Sneak Peek - In the End
I'm having so much fun writing Jordan's POV that I felt like sharing. He's going through a lot of stuff right now and he's about to go through a whole lot more...
One of the things I love about this family is the silent stoicism. Unless I’m doing something monumentally deadly crazy whacked out stupid, they let nature run its course and respect my process of doing dumbass things to the point that I’m sick of myself or too jacked up to keep doing them. Or until I find my turning point.
I tell Syd where I’m going to go, make my awkward temporary farewell to him and drop anchor behind a row of bushes. I’m crouching down, pants around my ankles, whistling the theme song to Spongebob (we all have our bathroom rituals, respect mine) when I hear a rustling behind me. It could be a bird, it could be a squirrel, it could be Bambi. Hell, it could be a Deliverance style yokel, but odds are firmly in favor that it’s a zombie.
I reach for my hatchet, cursing myself for putting it down in the first place but my pants weren’t going to unzip themselves, and I spin on my heels. I have just enough time to see him coming. Just enough heads up to get in position, for him to burst through the bushes and launch himself at me. The good news is that I’m low to the ground, crouched into a ball and most of me isn’t out there for the taking, begging to get bit. He almost flies over me and misses me entirely, but he’s fast which means he’s still relatively smart and he grabs onto me at the last second. We both go tumbling back, landing in the small clearing outside my makeshift commode and my head hits the compact dirt hard. I see stars flare out across my eyes, blotting out the tree tops swaying over the night sky. I blink furiously, the skin of my palm slippery with fear sweat as it holds tight to the hatchet.
“Syd!” I cry out.
I hear his feet immediately pound toward me and I know he’ll be here any second.
He may as well have been on the other side of the moon.
The infected has recovered before me because he didn’t hit his head, he isn’t relying on sight in this darkness and he just doesn’t care. Not about anything other than me and my flesh. I hear him scuttle over the sticks and leaves on the forest floor between us, closing the gap that was never big enough. My eyes are adjusting, I’m groaning and trying to rise or run or roll, but it doesn’t matter. He gets ahold of me anyway.
As he grabs my hand, his fever hot skin grinding against mine and his grip like steel shackles on my wrist, I know the score. I know I’m going to die here like this, lying on my back still half blind with my pants pinned to my shins and my junk exposed to the world. It’s not dignified and it’s not right, not by a long shot. I’ve come so far and to go out now like this? With Ali looking at me like I might be me again and part of me actually believing it too? What the hell kind of justice is that?
In an instant I’m burning with rage, growing hotter than the infected son of a bitch drooling on my hand. I know that I’m not dead yet, I’m not done and I will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. I cry out when he sinks his teeth into my hand, but it’s not with pain. It’s anger, pure and simple. I let it take the wheel and my arm, my free arm with my brand new, sharp as shit blade, is already making an arc across my body. I close my eyes and picture Ali by the firelight. Then I take her advice. I do what she told me.
I do what I’ve gotta do.
One of the things I love about this family is the silent stoicism. Unless I’m doing something monumentally deadly crazy whacked out stupid, they let nature run its course and respect my process of doing dumbass things to the point that I’m sick of myself or too jacked up to keep doing them. Or until I find my turning point.
I tell Syd where I’m going to go, make my awkward temporary farewell to him and drop anchor behind a row of bushes. I’m crouching down, pants around my ankles, whistling the theme song to Spongebob (we all have our bathroom rituals, respect mine) when I hear a rustling behind me. It could be a bird, it could be a squirrel, it could be Bambi. Hell, it could be a Deliverance style yokel, but odds are firmly in favor that it’s a zombie.
I reach for my hatchet, cursing myself for putting it down in the first place but my pants weren’t going to unzip themselves, and I spin on my heels. I have just enough time to see him coming. Just enough heads up to get in position, for him to burst through the bushes and launch himself at me. The good news is that I’m low to the ground, crouched into a ball and most of me isn’t out there for the taking, begging to get bit. He almost flies over me and misses me entirely, but he’s fast which means he’s still relatively smart and he grabs onto me at the last second. We both go tumbling back, landing in the small clearing outside my makeshift commode and my head hits the compact dirt hard. I see stars flare out across my eyes, blotting out the tree tops swaying over the night sky. I blink furiously, the skin of my palm slippery with fear sweat as it holds tight to the hatchet.
“Syd!” I cry out.
I hear his feet immediately pound toward me and I know he’ll be here any second.
He may as well have been on the other side of the moon.
The infected has recovered before me because he didn’t hit his head, he isn’t relying on sight in this darkness and he just doesn’t care. Not about anything other than me and my flesh. I hear him scuttle over the sticks and leaves on the forest floor between us, closing the gap that was never big enough. My eyes are adjusting, I’m groaning and trying to rise or run or roll, but it doesn’t matter. He gets ahold of me anyway.
As he grabs my hand, his fever hot skin grinding against mine and his grip like steel shackles on my wrist, I know the score. I know I’m going to die here like this, lying on my back still half blind with my pants pinned to my shins and my junk exposed to the world. It’s not dignified and it’s not right, not by a long shot. I’ve come so far and to go out now like this? With Ali looking at me like I might be me again and part of me actually believing it too? What the hell kind of justice is that?
In an instant I’m burning with rage, growing hotter than the infected son of a bitch drooling on my hand. I know that I’m not dead yet, I’m not done and I will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. I cry out when he sinks his teeth into my hand, but it’s not with pain. It’s anger, pure and simple. I let it take the wheel and my arm, my free arm with my brand new, sharp as shit blade, is already making an arc across my body. I close my eyes and picture Ali by the firelight. Then I take her advice. I do what she told me.
I do what I’ve gotta do.
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