Gory Glory // l.t au

23 - Louis

Louis

Heaving Leila into my arms, I hurried as fast as my legs would allow towards the building ahead. It was smaller and far less spectacular than I had anticipated. It almost looked like an average-sized warehouse – certainly nothing I would have previously deemed worthy of my attention.

I hugged the girl in my arms tighter against my chest as I reached the door. Without hesitation, I swung the door open and prayed a swarm of Breathers wouldn't leap out of nowhere and attack us. But luck seemed to be on our side today; the building was void of any signs of life. Instead, barrels upon barrels filled the room, containing what I assumed to be the antidote.

My feet tapping on the concrete floor caused an eerie echo to resonate from beneath my soles as I further infiltrated the room. I gently lowered Leila to the ground and leaned her unconscious body against the wall. A miniscule click seized my attention and I cringed when discovering one of Leila's nails had detached from her finger and clacked to the floor. I had to work fast, her body was breaking down. Delicately pecking her forehead, I proceeded to hurry to an enormous metal file cabinet almost as tall as me. I desperately ripped open each drawer, slamming them shut again when realising all they contained was useless paperwork. I needed a syringe, goddammit!

Tugging at my dark hair in frustration, I hurried to a desk to search around that. But as I got closer, I realised an old fax machine sat atop it along with stacks of paper and a pen. I racked my brain for the coordinates Leila had told me earlier. Eyes squinted shut, I repeatedly smacked my forehead with the side of my balled-up fist.

"Come on, come on..." I urged myself to remember, squeezing out the letters and numbers like juice from a lemon. There were so many numbers and my memory was subpar as it was. Didn't Leila write them down somewhere? Surely she must have, there's no way she could have remembered them all off by heart.

I wasted no time in racing out of the building and back to the Jeep, furiously searching through all her belongings. I halted my movements when I came across a small notebook stuffed at the bottom of one of her duffle bags. Considering it might be a diary, I hesitated before opening it. There could be some personal secrets in here. Opening the cover to the first page, I felt guilty for the disappointment that consumed me when I discovered it was not private at all. All it contained was loose schedules for when we were to visit the city for supplies and what we were running low on that week. I scanned through the book until, to my absolute relief, the coordinates sat neatly on the last page in large, bold handwriting. The page is ripped out before I hurry back into the warehouse and to the fax machine. Turning it on, I drop the paper into the machine and send it off to a mass of scientists across the world. Hopefully they're still alive to receive it and travel to the coordinates assigned to spread the antidote worldwide.

I'd done my part anyway, it was up to them now. I continued with my search for a syringe, running to another filing cabinet. The first drawer was empty, the second contained nothing but empty plastic folders. My eyes widened and a grin practically split my face apart when I opened the third drawer to be met with piles upon piles of clean syringes. Grabbing one, I hurried to one of the barrels and climbed up some wooden blocks glued to the side used as substitute steps. Reaching the top, I ripped the lid off and let it drop to the floor with a hollow clatter. A brown, murky liquid was filled to the brim – it almost resembled diluted coffee. I dipped the tip of the needle into the liquid and slowly let it fill the syringe. Jumping down from the barrel, I hurried to Leila, who still remained on the floor, leaning against the wall.

"It's okay, Leila," my voice was soft as I tried to contain my bubbling excitement, "I told you you were gonna be okay, didn't I? I told you I wasn't gonna let you turn." I tentatively lifted her bitten arm and pierced the needle gently through the skin of her wound, allowing the antidote to seep through her rotting flesh and into her bloodstream. I watched on in anticipation, waiting for her eyes to open, for their dead absence to be replaced with the life they once possessed. I watched, I waited.

Nothing happened.

Thoughts began to grow and grow, multiply until they accumulated to a hurricane of words, circling and engulfing me with doubt.

What if it was too late?

What if she's already gone?

What if she's turning right this second?

What if the antidote doesn't even work and this entire journey was for nothing?

What if her getting bitten was for nothing?

What if Leila Grey's death was for nothing?

My hands thrashed wildly around me as if my thoughts were physical and I was swatting them all away. I was overthinking everything, it probably just takes time to actually take effect. I needed to be patient and wait it out. My feet collapsed from under me as I slid down the wall and sat next to Leila, shoulder to shoulder. A deep sigh escaped my mouth as I finally relaxed and properly observed my surroundings for the first time since I had entered the building.

It was only then that I noticed a pair of legs on the ground, sticking out from behind the filing cabinet I had first approached. Eyes remaining fixated on the legs, I stood up and gradually neared them with a pounding heart. Please don't be a Breather, dear God. Holding in my breath, I peered around the cabinet and gasped at the scene before me. A man was lying on his back, hand secured to the cabinet by a cable tie. He was dead, with a bullet wound through his skull and a pool of blood surrounding his head. A gun was placed in the open palm of his free hand. It appeared as if he had just started to turn, the bite wound on his neck further proved this. It was clear he had committed suicide before he turned into a Breather. But none of this was what shocked me – I had seen far worse in the last few months. What shocked me was that this man was Leila's dad.