Operation Phoenix

Chapter Five

The city had been fenced off long before the infection had spread completely. In hopes of stopping the dead from entering, they'd built the metal fences nearly twenty feet high, The edges stretching across the perimeter, from the tunnel to the gates.

It was built on the ragged hills of the mainland, the ups and downs of the town causing the Sicklies to group closer than they normally did

The tunnel barreled through a grassy hill, out through the other side and straight out near the edge of the river.

The faster trip was supposed to be a way to avoid the herd that was coming towards them on their original route—it was supposed to be a quicker way to get to New World District, but now Jack was clawing his dirty hands through the rubble on the other side of the hill, cutting his fingers and dirtying his palms with the blackish-brown of rock and soil.

The sun beat down on his back, making him sweat. He raised a hand and quickly wiped away a droplet that danced down his forehead, only smearing the soot around his pale skin.
He was panicking, trying to get back into the city. Hyperventilating, his breath hitched every time he pictured golden-blonde strands of silky hair stained with blood, or when he imagined curls of red cradling a round, dead face.

Hiccup was behind him, staring blankly into the distance. He was shaking, nauseous, dizzy. He reached up, brushed his shaggy hair behind his head and leaned over, his weak body retching. Hic sped a little further away from his white-haired best friend, into the brush of the forest. He felt the bubble rising in his throat as he leaned over, his tremors becoming more rapid as he saw his breakfast for the second time that day.

The last thing he'd seen of Merida—the girl he was madly in love with—was her fighting for her life as she was thrown into a crowd of the dead, off of her horse.

He retched again.

Jack fell to his knees, his hands stinging with pain as his knuckles bled the thick, crimson liquid—barely visible between the particles of dirt.

The image of blonde hair and red curls flashed again, but this time he only slammed his fists into the wall of rubble, crying out in frustration and pain, like an infant.

He felt like a child, then. Like he was being taken away, like someone had locked him in a room and left. He hadn't experienced this kind of panic since he was younger, since he was a teenager.

Jack punched this time, as if it would break the rocks in two and he'd somehow make it through to the other side. Then again, this time an attempt to rid his mind of the shadowing thoughts that made his stomach do flips. Another blow, and before he knew it, he was throwing a hail of fists into the soot, like that first idea was somehow possible.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder, and he spun around, expecting to see a Sickly and expecting to punch it square in the mouth, but he stopped when he saw Hiccup—his best friend—standing there, looking rather pale.

Hiccup's eyes seemed to reflect his own; fear, worry... sadness. It was all there, down to every last fiber.

Here, Jack might've said he was shaking, or screaming, or curled into the ground while he pounded the earth—but not all those are true. In reality, here, while he looked up at Hiccup with wide, horror filled eyes, he breathed out a sigh of relief; because Hiccup was still there. That brown haired, shaggy sucker was still alive, his gangly body looming over Jack's like a beacon from god—a life line.

Jack, immediately leapt into the air and hugged Hiccup brotherly, his breath shuddering as he tried not to picture those images again, as he tried to feel how real the person was in front of him, because for a moment he'd forgotten that anything else besides the tunnel and the girls existed. He'd lost himself in the crumbled bits of the rock, digging like a mole.