Dead Rising: The Run Aways

Chapter Seven

                        Without thinking, I storm out of the tent, and head straight towards the small little river where Grace decided to sneak off to last time.

            The camp isn’t packed up, she has to be here. She has to.

            I hold the tears back as I quickly see she isn’t there either.

            Mitch comes running up beside me; his face is shocked and confused.

            I get weak and I just let the tears start streaming down my face, and this horrible croak escapes my mouth as I shrivel down to the ground and hold onto my knees.

            Mitch stands there awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then, he just sinks down beside me. His hand starts to come towards my shoulder, but he just holds it still right above it, letting it dangle there for a moment, until finally setting it down. When he does, my body seems to jerk from the touch, but still he holds it there, trying to provide some comfort.

            By this time, my whole face is red, snot is oozing out of my nose, and my entire body is trembling.

            “I knew it!” I say. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone!” I shout through cries as I punch my knee as hard as I can, ignoring the sharp pain. “But she wanted to stay and I let her! I let her Mitch!”

            His eyes grow big, and I know he feels helpless. I feel helpless. This whole situation is helpless. But, it could have been avoided. It’s all my fault.

            Mitch takes a bit of his t-shirt, wipes my eyes first, then my running nose.

            “That’s what I call sexy.” He shoots a crooked grin, and I can’t help but to let a out a weak laugh.

            “At least I got you to laugh.” He says, still smiling and wiping my nose.

            With a ball of his shirt still in his hand, he traces his thumb around my forehead, my cheek, and down to my jaw. Then, he suddenly gets up and starts an awkward looking half-jog back towards camp.

            I debate whether to get up and follow, but I decide on staying put and trying to let out the few tears I had left. I’m pretty sure I’ll end up dehydrated.

            A couple minutes later, Mitch returns with both his backpack and my bag. He lets out a hand to me. I let out one last sniffle and take his hand. He pulls me up with ease.

            “Let’s go.” He says, handing me my bag as he begins to walk towards the south, the opposite way of camp.

            I stand still.

“Where are we going?”

“To find our family and save the world.” he shouts, almost out of my sight.

I sling the bag over my shoulder, look back, and start pacing behind him.

            “I hope you’re joking.”

            * * *

            “So what the hell is going through your mind, because I have no idea! Save the world? There is no hero here Mitch!” I shout while waving my arms around and almost tripping over a rock.

            He sighs.

            “We have to at least try! You don’t want to walk around here wondering what happened to your sister do you? Knowing she’s gone and not having the will power to do anything about it because you’d be too busy wallowing in your own self pity? Not only that but also trying to survive day by day, running, and avoiding the unavoidable? Eventually either the CDC is going to get us, or that illness, and I don’t know about you, but I want to know I at least went down trying!” Mitch practically shouts.

            I walk a bit faster until I’m right beside him, taking the same steps as him.

            “Wallowing in self pity? I believe I have the right to do that! I just lost my sister! At least I actually show my emotions instead of holding them in and turning them into anger, because that’s what you’re doing right now! You’re taking all that built up anger and throwing it at me. It may be my fault my sister is missing, but it’s your fault both your father and little brother are dead!”

            I instantly regret saying that, because what comes next scared the hell out of me.

            He hit me.

            Right across the face.

            It wasn’t hard, and it didn’t hurt, but that may be because I have a high tolerance for pain. But from what I saw, he held back a lot of power.

            As he pulls his hand away, his face looks slim, and his mouth forms a small ‘o’.

            “Oh god, Dylan. Dy- I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to-“

            I cut him off, saving his excuses.

            “I deserved it.” I say bluntly. “I went to far. I’m sorry. I’m just pissed at myself for what I did. You didn’t deserve that and I’m really sorry.”

            Mitch puts his hand to the newly formed red mark on my left cheek, and says, “No one deserves what I just did to you."