Zombie survivor

[102] A final good bye

The next morning was somber, the air thick with the unspoken grief that weighed on the group. The outskirts of West Kelowna were quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees. At the edge of the town, just beyond the last of the makeshift barricades, a small patch of dirt had been cleared. The squad gathered around a crude tombstone fashioned from a piece of concrete, Trev's name etched into its surface with a rusty nail.

"Trevor Wainwright. The hero we don't deserve."

The words were simple but heartfelt. Jean stood at the front of the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stared at the tombstone. His back still ached from the slash he'd taken the day before, but the pain felt distant compared to the hollow ache in his chest.

One by one, the group began to speak.

Brad stepped forward first, his usual cocky demeanor subdued. He shifted uncomfortably, the weight of the moment clearly making him uneasy. "I didn't really know you, man," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "You were... different. Like, really different. But you came through when it mattered. You saved our asses, and I can respect that." He paused, his jaw tightening. "Rest easy, dude."

Brad stepped back, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the ground.

Jordan was next, his usual jokes and bravado nowhere to be found. He shuffled forward, his crowbar hanging loosely in his hand. "Man... I gave you so much shit," he started, his voice cracking. "I called you a basement-dweller and made fun of your weird hentai thing, and... fuck, I wish I hadn't." He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, his eyes red. "You were braver than me, braver than all of us. I hope you're... I don't know, watching anime in heaven or some shit. Sorry, man."

He stepped back quickly, his head bowed.

Chloe was silent for a moment before speaking, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You annoyed the hell out of me, Trev," she said bluntly, her voice wavering. "You were awkward, creepy sometimes, and... just not my type of person." She sniffled, wiping at her eyes angrily. "But what you did... that was brave. And selfless. I didn't think you had it in you. I was wrong. I'm sorry for that."

Her shoulders shook slightly as she stepped back, her face turned away from the group.

Brittany dabbed at her smeared makeup with a tissue, her hands trembling. "You didn't have to do that," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You could've run with us. You could've lived. But you didn't." She let out a shaky breath. "I don't know if I'll ever hit 100 million subs, but... I'll make sure everyone knows about you. You deserve to be remembered."

She stepped back, clutching her tissue tightly.

Blake adjusted his glasses, his expression somber. "Trev, you and I didn't always see eye to eye," he began, his voice measured. "Your jokes about women and... other things made me uncomfortable. But in the end, you proved me wrong about you." He took a deep breath. "You were more than what you showed on the surface. I'll honor your memory by making sure people know the depth of your sacrifice."

He nodded solemnly, stepping back into the group.

Tyler, unusually subdued, rubbed his hands together nervously. "Yo, Trev... uh, I don't really know what to say, man," he muttered, his usual meme-laden speech absent. "You went out like a total badass. Like, for real. I didn't think you had it in you, but you proved all of us wrong. Respect." He gave the tombstone a small nod. "Stay chill, bro."

He shuffled back, his head bowed.

Evan was trembling as he stepped forward, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I was a dick to you," he said, his voice shaking. "I laughed at you, made jokes at your expense... and you still saved us. Saved me. I don't... I don't know how to thank you for that." Tears streamed down his face, and he wiped at them furiously. "You didn't deserve to go like that. None of us deserved you."

He stepped back, his head hung low.

Akira stood silently for a long moment before speaking, her knives sheathed at her sides. "You were awkward and weird, and I didn't always understand you," she admitted, her voice soft. "But you saved Jean. You saved all of us. That makes you a hero in my book." She placed a small charm—a tiny carved figure—on the tombstone. "Thank you, Trev."

She stepped back, her hand brushing against Jean's as she returned to the group.

Garrett crossed his arms, his face stoic as always. "You were annoying as hell, kid," he said gruffly. "Always fumbling, always asking questions. But you had guts when it counted. More guts than most people I've met." He glanced at the tombstone, his jaw tight. "You earned your place, Trev. Rest easy."

He stepped back, his boots crunching on the dirt.

Ms. Heather was openly sobbing as she approached the tombstone, her hands clutching a small bouquet of wildflowers. "Trevor," she said, her voice breaking, "you were one of the sweetest, most misunderstood students I've ever had. You were so full of potential, and I wish I'd told you that more. I'm so proud of you, Trevor. So proud." She placed the flowers at the base of the tombstone, her tears falling onto the petals.

Finally, Morgan stepped forward, her face unreadable. She lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling slowly. "You annoyed the shit out of me," she said flatly, but there was no malice in her tone. "You were soft, weak, always hiding behind that damn computer. But you proved me wrong, kid." Her hand trembled as she flicked the ash from her cigarette. "You proved me so fucking wrong."

She stared at the tombstone for a long moment before crushing the cigarette under her boot and stepping back.

Jean was the last to speak. He stood in front of the tombstone, his injured back making it hard to stay upright, but he forced himself to stand tall. "Trev," he began, his voice steady but low. "You were... a mess, honestly. But you were our mess. You were one of us. And what you did..." He swallowed hard, his throat tight. "What you did took more courage than I think any of us had. You saved us, and I don't know how we'll ever repay you for that."

He placed a hand on the tombstone, his fingers tracing the etched name. "Thank you," he said simply. "For everything."

Q: How would you want to be remember by people?