One Way Out

Eight: They Say No Promises

"It's only 4:30."

"I know."

"They'll find us."

"They won't," Felix says, as if to himself. "They won't find us. They can't find us." He rests his head on his knees, letting out a long breath.

"Felix, maybe we could figure out a way to break the doors or a window or something. Then I could hold them off and you could-"

"No!" He snaps, startling me.

"Keep your voice down," I hiss, his outburst still echoing around the stark room. It was my idea to take refuge in the supermarket deli, my reasoning being that the strong smell of meat and other products might mask our own, and, more importantly, dilute the scent of my infection. "Breakers can always track one of their own," the TV tells us on a daily basis.

"No," Felix repeats, his voice hushed. "Either both of us get out of here, or neither of us do."

"Felix, Jaz is gone. She..." I feel a lump rising in my throat, "she was supposed to get out with us, but she's gone and there was nothing we could do. There's no point making grand declarations..." I let the sentence fade into silence, not really sure how to finish.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Felix mumbles, head still bent over his knees.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's my fault. If I hadn't shown up to try and help you, impress you, then Jaz wouldn't have made you guys hide and we wouldn't be stuck here, and she'd be alive, and you wouldn't be... wouldn't be..." I wouldn't be dying?

"Yeah, well you did," I snap. "and she isn't, but none of this is your fault. No more than mine or Jaz's, at least. This world is fucked up, and there's nothing we can do about it." He grunts in agreement, the eerie light from the blue freezer displays making his face look pale and gaunt.

"You're right," he breathes. "I just really thought... I don't know. When we made it to the office, even when we managed to get that stupid charger... I hoped, maybe... maybe we wouldn't..." Felix turns his head away and my heart clenches as the blue light illuminates the silver pooling in his eyes.

"Felix," I say gently. "We-"

"I thought our story would be different," he chokes, voice breaking. 

I don't know what to say. It doesn't really occur to me that I should be the one falling apart. That I'm the one facing immanent death, or a life as a murderous zombie nightmare thing.

Everyone deals with the unimaginable in different ways, I suppose. Some of us fall apart, some of us give up, some of us go numb, our minds incapable of comprehending reality. And some of us fight, the little voice in my head whispers. Some of us dig deep enough into that primal part of ourselves screaming at us to survive that we find the strength to fight, even when we think it's impossible.

I don't say anything. I simply scoot over, closing the space between us, and wrap my arms around Felix. I feel his breath hitch, a tear slipping free onto his cheek, and tighten my hold, despite the pain lancing through my body.

Fight it, I think furiously. Fight the pain. Fight the hopelessness. Fight the inevitable for as long as you can.

"We can't change this story. We can't control the way the world is or what the Breakers do, or what's happened so far," I say softly, resting my forehead on his shoulder. "All we can change is what we do next."

The boy in my arms slowly raises his head to look at me, his eyes bright with tears.

"Y-you said it yourself. There's n-nothing we can d-do."