When The Light Goes Out (23 page)

"Look who's talking."

Why? A question asked far too often, with far too many answers, and hidden meanings. Why? A question without a reasonable answer no matter how many there were in total. Now, the word "why" with other things attached is more my type of question.

The newest, best question was, "Why do I always start problems?"

Because at that very moment, with the look Malachi was giving me, I really did wonder. I wondered why I was so damned angry, I couldn't blame the entire thing on the pain I was in. No matter the fact that my skull still felt wet. No matter the fact that there had to be a lump there. No matter the fact that that his fists were clenching, and he was quite obviously at the end of his rope.

I swung first though.

I hadn't been aiming when I clenched my fist, and pulled back. If anything at all I'd been aiming to miss when I swung at the boys face, but contact was made. My knuckles got past his lips, and I felt the scrape of teeth against the skin. Felt the warmth as my own blood starting flowing there. The boy had the mind to move with the blow, raising a hand to wipe our combined blood from his mouth before letting go of me.

I was sure I was dead.

I was positive he was going to kill me.

But at the very least he no longer had his hold on me, so I turned to run. Yes run. As in away. As cowardly as the act is, I was about to do it without the slightest bit of hesitation. I

didn't want to know what Malachi would do. I didn't want to face his wrath, however it chose to manifest. "Don't you
dare
move."

It was more the tone than the words that froze me in place. The boy almost sounded calm, and that was frightening. His eyes said I was dead, but his voice betrayed nothing. I

could only dream of having so much control over such nuances. I could only imagine what it would be like to be able to simply hold back the way he seemed so fond of doing.

I took two steps back for every one Malachi took forward, more than willing to run the hell away if things got nasty. Or, at the very least, that's what I was telling myself. I hadn't run away yet, so really; who could tell for sure what I'd do?

"Kids, enough. Ye were yellin' at me for being immature, but look at the two of ye now. Tryin' to kill each other" "I'm not going down until you do old man."

"Hey, I was only sayin'"

"Don't get me started on you, you annoying sack of" "Excel!"

"Malachi!"

For a minute there I swore the boy was raising a hand to slap me, and I almost blushed at the fact that I was cringing before I even had any proof. I was mocking him when he most definitely had the upper hand. I was an idiot. I really was a nimrod at best, there were no other ways to describe it. I was acting like a fool.

"Excel, I don't think this is a good time to be mocking him." Came the helpful advice of one girl. I can't be too sure if I successfully glared at her, or not. But I certainly tried to. Knocking my chin over my shoulder to send her a rather haphazard squinty face.

"You really think?" "Yes, I do actually."

I rolled my eyes, sighing, "Just watch as the sarcasm drips from my voice." The girl blushed.

Before I could say anything further Malachi gripped my chin and forced me to look at him. Aversion of the eyes merely forced him to shake me, and gave "migraine" a whole new meaning. My head was still throbbing, his grip was painful, and the shaking was making me dizzy so I looked at him like he wanted. I didn't quite make eye contact, but I did my best, for certain.

"Excel."

He got me to struggle just by speaking my name. I tried to pull away, but he didn't allow that – obviously. Doing so would have ruined his scolding for sure, he couldn't have possibly wanted that. So, to keep me from breaking his grip he took hold of my arm as well.

Stupid bastard.

"Excel, stop struggling like an idiot, and listen, all right?" To my shock the boy didn't sound angry anymore.

He sounded tired.

"Better. Now, Excel.." He let go of my chin and wiped his mouth. I almost felt guilty that he was bleeding. "I know how you're feeling" "No you don't."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't know Ian." "I never said I did."

"Then how could you possibly know how I'm feeling?" "By comparison."

"What?"

"I've got friends too you know."

It was almost a shock that I'd never considered the possibility. It never once crossed my mind that the boy had people out there to worry about, and I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because of how he acted when I first met him, as if he didn't give two craps about anything. Selfcentered. He didn't seem the friendly type.

"I"

"Hard to believe, right? I've got friends out there somewhere too. Martial arts partners, school friends, and even some buddies from my childhood. They are
all
out there somewhere. I know where they are about as confidently as you know where Ian is."

"But they can protect themselves!"

"Yeah, the ones who spent twelve years learning how to fight can. That's maybe two of them, not including myself. They've been training longer than me, so their fighting skills are far superior to my own as it stands. Chances are I'll die long before they even get bruised." He raised a hand to his mouth again.

"I"

"Didn't know? Of course you didn't, why would I tell you?" "Maybe so I don't make an idiot out of myself!"

"You would have done it anyway. It's one of your skills." "Oh, go die somewhere!"

"Only if you come with me." He looked angry again.

Maybe pissing people off was one of my skills as well.

As my head settled down I turned from the boys hold, not wanting to be around him. Around any of them. Surprisingly, he didn't try to hold on. He just let go of my arm, and crossed his own as I started walking. He was probably calling me an imbecile in his head, and I couldn't blame him if he was. We all knew what I was about to do. We all knew it was stupid. We all knew I'd die if I really did it.

