0012. ιғ ιт'ѕ dead, we'll ĸιll ιт.
Task: Good-bye. Setting: Apocalypse, Zombie Invasion. Mentions: Megan Massacre, Oliver Sykes, Ricky Horror, Ronnie Radke, TJ Bell, and Ryan Sitkowski. Note(s): Completely AU, Chris' Point of View.
I carefully walked towards the guy, peeking over his shoulder and instantly I became fucking horrified by what I saw. This man was eating another man, alive… Well he was alive. I could see the internal organs, or at least what was left of them. A gasp escaped my mouth. The homeless man turned around, blood and flesh stuck between his teeth, his bloody mouth pulled back into a snarl as a growl escaped. The eyes of this man were gone, glazed over and blood shot. The man lunged for me and tried to grab my jacket. I stepped back, letting my coffee hit the ground.
It was then that I suddenly realized there were more of these creatures roaming the streets. People were running in pure fear as a new terror took over. It was a sight from a horror movie, only I couldn't pause it, for I was in it. My first thoughts went to Megan and if she was okay. Before the creature could reach for me again, I turned and ran for my car. My hands were shaking as I fumbled with the metallic keys, but once inside the vehicle, I locked the doors -- course, this probably wouldn't have helped should my attacker have pursued his mission. Luckily, he was more worried about his unfinished meal than me.
Upon arriving to Megan's apartment, I saw her in the state of panic and fear. Tears welled in her eyes, and in an attempt to calm her down, I reached for the small female -- pulling her into my arms, holding her protectively against my chest, cooing and rubbing her back. She managed to calm her breathing, and naturally, I nuzzled my nose in her fiery hair before kissing her temple. She was safe for the time being, but just how long did we have before more outbreaks appeared? And just in God's name was fucking going on?
As Megan packed an emergency bag, I turned on the television in hopes of finding an explanation on the news. Only, there wasn't one. Not even a single -- just static, alerting us that our ordered cable had been disconnected. After some investigating, we also discovered that our internet connection and our telephones were also unreliable -- our cellphone signals so low, uncertainty of unanswered calls leaving us to wonder rather our beloved were harmed or simply temporarily under reach. Thankfully, we managed to contact a small group of friends -- some reaching us with the same mirrored panic we felt.
Megan decided to use her apartment for the time being as a safe house, the attic becoming a place of sleep.
Ronnie took on the leader role of the group, guiding everyone while also attempting to keep everyone safe at all costs. -- even if one of those costs was someone of the group.
Ricky had came back one day, clamping his left hand over a gash in his arm to cover gushing blood, or at least trying to, when Ronnie notified the group of his decision only an hour later. He had to be killed. There is no cure, no anti-virus. All we can do is kill him or leave him to die, then he'd just come back and kill us. Ricky had begged me not to let him, to find some way to convince Ronnie otherwise, but I couldn't. At this point, we knew we were the sole survivors and there wasn't a chance in hell that I was risking our lives.
Ronnie didn't want to, but he allow Ricky to say his goodbyes before taking him out back. It was like watching a lamb to the slaughter. We all knew he was physically walking back there, but we had had come to the realization that only Ronnie would be coming back. I almost wanted to give up right there. One of my brothers was being sentenced to death. TJ gave me a look and exhaled. Should I have fought to keep him here until he changed? Which of us would be the one to kill him then? What about Ryan? I couldn't find him. Surely, the guy wanted to be left alone. I know that was what I'd want if Megan was being taken out there . . . Then again, I'd probably hold her until we were torn apart. Ronnie wouldn't be killing just one then, but two. Till death do us part.
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Ricky was quick on his feet, silent, and swift. The group had depended on him and Ryan for runs: such as getting medical supplies, food, water, and gas for whatever car they may have gotten, hot wired thanks to Ryan's quick wit. Ricky was quite good at sneaking around hoards and crawling up into high spaces, sometimes even managing to snag a pack of cigarettes just because they were there and why the hell not? He rarely took off with Ryan when it was a simple fast mission. He didn't have the time to be looking out for someone else or making sure someone else was okay. Ricky was about getting in, getting what they needed, and then getting out.
