Run. (Team Crafted Fanfiction)

Chapter 22- Why!

Mitch's POV

My head lays in their lap, and I can feel them dabbing at the long cut on my arm. My eyes have been closed for a while now, out of sheer exhaustion. A stinging pain tells me they've started using alcohol on it. Probably good, considering that's where I think I'm being infected from. A cloth is wrapped around it, and they sigh.

"I thought I told you to run , Olivia." I mutter.

"And leave you to die? You saved my life!"

My throat hurts from all the screaming. I can barely speak above a whisper. "Still. We both could've died. But thank you."

"Your welcome. It was your tactics that saved you anyway. I blended in with all the zombies. I got near enough to see what you were doing."

A disturbing chill settles through my body. She saw me nearly commit suicide. She watched as I lost control.

"But then I was able to make it into the truck when you started having a seizure. None of the zombies noticed me."

She thought it was a seizure. Thank God. 

"Where'd you learn to drive?"

"Right here, right now. I learn fast."

I smile slightly and open my eyes. I roll off of her lap and lay face down for a moment.

"You might want to get back in the truck. I'm going to start heaving again." I mutter into the bed of the truck. 

She shrugs. "I'll deal with it."

Sure enough, my stomach contracts and I throw up over the side of the truck again. I lay back down after, but get up again to keep throwing up whatever I still have in my stomach. I carry this on through the night until I'm left dry heaving. I then roll back over and sit next to Olivia.

"That was disgusting."

"I warned you."

"Still. Where does zombie professor Mitch say all the puke comes from?"

I think for a little bit, then respond. "Spores. I think spores can make us sick."

"How are we not sick all the time?"

I shrug. "We normally keep our shirts over our mouths and noses. And I think it might take a lot of them to do it."

"Oh."

I look over my shoulder, into the truck of the cab. "This thing have any gas left?"

She nods, and I weakly straggle out of the bed. I jump over the side, and when my feet hit the pavement I say for a moment. Regaining my balance, I climb into the truck and start it.

How did I not notice these keys were in here before? Oh yes, I was dying.

The truck lurches down the highway and we're off, only occasionally coming across a stray zombie. I hope there's no more groups of survivors out here. If there are, Olivia should really be inside. I lean back and rap on the back window, and Olivia slides it open.

"What?" she whispers.

"Do you wanna come inside? Its getting dark out."

"Ok." She slides open the window all the way and forces her frame through it. Toppling through, she kicks me in the face.

"I could've stopped, you know."

She grins. "But that was more fun!"

I chuckle lazily and fix my eyes on the road. It feels good to be driving again. Not as exposed.

Olivia drifts off after a while, curled up in her seat. I stop only once to get sick. There are rarely zombies out here. It's peaceful.

"Mitch, who's that?" Olivia's quiet voice startles me. I squint out into the darkness.

"Oh crap, crap! Olivia, get down in your seat and stay there, no matter what."

Frightened, she gets down onto the floor and curls up. "Mitch," she breathes, "who are those people?"

"My worst nightmare. You might wanna cover your ears, because you don't want to hear this."

Up ahead, a group of about 30 to 40 people have spread out across the road. Several have bloody marks visible on them. Stopping about twenty feet away from them, I roll down my window.

"Please! Help us! Take us with you!"

Not this again. "No!" I yell. "I can't!"

"Then give us supplies, so we may live!"

Olivia looks at me, fear showing in her eyes.

"I don't have any! I'm trying to get away from all the zombies!"

"Please! Let at least one of us ride in your passenger seat!"

I stumble for words, staring at Olivia. She's removed her hands for her ears. "We have to help them."

"I'm sorry, but we can't." Leaning my head out the window, I yell, "Move or I'll plow right through you!"

"Please sir! We just need help!"

Olivia sits in her seat now, digging her fingernails into my arm. "Mitch, please! We can't leave them here!

I look down at her sadly. "Don't look."

Jamming my foot down on the gas, we take off down the road straight at the people. Olivia screams and starts beating at my arm, but I push her down into her seat. The survivors stand in front of us looking shocked, but tumble away at the last second.

I continue to shoot down the road, leaving their screams of rage behind us. The only scream that stays is Olivia's, as she continues to howl and beat at my chest. "Mitch! How could you do that! Why!"

Gritting my teeth, I slam the break. "I've dealt with those people before! I nearly became one! They will all turn into zombies no matter what we do!"

She gasps. "They're all infected? Every one of them?"

I sigh. "Yes. They get bitten, and their groups throw them out to die. Then they form little huddles on the sides of roads, and attack everybody who comes their way.

She lapses into silence at this, so I start driving again. We pass several more zombies, but they don't catch up with us.

"If I were bitten, would you throw me out?"

Without taking my eyes off the road, I respond. "No. I get the feeling you'd rather die then turn."