The Damage Has Been Done (Markiplier)

Chapter 11: Chicago Bound

(A/N. Hey all. It was pointed out to me that the last chapter seemed to be a bit rushed at the end. That was completely correct. It was midnight... I think... And I was super tired and wanted to get to sleep. But, on the other hand, I wanted to upload another chapter, so I probably rushed it a bit there at the end. Sorry about that, everyone! I'll make it up to you this time! This part will be quite long, just for you guys! Thanks for dealing with my insanity! You all are super awesome! ~Melynda! Aka Luxor.)

Wade's POV.

I woke up in the morning to feel the cold air blowing in through the window of the hotel. That reminded me of how Mark, Bob and I were almost shot yesterday by some 'rooftop prowler' across the street. Mark, though, he's not so okay anymore. He's quite possibly infected... It confuses everyone as to how or when in the scuffle with the infected Mark got scratched. But, obviously, he had. Now just about everyone thinks it's a matter of time before we have to kill him. I hated the thought. More than anything I've ever hated in my entire life. Tom was a wrecked and disheveled man, just trying to spare his little brother's life as best he could. I wish none of this had to be the way it was. I wanted this all to be over and done with. With Mark hurt, Chicago has to wait another few days before we can even begin our 'adventure' out of state.

I got up and checked on Molly's wound first. She was sound asleep and it was just past 5:30 in the morning. I lifted up her left arm as carefully as possible and lifted the bandage to see what kind of damage was still to be seen. The bite didn't look bad, though it had only gone barely under the skin. No major blood shed, not that I saw anyway. It looked pretty painful to see her like that. Molly always claimed to be fine and that the wound hadn't hurt any, but it looked like there was more to it. Not a lot more, but something. I stood and looked around at all the survivors we had rounded up who were sound asleep and buried under a mountain of blanket to keep warm. Not my fault the cold was being let in through that broken window... That was all Devin. Trying to shoot us and all.

One last look around the room, I felt something was off. Very off. I tried to shake the feeling but it was pestering me. I walked around the corner where Mark and Tom would be, and there was only Tom and heap of blankets. Where was Mark? I walked over and yanked the blankets off the ground, hoping he had just been hiding under them. He wasn't. He was gone. His bag was gone, his crowbar was gone, he was gone. I walked back out into the main part of the room to see if he was there, somewhere I didn't see before, and he wasn't. I looked like a chicken with my head cut off trying to look for him. I looked out the window, down on the street and didn't see a single trace of him anywhere. Just an empty, quiet, abandoned road.

"Tom! Tom, get up! Dude!" I shook Tom awake and yelled to get his attention. He jolted awake, sitting up and looking at me.

"Wade, what's going on? What's your problem?" Tom asked, half asleep.

"Where's Mark?"

"What? He was right here!" That woke him up real quick. He sat up straight and looked around. "Where's my phone?"

(A/N. Song on the right! 'By Myself' by Linkin Park! Play it now!)

I handed Tom his phone and he unlocked it, only to be greeted with a video, by the missing man himself. Tom sighed, pained and nervous. I moved to sit beside him and he started the video. Mark's face was there, pale looking, his brown eyes missing the contagious happy expression they gave off. Mark looked to his left and back to the phone, sighing and opening his mouth to speak.

"Hey Tom," he started off. "If you're watching this, you obviously noticed I'm not snoozing next you right now. So you took out your phone to call me." He let out a half hearted chuckle to himself. "Not that hard to predict, are you? I-I bet you want to know where I am, don't you? Being my protective big brother and all... Well," He pointed the phone to his wrapped arm. "because of this damn thing forcing you to become an overly protective brother and not wanting to go to Chicago," Mark turned the phone back to himself. "I'm going on my own. I know, Chicago, all by my lonesome. You shouldn't be worried about me, though Tom. I'll be okay. You can try calling, yeah. But I'm not answering. Also, since you're obviously going to drag everyone out to come looking for me, let me make it a slight bit easier for you. Right now, it's 4:17 in the morning. I'll have been walking for a few hours by the time you see this. I'll be taking the most direct route to Chicago. That's what you can use to find me. Good luck with it. I know you think this is crazy of me, but really, it isn't. You always told me to go after what I thought would support the greater good. So, I am. Finding the this doctor Veltache, that'll help the entire world. I can help stop this infection from spreading. I know I said I'll be okay, but you don't believe me. I have proof. I took some of the guns and blunt weapons with me in my bag. I have extra ammo with me. Don't worry Thomas Fischbach. Markiplier is gonna help the world. One correct pill at a time."