You Can't Survive Alone

Part 20

Night
I wake up on cold cement. The gritty stone presses into my cheek, which is rubbed raw. My clothes are torn, and I've somehow gotten quite the collection of cuts, bruises, and scrapes.
What time is it? How long was I out? I wonder. I get up and attempt to dust myself off. This doesn't work very well, as the dirt is practically ingrained in my clothes.
Limping slowly, I collect my sword from its place on the ground. My sheathe is still on my back, but the sword must have fallen out. It's perfectly clean, besides a little dust, but there's evidence of fighting around me. Blood splatters the ground, and I flash back to a scene of fighting.
Woah. What was that? I've never had a flashback like that before. Must be my brain, rebuilding. But if my brain can rebuild, what's to say that the more damaged ones can't?
Walking down the sidewalk now. It's a pretty far walk, and I'm exhausted, dehydrated, starving, and injured. An even longer walk, then.
Nearly two hours later, the sun begins to rise, and the White House is in front of me. I trip up the steps, and hit my chin on the edge of the hard concrete step. I'm so tired, I hardly even feel it. Slowly, I crawl the rest of the way up the steps.
I collapse just inside the doors, and don't remember anything further.

Awake
I sit up quickly, ready to defend myself if attacked. I feel something soft beneath me; my bed. The light is off, but my eyes adjust quickly, showing me the rest of my bedroom in the White House. I'm alone.
My sword is leaning on the bedpost in its sheathe, and I reach over and pull it on. Never hurts to air on the side of caution, even when you believe yourself to be surrounded by friends.
Getting up slowly, gingerly, as to not aggravate my wounds, I make my way to the door. Easing it open, the light in the hallway shining onto my face. Picking my way down the hallway to the kitchen, which has light and aggravated voices coming through the door. As I stand outside, I hear bits and pieces of conversation being tossed around, slightly muffled by the door.
"We need to get him back!"
"He'll be okay."
"We can't abandon him!"
"We are not sending her back there, and that is final!"
I stumble inside, and blink my eyes regretfully at the suddenly bright light. Nick and the others hadn't left without me; they're standing around the kitchen table, hands curled into fists. Only one person was missing.
"Ash. Thank God you're awake, you need to hear what's happening. You only got back this morning, and I expect you're tired-"
"Where's Zack?" I interrupt Nick.
"We don't know."
"How, exactly, do you not know? Did he just wander off in the middle of the night by himself?"
"We don't know where he is, but we know who he's with."
"Ethan," says Jess. "It's the only possible solution."
"So? What happened?" I ask.
"Last night, we all went to bed normally. This morning, we wake up, and come to the kitchen, but Zack isn't here. We go into his room, and instead of finding him, we find this." He hands me a note, slightly crumpled from being passed around the room and read so many times.
I read it quietly to myself.
"Hello.
"You're all probably wondering where your friend Zack has gone to. Well, I'll tell you- he's come with me, as assurance that I'll get the one I want. Send Ashley to me by tomorrow at sunset, or you'll never see your friend again. I'll know of any plans you make, and you won't get Zack if you attempt an attack. Your only way of getting him back is to give me Ashley.
"With great sincerity, your friend."
The note is suddenly crumpled in a ball, and I stand quivering on the floor.
"No."
"Ash-"
"No! We need him back. I'll go, what's the worst he can do to me?"
"Ashley, you can't go. We can't just give him what he wants! We need to fight back!" Nick says.
My voice shaking, I say, "Nick. If we fight back, you do realize what he's threatening, right? He wants t-to kill Zack."
"He'll do that or worse to you if you go."
"If I may," Jess interjects, "I'd like to point something out. It's obvious that Ethan knows what has happened to Ash, and wants to figure out why and how it happened. If he discovers this, he could make more people like her, and send them to unsuspecting groups."
"I'm just a bomb waiting to go off, guys. I've already attacked one of us, and we can't let that happen again! This is the only logical course!" I yell over Jess.
"My point is, if he figures this out, there will be more than just one of you, Ash. He'll send other people to groups, some who might not even know what he's done to them, and they could attack others. You can't go; if you go, it might end up with more loss of life, and I can't let you do that."
"She's right, Ash. We aren't discussing whether to send you or not; we're planning an attack."
"He'll kill him," I say miserably.
"Zack will not be killed, I swear it." Nick sounds sincere.
"If he dies, his blood is on your hands," I say as I turn and stomp out of the room.
As I run down the hallway, I don't think about my cuts or bruises, and tear open at least a few scabs. I slam my bedroom door and curl up on my bed, and the tears roll down my face in waves.
An almost physical fist slams into the center of my chest, hammering away at my ribcage and the beating heart that lies beneath.
The last thing I remember thinking before I fall asleep is, I don't know how much more of this I can take.

A short time later
I wake to the sound of my door opening. I have no clue who's there, and so I pretend to still be asleep.
"Ashley?" A soft voice calls my real name. It's Aaron. "We have a plan."
I can't stop myself from talking. "You're going to kill him."
"We're going to do everything we can to stop him from dying."
"All of this is my fault."
"How could it possibly be your fault? There's no way you can actually think that-"
"First, I failed to kill Ethan when I had the chance. I let him into the group! And then, if I hadn't gone completely psycho right before we were scheduled to leave, he would still be with us, and we would be God knows where."
He sits for a few moments, thinking. "I don't think you can blame yourself for those things. We didn't know who Ethan was; there was no way we could've prevented you from being bit. Everyone feels like they should have done more; everyone feels that they could've stopped this from happening."
All of a sudden, I'm crying again. "It isn't fair. Why did this have to happen to us?" I say softly. "Why us?"
"I don't know. There is one thing I do know though: we're going to get him back. No matter what, we will not leave him behind." He moves up and sits next to me on the bed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders for comfort.
I lean into the warmth, even though I don't like him that way. He doesn't like me that way either; this was simply for the comfort of having another human being near you.
"Don't cry," he begs. "I never know what to do when people cry."
"Trust me, if I could stop myself, I wouldn't be crying right now," I say with a little laugh.
"Laughing is better than crying."
"Yeah." We sit the rest of the time in silence, until the tears dry up from my cheeks and he gets up and leaves the room.
Slowly I get up, stretch, and wander out from the room as well. The voices in the kitchen are still talking; I walk toward them. Dried blood sticks my clothes to my skin, and I ache to have a shower. I'll need to get one after I hear this so-called "plan".
Walking inside, I sit at the table with the others, and they begin to tell me the plan. They say that as long as I'm okay with it, they'll go ahead and start the plan immediately. I'm fine with it, so I nod my head. Sighs can be heard around the room as I accept what I might be doing could lower Zack's chances of survival. Looks like I won't be getting that shower after all.