Apocalypse Dreams

Buried Hope

"You shouldn't have done that, Jack," Hugo said while staring at him with a confused look.

"I did the right thing," Jack replied. "I am doing it for the group."

"Surely there could've been another way, Jack," Hugo responded.

"There was no other way," Jack said angrily. "He needed to be taught a lesson."

"I don't know, Jack," Lydia spoke up. "I mean... I see where you're coming from."

"Look, guys," Jack said. "Our group is at stake. We are on the run from these living dead people. We constantly had to run for a year or more to make it to where we are now. In doing so, we were threatened. If you guys trust me, then just listen to me... nothing but trouble was going to come out of this situation, if we left him unchecked."

"Maybe you're right," Lydia responded. "Do you think he will ever forgive us?"

"I'll go and talk to him when the time is right," Jack responded. "That can take a while."

"I'll keep a check on him," I said.

Jack looked at me with his calculating eyes and then finally said, "Fine."

"I don't know what to do, I feel like we are losing him," Lydia said while tearing up.

"Hey, do you trust me?" Jack asked.

Lydia looked up at him and responded, "Yes."

"Then I promise you, everything will be alright," Jack said while touching her cheeks gently. "Just make sure Jennifer is safe, and I will keep the rest of us safe."

"He's right," Parkinson said while leaning on my hospital bedroom door. "I think this will be better for us in the future."

As Dr. Parkinson and Lydia parted their ways, Jack, Hugo, and I stayed behind.

"Sure hope ya know what you're doing', boy," Hugo said.

Jack looked at him directly into Hugo's eyes and said, "I know what I'm doing."

"Or you're gonna end up killing the group someday," Hugo joked with a chuckle.

"Where's Cady?" Jack asked, while ignoring Hugo's minor joke aimed towards Jack.

"Still with Red," I responded.

"We will do a proper funeral," Jack said sternly. "And I want my brother to be there."

"I'll go dig more holes," I said while grabbing my coat and heading outside. As soon as I opened the door, the cold wind blew against my face. I went to the back of the hospital where there was an open field and saw the shovel still laying on the ground. The cold feel of the handle was nothing compared to the feeling of watching about twenty-two other burials in this field, all from our group. Through last year, we had lost that many people, some were infected, some became infected, and others died from old age. For a while, there were discussions of quarantine for the infected individual, however, after random members began dying off, we decided that we will just leave it up to the future. The view of this illness became that when someone gets infected, then we will just deal with them later.

As I began digging, I looked at the made-up cardboard tombstones on top of every burial site. Some memories began coming back to my mind, such as the women, men, and children we lost in just this year.

A specific memory came to mind, one Doug Rubio, a nine-year-old child, became infected. Nobody knew how or when, but it happened. However, he struggled to tell the group that he had fallen ill until visible symptoms became clear to us and he could not hide it any longer. The only way he could've become infected would've been if his toy cars were infected because that is literally what he played with. I smiled as I looked back on the memories that he left behind, making the entire group laugh during tough times. He eventually met his demise, however, when one time he went on a hunting trip with Jack. That day Jack came back crying as he told the group that they were attacked. He had bruises on his face to show what the savages did to him.