Is it over? Is it really over? Can she finally rest now? In a dark rotting room laid hundreds of decapitated, dismembered bodies piled and scattered everywhere. Human gore and bullet shells decorated the area, fresh blood painted the floor and walls, and the aroma of smoke from bullets circulated the room. Covered with filth, blood, and flesh and standing in the middle of it all was Samantha Trace. You wouldn’t be able to tell that she was a blonde with all the blood that soaked into her hair with bits of muscle and organs hanging on to it. Cuts of intestines and shreds of muscle started to slide down from her bloody small and tight body as blood began to coagulate. Samantha cautiously panted from the adrenaline and fear; to her surprise she survived this wave of death, unfortunately. If she doesn’t leave soon then she will be caught in another and her chances of surviving is pretty damn slim.
She held her gun, the glock 17, and her tomahawk tightly enough to make her hands shake and ache. Her back suffered no weight pain for carrying her AR-15 (a gun that she took from one of the dead bandits), her Marlin 1894 CB (this was a bitch to get from a police station that was occupied by a hoard), her long machete (this wasn’t so hard to snatch this from one of the undead), and her survival backpack with all of her goods that will come in handy. Instead, she was suffering from the pain in her heart.
A couple of months ago, bandits ransacked a group’s camp that Samantha recently joined and kidnapped someone. It was unclear of what the connection was between the group and the bandits, but supposedly the bandits accused the group for stealing their supplies. When Samantha came back from her search, she found out who was kidnapped and volunteered herself to pursue the bandits alone. Three months have passed, she encountered one of the bandits that was bitten and was able to find their whereabouts before she killed him.
Behind the other door in the warehouse is a message left by the bandits. She doesn’t know what will happen once she goes through that door, but already her heart was aching. Her mind continued to race with conflicting thoughts. What if things were okay beyond that door and her worries were just getting the best of her? Or maybe this was just a lie and deep down she already knows what is in there. Finally, she had enough strength to carry on.
Okay, now it’s time.
Each step made the heartache even worse and the closer she got, the more her head throbbed. Samantha was just a few feet away and her stomach was having a hard time keeping in the fluids and her throat was in a knot to stop it from coming up. And there she was, standing right in front of the door; it was hard for her to hear anything beyond it because of her loud troubled heart and racing mind. She reloaded her gun and placed it back into its sheath that rested on her small waist. Her hand started to tremble as she reached for the doorknob but hesitated at first and yet she forced herself to grasp it. When she opened the door, she started to hear chains clanking and a weak voice.
Samantha unconsciously dropped her tomahawk and stared at what the bandits had left for her to see.
Two chains were attached to the ceiling and it carried a small boy by the neck. The chains snaked the boy’s neck tightly that blue veins were visible and blood seeped through. The boy’s clothes had rips and tears as though someone had whipped him like a slave or was tormented by being carved alive. The boy’s body was badly bruised and battered and hung probably three feet above a stool that seemed to be kicked aside. The boy’s yellow and red eyes met hers and struggled to get near her but with the chains wrapped around his neck and dangling in the air, he can only reach his arms out to try to grab her.
I’m sorry, Samantha.
Samantha stood there and covered her mouth and nose with her bloody hands. “No…no…” It felt like her heart had completely shattered and lost control of her inner nature. Her knees gave in and fell onto the floor while sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry…so sorry!” Samantha choked in between sobs. “I was too late…” The world and living meant nothing to her but revenge and hatred now. She looked down at her tomahawk and grabbed it while forcing her will to stand up again. The bandits will get what they deserved after what they have done to her… and to him; she approached the boy and stayed at a close-but-safe distance. There was no way she can let him stay as a monster.
Then the tomahawk was raised in the air, her strength kept disappearing and reappearing from her as she focused on the boy. The weapon was getting heavier to hold and her arms began to shake. She had to kill him. Now.
But you have to.
Samantha can’t let him continue on like this, so she finally regained her strength and—
“No!” Samantha forced her arms down while gripping onto the weapon tightly. “I can’t! I won’t!”
What the hell?
“Whoever you are, stop it! I’m not going to do it!”
Oh yes you are! You HAVE to and I’m going to make you.
“This isn’t right!” Samantha shouted and looked up. “And not fair! There’s no way I can do it!”
You have to for the sake of this story so you can have your revenge on the bandits for kidnapping and killing him.
“I CAN do that without ending his life.”
He’s already dead; he has no life. So end it for good!
“No!” Samantha cried, “How DARE you let this happen!”
I have to in order for you to have a purpose to seek out the bandits. I’m just getting started.
“Well fuck your story! I’m not gonna do it!”
Samantha, don’t make me…
“Don’t make you do what?!”
As Samantha continued to scream and sob, a large hoard surrounded the building. All the shooting and the noises that her gun had made attracted the remaining hoard of the town. If there was one good thing that the bandits did to her before they retreated was locking her up in the abandoned warehouse. However, the barricaded door and windows will not last forever.
“Oh fuck you!” Samantha thrust her tomahawk up in the air.
They can go away unless you do what I say.
“No! I’d rather fight them off. C’mon! Bring me hundreds! Bring me thousands! But I will never kill him.” She turned her body and faced at the door; she took out her glock 17 and braced herself for the next wave.
Have it your way.
Part of the ceiling started to crack, it couldn’t handle the movements and the weights from the chains and the boy. Soon enough, the ceiling gave in and a piece of it collapsed. Samantha swiftly turned around and saw the little boy standing, free from the chains, and ran towards her. She did a quick spin and gave the boy a reverse side kick at his torso, causing him to fall to the side. Then she immediately dashed out of the room and closed the door before he got the chance to sprint. The boy growled, groaned, scrapped, and slammed against the other side of the door. The undead may be fast but at least they were stupid. Instead of using her pistol, she put it away along with her tomahawk and grabbed the AR-15 from her back and dynamite from her backpack. Quickly, she took off the safety cover of the dynamite and threw it at the barricaded door. Samantha kept clips on her armor belt that wrapped around her bloody-and-gore-covered body. The dynamite exploded, causing several pieces of the undead to fly in many directions, shards of the door pierced the monsters and the cement blocks of the building smashed many of them as well. Since she didn’t take cover, she was lucky that she wasn’t hit by any of it but her ears began to ring and vibrate through her head. Trying to stay in consciousness, she ran through the building and shot her way out.
Behind her were a handful of the monsters from the hoard running after their next meal. Samantha ran faster and turned around for a second to shoot at them. To her success, she was able to escape another wave. When she believed that she was far from the monsters, she leaned against the tree and quietly sobbed again.
“I don’t care what you have up your sleeves for me.” She hiccupped, wheezed, and sobbed.” You can make him reappear in my life as one of them but I will not kill him!”
And why not?!
“One of the heaviest burdens of all is forcing a mother to kill her only child.”
© Copyright 2016 vivere. All rights reserved.