The Apocalypse of Plants

Tally

The moment I walk through the fog, I feel lost. Scout whimpers and I feel like curling up into a ball and just never moving again.

I take a deep breath and count to ten in my head. Then I put one foot in front of the other and start walking.

"Tally?" My blood runs cold. I'd know that voice anywhere. But it can't be. "And Scout. Of course. You would never go anywhere without that dog."

I spin around. It's Sawyer. But this is impossible. He's dead. I squeeze my nails into my palms to see if this is a dream. The sharp pain tells me that I'm awake and this is actually happening.

"We got Scout after you died. How do you know about her?" I ask. I fight to keep my voice from wobbling and set her on the ground.

He just smiles. "I bet you wonder why I did it." My breath hitches. Am I finally going to know why he drove his car over the bridge?

"Every day," I rasp honestly. "I see it almost every night. I'm there in the back seat. How could you, Sawyer?"

Regret flashes in his eyes and I'm almost convinced that this is actually Sawyer.

"The word 'overwhelmed' has a lot of meanings. I like two of them. The first one is 'to bury or drown beneath a huge mass'. The other is to be 'defeated completely'. And once you feel overwhelmed with school, with friends, with family, even, it's hard to stop feeling like that. Some people deal with it. Others aren't so lucky and they take matters into their own hands."

"Why didn't you ask for help? I could've helped you, Dad, Adam, Mila, you could have gotten a therapist. You weren't alone, Sawyer." A look of pain flits across his face. "Just tell me this. Was I part of the reason?"

He looks me straight in the eye. "Do you really want to know?

I weigh my options. There's a fifty-fifty chance. If I say yes, I can either be reassured or destroyed. If I say no, I'm going to spend the rest of my life wondering what the answer would have been. I'm usually not one for taking risks.

But then again, the biggest risk is not taking one.

"Yes." I don't know if it'll be the truth. This isn't Sawyer, after all. But I need to hear something.

He licks his lips and sighs. I brace myself.

"It was all your fault," he says. I stare blankly at him. What did I do to him?

Then he starts laughing, very loudly and obnoxiously. What is going on? His mouth stretches into a wide grin as he keeps cackling. I crouch down and put my hands over my ears, trying to block the sound out. It doesn't work.

"Stop," I plead faintly. The sound of his laughing only intensifies. Tears roll down my cheeks.

And then he stops.

I don't move for a few moments. I'm afraid that if I look up, he'll start laughing again.

"It's okay. He's gone," someone says. The voice sounds vaguely familiar but I can't place it.

I gingerly look up and I feel the color drain out of my face.

Oliver. The schizophrenic boy that I killed.

He smiles grimly. "Surprised to see me?" he asks. I'm waiting for him to start arguing with himself. "Oh, you don't have to be worried. I'm finally free of the voices."

"Well, that's good," I say when my voice finally returns. "So, are you just here to thank me?"

He looks offended. "What do I have to thank you for? Killing me?"

"No, that came out wrong. I mean, for getting rid of the voices. I wasn't trying to make it sound sarcastic. I guess what I'm trying to say is, why are you here?"

"Why are any of us here?" he asks. I grit my teeth.

"Look, I don't have time for your psychological games, I need to get out of here. So just please go away and tell the rest of you to leave me alone," I say, my voice trembling.

"Oh, of course. There's just one thing you have to do before I can leave. Just one, little, tiny thing."

"What?" I demand.

"You have to kill me. Again."

My heart sinks. "What? Why?" I ask, praying that he'll start laughing like Sawyer did. The laughing would be preferable to this.

A nasty smile spreads over his face. "That's right. Go ahead. Let's see you do it. You had no problem killing me last time. What's different?"

"Why are you making me do this?" I ask weakly. What's different is that this time, my life isn't being threatened. Last time, it was killed or be killed. Now, he's unarmed and standing here, telling me to kill him. "I can't. I won't."

He looks disappointed in me. "Well, that's a shame. What's wrong? Are you afraid?" he taunts.

"Afraid of what?" I shoot back. "Hurting your feelings if I agree to do it? I'm not afraid," I scoff.

"Then why won't you do it?"

"It's wrong," I say so quietly that I'm not even sure he hears me. But the delighted grin that appears on his face tells me that he did.

"You had no qualms about that last time," he says, his voice thick. I dig my nails into my hand. What do I do? What can I do? Killing him isn't an answer.

"You were trying to kill me last time. It was a kill or be killed situation. I didn't have another choice. There was no other way." But even as I say it, I know it's wrong. He threw his knife at me. He was disarmed. I could've ran away and left him. But instead, I killed him.

"There's always another way," Oliver says.

"You're right. There is. And I'm finding another way right now so I don't have to kill you. Again," I mutter.

The corners of his mouth quirk up and he moves out of my way. I dare to get my hopes up.

"Are you letting me go?"

"I just wanted to get you to realize that there's always another way. Everything, even in these kinds of circumstances, doesn't have to resort to killing. There is still good in the world, despite what you may think."

He's so different than how he used to be. He used to be so afraid of himself, he was willing to do anything to get rid of the voices. Now, he's confident and wants to stop killing. Then I realize how tight of a hold the voices had on him.

"Thank you, Oliver," I say, meaning it. "And I'm so sorry." He smiles softly.

"I know you are. And just remember, there's always another way," he says and fades away.

Filled with a newfound hope, I pick up Scout and start walking until I find Morgan staring off into the fog, tears running down his cheeks.