Colin. It's Colin.
He was standing beside a car out on the main street, looking more ragged and dirty than I can ever remember seeing anyone in real life. His hair was listless and his eyes seemed to sag with weight.
But he was alive.
I raised my gun and pointed it at his face. I asked him if he was infected.
At my jerky movement, he rose a weapon of his own into sight. A familiar assault rifle. He stocked it in the general direction of my chest.
We stood there, silent opposition ringing deaf in our ears when he told me he wasn't infected.
I didn't believe him. But Jesus Christ, starting a shoot out wouldn't do any good now.
I lowered my gun.
If he wasn't infected, fine. And if he was, I'd shoot him myself later. Maybe when he was writhing on the floor from the pain. or maybe while he slept.
He took my gesture for sincerity I assume and approached the small porch. The first question out of his mouth, I probably should have guess: "What the fuck did you guys do? Where the hell is my mom?"
A tiny note of hysteria. I noted that one of his short sleeves was slightly singed brown. He must have been awful close to the fire. Probably thought his moms was in there...
I told him to relax, but I didn't feel like talking about the fire, so I brushed it off lightly. I told him his mom would be here soon, the doc and Anna were bringing her. I added they would be happy to see him, Alive and uninfected (but be sure to check).
His eyes narrowed. And he nodded briskly.
That should have tipped me off. Little piece of shit. Didn't even ask about Sean or Hector.
God, I'm retarded.
And he shot me.
A simple steady spray. Got me in my lower body, blew away my left knee and a big part of my right shin.
I'm melting! I'm melting! That's what my brain kept screaming. And it sort of felt like it too. Hot steaming juice was pouring out of me. Staining the wooden porch dark red.
My legs buckled, I leaned forward and the little bastard caught me with another burst. This time higher than before. In the chest, shoulder, and right arm.
I heard myself gasp, but I wasn't so sure I was really breathing. And I toppled backwards from the short range force, over the railing, and into the bushes in front of the house.
The bush's ferns felt peculiar against my skin. I felt itchy. Isn't that funny? I was dying and yet I felt fucking itchy.Riddled like Swiss cheese. But I still felt all the small unimportant discomforts. The hot morning air breaking a sweat on my forehead. The itchy bush. The numb annoyance that my brain dumbly noted towards Colin. Oh! He shot me. Man. What a drag.
I couldn't feel the bullet holes. But I could feel the warm blood chugging out. I couldn't feel myself breath. But I could hear myself gasp. It's all I could hear. In a world gone suddenly deaf.
Colin's face jutted out above me. His eyes were still narrow slits. Now they looked metallic and orange, as they reflected the school's blaze.
I guess I must have said something then, but I can't remember what, because his face scrunched up then, and he said something that sounded like: "The sun will never die."
Gibberish. Heh heh hah haw! Gibberish! What the fuck, why not? Make my death as trivial as fucking possible, why not.
Why the fuck not.