The Last Seventeen: (Book 1) An Apocalypse Story

Chapter 39: Day 8

Chapter 39: Day 8

I rushed at the pathetic contestants with everything I had in me. They wouldn't stand in the way of The Loon. He was the ultimate prize. The blue ribbon. Everything. He wouldn't escape me again. Not again.

When the psychos saw me sprinted, they did the same and soon it was just a mosh pit full of blood stained bodies and the smell of survival. The smell of life and death. It was amazing. My body had been holding me back from all of this. From all of the smells, the sights and the tastes. My body had been shielding me from the true answer, not wanting me to know what the world was really like. You didn't have friends. You have no family or loved ones. It was just you versus everyone else. If you wanted all the pretty sights, the amazing smells, and the flavorful tastes, you needed to fight anyone else who stood in your way. Kill or be killed, that's all this world was and all it'll ever be.

I yelled an animalistic screech and tackled one of the psycho's naked torso. I sank my teeth into it and felt her blood squirt in my awaiting mouth. I couldn't get the whole experience though. I couldn't feel the tasty muscle that usually came along with it because I was pulled away by another psycho. He grabbed me by the ankle and threw me to the ground. I landed square of my back but the pain never came. As long I was a part of the air, nothing could hurt me. He jump onto top of me and drew back his fist. He slammed it into my cheek over and over again, leaving marks each time he hit. All I could was laugh my insane laugh as he hit me. He couldn't defeat me. Never.

When he drew back the next time, I was ready. I caught it with my hand and pushed back against him. He was surprised but he pushed back. I would kill him.

Bang.

The psycho's strength immediately diminished and he fell on top of me. I pushed him off instantly and got to my feet quickly, ready to kill and eat my next attacker. But they never came. They just sat there looking at The Loon who held a revolver with a smoking barrel. Their eyes were filled with terror and respect.

"I said give the child a warm-up. Not beat him to death!" He yelled to the psycho with a bullet in his head. He turned his attention to the rest of them, completely ignoring me and my hunger. "You all were supposed to be killed. Now how hard is that?"

"Master, we thought if we kill him-" Another shot went off and hit the psycho in the chest.

The Loon made a buzzing sound with his voice. "That's incorrect! Who's next?" A huge smile went on his face. All I wanted to do is watch and see who died next. It was fun. "Anyone?" He fired another shot and another psycho fell to the ground with a bullet embedded in his skull. "I want an answer!"

"We are sorry!" The woman I bit yelled out frightened with tears welling up in her eyes. "We just want to make you happy!"

"Oh, you want to make me happy?" The Loon asked as he twirled the revolver on his finger. "That's all you want?" The woman nodded he head as quickly as possible. He walked up to her and held the gun out to her. She flinched horribly and fell to the ground. "Then kill him." There was no smile or laughter. It was all serious. All business. All death.

She took the gun out of his hands and aimed the gun at her comrade. He begged for her not to do it but she was set on pleasing her master. She pulled the trigger and watched the body fall to the ground like a bag of rocks.

"Are you happy?" The woman asked him. "Please be happy, sir." She begged him and let the tears rush out of her eyes.

"No." He back handed her and she rolled across the ground. "Now, put the gun to your own head and pull the trigger." He stared at her with fury.

"But-"

"Do it, now!" He yelled at her.

She turned the gun against her temple and shot. Blood sprayed out of the other side as she collapsed on the ground. Somewhere in my mind, I knew it wasn't right. I knew you shouldn't kill yourself but something else gnawed at me. The fresh dead meat. I lunged at the body and dug my hands into the beautiful insides and pulled out chunk after chunk of meat. I stuck them greedily into my mouth and chewed quickly. I swallowed them just as The Loon approached me. I scrambled backwards, blood still dripping from my mouth, growling like a wild dog.

"Oh, child." He shook his head in disappointment. "You are so far gone that you didn't even grab the gun. You had free chance to end all of this and let your friends escape but you let the gas consume you. Disgraceful." He picked up the gun and laughed. "Another chance to escape and you wasted it!" He laughed manically then stopped when he stepped on one of the psychos' bodies. "Oh, these were good soldiers. Reliable. Caring." He looked at one of the woman on the ground. "Loving." He bent down and stroked her hair with such gentleness. "I wish they didn't have to die."

"You killed them."

"Because I have the control. The control to tell them when to live and when to die. You see, control is what the world runs on, feeds on. If you don't have control, then what do you have? Chaos. You think that the world now is chaos? No. This world, this absolutely beautiful and mysterious world, is control. The world has made it so the air controls our emotions and the lunatics control the people who don't accept the air. The world before us, now that was chaos. People doing whatever they wanted with no one controlling them were the worst kind of chaos, so the world created something different to add control and added people like me to keep the control alive."

My mind was trying to figure out what he was saying. "No," I struggled to say through my pounding head, "You're- you're the chaos."

"How did it feel when you killed all my associates? Riveting? Fantastic? Thrilling? You don't even have to answer me, child, because I can see it in your eyes. It was great. A new feeling you've never experienced. A high you don't want to get off of. That was control. You decided who lived and who died. That is control. So, if you're control then I am control. See? We are both the same. Just in two different bodies. We both love the power of control and the thrill of it. And your little book," He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny journal, "is the record of it all. All the control you have done. All the chaos you have stopped. The steps you have taken to become like me."

He threw the journal at my feet. All I did was stare. It was a relic of a past that was so long ago. A relic that belonged to a different person. To somebody completely different. No. No it wasn't. It was mine. It was mine. Ryan Sizemore. That was me. Not this. Not this person I was now. I picked it up and flipped through the past. I had written it all down. I am not like The Loon. It says that. I am different. He is the reason I'm like this. He was my out. I shoved the journal into my pocket, feeling its inspiration circling through me.

My head started to pound even fiercer. It felt like a drill was going into my skull and mind. I could feel the air slowly leaving me. My body didn't want it to but my mind knew it should. I gripped the side of my head and screamed. The drill was going deeper and deeper. My sight was going dark. No I couldn't go out yet. I had to finish The Loon. The gas was still in my veins, pumping hard to my muscles. I was still strong. I could win.

I let go of my head, still feeling the tough throb in my mind, and stood in a fighting stance.

"You're fighting it? You're fighting it! You're fighting the control! I give you yet another opportunity to escape and you deny it?!" He yelled at the top of his lungs and paced back and forth. "I should end you! Right now! Pull the trigger and just be done with you!" He slammed the gun against his head and thought. A small smile crept onto his face as he looked me dead at me. His left eye twitched as he raised the gun at me. "No. No. Too easy." He let the sights fall off of me and tossed the gun into the middle of both of us. "One shot. One winner. One loser." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a short knife with a black blade. The blade was shiny, never been used. It looked like it could cut through anything. He held the black metal handle of it with a white knuckled gripped. "One dead. One alive. Time to see if you aren't a coward, child."