I started to walk away again.

"Ian's out there somewhere, okay? I need to go find him, dead or alive. I, personally, plan on living." I looked over my shoulder at the group. "Malachi, mind telling me where you're going so maybe I can bring him there when I find him?"

"Confident, are we?" "Very."

"Southside clinic."

"The little fixer upper outside of town?"

"That's the one." "All right."

"What are you"

"If he's alive and healthy I'll bring him with me to the clinic." I started talking before one person or another finished their question. "If he's dead, I'll come back alone." "What if he's alive but infected?"

I couldn't help the shiver that ran through my body. "I'll kill him."

As I turned and started walking again, there was a scream from the back of the group. It was a blood curdling sort of scream that was a strange combination of shock, and pain. Needless to say my walking didn't last very long. On instinct I turned around, wanting to help with the problem.

The problem as it turned out was that during my little scene the entire back of the group wound up surrounded by zombies. Every last one of them missing a limb or two, and looking hungry. Before I could a step toward the difficulty teeth were tearing through flesh. People were screaming in pain. Screaming in pure agony. Hands were shooting up toward torn throats, and bodies were falling.

I felt a rock form in the pit of my stomach. I didn't have a weapon.

At such times one begins to wonder why ones parents conceived them in the first place. I wasn't raised to be a complete and total failure. I was relatively certain my parents didn't plan such a fate for me before I was born either. But for the record, it was maybe a dozen to negative four, with me on the losing side. Something was always going wrong, and I could never do anything about it.

So it was only natural that the one weapon available about the ground was some kid's old scooter.

You know the kind; where you can unhook the handle bars with the two little buttons on either side of them, and pop the entire top piece off with one good pull. I did exactly that, and immediately move to go crush some heads. I swung down at the first dead guy who even considered approaching me, and swung sideways at the next.

Gray matter spattered everywhere.

Half coagulated blood smacked me dead on.

The girls who had been bitten just moments before were already rising to their feet, eyes devoid completely of all life. Sclera totally red.

Pupil's overcome by the irises.

I didn't know that one could change so damned quickly.

Regardless, I hit them as well; they were zombies, no different from the hungry mob.

The closer I got to the back of the group, thwarting the zombies plans to surround us completely, the louder the pitiful moaning got. The louder the moaning got, the more I started to think. I thought about childish things really, but thought all the same.

I remember, as a child, after watching zombie flicks my brother and I would always begin mimicking their noises. We'd walk down the street dragging our heels with our arms limply extended just moaning like we were the walking dead. In hindsight, we'd failed at recreating the noise. The moan of a zombie is simply not something a human can replicate. I was beginning to find my childhood antics rather foolish. If I'd only known what a zombie invasion was really like back then, maybe I would have been more prepared. Maybe I wouldn't be so freaked out.

From far away, a human can make a very convincing zombie. It all depends on the gait and the tone. But in all honesty, being so close to it, hearing and seeing it as intimately as I

was moving through the mob, there's no way it's possible. A human can't successfully act like zombie no matter how hard they try.

I couldn't figure out why I was analyzing such a thing, other than to get my mind off of the foul smelling clotted blood smacking against me from all angles. That really was the only explanation as I swung without a thought of who the zombies used to be. What lives they'd been looking forward to leading.

The screaming never seemed to stop. The group just kept getting smaller and smaller. It seemed, for every person we lost, the zombies gained. This was frightening. I'd seen the young girl at the school change. It had taken a rather extensive period of time if I took into account how long she must have been there before Ian and I found her. This was taking seconds.

I shouldn't have thought of Ian. Dammit.

Dammit.

"The hell?"

There was a frightening silence save two screaming voices. Calling, frantically for help. For the bastards to put them the hell down. Looking up, I saw two girls being carried off in much the same manner that Pixie had back at the warehouse.

"What the
hell?!
"

It wasn't a pleasant thought.

I couldn't figure out what the zombies wanted with live bodies. Other than to eat them of course. But they'd just do that on the spot, as they had been doing moments before. Jesus. There were so many, many confusing scenarios, but there was only one important question to be asked as the zombies were literally running away from us.

"Why the
hell
are they taking them away?!"

I wasn't even the one who asked, it was a frightened looking boy who I recognized from the neighborhood but couldn't give a name. Maybe names weren't even important anymore, as our group suddenly ran to an extremely low number. I counted four, not including myself.

Malachi.

The boy speaking.

A girl who couldn't be any more than fourteen. And Blaz.

Of course the zombies couldn't take him.

That would have been too goddamned convenient.

"Why the hell are they taking people, and walking away?" The boy demanded, looking at each of us in turn. "Why?!" The look on his face was almost insulted. As if we knew the answer, but weren't telling him just to piss him off.

Maybe it was true.

Maybe one of us did know.

My vote was on Malachi as he'd been missing the longest.

But the girl was inching closer to the frantic boy, obviously just as confused, and just as scared. As the two embraced, I decided that I needed to find Ian at that moment, or risk never seeing him again; a risk I couldn't possibly take.