This Isn't the Zombie Apocalypse

5. I Learn to Bite My Tongue

Death stumbled back, growling as the rock shot through its hand. As it moved back, I pulled my foot forward and freed myself, and all I could think of was, Freedom! Run! Run like the wind and get away!

Away seemed like a good idea, but then, of course, something had to stand in my way. Here's a hint: It wasn't Death. Need another? It's this annoying thing, and sometimes it's personified as an angel over the shoulder. Did you guess my conscience? If so, you are correct!

Why was my conscience suddenly speaking up? Well, it had to do with the rock, because rocks didn't fly out of nowhere. And... it had to do with a person—more specifically, a scrawny little girl—that was about to get eaten by Death.

Hooray.

I shot to my feet, sprinting the short distance between us. The girl was tiny; I could easily carry her, even while running. She would live; I would live. Everything would be right in the world. Okay, maybe not the last one—but we would both hopefully live. Hopefully. Not that there was much hope left in my life. Just a lot of running from something that no one could run from because it was literally everywhere.

Anyway.

I barreled forward, ready to scoop her up into my arms, when she spotted me and ran towards Death. "Get away!" she screamed, but it wasn't aimed at me; it was for Death. "Go!"

I wanted to yell at her, because she was screaming at the top of her lungs at friggin' Death. There was no way Death would listen to her. And say it did hear her—Death would probably laugh, kill the girl, and save her for a midnight snack.

I didn't have the strength to order her to run away, my energy depleted and adrenaline shot. But I still ran towards her, because I was going to save her life, because I was not going to be the cause of another death, because I couldn't handle watching another person disintegrate before my eyes. Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached, I turned and ran for her again, hoping she wouldn't take off like before.

Shaking, she ran—of course she ran! And right towards Death! Did she not want me to save her? Did she want to die a painful death? She screamed some more, voice wavering, but I tuned her out, focusing on breathing and not passing out from exhaustion. Well, at least, I tried to, but then she yelled, "Calm down!" It seemed insignificant, but my ears perked up at that, and so did Death's. From the corner of my eye, I saw Death nod, then shrink—only slightly, but enough. And then it was gone.

I collapsed after that, shocked and tired and confused. What had happened? One second I was running from Death, the next I was trapped, then some random girl threw a rock and I was trying to save her, but in the end she saved me anyway. I flopped down, trembling—in fear or extensive overuse of my muscles, I had no idea—my mind whirring with thousands of thoughts. My chest ached from the scratches; my body felt like a puzzle where the pieces had been forced together.

The girl, heaving as well, turned and faced me, an unrecognizable expression on her face. She walked over, clenching her hands, and then she hovered over me. We stared at each other, gazes locked, mouths unmoving except to suck in a shuddering breath. I had so many questions to ask, but none of them came out. I was too tired, and if I had attempted to form coherent sentences, all that would come out would be babble. Endless babble that not even I could make sense of.

I didn't need this right now. Things had to be done. Life had to answer some questions; Death had to be stopped. I had to do something. Anything but lie on the ground like a limp doll and do nothing.

Propping myself up on my forearm, biting my lip to keep from screaming at the burn of my body moving, knitting my brows together in concentration, I asked, "Who are you?"