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It was such an uneasy feeling...not knowing who I could trust or if Iâd even be able to comfortably sleep at night knowing that any one of the teenagers in this building was possibly a predator in disguise. That, at any moment, they could suddenly switch over and become one of those mindless monsters outside. Any mood, any random emotion, any trigger set off in a moment of anger...could somehow destroy us all and have this temporary shelter collapse in on us without our knowledge.
Nothing can prepare you for it. Puberty is so random, so powerful, that the line between an adorable kid and a fully capable threat can become so blurred that it barely exists at all. But itâs always been a pretty harmless transition up until now. An annoyance at best. What happens when that fluctuating and sudden change actually becomes a real problem for the rest of us?
Needless to say...my short conversation with Spencer after his questionable behavior took a hold of him...wasnât enough to convince me that he was, like...ok. You know?
At this point, any one of us could suddenly change. Me included. Or maybe Donovan...or Preston...or Walker. How do we know who the enemy is and who isnât until itâs too late to do anything about it?
I donât know it just...it feels like the walls are beginning to close in on us now. And when the caravan of survivors get here from Hillsideâs massacre...I can only imagine that tensions will rise and things are liable to get even worse as paranoia reaches an all time high and we begin looking at one another as savage murderers in the making.
I noticed a bit of commotion coming from the left of me, and I witnessed the rather odd sight of Donovan asking Stephen is he was ok, reaching out his hands in a way that made it look like he was trying to comfort or soothe him in some way. Asking if he was ok or if he had been hurt or frightened by what had just happened. But Stephen just backed away from him and kept brushing Donovanâs hands off of his shoulders, completely rejecting his sincere efforts to comfort him. âNo. Stop it. I donât want you to touch me. I donât need you to touch me.â Stephen said, causing Donovan to back off a little bit.
âI just wanted to know if you were ok. What am I doing wrong here?â He asked.
âYou didnât do anything wrong. You didnât do anything at all. Thatâs the problem.â Stephen said, his eyes misting up again. âYou played me for a sucker and you left me behind.â
âLeft you behind? Dude, are you kidding me right now?â Donovan sounded almost hurt by the accusation. âWe were just...doing what we always did. Itâs not like I deliberately ran off and tried to escape at the sake of your own life. What are the odds that a sudden zombie outbreak was going to happen and trap us all. Everybody had to fight to survive, Stephen. Not just you. And not just because I left you behind...â
âAll I know is that I found myself all alone in the end of it all. ALONE! And despite you constantly keeping me at armâs length all the time...the first thing that I worried about was whether or not you were ok. How ridiculous is that?â
âStephen...dude, you sound crazy right now...â
But Stephen pushed Donovan back another step, his short blond hair and pretty face twisted up with aggression and disappointment, and he said, âAll I know is that when I felt like I needed somebody...there was nobody there. My dad had to fight through hell to get to me...just to make sure that I was safe. What did you do? Huh?â He sniffled. Donovan seemed so confused, and to be honest...I canât say that I blamed him. What did Stephen want him to do about the outbreak? Itâs not like he could take on the whole city at once. Thatâs just not humanly possible. But as Stephen continued...I think I was beginning to understand that whatever it was that he was talking about...it ran much deeper and much further back than anything that I could really understand. âAll this time...all I could do was think about you. Thinking that if I just made enough of an effort...youâd think about me too. I kept trying Donovan. I really did. But all you know how to do is get what you came for and think about yourself. Well, Iâm don being âusefulâ.â Stephen had tears rolling down his cheeks now. âIf Iâm not performing for you or giving you what you want...you canât even be bothered to talk to me. Itâs like I donât exist outside of your need for free entertainment. And then itâs like, âOh, hey! Guess who! Here I am again, I was thinking about you, Stephen.â But you werenât, were you? You were just looking for more reasons to find me worthy of your attention again. And itâs just a game that I donât want to play anymore. I deserve better than that after everything Iâve given you.â
I think I was starting to see what was going on here. Two boys donât engage in a conversation like this unless...
Donovanâs head turned towards me, and despite him being clearly hurt by all this, he flashed me a nasty look to basically tell me to mind my own business. And Stephenâs head turned to see me overhearing their conversation as well. Donovan directed his eyes down to the floor, his fingers running through the dark curls on his head, and he mumbled, âYouâve got this all wrong. Ok? Can we just talk about this later? Just you and me?â
Stephen let out an insulted chuckle as he scoffed at Donovanâs refusal to speak. âDonât bother. Thereâs nothing left to talk about.â He said. âGo back to your pretend life. Donât stay out in the open for my sake. I stopped caring weeks ago.â And with that, Stephen wiped his eyes and walked back down the hall to the infirmary to check on his dad again, making sure that he was alright.
Donovan didnât even look at me a second time. He just sort of shuffled off to go be by himself for a while. I know that I hadnât known him for very long...but something about his current demeanor was so far off from what I was used to seeing from him. Tough guy exterior aside, I could have told you that Donovan definitely had a sensitive heart in there somewhere. But this was a whole different level of loneliness that I had never seen from him before. He didnât really seem like the kind of guy to get âhurtâ in these situations.
