When The Light Goes Out (9 page)

The door was slammed closed behind me before I realized we'd walked through it.

"How the hell did you get outside?!" It was the first time I actually heard Dustin sound angry, though he held it off until the child was passed off to Ian. His question made my heart stop for a moment figuratively of course as I stared.

"I erm.. uhh.. We jumped?" "Jumped.."

"Yeah..?"

"You jumped.." "Only a little?" "How the hell"

"Jesus, stop leaning on the door!"

I hadn't noticed that the door was opening behind me. But it was, and Malachi was trying to get in. So I jumped out of the way, almost bumping into Dustin who also backed up a bit. The brunet closed the door behind himself, a grim look on his face.

"Lou"

"The only even slightly living thing I found was a little boy that I had to" "I get the picture."

I looked at the ground.

I looked over at the little girl.

I left Malachi to explain the situation to Dustin.

I didn't really want to deal with it at that moment.

However, there weren't very many places that I could go. I could travel the building, but I wasn't quite that daring. I could leave the building. But I didn't believe in suicide. So I just walked to the least crowded part of the auditorium, and sat on the floor. Pulling my knees to my chest, resting my face on them.

There was only so much someone could take in one day, I reasoned. Only so much before one passed out, completely. Before they threatened to throw people out windows. Before they went through on those threats. I personally felt I was way past those three stages, and only staying awake because I felt extremely sick to my stomach, and had to concentrate on keeping it down. Keeping what down? I had no food left. I'd already lost my lunch. Tossed my cookies. Threw up.

Dammit.

Dammit all to hell. "Excel?"

"Yes, Dustin?" I responded quietly, calmly, from the safety of my knees. I hadn't heard him walk over. "Are you okay?"

"We're being invaded by zombies, Dustin." "Yes, I know that."

"Should I be okay?" "Good point." "Thank you."

I never bothered lifting my head, or my voice. Instead I just kept my eyes closed. Barely holding onto a thread of consciousness. I wanted, so desperately to go to sleep. To go to sleep, and do one of two things. Either wake up, and find out that the entire situation was a terrible, terrible, flu induced nightmare. Or not wake up at all.

I was thinking of death far, far too often. "Excel?"

"Yes, Ian?" I still didn't lift my head. I didn't raise my voice. I just sighed a sigh that I hoped told him I was as close to sleep as I would probably get for a while. "Are you okay?"

"Ian, do you realize that we're being invaded by zombies?" "Well, yeah. But"

"That I just killed one of our classmates?" "Yeah, that"

"I'm trying, desperately, to go to sleep?" "Well, I figured but"

"And last, but most definitely not least drum roll please I just went through this with Dustin!" I looked up then. Flashing a completely random, and incredibly toothy grin at the boy. "No, Ian. I'm not okay. You can go away now." And I placed my face back on my knees.

Sure, dismissing the boy rather rudely made me feel bad. But that wasn't the point. I was tired. With a capital "T". Snore while I'm awake, tired. And the numerous people asking me the same question, while all I wanted to do was sleep whether I had to cry myself to that state or not wasn't putting me in a pleasant mood. It wasn't making me optimistic about the situation. It just wasn't.

"Excel?"

"Yes, Malachi?" Exasperation that time.

"You're not okay."

"Thank you for speaking the obvious, and previously stated." "What's wrong?"

"Who sent you?"

"Those two guys. Why?" "Purple. Now go away." "Make me."

"Realize, Malachi, I still have your gun."

A moment of hesitation before, "That you do, Excel." "Go away."

"Make me."

"I'll shoot you." "No you won't."

"Don't test me, Malachi." "Who's testing? I'm doubting." "Jesus. Go the hell away!" "Yes, your majesty!"

"Yeah! Well, guess what?! You're getting your life narrated for that one!" I lifted my head up just to shout that at the boys retreating back. "Malachi is walking away. He calmly walks the turn around the seats, heading toward Dustin. He looks towards the back of the auditorium, glaring angrily. He raises his gun, but gets hit in the back of the head by Dustin for his effort. He takes, once again, to glaring in anger." I stopped there, placing my head back on my knees.

Dammit, I was tired.

I was tired, and I closed my eyes, praying for sleep.

But a hand pushing against my shoulders halted all attempts at that one. Again.

"Goddammit.." I mumbled before shouting from the comfort of my legs, "No, I do
not
want any girl scout cookies! I don't want to take a survey! And I do
not
need a new vacuum cleaner!"

"He didn't bring Louie back."

My eyes went wide at that one. I hadn't expected the little girl to come to me next. But there she stood. Red hair matted on the top of her head. Bright green eyes bearing holes into me. It wasn't like she was accusing me of something. But I felt like I'd done something wrong anyway. So I sat up, extending an arm for the girl to enter an embrace if she so chose.

She did, choosing to climb into my lap. Clinging around my neck, like I was the only real thing there. It made me rather sad. What did she want me to do? What did she want me to say? I didn't know. Maybe she didn't know. But she still looked up at me with terribly innocent eyes.

"Where's Louie? Why isn't he here?" "Louie's gone somewhere better." "Better then here?"

"Yeah." I didn't bother to mention that, present situation, just about anything was better then 'here.' I smiled at her instead. Letting my legs relax, as I leaned back against the wall, more or less hugging the child. "He probably misses you. But he's okay now."

