Life in an Apocalypse

Chapter 23 Finale

Cynthia remained still, letting my words echo in the silence of the room. I finally broke down, silently weeping as I thought about this harsh reality. Cynthia watched in awe as I let my tears flow freely. From the six months tat the two of us were together, she knew that it was a very rare sight to see my cry. I usually kept up the strong and reliable front to so many others. But for Cynthia, she knew that only she could see what I held underneath; a regular teenager like herself struggling with physical and emotional pain just like herself. I struggled to calm myself and continue explaining.
    "My appearance is starting to match them. Same goes with my blood," I went on slowly, my tone attempting to remain steady in vain, "I can constantly feel my consciousness fading away and I don't think I'll be alive for much longer." Cynthia began shaking, trying her hardest to control her sobs. I trembled, leaning my head into her shaking form as I tried to recollect myself to no avail. She finally broke down and hugged me tightly, her cries echoing throughout the room. She stayed with me just like that, eventually falling asleep with me following her shortly after. 
    
    Jack found out about my theory next, looking just as devastated as Cynthia was. He clenched his teeth and his knuckles in frustration. "Why is it that everyone I care about is dying right in front of my eyes?!" he screamed in frustration, punching a hole into one of the walls, "Why do I always end up being so useless in these situations?! Why?! JUST WHY?!" Cynthia just hugged me tightly as she cried. At this point my breathing had become shallow and my vision began to blur more frequently. Eventually, that reduced me to a rasping shell of the person I once was. It was time to deal with my situation. 
    "Guys, we can't let me break out of here," I started to say, "I don't want to turn into one of those monsters. I don't want to turn on this community and onto you two. My reasoning is fading fast, which means only one thing." Cynthia and Jack looked to me with pained expressions. Cynthia shook her head violently.
    "Please Zee! Don't say that!" she cried out. I looked to her in remorse. I knew she wouldn't like it, but I knew it had to be done. I turned to Jack, trying to remain strong despite knowing that I was asking them to kill me. 
    "Jack. Cynthia. One of you needs to end this," I rasped, feeling my consciousness fading once more, "There isn't much time. I won't be the same person you all know very soon."
    "Zee, stop it," Jack said, his voice wavering, "There has to be another way! We can-"
    "Don't turn from reality, Jack!" I shouted, devolving into yet another fit of coughs, and Jack went silent once more. I took in a deep breath and turned to Cynthia. 
    "Cynthia, love, Jack already had to kill his own wife and child after they died," I told her, taking her hands gently. Her hands were warm against my freezing cold ones, to which she let out a tiny gasp from the touch. "Please kill me," I began to plead her, "I know it hurts, but I want you to be the one who does it." Cynthia tried her best to control her sobs, wiping away her tears. She gave me a weak nod and looked to Jack.
    
    "Cynthia, you can't be serious," Jack said to her in disbelief. Cynthia glared at him, and he gulped. He reached for his back pocket and pulled out a 9mm pistol and handed it to Cynthia. She took it, giving him a nod before turning to me. 
    "Zee, honey," she began to speak, her voice hoarse from crying so much over the past few months, "I love you. You know I do. But I..."
    "It's okay," I smiled at her, "Please be strong. I may be gone from this world, but I will always love you no matter what happens to me." She walked over to me, lowering the gun with one hand and using the other to pull my face to her. She kissed me with all that she had, tears flowing as she and I both savored our last kiss. I kissed back with as much strength and passion that I could. My eyes stung as my tears streamed freely. Please forgive me, Cynthia, I mentally apologized to her, I always wanted to live the rest of my life with you; there's so much more that I wanted to do with you but I couldn't. We broke away, panting lightly. I pulled her into a comforting embrace to which she began to tightly grip my vest, sniffling and shaking as she tried to compose herself. Out of nowhere, I got a hint of inspiration, and began to sing a song I composed during my three-month anniversary with Cynthia. It went like this: