Determinant Choices

Eyes • 4

I dragged the soles of my feet through the dusty, barren soil as we trudged ahead of the village we recuperated in the night before. It was a sweltering hot day, the sun's rays were undeniably as concentrated as Dexter's gaze, still fixed upon me. He had not uttered a word since, probably unable to string together a coherent sentence that would make the situation itself correspond to his last memory of me... it was all a blur in my own head. The last expression I had seen on my brothers' face was fear, an unnerving type of fear. Like a fire had lit inside him and his hopelessness one moment suddenly turned into this unstoppable drive of kill or be killed. Of course, I wasn't around at the time to see what happened after that, and I didn't have the courage to go through all of that again by asking him. Another emotion I sensed from him was plain and simple anger. I suppose it was just typical him, I used to give him the nickname "Vexed Dex", after all.

While it was just after dawn, it meant that the zombies resided in shady places to store their energy as the light drains them during the daytime. This was previously unknown to us until an unfortunate run in with the extra volatile zombies at night we thought were completely lifeless during the day, resulting in the death of my good friend Heather. She was the only one I had teamed up with in those whole 14 months apart from Dexter, and we were pretty close- I told her everything. Including what I knew about the zombies. 

--

"Aries, you have to go, now."

"What? What do you mean, why are you doing here?"

"Please, trust me and take heed of my words: 'The most dangerous people are those who having nothing to lose.'"

"Heather, I-"

"Ari, everything in this fucked up world has a hidden meaning. Don't you get that?"

--

I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. I felt my heart thumping in my chest. What the hell was that? Heather had come to me in a dream, warning me about something. I suddenly feel very wary, listening to the breaths of both Hawk and Dex, watching ever so carefully of any movement around us. I observe the peaceful sleeping of the pair, their chests slowly rising and falling with every intake of air, so oddly... calming.

But what was Heather trying to say? I felt slightly overwhelmed to think that somewhere in this 'fucked up world' as she put it, she's out there and trying to reach me. To save me, when I couldn't save her. And in that moment, I felt so much that I started to feel nothing.

--

I awoke to sunlight seeping through the cracks in the boarded up window in the suburban house we took refuge in for the night. I yawned, still tired after probably the most sleep I've gotten in the past couple months. I heard the two boys shift and rustle in their own beds in the other room, meaning they had just waken up also. But, they were right next to me a second ago... I watched them sleep... Confused, I dragged myself up off the floor reluctantly and reached for my bag to retrieve the portable stove. I turned around to grab the tin cans I was going to prepare for breakfast when I noticed a dark figure standing in the doorway. Confused, I stepped closer and Dexter came forth from the shadows.

"How dramatic." I smirked, rolling my eyes.

He leaned against the door frame, still looking at me. Odd, I thought.

I ignored him and continued on with my preparations for breakfast.

"Hey, Dexter, do you think you could pass me that knife on the bedside table please? I need to cut open the tin cans..." I trailed off.

I turned around to receive the knife off of him and I was greeted by him, knife in hand, pointing it directly at me. His eyes were unusually glossy, and... brown?  I swiftly took the knife off of him before anything escalated, which could have happened, given his actions.

"Thanks..." I said, with a tinge of caution in my voice.

What the fuck?

...His eyes were always a distinct emerald colour, that shone off of any reflecting surface, it was like they were beautifully crafted by a deity, and the same colour as mine...

I was thinking too hard about it and failed to ignore the cans were damp, and as a result the knife slipped and sliced the side of my left hand. I cried out in pain, dropping both objects and clutching my injured hand. Dexter slowly approached me, and with a feeling of fear rising in me, I stood there frozen in shock. He gently grasped my hand and opened my balled fist protecting my fresh wound.

"I-I think we need bandages, and alcohol... lots and lots of it..." I panicked.

He looked me in the eyes again, with his own damned brown ones. I panicked more but stayed mute. He put his right hand upon the wound and closed his eyes. I felt a slightly uncomfortable but painless burning sensation, and glanced quickly at my hand and noticed that it was... cauterized.

I searched his open and empty hands for an answer. He smirked. Surely he had a hot knife or something...

"Don't tell anyone," he whispered, eerily smiling.

What the hell had become of my brother? 

"You guys! I heard all the commotion, what's going on?" interrupted Hawk, bursting in the room bravely, armed with a spiked baseball bat. 

I gulped and looked at the fresh burn wound on my hand and quickly shoved it in my pocket to avoid further suspicion.

"Nothing, Hawk," I began, feigning a small laugh, albeit nervously. "I just dropped the food and the knife because I burned myself on the stove."

He looked at the wound, then at my backpack with the stove still in it, clearly unused. I saw the confused and concerned look on his face.

"Right..." he answered, unsure. "We should get going soon, we still have to look for supplies around."

I nodded in agreement, as did Dexter. I stared at him, wondering what in the world was going on. Surely it must be a bad dream and I had not awoken yet. I then noticed a flicker in his eyes as he closed them and slowly opened them again. They were... green. Clear as day, they were once again green.

Is this person even my brother?