"Hey, you remember what I said last year, right? We're Zombie Boy and Ghost Boy. I'm not ever gonna leave you."
"Promise?"
"One hundred percent."
***
In which Alistair fights the monster that possessed his friend alongside his friends, while trying...
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Chapter Thirty-Six: Le Morte d'Alistair
(The Battle Of Starcourt, Pt. 7)
***
Shock.
That was the only thing Alistair could feel, aside from the blinding, indescribable pain radiating from his chest and flooding every part of his body, as he was held suspended by the tentacle impaled through his chest. He coughed, choking on blood—blood dribbling down his mouth, blood filling his lungs, and oh God it hurt so much, it hurt worse than all the death he felt before, even worse than the Flayed dying.
Death, real death, hurt a thousand times worse.
The tentacle remained in his chest a second longer before it was pulled out, the Mind Flayer refocusing on Billy Hargrove instead. Blood gushed out of the wound as Alistair collapsed to the ground, pooling underneath him, a steadily growing lake of scarlet as he choked on it, drowning his lungs, dribbling from his mouth. His ears were ringing and darkness edged his vision as his lungs spasmed, trying to keep him breathing as the fiery pain kept flooding through him, scouring every inch of his body, but none so painful as the agony pulsing from the hole in his chest, and his heart—
Alistair couldn't feel his heartbeat.
Alistair wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come, choked by the blood still pouring out of him, staining his chin and shirt red, so much blood that he wondered how it could have stayed in his body until now. He'd survived so much and now this was the end, he didn't want to die, he just wanted a normal summer with his friends and family, he wanted to kiss Will again and see where this new thing between them would go, he wanted to live a life with all the people he cared about without worrying about monsters and the Upside Down, oh God, he was so scared, he didn't want to die!
Distantly, he heard someone scream as the world flared blue-white—Rowan—as his vision grew darker and darker, as he heard beyond the drone in his ears Billy yelling and the Mind Flayer roaring before he heard Max scream, "BILLY!"
And the world blazed with blue-white lightning, bright enough to see even with the dark creeping in, as the fiery pain now turned frozen, every part of Alistair growing cold and he now realised this was what his nightmares had been about—he'd been dreaming of his death the whole time.
He'd been doomed from the very start.
Again, he wanted to cry, but he couldn't.
The cold and dark crept in, drowning him, and Alistair wanted to fight, he wanted to live, but he couldn't live if he was destined to die, and maybe he always was, the boy who saw ghosts and raised the dead and could seperate his consciousness from his body was always doomed to die, and God Alistair wanted to cry so much, and all he could think about was the people he was leaving behind, think about Rowan, his aunt—they wouldn't reunite—his Party, Cami—I'm sorry, Cami, I'm sorry that I broke my promise—El—is she safe, please let me know she is safe, that I kept her safe—and Will.
Will, who he just confessed his feelings to. Will, who he kissed. Will, who Alistair thought he had more than a couple of hours of life left to spend with him.
A pained roar came and Alistair felt the floor rumble, saw through his darkening vision—he couldn't turn his head, it felt too heavy, death petrifying him as his lungs weakly fought to keep him breathing, he still couldn't feel his heartbeat, the only thing warm was the blood underneath him—the Mind Flayer fall, and not rise again.
It was dead.
They did it. The gate was closed. The Mind Flayer was dead, and it wouldn't harm El again.
He saved her.
Alistair tried to smile, but he couldn't as his lungs finally stopped trying to breathe, as he stopped hearing the world, stopped feeling, the cold stealing it away as only pinpricks remained in his vision, the dark creeping in, barely seeing his sister, her face, as she appeared beside him.
I'm sorry, he thought, to everyone that he loved and who loved him.