"He's not one of them?" "No, he's not one of them." "Good."

Part of me was curious about how well the little girl understood the situation. How much did she know? Did she realize exactly what a zombie was? Did she realize that these zombies were far, far different from Hollywood zombies given she'd seen any of the old zombie flicks. I didn't know, but it definitely wasn't the time to ask. It just wasn't.

"Baby, what's your name?" "Rowan."

"Pretty name."

"It's a stupid name, and I hate it."

"Well, what do you want me to call you?" "Pixie."

"Well then, Pixie, how old are you?" "A woman never tells her age."

I couldn't help but grin at the way Pixie shyly glanced up at me. Only a small smirk on her face. She was talking like an adult, but she seemed to be tripping over her tongue. Like she was repeating what she'd heard other people say, not quite realizing what it meant.

"Sorry to say it sweetie, but you're not quite a woman yet. So that rule doesn't work for you." "Well, how old are you?"

"Old enough." "Not fair."

"Life's not always fair. Now, Pixie, tell me how old you are, or I will tickle you."

"No you Aah! Okay! Okay! I'm eight! I'm eight! Uncle! Mercy! I give!
Stop!
" She screamed, struggling to get away from my fingers pushing gently into her sides, and stomach. But I held tightly to her, only stopping a few moments after she started begging.

"Atta girl." I smiled. "Planning to doubt me again?" "Nuhuh."

"I thought so."

The two of us looked at each other. Just looked. Maybe our expressions were different, I didn't know. But she looked tired. And sad. Tired, and sad. So I pulled her up against my chest. Resting my head on top of hers. Hoping that I'd be able to get some sleep. Even just a couple minutes.

"Why don't you take a nap?" "I wanna visit Louie."

"Maybe he'll be there, in your head." "You think?"

"Us humans have ways of visiting those we love." "Okay."

I smiled when Pixie stopped squirming. When she quieted down, and, as sad as she might have been, relaxed. I was able to feel the tension melt from her frame. But then I found that I couldn't go to sleep. Something was bothering me, a lot. A question.

"Who was Louie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Louie? Who, exactly, was he?"

"My buddy. He" The little girl paused to yawn, and I felt rather guilty for waking her up. If, of course, that's what I'd done. "He was taking care of me." "How old was he?"

"Nine."

"Poor baby.." "What?"

"Nothing, go to sleep, baby. I promise not to wake you up again." "Okay."

There was silence for only a few more minutes, before Pixie started moving again. Squirming, and trying to crawl away. I didn't know why. I didn't know to where, but I let her go. If the girl wanted to go somewhere, I wasn't going to stop her. Taking care of an eight year old, during a zombie invasion, really wasn't how I'd planned to spend my time.

"I'm going to Dustin." "You do that."

"What's your name?" "Excel."

"Funny name." "I know." "Goodnight." Naive little girl.

"Goodnight, Pixie. Be sure to get some sleep."

I crossed my arms, leaning my head back against the wall. Turning my face to the side. I uncrossed my arms, pulling my knees up to my chest. Leaning my face against them. Wrapping my arms around them. Letting go. Lifting my head. I couldn't get comfortable, I realized with the tiniest surge of frustration. I desperately wanted to sleep, but wasn't so sure that it was going to happen.

I couldn't stop thinking about Louie. Whoever he was. Whatever he looked like. I wasn't so sure about anything that had to do with him other then he was nine, and one of Pixie's friends. And, apparently, Malachi killed him. How could the boy live with that? I wouldn't have been able to.

Maybe death was preferable to whatever one would call turning into a zombie. Turning, I guess you could call it easy as that. But I wasn't so sure I would have been able to just kill the child. That's exactly what he was. A child. He hadn't started living his life yet. He was a baby.

It wasn't something to think about as the world was blacking out. Common sense told me that the thoughts would probably give me unpleasant dreams. That I just didn't want to be thinking them. But I did. And the world disappeared with the cries of children, and the smell of death. And the thought that maybe
maybe
death
was
better then being one of them.

It was.

It had to be.

CHAPTER SIX

When had I fallen asleep? Forget that.
Where
had I fallen asleep? All I knew was that I was extremely cold, and something was moving. I didn't know what it was. The ground maybe. No.. I was moving? Why was I moving? I didn't want to move. I wanted to sleep. It was still night, it had to be. There was no sign of light through my eye lids. Normally they looked all pink when things got bright enough to wake me up but nothing.

There were hands on me.

Why were there hands on me? "The 'ell?"

"You awake Excel?" "Ian?"

"Yeah. Good. You're finally awake. Can you walk?"

I felt myself more or less dumped on my feet after the question, but I didn't remain on them all that long. I stayed up maybe half a step before I crumpled to my knees. I was only kept off my face by two sets of hands. Only one I immediately recognized. Belonging to Ian, I was pretty sure. Who was the other?

One would normally open ones eyes to find out what one didn't know. However, opening my eyes felt like too much effort.

I thought about it. Considered it.

And pushed the thought aside.

Instead, I let myself be picked up by the hands. I leaned into whoever it was that held me. I was happy for the support while I tried to gather my thoughts. I didn't know why Ian was there but only for a moment. Only for a moment filled with silence, and sleep induced confusion, was I able to forget the situation. Until, of course, the first groan broke that wonderful peace, and the situation hit me head on.

"Oh my God."