𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬

CHAPTER 21: STAGE VI - THE CRIM REAPER

It was like seeing hell on earth. The crimson sea raged over the remaining roaches like an arrow cutting through the water. Even from the higher ground, I was able to hear the screeches of rage and fear coming from both sides. The roaches tried to fight the horde with everything in them, but it was just too much. The Pufferfishes were the first to die, taking a bunch of roaches and other Gluttons with them.

And right in the middle, the last conscious infected, fighting with only a bow and endless determination. After seeing mason like that, I turned around and walked to the other side of the room, where the weapons were stored.

"What are you doing?" asked my dad.

I grabbed my rifle and picked up as many cartridges as I could. Putting them in my pockets and grabbing an extra bag of them. I loaded the gun and looked at his face, only saying in response:

"Saving my future,"

I left through the same door we came in, the trails of blood from the wounded were more evident than ever. I avoided stepping on it, but it was hard not to, it was everywhere.

But as I walked towards the battlefield once more, I felt all the strength the dead had given to us. All the strength, the hope, the determination, everything they gave their lives to was finally coming together. At that moment, I noticed what it meant to fight. To fight for the ones who came and the ones who will eventually.

We had to protect what's left of us.

I aimed my gun at everything and everyone. In that warzone, I had only one ally. I could sense he was fighting as well, so I didn't back out. As soon as I stepped outside of the hospital, I started blazing my gun.

It was like dancing with the dead. Shoot, dodge, reload, shoot, dodge, reload shoot, dodge, reload. Only following those simple three steps I became a better shooter than I could ever be without Mason.

At some point, we met. Back to back. We spun around, having each other's backs. For a few seconds, we were only silent, but after noticing we were relatively safe, given that we were in the eye of the storm, in the middle of screams of terror and shrieks of horror, I spoke up.

"What the fuck is this?"

"A little surprise," he chuckled. "How about the new outfit?"

"Fits you," I said. "But you're not the Dark Ghost anymore,"

"That was my dad, I go by another name," he said.

"Which is?"

"The Crim Reaper," he smiled.

And the bloodshed started all over again. We fought like demons. Like two pieces of a whole. We fought like H.Y.H. used to. Following each other's steps and movements. Predicting when to attack, when to dodge, when to kill.

As I battled for the future, I remembered the wimpy kid who didn't even know how to shoot a gun and noticed how much a journey across the country can change you. Today's Nate could've saved Nicole. Today's Nate could've saved Willow. Today's Nate could've saved every one. But, at the same time, today's Nate wouldn't exist without Mason.

I wasn't so sure of which path I'd choose if I had the chance. I still missed Nicole and Willow, but at the same time, I was killing a horde of monsters just to be with Mason. Apparently, actions do show more than just words.

It was fun, actually, because all that bloodshed remembered me of a day after a few weeks we had met. We were wandering through an abandoned town without caring about any dangers. We were both pretty tired and our resources were getting scarcer, so we had to pillage for food and water.