When The Light Goes Out (34 page)

"We don't know if it's true!" Malachi tried to reason, looking a little green around the gills himself. "But we don't know if it's
not
true either! It might be! It might be the truth!"

Jaden got a go at the can next. "But it's nothing to go crazy over!" "It's nothing to be
calm
about!" Jeremy next.

"You want next, Excel?"

I noted the boy had stopped arguing. "No."

Everyone looked.

"If it was in the food supply, I've already got it. Throwing up now would be useless." I touched Ian's head, feeling sorry that I'd forced him to eat the chips before. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

Silence.

"But Malachi?" "Yeah?"

"Keep your gun ready."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I couldn't recall falling asleep, to be totally honest. I remembered Lila yelling at me for "giving up hope." And Jeremy calling me a "chickenwuss." And Jaden looking at me like I was a fool, but refusing to say anything. Malachi looked at me in total silence as well, but seemed to accept my decision. Blaz of all people was the one who agreed with me whole heartedly. Having a bit of an argument for his own behalf.

"Kids, I'm old. I've lived me life to the fullest, and don't want nothin' else. I'll eat me food, and go out fightin' like a bat outta hell."

When I awoke, they were having a whole new argument, so I stood and left the room. Not saying anything. Not taking anything save a soda with me. It was a Sprite this time, and rather pleasing at first sip. And second sip. Screw it, it was awfully pleasing.

"The hell?"

The first thing I noticed upon entering the room was a pocket sized notepad, just sort of laying on the floor. I figured I must have knocked it down in all the chaos the day before, earlier that day, whenever it was. But, seeing it, really looking at it, I had a bit of an idea. What better to keep when you're about to die than a journal?

"A journal.."

I thought it was a really good idea.

So I picked it up, and found a pen. Which wasn't all that hard, considering. Then it was all a matter of figuring out what to write. The facts? My feelings about the facts? What I'd been going through? My fears of dying? Of becoming a zombie? I wasn't sure what the best idea would be.

Where to start.

Explain, chimed the little voice in the back of my head. So I did.

The beginning was rather simple, I felt. It was just;
I'm keeping this journal to record the events, and facts of my final days. I hope that one day this journal will be found, and shed knew light on the American epidemic. I hope that these entries will tell the true story of the effects of the Rvirus, given that's the actual cause of all of this. "Outoftowners" may believe so, but those of us stuck in the middle of it all aren't so sure.

From there I jotted down theories. Names. People who I found myself traveling with from the beginning to my current seat, on a tipped over filing cabinet. Making notes next to their names. Many far too many of them were noted as "deceased." Only one was noted as "possibly roaming." My brother.

I explained him too. In detail.

And found myself wanting to cry.

I found myself finally crying, however not sobbing, when I had to mark Dustin, and Pixie as missing. I didn't know what situation they were in, but wanted to, desperately. I wrote as much, made a little note to Dustin's son, however I didn't remember his name. Just wrote that his daddy loved him, and missed him, and spoke about him often before he went to save Pixie. I hoped the man was alive. I hoped he got the chance to go see his son again.

I didn't know why I was getting so emotional.

Maybe it was because I was feeling kind of light headed, and wasn't sure if it was a sign of my changing. Maybe it meant that I was well on my way to being a zombie. Maybe that's what the smell was. Maybe my flesh was beginning to rot before my consciousness decided it was time to die.

Maybe I was just being twitchy. Who knew.

I wrote it all down.

Sometimes shadows move past the windows, ducking down before you can get a good look at them. It makes me wonder if the damn zombies are capable of logical thought. It certainly seems that way. They hide, and seem to know when you're looking at them. It's odd, not at all like the movies. Though I'll give Hollywood this much; The makeup job is superb.

I was beginning to ramble in writing, instead of verbally. But I didn't know if it was a good thing or not. It was definitely helping me vent, and making me feel better. Only a little, true enough, but any bit better was good enough for me, in complete honesty. There wasn't much more I could ask for with the thought that I was going to die pinned in my head.

"What're you doing?" "What?!"

I'm afraid I'm going to have to admit that I jumped, and slammed my journal over in such a way that the boy wouldn't be able to read it. Malachi. Nice as he was sometimes, and unpleasant as he was all the others I was wary. I wanted to know what he desired of me, why he came and ruined my silence. But at the same time I wanted to be kept in the dark.

"What are you doing?"

Bastard thought speaking slowly would help. "Nothing."

"You were writing something." "Was not."

"You were to." "Prove it."

"You've got the notebook in your hand!" "So?"

"You were writing!"

Glad to see I was able to get under his skin so quickly. "I'm just keeping a record of events."

"Why do you want a diary?"

"A
journal
!" I made an attempt to defend myself. I wouldn't ever do anything quite so girly. Regardless, diaries kept deep dark secrets. The things I was writing in the
journal

weren't exactly grandma's potato pie recipe. "Diary, journal, same difference. Why?"

"So future generations can see how awesome I am." He stared at me.

