Warm Bodies: Awakening

The Ending

PS: This isn't the ending of my fic. Once you've finished this chapter, you're barely half way through ;) This is however the longest chapter in the story, and the saddest.

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It felt as if they'd been running forever. Focused only on the few square feet of faded pavement in front of him, he struggled to keep up with his father's pace, desperate to not be a burden, to not slow him down.

It was getting harder. Not because of the pain. The wound had stopped hurting soon after they left the bus.

It was the numbness. The strange chill he was feeling, spreading from the wound. Icy tendrils spiraling up through his veins.

His lower leg was falling asleep, or at least that's what it felt like. He couldn't even feel his foot anymore. It flopped uselessly as he tried to run, no longer his to control.

This is the infection. I... don't know what to do. I can't...

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed the thoughts aside and focused on moving. That was the only thing left. Just keep moving and get his family to safety.

They finally reached the airport's outer perimeter fence, and an armored truck, machine gun mounted topside, approached at speed and squealed to a stop on the other side. The soldier that had led them from the bus ran up to the fence, waving wildly to two uniformed men who emerged from the truck armed with automatic rifles. "Where's the gate?!"

One of the men pointed to his right. "Half a mile south. You guys move ahead, we'll clear out your tail."

The soldier turned back to the group and waved them on, "This way people, not far now, let's move it!"

"We're going to be okay son," his dad panted, clearly exhausted. "Just a little further." He smiled up at him, readjusting his grip.

He could only nod mutely, and accept the help his father gave as they half ran, half stumbled with the group to the gate. Behind them came the rapid stutter of automatic rifles as the soldiers fired through the fence into the small crowd of undead that had followed them.

As they neared, he saw two guards dressed in standard fatigues and helmets standing watch at the gate. They quickly stepped forward and raised their rifles.

The soldier put his hands up defensively as he approached, "We're part of the bus convoy, open up."

The taller, younger guard moved to the latch, but hesitated before opening it, "What happened to you guys?"

"Guess," the soldier snapped back. He shook the gate fence, "Come on, what's the hold up?"

The other guard stepped forward, a much older man with piercing grey eyes, and gestured over their group, "Any infected?"

Time froze as he heard the guard's words.

Oh shit.

This was it. These guys were going to find out he'd been bitten, and they were going to shoot him in the head. Just execute him in front everybody. That's what happened to the infected, he'd seen it happen. Nobody took any chances with this stuff. It was something that had been in the back of his mind since they'd left the bus, but standing in front of someone with a gun who would actually do it, made it too disturbingly real. The vice closed around his chest again and he swallowed hard.

Did he look infected? Would they know just by looking at him? They couldn't see his leg, but he was starting to feel... sick. Nausea was hitting him in small waves, making his gut clench and his mouth flood with bitter spit.