Better Off Dead

Chapter Eleven: The Best Cause

My attempts at resistance met with the expected amount of success, and that night I was once again riding around in the monster truck hunting for a mad scientist. This whole situation sucked. I reminded myself that it was temporary. And it was for a good cause. The best cause.

Death.

Tonight we would find Dr. Moore and get the serum and soon I would be dead and everything would be okay. Eye on the prize and all that.

We listened to a podcast on grilled cheese sandwiches that are baked instead of grilled. Which doesn't even make sense. Then they're baked cheese sandwiches. I'm no culinary master here, but I understand the difference between the two.

We followed the tracker's directions down a street of cute cottages. We stopped in front of a home that was deceptively charming. But things are never as nice and cozy as you expect them to be.

I mentally steeled myself for going into a house and getting murdered again. It's fine. What do I care? It's not murder if you can't die, right? Such an experience is nothing to me. Nothing. I kept moving forward.

I voluntarily followed Liam to the door like the brave little monster I was. It wasn't that big a deal. Being shot was terrible, but when I really thought about it, what did it matter? As much as I hated it, and it was legit terrible, it was pretty straightforward. Find the serum, get a cure, die. Unpleasant and painful, but it was simple, and it was short. With a deep breath, I walked inside.

No one was waiting there with a gun. Things were... actually kind of okay. The tracker insisted there was something in the house, so I was hopeful it would be the serum. I just had to find it.

Having already searched a house after getting shot, searching a house without getting shot was no big deal. Most of the downstairs was dark, but there was a faint glow from a back room. I was quiet, just in case there was someone with a gun waiting to shoot me after all.

Light from the open door left shadows on the hallway. I didn't take another step. The shapes on the wall brought me down to my knees.

I saw the shadow of feet, dangling in the air, swinging. No, kicking. Kicking in the air. Then there was that sound.

CRACK.

I know what it sounds like when a spine cracks. You'd think it would just blend in with the million other cracking sounds in the world, but trust me. You hear that once, you don't forget it.

The shoes stopped kicking.