"So people can have an inside account of the going on's during this shit. So there will be a record of my last days amongst the normal, noncannibalistic living. So there's proof that

I existed."

"Oh.." I swear the boy looked at me thoughtfully. "Can I see?" "Fuck off!"

"See! It
is
a diary!" "No it isn't!"

"Then why can't I see it?" "Because I said so!"

"Will ye kidlings shut the 'ell up in there! Ye woke Ian up!" Umm.. Yay for Blaz?

"Ian!" It came out on a gasp, only partially forced, and I used the distraction to get away from the pestering boy. It was certainly a flattering relief that he was taking an interest in the things I did, but it didn't mean I wanted to explain.

I really didn't want to explain. "Ian! How're you feeling man?" "Kinda" He coughed. "Groggy." "Want water?"

He only nodded. So Malachi and I went about holding him up, and helping him drink the water again. I dropped the cup, and Malachi almost dropped him when the door flew open. I

suppose we should have seen it coming. The roaring should have tipped us off. But it hadn't. It didn't. We didn't. "Good lord.."

There was a moment, one second in which the world seemed to freeze. There was a car there, having slammed into the door. Forcing it open, the various heavy objects pushed in front of it away. The person behind the wheel looked decidedly dead.

It was sad. Very sad.

I figured the man behind the wheel had been alive when he got there originally. He must have just died during the travel which, considering the virus (I decided it was definitely a virus) didn't seem so out of this world. It made perfect sense to me. And then I heard the growling.

"Dogs."

We all followed Lila's gaze. "Ddogs."

The world went straight back into motion with Jeremy, and Malachi both grabbing Ian, and hauling him towards the door in the back of the room. Their gait was slow however, and the movement put the dogs in motion. Zombies dogs. With chunks of flesh hanging off of them in ways that made me want to puke.

They made a run for the three boys.

I made a run for the nearest throwable object.

At the very least it took their attention from the boys. And onto Lila and me.

Wide eyes met mine. I saw the other door.

"Go!"

Luckily, the girl didn't need to be told twice.

I figured I was going to die anyway, so I might as well save the others. And thus I distracted the dogs long enough for the boys to get the staircase door closed behind them. It was only then that I, myself, made a break for it, running towards the half closed door that Lila went through, slamming it closed behind me.

I wasn't entirely sure what would be happening next.

I didn't have time to catch my breath because the damned puppies were ramming the door, trying to get it open. I was damn happy that they didn't have opposable thumbs. If they did I was pretty sure they'd be getting into the room in no time. Before either Lila, or I found a way to escape. And we needed to find that way
fast
. The door suddenly didn't look too sturdy.

"There are no more doors in here." "I can tell."

"Just look." "Yeah."

"Somewhere we might be able to hide until they go away, and we can get to the other door." "The boys would have blocked the other door by now!"

Shit..

She was right.

The others were smart like that.

"Jesus.." I wasn't sure what to do. "We need to find another way then." "Yeah."

And the room was searched, quite thoroughly revealing nothing. Not a hole in the wall, or a hidden door. Not even an air vent we might have been able to climb into. There was absolutely no where for us to safely hide, or go. We were fucking trapped until both of us looked at the window at what appeared to be the same moment.

"I wonder what's outside." "Care to find out?"

We played odds or evens for it. Evens won out.

It was my head going out the window.

Needless to sat, I was incredibly wary. Because I was refusing to die before I got the girl to safety. Because I didn't want to die with a chunk torn from my throat. I first made sure there was nothing in the alley to hurt me before I really bothered looking.

Blood on the floor.

Bodies: Animals, human adults, children. Garbage.

A side door.

"There's a door out here."

"We don't know where it leads to." "We know where it
doesn't
lead to!"

There was no way it could have led to the front room in the clinic, I was quite sure of that. It was on the wrong side of the building, I figured. I wasn't sure if it was safe inside or not, but I certainly thought it was better than waiting for the dogs to ram down the door. They were still going at it too. Still slamming up against it.

"Think its worth a try?"

I'm pretty sure it was the splintering wood that won the girl over.

The climb out of the window really wasn't all that hard. It was maybe a three foot drop, as we were indeed on the first floor. It was closing the window from the outside when the first paw appeared through the door that proved difficult. The dogs were getting through, and I didn't want them getting into the alley with us until we found
somewhere
to go.

"Come on!"

The window just wasn't closing, so I had to flip my arms inside, and pull the lip that way. It was difficult and awkward, and damn scary when the front half of one of the dogs got through the part of the door they broke open. It was leaving chunks of flesh, and coagulated blood behind, but it was squeezing through all the same.

Apparently zombies don't feel pain. "Come
on!
"

The growling seemed amplified. "Come
on
!"

And it slammed closed.

My fingers hurt like hell, and I wasn't sure if I broke any of them when they got caught, but I barely got the second I needed to pull them out before the first dog was running at the glass. Still, we were outside, and it was inside, so we were sa

"The door's locked!"

There was panic in Lila's tone. "The door is
locked
!"