I know that Stephen appeared to be a year, maybe two years, younger than Donovan was, but...I mean...did the two of them have something going before all of civilization took a serious left turn? Because thatâs what it sounds like to me. Weird. Donovan being involved with another boy. I never would have bet money on seeing something like that happen! I guess you learn something new every day.
As the soldiers around us worked to clear us all out of the hallway, a few of them bagging up the bodies and being forced to drag them past us to take outside, I suddenly became aware of the fact that I had become utterly desensitized to this sort of thing. I mean...youâd think that it would take years in a foxhole during times of war before your mind switched over to the idea that any of this was ânormalâ, but to be honest...it didnât take that long at all. My mind was so overwhelmed by the fear and carnage of it all that my survival instincts had numbed themselves to the acts of body disposal as if it was as simple as taking the garbage can to the curb on trash day. Such horrors should never become mundane, and you never really prepare yourself for the day when it would be. But...
...There are moments...
...Little moments of clarity...where you see something like that and you realize the loathsome dismissal that youâve become a part of. Where you hear that little voice in your head actually saying, âWell...I guess itâs just another few bodies for the fire.â...and you begin to understand that youâve accepted the madness when you should have been fucking freaking OUT about it! There was a time, not long ago, when I would have. But not anymore. Dead bodies donât freak me out anymore. It makes me wonder...
...Where did that part of me go? And is he ever coming back? Or is that just a part of my innocence thatâs just been lost forever?
As I walked away to be by myself for a few minutes, I felt this weird anxiety swelling up in my chest. It was almost like a big enough bubble in my chest to keep me from breathing. I started thinking about Stephen and how much he was worried about his dad. Then I thought about his mom being bitten at work and having to have been put down. I thought about the high school boys in the hallway, and Alex trying desperately to get in touch with his own parents without any luck. And something about it just hit me. Like...all of a sudden, without warning. I know that Cain kept telling me that my mom and dad would be ok and that theyâd certainly be meeting up with us again as soon as a caravan could bring them to the shelter...but, Iâm starting to think that I was desensitized to that part of the equation too. Another moment of clarity that was certain to do my turbulent emotions more harm than good if I dared to dwell on them for too long.
I think Walker and Eddie could tell that I was growing increasingly disturbed just from the look on my face alone...but decided not to say anything about it as I looked them in the eyes and passed by them in the hallway. Probably for the best, because I hardly doubted that Iâd know what what to say anyway.
Eddie had lost his older brother to what was going on outside. Walker...his parents. Stephen was struggling with the fact that the only family he had left was his dad...who was struggling with his own survival at the moment. Donovan lost his brother and his father, Spencerâs dad was out on a survival run for the sake of the rest of us...and Alex...my precious Alex...as much as he tries to hide it, he was worried about his own parents too. Iâve seen him slumped down, on the verge of tears, when he thinks Iâm not watching. But I am. I cant help but to watch him. His beauty is so captivating...even when he cries.
It was this that weighed so heavily on my heart as I found my way back to the cafeteria and walked over to a quiet spot by the window to see the flickering light of dead bodies being set on fire slightly off in the distance. The high school football field ablaze with the carcasses of those who didnât make it out of this tragedy alive. And...as I watched them burn...I began to wonder if I would be one of those bodies someday in the near future. If I would be one of those corpses that just became another log in the fire. Or maybe my brother. Or maybe...even Alex...if I donât fight with everything I have to keep him safe. How âdesensitizedâ would I be when I woke up to the fact that the whole world has gone to shit...and everybody that I personally loved and cared about...was burned down to ashes right in front of me?
âWhatâs up?â Came a slightly high pitched voice over my shoulder, startling me a bit as I didnât expect to hear it while I was lost in my own thoughts. I jumped a little and turned to see Preston jump back a little in response. âIâm sorry. Did I scare you?â
âNo, I just...I didnât see you.â I replied.
âOh. Ok.â He said. âSorry.â He moved closer to the window and stood right beside me. âI heard they gunned down some zombies in the hallway. Soldiers are questioning everybody to see how the might have gotten in here. Iâm keeping away from them because they might find a reason to give me another shot. Plus, I donât even know this place like other people do. I doubt I could be much help, anyways.â He peered out of the window, and said, âI canât even imagine what that must smell like. Burning all those dead people. Thatâs prolly why they wear all of those masks and stuff, eh?â
âYeah. Probably.â I said softly.
