The Dead, The Living and The Broken

Chapter 7: Thunder

        Everyone stood there in the clearing, not wanting to say what must be said. Elijah was bitten. He would become a zombie, he would die, come back and kill every last one of them. The silence was broken by the sound of Piper sniffling. They had all become close friends in the short while they had been together and now they were losing one of their own.

        Cass walked over to Elijah and hugged him and soon the rest of the group joined in.

        "Man, I'm sorry, if only we would've gotten there sooner," Damien said with sad eyes and fiddled with the hem of his ugly and blood splattered jacket.

        Elijah glared at his arm as his eyes filled with tears. The remainder of the zombies were now approaching them quickly.

        "We have to go," ordered Oliver.

        "We can't!" Cass argued, tears streaming down her face.

        "Cass, he's infected now and he's going to turn into a killing machine," Kiara said softly.

        "It's alright guys," assured Elijah. But his face said otherwise.

        He looked at the leather jacket that covered his arm, so much for getting all the ladies and having a "bad boy edge".

        The remaining zombies were nearing closer to them, they had to go right now. Cassandra mouthed a 'sorry' as they gently pulled her away. They disappeared into the forest with teary eyes, leaving Elijah standing alone as the undead closed in.

        He took out his knife and positioned it facing his head. He thought of all the great and terrible memories he had had in his short 16 years of life.

        He faintly remembered his parents smiles but he remembered their deaths even better. He thought of the rabbit, Rascal, he had when he was seven who ran away. He thought of his first day of school and how terrifying it was. He thought of his friends and his enemies and those he never really got to know. Finally, he thought of the day this all went down. The world went to shit only a week ago. He only made it one week, how pathetic.

        He brought the knife closer to his head so it was only a mere inch away but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He let out a frustrated and strangled sob.

        How did others commit suicide? Oh that's right they want to die, I'm not ready to die, he thought to himself.

        He ran away from the zombies that were meters away from him and ran deeper into the forest. He ran, dodging trees and low branches until his legs ached. He collapsed against a tree and cried. He punched the tree furiously but regretted it once a sharp pain shot up his arm.

        Would he know he was going to turn? Would he feel dizzy and nauseous or would he fall dead without warning? He wasn't sure of the answer but he knew he had to kill himself now or he would become a mindless, undead murderer.

        His blood boiled with rage. This was Damien's fault, he was the one who got them all surrounded by zombies, he thought. He knew his anger was misguided but he needed someone to blame. It was the rain's fault, it was God's fault, it was whoever caused this apocalypse's fault, but he didn't want to admit that it was his fault too. It was his fault he didn't pay as much attention in gym class and couldn't run very fast. It was his fault he didn't stab the goddamn creature in the head. It was his fault he didn't pull his arm away a little harder. But he didn't want to admit that.

        The only thing that caused him pain was his anger. Surprisingly he felt no pain in his arm, he had always wished for a painless death.