The 0714 Files: File #1 Inferno (Remake 2)

Chapter 23

"Oh god," I whisper and sprint over a few feet, aggravating the ache in my rib cage. I wrap an arm around my frame in hopes the pressure will help ease the pain—

I freeze the second my eyes make contact with the middle of the street. A person runs from the flames, stopping to stare back at me. I'm bewildered at the presence of a living person in front of me, and in response my eyes rake over their body in disbelief. Definitely a man based on the height and build. He's wearing a gray jacket, blue button up and white undershirt with pants and white sneakers.

There can't be anyone left, the screams and gunfire of desperate people have been gone for days now.

He steps forward a bit more, having seen me now as well. Despite the danger we're both in with the stirring zombies, I take in the man's face from afar. And take a step back in shock.

The blinding rain makes his features difficult to make out, but from here those short bangs, dirty blond hair and tanned skin remind me of... Grant? Why is his hair different, and his face younger since the last time I saw him? He has a slight babyface now over a hardened one.

My hand finds its way to my mouth at seeing who's stands before me; I take another step back, shaking my head in another bout of insanity. I don't miss when he takes a couple steps towards me. No. It can't be Grant. "N-no," it's clear I'm hallucinating again just when I decided to break free. My hand threads into my hair as I pull at it, shouting, "You... you can't be real. You're not Grant! You died!"

Confusion passes over his face and I shout once more, "You're all dead!"

Died. Ran away. Left me behind to suffer the fate that I deserve for the pain and horror I've caused on some many others.

"Hey, wait!"

I hear Grant shout the words only seconds before his footsteps pound against the asphalt to chase me as I flee from sight. My heart spikes in fear and a shot of adrenaline pierces my system; the pain of my injuries dulls as my body falls into its flight response. Where do I go? What do I do? What will make this thing go away?

"Get away from me!" I scream in fright like that'll make my brain force Grant's image to disappear. At least besides Irons and this one the other's disappeared after I looked away.

They died, or ran. Every last one of them. Yet over and over I've endured mirages of those I befriended and cared for. I've wondered dozens of times in the last day why these illusions continue appearing to me; the thoughts, 'I don't deserve this,' wanting to be screamed aloud. The statement I wouldn't believe to be true though: I do deserve this. In every way. Understanding that all I've done is wrong doesn't change the past.

"Wait. Come back!"

I don't look back, don't stop running like it's from the Devil himself. Afraid that allowing him to get close, allowing myself to believe in the warmth of skin that isn't there will shatter my barely recovered mental state for good this time.

I shield my face from the rain and duck into an alley to the right, the closed gate keeping those things out. I reach the entrance and rush between the grimy walls, turning around to witness how close Grant is. In a panic I slam the gate, locking it in the process to block him out. He crashes into the metal a moment later, rattling it. His eyes are on mine and I falter, tripping over my feet and yelping when I crash into a puddle. "Please let me in!" his voice permeates with an attempt to reason through the alley.

"Patricia! Let me in, Patricia!"

The pleas in Grant's voice drags me back to the other night. To the sounds of John's desperate crying on the other side of the door as he begged for his life. Gripping my skull with a whimper to quiet the sounds of his screams. I stand, abandoning my spot to run—