âI wish my mom was here. Whenever I was feeling sad...sheâd make a batch of blueberry muffins. And weâd cut them open, right down the center, and add some extra butter...and, like, the butter would make the flavor of the sugar bread and the blueberries taste sooooo much better! They were...they were so awesome.â There was a brief, but sad pause in Prestonâs conversation. Almost as if he was feeling what I was feeling at that moment. âI sure wish I had some of my momâs blueberry muffins right now. Theyâd make me feel good. Itâs almost like I can taste them right now.â
Feeling the emotion choke me up a little bit, I asked him, âDo you think...she made it out? Maybe to a shelter of her own, wherever she is?â
Despite Prestonâs usual upbeat personality, I could clearly notice a concerned and almost disturbed look wash over him, his face getting much more serious from the mere question of the fact that maybe she didnât. âUmmm...I dunno. I think so.â He mumbled softly. âMy mom is great. She prolly...like...found a way.â He said. â...Maybe...â
I felt bad for ruining his mood, and I told him, âIâm sure she did. Somehow.â
âYeah...â He sniffled sadly. âThe world would be a messed up place if there was no more blueberry muffins, right?â He said, and turned his attention back to the window to watch the military folks toss more lifeless bodies onto the fire. âShe didnât want me to go, you know? To public school. She thought I was gonna get my brain all messed up and not know up from down.â He said. âBut...I wanted friends, Jake. I wanted to learn and to live and to see âlifeâ. It took a lot of convincing, but she finally let me go. And you know what? I really really loved it. The good parts, AND the bad. I just wanted to be a part of the world that existed outside of my house and my front and back yards. She gave me a chance to finally experience life for myself...and I loved it.â Then I saw a stray tear roll down Prestonâs smooth cheek, and I put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. âI just donât want to think about the fact that she might have been hurt...and I wasnât there to help her out. I donât want to imagine a world without my momâs blueberry muffins. You know?â
âI totally understand.â I said. But sympathizing with his current mood, I felt compelled to say, âIâm sure your mom is fine, Preston. Just look around us, a lot of people survived and weâre all just starting to figure things out again.â
Preston wiped his tears away on the back of his arm, whimpering, âYeah. She probably did. Iâm sure of it.â And he said, âIf I saw any zombies in this school, Iâd fight them and make them extinct. I swear.â He was quietly sobbing when he said it, but it was so cute that it made me smile regardless.
âExtinct, huh?â I giggled, holding back a few sobs of my own.
âYeah. For sure.â He said. âIf a zombie tries to run up and bite me, Iâd be like BLAM! Iâd kick him right in the worm!â
I laughed out loud. âIn the WORM?â
âYeah! You know...right in the pickle!â Then he lowered his voice and whispered, âIn his penis and junk below it.â Which only made me laugh again. Leave it to fucking Preston to lighten my mood a little bit during the zombie apocalypse. âWhat? For real! No joking!â
âI totally believe you, Pres!â
âI donât even know if zombies have pickles...but thatâs what Iâm going with. Unless itâs a girl zombie. Then...I donât know. I guess Iâll have to punch her in the tit or something...â
I laughed out loud again, holding on to Prestonâs shoulder to keep my balance. And when he asked me what I was laughing at...literally confused because he had no idea how utterly adorable he was...I just told him, âNo...I simply think that your strategy for fighting off members of the cannibal undead is a very good strategy, indeed.â
âYou think so?â He said, eyes widening and totally involved in believing the compliment. âCool!â
I think it did as much to soothe Prestonâs nerves as it did my own. And, I donât know...I felt really good about that. It would seriously break my heart in two if I had to see Preston cry actual tears in front of me over his mom. I mean...maybe heâs just trying to live in an alternate reality just like I am...pretending that everything is ok. But the truth is...itâs NOT ok. Far from it.
I just witnessed a group of high school kids get mercilessly gunned down, shot to pieces, and dragged out to my high school football field to be incinerated like a plague of rats...and itâs getting harder and harder for me to âfeelâ anything in response. And thereâs a part of me that is happy that my emotions have adapted to the horror going on all around me, and the threat of more horrors to come...
...But thereâs another part of me that fears what this sudden horror is turning me into. And Iâm ashamed for not treating this tragedy with the level of gravitas that it deserves.
Iâm feeling lost here. And as Preston and I looked back out of that window, seeing the soldiers in Hazmat suits now burning the corpses of the teenagers that I had just seen in the hallway only moments before...teens with lives, with dreams, with entire futures ahead of them before the outbreak...I began to feel the anxiety swelling in my chest all over again.
It was soothing to have Preston hold my hand and lean his head on my shoulder...but it only caused my thoughts to take a downward spiral into the bottomless pit of doubt and displacement. What if my parentâs werenât ok? What if I never got the chance to see them again?
Like Walker, visions of my mom being bitten by one of these things...having her flesh and muscle torn from her arms, or her legs...the idea of my father being overwhelmed by the outbreak and unable to fight them off...no matter how hard he tried...it just gutted me in a way that I couldnât really explain if I tried.
Am I alone? Just me and Cain...are we all thatâs left of our family?
And now that we might have a breach...should we escape? After this major invasion...security is only going to get more and more strict, and harder to bypass.
Maybe it is time to leave. Our very survival may depend on it.
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