The Zombie Apocalypse with MCR (Complete)

After Thought

"Dad? Dad! Are you-"

"Oh god, do you think-"

"Frank? Can you hear us?"

It sounds like the words are being shouted down a very long tunnel. They echo, and reverberate, and the distant drum of noise is almost painful.

As much as I want to reach back, I don't know that the dark will let me.

It's not darkness, but more an absence of light. There's a difference, I think. I never thought that before this moment. Night happens when you take away the sun, but this place feels like it's never had a sun at all. Like the darkness is old, and alive, and aware.

I try to linger, try to comfort my family; I want a final moment to tell them that I'm okay. But the darkness presses in, and holds me firm, and nudges me onwards. Less like a straightjacket and more like being tangled in a blanket. A little irritating, still constricting, but it doesn't suffocate.

There's no fear. Not in this place, and not in me.

My body does not ache the way it did.

Maybe they've given me a different medication. Maybe this is morphine, or something stronger. I know I've been in pain for a while, but I wanted my wits about me.

I force my eyes open to ask the question.

The world turns to golden light.

The glare is shocking, searing, and my eyes slam shut. I squeeze until the white spots have stopped pulsing behind my lids, and then I try again. Lift my hand to block the full force of it, easing my palm down in increments.

The light is the sun.

I don't... I'm not sure where I am.

It looks like a hall of some kind. Polished oak floors, massive floor to ceiling windows. The huge double doors are thrown wide, and there is a gentle breeze to cool my heated skin. The sun leaves bronze streaks in the air, like far-off beams from a distant lighthouse.

I'm curled on the floor, I realise.

My wince is automatic as I unfurl and sit up, and I expect my body to protest and crunch, but the movement is easy. Frowning, I roll to my knees - no pain - and up onto my feet. It takes no time and no effort.

It looks like a ballroom, I decide.

The sprawling windows jog a distant memory, but the images are unfinished. Half-formed. The sun is hitting the space exactly as it did the first time I saw it-

The open doors beckon.

Lush green grass welcomes me to the wider world. The garden is... It is spectacular.

The cloying scent of honey accosts me first. Next is the roses, and the lavender, and the jasmine.

The place is overflowing with flowers, with bushes, with avenues of plants overflowing with greenery. There is every shade of colour, and every plant is the best, the biggest, the most healthiest version of itself. I've never seen roses so scarlet, nor bundles of lavender that stand so high. The lilies are as big as dinner plates, the sunflowers even bigger than that.

Smooth slate carves a natural path through the riot of colour and smell.

I don't even hesitate to walk that path. Maybe that's silly of me; anything could be waiting in this unfamiliar territory. I should know better. 

But danger couldn't possibly linger here.

Slate gives way to emerald green grass, and I stop at the edge of the wide open field.