To The Grave

Chapter 33. Marty. Day 147.

I sat on the couch, looking at the smoke streaming out of my best friends frowned lips. He flicked the short cigarette butt out the window, moving his dry thin hand to his face, pushing up his glasses.

"I'm hungry, I want to take a shower, and I'm almost out of cigarettes." He whispered.

"If you stopped chain smoking all the time." I shrugged as I watched him reach for the pack on the table beside him. He pulled his arm back, his eyes glaring at me. "I mean I'm not your mom so do whatever you want kid."

"You're a dick." He laughed the words out. "You should've just let her yell surprise and given him a hand drawn card."

"It's a waste of time." I pushed my hair out of my face.

He moved his crooked glasses off, rubbing his eye. "Because sitting in a shitty hotel room, pissing each other off is much better. She just wants to do something nice for Ferris."

"If you're trying to make me feel bad, you're a little late to the party. I've known I'm a piece of shit, so you don't need to remind me." I grabbed the ukulele beside me, moving to sit in the small hallway near the door.

I pressed my fingers into the strings of the ukulele in my arms, pulling at the strings with my other hand. A loud scream echoed from downstairs. I looked at the angry kid watching me. He turned to look at the door, shaking his head.

I sat still, feeling the strings vibrate against the pads of my fingers. I could only remember the chorus of the song, playing it over and over again. Randall had pulled out a map of town, writing stuff down on a separate notepad.

"Are you just going to keep playing the end of that song or actually do the whole thing?" Randall snapped, setting the pen down.

"I don't remember the rest. I don't exactly play the ukulele a lot anymore." I repeated the same part again.

"Lock your doors and be quiet." A voice screamed as it ran down the hallway.

My fingers ran over the strings, processing the words. I set the instrument down, standing up and pulling open the door to catch the disembodied voice. I peeked outside, seeing Jackson running down the hallway. He turned around, to make his way back to the stairs.

He ran over to me, pushing me back inside, "There's corpses inside, a window broke and some got in but we're not done clearing it yet. Just go back inside Marty, people are already hurt."

The door closed in front of me as he rushed back into the hallway. I turned around, looking at a wide eyed Randall. "What's happening."

"Winona went to her room right?" I asked, watching his jaw move slightly.

He thought about it for a second, "Yeah, I think so. I mean it's been like an hour."

My stomach twisted inside me. "Jackson said people are hurt."

"She's fine, Marty." He whispered, trying to believe it himself. I pushed past him to grab the gun from behind the couch,

He stepped in front of me, "You're stupid." He grabbed the gun, yanking on it.

I moved it down, pulling it back. "Dumb ass, you're going to get yourself shot."

The door opened, Ferris running in. He was breathing heavy. "The hell are you two doing? Come down stairs and help us clean everything."

I pulled the gun back and followed my older brother out the door. I could hear Randall close the door behind us.