Don't Be Scared

S.1 E.12 ~ ML (Ch. 90)

I told him to come with us! I begged him to come with us! I told him not to fucking leave me! A growl burned against my throat as I marched over to the hungry undead. I stopped moving for only a moment to lift my knee against my stomach.

Once the Z was close enough, I kicked against his covered stomach. The force undid whatever was keeping the stomach together, allowing fresh blood cover, not only my boots, but the floor as well.

Guts hung like Christmas ornaments on a Christmas tree. This is what happens when you leave family! You die and you never come back to them! Tears were a promising action from my eyes as I imagined Mack's death.

Mack trying his best to convince Addy to come back with him to find us. Mack promising to do whatever she wanted him to do as he would drop to his knees in a pleading way. Mack too upset to notice the horde making their way to whatever building he would be holed up in.

The scenario of his screaming, pain filled face was replaying in my mind, over and over. The Z fell to his back side, but was up quicker than what I expected. When it came at me this time, instinct now had the controls over my mind.

My legs ran towards it and jumped on top of it's body. The Z's hands placed themselves on my bottom to get me closer to it's own bloody, cold feeling body while it's head tried to dig into my neck.

I growled at how much spunk this Z had. My left hand kept the gradually approaching head away while my right hand made quick work to unsheathing the blade from it's hiding spot. How could he do this to me?

I wrapped my right arm around it's neck, easily allowing the tip of my blade to pierce the back of his head, where the soft spot of the already caving skull was located. In a second, the Z was falling to the ground like the rest of it's guts.

I quickly released my weapon or I would've ended up hurting my wrists more than what I needed to. The handle of my only weapon was now being used as a way for the undead to keep it's head from plastering against the harsh floor.

When I blinked, the face of my dishonorable brother was no longer there. That's when everything really sunk into my delusional head. Mack was no where near me. He was miles behind me, actually.

He left me. He left and he will never come back. Never.

"(Y/N)!" 10K's voice forced me to snap my head up right as he brought down a Z that was jogging towards me.

The Z fell right on top of it's decaying head once 10K had let go of the control center. That was way too close. I quickly retracted my blade from my victim and slid the brass knuckles back onto my fingers.

I got off of the decaying man, feeling a wet substance stay on my thighs and my butt. Eww. I was looking up at the face of 10K when a voice from the enemy stopped me from asking a question to the sharp shooter.

"Well, now that that's all over, we're right back where we started."

Minus two of his people. Warren was in front of the steps, gun aimed at the enemy, who was still at the top of the steps with our ally. 10K and I made our way over to the scene, bracing our own weapons towards the mutual enemy.

Damn it. We took our eyes off of the prize for too long.

"Actually," Murphy started a sentence as he turned to face the gun like it was a kid's toy, "this is totally different."

Zimmerman's eyes went wide enough for the white of his eyes to be seen clearly as the gun in his hand started to shake in--what I could theorize--fear. Oh so gradually, with unsteady fingers, Zimmerman began to point the readied weapon on himself.

Just like his, my eyes went wide with shock, drowning my whole body. What the hell is happening?

"You're weak, Zimmerman." Murphy snarled like he was the reason Zimmerman was placing a loaded weapon against his temple, "You're a weak little man."

"Should we stop them?" I heard Doc ask in disbelief, not understanding what he saw either.

Why is Zimmerman doing this? Why is he being so compliant? Zimmerman was behaving like an unwilling, suicide Adolf Hitler.

"You were gonna kill me and the others. Pathetic." Murphy growled out loud, turning to face Zimmerman fully.

The newly made victim had the tip of his own gun in between his teeth, mouth full of a deadly object. A finger was now placed on top of the trigger. Wh-What is he doing?!

"The apocalypse is better off without you."

Murphy turned away from the scene that he--maybe?--didn't cause.

"Murphy, what are you doing?" Warren asked, not completely understanding why Zimmerman wasn't trying to kill Murphy but himself instead.

"Me? Nothing." Murphy casually began a stroll down the metal steps, "(Y/N), turn your head."

No matter how much I've been trying to stop obeying the people that I surround myself with, I just couldn't stop listening. Not this time. Not the next time, either. Something in my gut told me that if I don't listen, I'll regret it for the rest of my life.

I got behind 10K and leaned my head against his back.

"Murphy."

The name slipped pass Warren's mouth before an echoing bang went off inside the damp, isolated building. Then, the sound of a limp body slammed down against the hole flooring of the staircase.

Something in me told me it wasn't Murphy's body I needed to worry about. Unexpectedly of myself, my feet raised into the air only to drop back down once the sound echoed off into my ears.

Why did I jump? I'm use to gunshots. I'm use to watching bodies fall to the ground. I'm use to people dying! But am I really use to people killing themselves? Especially if they didn't want to?

"Come on." Warren spoke up after a second in her own thoughts, "Be moving boxes out of the way while I handle the remaining Zs."

Hesitantly, I released my head from the back of 10K's shirt and did what I was told to with a zipped up mouth. Doc and I moved the boxes filled with drugs--Doc taking some out of the boxes for himself--while 10K assisted Cassandra into the van.

Everyone was silent. Everything was silent, except for the occasional crashing of bodies against the floor from being killed by Warren's hand. Everyone seemed to be too tense to speak; too confused.

We all had a right, though. Murphy didn't touch the gun that Zimmerman put in his mouth, so why did Zimmerman look like it was someone else who placed the gun right in between his teeth?

After about a good ten to fifteen minutes of pushing around boxes and stepping over soulless bodies, Doc and I had finally cleared a path for ourselves and for the van to move around a bit if needed.

Warren was still killing off the few Zs while the rest of us sat or stood behind the awaiting van. 10K and Cassandra were sitting inside the empty vehicle while Doc and I stood outside of it. Murphy waited at the stairs, just standing there in his own thoughts.

"Are you going to be okay, kiddo?" Doc broke the silence first.

"Wit-With what?"

The stuttering caught me by surprise. Why am I stuttering?

"With getting in the van."

Consciously, I turned my head from Murphy and towards the inside of the vehicle. Walls would be separating me from the apocalypse. The floor seems sturdy. If we got into a crash, maybe I would be safe.

Not safe-safe but safe. There are no seat belts, though..

"Uh," I cleared my dry throat, turning to look up at the old man, "yeah."

"Alright." Warren came back to us with blood smeared all over her oval shaped face, "Not done, but we don't need to stay here much longer. Doc, be backing up the van and face the door of the garage.

"10K, you'll open it and jump in once we pull out. Everyone else, be loading up."

|| You've got your finger on the trigger, but your trigger finger is mine ||