons hidden away: maybe some knives, a gun…he wasn’t sure. He would search for and find whatever he could. Glancing behind him, he saw the uncertainty on Shelly’s and Miles’s faces as well as the sheer joy and determination on Damien’s. Brian shook his head and entered the darkened house, the others following close behind him. Once they were in and the door was shut behind them, he turned.

  “Shelly, Miles, check everywhere upstairs. Damien, you follow me and check down here.” He demanded. Immediately they split up, going their separate ways. He wanted to go with Shelly, but instead he entrusted her safety with Miles, who understood that without a word being said. Brian couldn’t leave Damien with anyone else. Damien was his. Sure, a lot of his anger at the man emanated from the day bef
ore, and just thinking about it brought a fresh new pain to his chest. His father was gone because Damien had left him. It was as simple as that. Brian turned towards the kitchen and began rummaging through kitchen drawers and cabinets as Damien rushed through to the living room, searching for anything he could find. Brian narrowed his eyes at the man in the other room. He had gotten brave in the past twenty-four hours, having stood up to both Brian and Amber. He had given them snide remarks and sarcastically biting comments. Brian figured he was simply angry and bitter with them after how they had been treating him since…since the incident. Emotions were high and Brian really wished he hadn’t forced himself to bring the man. He didn’t want to be around him, but, he reasoned, it was better that he was with Brian rather than leaving him with Amber.