My eyes opened by themselves. Looking up at the wooden ceiling with the weakest vision I had, I moved my ankle in suspicion. Amused by feeling it move, I hardly raised my head to see it to believe it. Seeing my ankle and my leg along with the damaged burnt off pants struck me with memories of Derek, the only person I could trust and depend upon next to my brother Ryan. He died the most horrible death which he didn’t deserve. Ryan, what happened to him? How long was I unconscious? I remembered the armed troops moving into the room where he and Beth were. Did they kill my best friend and my girlfriend? They better not for their sake, I thought.
The truck with the fixed machine gun. I turned my head and ran my eyes far outside the garden. It was empty as a graveyard, empty of life, not dead. I couldn’t believe that at some point my plan was to get on the truck somehow and use its beastly gun to blast every single one of them out of the face of the earth. Now the things have changed, they have gone. And if they didn’t take my friends with them, I expected to see more dead bodies drilled with bullets.
I got up putting much strength to my body as parts of slippery guts fell off of me. Acting much as a walker itself, I found myself crawling to the room Beth and Ryan were. What I was doing triggered Images of Alex, the way I abused her, the way she lied dead as Tara fed off of her in my mind. Fighting those darkest memories and trying to hold on to my fading conscious, I crawled pass Enrick and Jane Handers. Avoiding their dead hardened bodies, I kept going for the door which was slightly opened. My extremely low level of energy puzzled me greatly. I expected myself to be able to stand up by now, after all it was just a shock terrible as it could be. I believed myself to be sensitive to those a little bit more than the others since I even had trouble adjusting to my first gunfire. But now it was time to get strength. My friends could be in greater danger and in need of my aide.
I pushed the door gently, locking my eyes on where the bed was, where Ryan lied. I was looking at an empty room. I ran my eyes afraid, if I would meet the lifeless bodies of my friends but happily, I failed. Yet the evidence the bed held thrilled me. It was messed up as if a bunch of people wrestled on it. The darkened blood stains sunk my mind in doubt and fear. Of cause Ryan was bleeding with the gunshot wound caused by the paranormal walker with the weapon. Still I couldn’t remember his blood making it out of Derek’s perfect wound dressing.
Christine! My own little sister. I had to find her. I left the room and made my way to the stairs and then up as fast as I could. As I took my steps harshly, I felt my legs and stomach giving me a tremendous pain. Ignoring it, I reached the upper floor and met the door shattered to pieces before me. With great disappointment and a feeling of loss, I fell on my knees on the wooden floor. I felt as if my heart were ripped out while I was breathing, as if I was dead, but alive. Uncontrollable tear drops made streams on my face. By then I never believed in the limitless horror and pain the world could hold. Death of Alex and Tara made me strong, but not strong enough. I killed a group of people for nothing, including Millar’s son as pity revenge, I was wrong. I killed Millar himself for Beth, for what he did to her. I loved Christine. I loved her as if she were my own sister. The day she jumped on me to scare me, I should’ve acted more scared. I kept staring at her, hoping for assistance by someone and thinking what I should have done. I kept staring at her sweet eyes, her dark unidentifiable burnt to crisp corpse.
“Trevor...” The familiar voice paused my heart.
I turned around with great effort with my eye lids wide open.
“Patricia!” I yelled but whispered instead.
“They killed everyone…” She said standing by the staircase, constantly shivering with her pale lips.
“Where’s Ryan…?” I asked.
“They took him, and Beth.” She replied as she made her way to me and knelt just like I was. “You’re bleeding.”
As she said I looked at where she was looking on me. Left side of my shirt was soaked in blood. I looked back at her with emptiness.
“They killed Christine.” I whispered.
“No.” She said at once. “She’s downstairs.”
Surprised, I turned back at the dead body.
“But…?” I blabbered.
“That’s Victor’s son.” She said.
Suddenly feeling very lightheaded, I fell off with fading conscious. She grabbed me not giving a chance to hit the floor but gently laid me on.
“Come on, I’ll patch you up.” She said. “And then we have to get the hell out of here.”
*Another episode as I promised :) I'll upload the next one coming Friday. Thanks for hanging out, comment your ideas, vote if you enjoyed. Devin out (Y)
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Surviving Walkers
Horror"When god does some shit you don't go and question it-you adjust to it. And right now, you're either a survivor or one of these dead walking pricks." He said looking at the dead old man with disgust. Then he looked at us. "You'll be one of them soon...
