Last Dawn of a Horde

Chapter Eight: The Cure ~1 Jules

~Jules~

            God. I can’t believe John was believing this Bridge guy. Besides from the fact he looks weird enough not to earn my trust, this laboratory of his claim as his uncle’s chills my spine I can’t feel the scabbard of my sword brush against my back.

            Bridge murmured some words of encouragement, while I whisper right to Stanley’s ear.

            “Do you believe him, that there’s a cure?” I ask him, feeling my blood cooling down. But I didn’t dare take my eyes away from the punk.

            Stanley shakes his head indistinctively. “Of course not. I don’t believe antidotes.”

            “Why?”

            “Aside from they are generally lasting for only less than five doses, their guarantee of working is not always perfect,” says Stanley, beaming.

            I set aside the thought of us using that sickly antidote that has nothing to kill this stupid virus once it’s on our body. When Stanley urges me to listen, I hear valuable info’s.

            “My uncle used to disappear, and for seventeen years of living and fifteen years of living with him, he always disappears and suddenly he’s back again on the surface, insisting that I probably just didn’t see him,” says Bridge.

            Probably charmed with his looks, Stella was fluttering her lashes as she asks him something.

            “You’re seventeen?” she asks.

            “Well, yeah. By two years old, I was left by my parents to live with my uncle,” he replies with a slight smile. Obviously he’s hurt by questions making him recall of his past.

            “Why did they leave such a cute child?” Leo asked, sitting next to Stella.

            “I don’t know. Career, I guess. My mother’s a model, and my father’s an engineer,” says Bridge, then I saw his brown eyes glint with the light.

            “You think they’re still alive?” James asked.

            Oh God, not him, too. Ugh, am I the only one here despising him? After asking him a lot of cheesy and dramatic questions, it seems like Stanley and I are the ones left to contradict him. I hate him. If it wasn’t inhumane, I would’ve chopped him into pieces, just what like Zeus did to his father, Kronos. I’ll throw him down here for his uncle to see.

            Ooo, that’s so evil. So unlike of me.

            All ears again, I hear him talking more about of his uncle.

            “He’s such a good man,” Bridge says, getting more sympathy for him. “We used to eat in diners like he’s my father, and I’m his son.”

            “Wait, going back,” John intercepts. “Your uncle meets some people, right?”

            “Yeah.” He nods abruptly, as if wanting to drop the topic so soon. “They were talking about something. For…twelve months, I think.”

            “Twelve months? What kind of a matter will take that long to talk about?” James adds. I want to interrupt and insist he just make some things up,

            “Oh God,” murmurs John. “The plague today took years of developing?”

            “That’s what I see,” Bridge says so clear he looks so honest. “I even think they planned everything well. They mutate the zombies, I think.”

            “Yeah, I’ve heard some chats about that,” John agrees. “About some gases for them to change courses of mind.”

            “I’ll help you, guys,” Bridge says. “I’ve decided that. My uncle probably was one of the men behind this chaos, and it’s rightful for me to denounce him.”

            I sighed.

            John shakes Bridge’s hand, as both of them are smiling. “Welcome to the club, brother.”

            Everyone cheered but me and Stanley. Both of us were studying Carson carefully, ready to aim at his head.

            James shakes his hand next, and says, “Thanks for offering assistance.”

            “Glad to help,” Bridge mused. “Now, I’ll tell you all what I can do.”

            He began talking about some promises. It made my stomach grumble in hunger and in doubt, but I kept on listening. Since Bridge had this lab, he said this underground labyrinth is open for relocation. We have several nerds here to make useful things, and he promised he’ll try to dispose things he’ll see as a threat to us.

            After promising a hundred things I think we don’t really need, (like directions of this and that,) he went to check on the tick Prince warned them about.

            To my surprise, I thought he’ll open the jar to release the flea, but he opened it just to drop a lighted matchstick (“Fire is not advisable down here,” Grace reminded. “They consume oxygen like us.) and sealed it tight. The fire inside died, and we observed what happened.

            Smoke billowed inside, and when it clears, I see the tick was shaking its tiny feet (eight, I think,) and eventually, it stopped moving. And minutes later, blood was leaking out of its small body.

            “I guess we can incinerate this thing on the cremation box,” Bridge offered. Setting down the jar inside a small cavity on the wall that looked like laundry shoot, and the next seconds fire bursted. He closes the door, and smiles, captivating females.

            Ugh, lame.

            “So you studied the place?” Jamie asked.

            “Yeah, and the notes here came in handy,” he replies nicely.

            When Jamie trotted off, Miguel came next.

            “So you build weapons here?” my classmate asked.

            Bridge nodded. “Why?”

            Miguel smiles. “Can you make my racket electrified? So that when zombies get hit, they convulse and burst?”

            Bridge nodded, and tapped Miguel’s back.”Of course, even fire input works.”