Survival Team: Kill Or Be Killed (**On Hold**)

Chapter Fourteen: Abby's POV

Thursday: Day 9

“If I can’t have what I want, let me want what I have.”                

                  -Anonymous

“I want you to rock me, rock me!” my dad chants, pumping his fist as we walk down a deserted highway.   I emit a breathy laugh. One Direction’s not as bad as you thought, huh?

It’s been three days since we began treading – my dad, Devon, and myself – and we weren’t doing so hot. We were having extreme difficulties finding a safe spot. Nearly every town we entered seemed to be okay at first, but as we further discovered it we would also discover that it was infested with zombies.   I had not fought a single one.   I open my mouth to complain about my aching feet, but clamp it back shut just as quickly. I needed to grow up and quit being a baby about everything. Everything was different now, there were more important things to worry about than your feet slightly hurting from a little of walking.  

“You should probably quiet down,” I tell him. “These things have superhuman hearing, remember?”   He nods and pretends to zip his mouth shut and toss the key behind him, giving me a thumbs up.

I roll my eyes and continue forward, on high alert.   “At least we’ve survived three days of this crap,” he speaks again. I guess he ran back and got the key.

“Yeah,” I agreed quietly, suddenly feeling watched.

Well, watched wouldn’t be the right word. I felt more like my dad, Devon, and I might have some company.   A distant and quiet groan makes my head snap up and my body to freeze and stiffen. I can tell Devon heard it too, because he stopped at the same moment I did.  

“What-?” my dad starts, but I swat my hand in his direction to shush him. I hold a finger up to my lips and wave around, pointedly making eye contact. If he doesn’t get what I’m trying to tell him…

His eyes widen and he nods slowly, signaling he understands. I exhale through my nose, relieved, and I resume walking, quiet as can be. Devon stays a bit behind me and my dad steps forward to be ahead of me. This is what we did every time, the monsters always went for the people on the outside – they were the first in their reach, even though they couldn’t see.  

The groan gets louder and louder, making me halt again. Obviously the direction we were going in was not working, we were only getting closer. As the groaning became more audible, I realized that it wasn’t just one groan. There were several. It just sounded like one because when one groaned, three others followed immediately after each other.  

Devon stops abruptly, clearly not expecting me to stop, almost knocking me over. My fists clench instinctively and I try to ignore the fact that I can feel his breath on my neck, contrasting to the cool afternoon air.

The groans only get louder, only get closer, even though we haven’t moved. And I realize too late that they were voicing themselves from behind us – not ahead of us.  

Devon’s breath disappears from behind me and the chilly air slaps my neck and back, shooting shivers down my spine. A grunt follows immediately after and I spin around quickly, an inhuman sound escaping my lips when I see Devon encased in its arms as it struggles to clamp its teeth down on his shoulder.  

My Dad also gets attacked, but I trust him to handle himself. I leap forward to Devon, a short-lived battle cry leaving my mouth.  

I grip its arm tightly, this being the first time I’ve made any contact with any of their kind. The skin isn’t slimy or sticky, but it’s rough and calloused. It’s not gross or uncomfortable, but if I had the choice I would most definitely not be touching it. I wrench one arm away from around Devon’s neck and the thing grunts, as if frustrated.  

“Let. Go!” I yell, even though it probably doesn’t understand me.

I hear a body drop from behind me, but I’m too preoccupied to check whose body it was. Desperate, weak, and running out of options, I lean forward and bite down – hard – on its arm. It sort of yelps and yanks its hand back, looking confused, and not to mention insanely angry. But Devon doesn’t hesitate to grab its other hand and twist its arm, ripping a howl from its throat as the bone cracks and breaks. I stumble backwards, wincing, wishing I wasn’t watching him be so violent. Devon brings his knee up swiftly, right into the zombie’s gut, earning groan from the monster. He then whips a knife out of his pocket, turning the zombie around and locking his arm around its neck.  

I know what happens next, so I turn around to see my dad – who is watching Devon. I take in my surroundings and see that my dad had taken care of two of the zombies. Well done.

I hear Devon’s zombie fall to the ground and then I hear nothing. After a few moments of silence, Devon appears at my side.  

“Thanks,” he says, looking at me. “For, you know, saving me.”   I shrug like it wasn’t a big deal when really it was. The first time I finally fight one of those things off – to save Devon.  

“I mean, biting it probably wouldn’t have been the first thing I would’ve done,” he continues and we both laugh at that, and then he shrugs. “But still, thanks.”  

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I say simply, for my dad’s sake. And for silence’s sake. I don’t think either of them has the strength to fight off another pack of those things, and I don’t have the mental stability.  

“Well,” my dad starts, reminding me of Alicia when we were splitting up. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

~*~  

Sunday: Day 12   

It feels like we’ve done nothing but walk since last Monday, probably because it’s true. Besides sleeping, all we’ve been doing is searching. Searching for something that was probably never going to show up. Even when we were sleeping, it was never a comfortable sleep. We all had shifts while we slept. If something happened during my shift, my job was just to wake them up if something happened, and I don’t blame them for not wanting me to try to fight. I wouldn’t be able to. I don’t have the strength – physically and mentally.  

“Hey,” Devon whispers one night, during his shift.  

“Yeah?” I whisper back, eyes closed

 “I have a question.” His voice comes out as a soft murmur and I hear him shuffling. I open my eyes and turn to look to see him on his elbow, facing me. I do the same, facing him.  

“Shoot.”

“You know, those, uh, zombies,” he starts, glancing at me and I nod, prompting him. “What would you do? If like, I don’t know, I got bit? Or your dad?”  

I gazed at him for a minute, thinking. What would I do? Being bitten isn’t the same as being killed. We’d found that out recently when we found a young boy with his torso covered in bite marks. He seemed normal, but over the next two days he began changing and we had to… get rid of him.  

“I don’t know,” I whispered, answering honestly. “What would you want me to do?”

He looks down, twiddling his thumbs.

“Kill me.” He looks back up, his eyes piercing straight into mine.

Kill him? I tried to picture him being one of them – trying to attack me, or anybody – but I just couldn’t. I certainly could not picture myself killing him, either.  

“Will you?” he continues, never taking his eyes off of mine. “Kill me? If I become one of them.”  

I bite my bottom lip, not wanting to lie to him. I didn’t know how to respond, so I just looked down.

“Please,” he whispers desperately. 

I close my eyes, not wanting to be thinking about this. He wasn’t going to become one. None of us were. We were fine. But I answered him anyway.

  “Only if you kill me if I become one.”