TJ was the one who managed to calm people down, but also stop a fight when need be. Ryan was known for having a temper, having almost been booted from the group for arguing with people a few too many times. Ricky managed to calm him quite often, but TJ however, was the one who kept a level head during all of this. Part of me wondered if he was as freaked out as the rest of us. Was he just putting on a brave face through all of this just for us? TJ was there to listen and to help, often helping us pack up as quickly as possible. I always knew he'd be a strong person to depend on, a reason why I asked him to stay with us. Plus, he will always be one of my best friends.
And as for Megan, she wasn't very violent. Come to think of it, I don't think Megan's ever hit anyone. It scared me a bit, because what if something happened to her and I couldn't get to her in time, or anyone couldn't get to her in time for that matter? I always kept an eye on her and kept her even closer. She was nurturing and good at dressing wounds. I guess you could say she was our nurse, and mother figure. She was scared shitless of all this. She was hopeful it'd end soon, but I highly doubted that. I think this is it. It isn't called apocalypse for nothing. She had been the one to wrap up Ricky's arm, thinking he had cut himself on broken glass while out on a run, until Ronnie broke the news. Luckily, he brought back medical supplies for her to use since we were running low. He smoked a cigarette while she bandaged him up, telling him how he had to be more careful when he went out -- he nodded carelessly and gave her a shrug.
As for me, I just followed along, I did my share of bashing skulls, playing look out, and driving late at night as we traveled. Going out on a run wasn't my thing. I didn't wanna be away from Meg or leave her to worry. I mostly scouted for safe places to set up camp with Ronnie. We had to make sure it was big enough, somewhat safe, and well hidden so we could secure it. Blunt things like bats and clubs were our main weapons, but we did have a few guns, thanks to Oliver.
Oliver was the one to gather guns. We didn't use them often but sometimes they were called for. Sometimes hoards, large ones, would attack and a gun is quicker and more effective than a bat or an axe. He also swiped ammo, finding it in cop cars, shops, and sometimes odd places. He just seemed to know what to do and none of us were about to complain about it. He knew what he had to do and how to get out of a sticky situation. He rarely came back hurt. He was pretty much unscathed. He attempted to teach Megan how to use a gun but she freaked out when she pulled the safety and dropped it. We all ducked for cover for fear it'd go off. He chuckled and set it aside. The rest of us were fine. Ricky could use some practice with his aim, but he's good enough. Maybe watching all those horror movies prepared us? No. This is nothing like those horror movies. This is scarier.
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It must've been about a month since Ricky had died. Ryan was silent, not a word escaping his lips since that day. It was as if the world took his one reason to live. We were traveling, looking for a new camp to set up, when it happened -- a single gun shot rocketing. Ronnie and I took off towards the sound, thinking a hoard struck and Oli needed help. Megan was in the car where I told her to stay. We got to where we heard the sound, seeing Ryan's lifeless body laying on the floor. This was too much for him -- even I sometimes thought of putting the barrel to my own head but never could go through with it. Oliver found us and stopped when he saw. He kicked the gun out of Ryan's hand and picked it up. Ronnie turned around, pinching the bridge of his nose. The group was dwindling in size and both of those who were in charge of gathering food and supplies were dead. All we had was TJ, Ronnie, Oliver, Megan, and myself. Sadly enough, the only help Megan was good for was bandaging us up when we got nicks and cuts, sometimes give us stitches. Oliver decided to step up to not only gather guns, but also gather food and other necessities. TJ stepped up too.
My hopes for survival were dropping, much like this group. Over time, I noticed Megan was starting to get sick. She was weak, wouldn't eat and all she really did was sleep. Ronnie said it'd be best to cut her loose now, but TJ managed to help me talk him out of it. I just wanted more time with her. She meant the world to me. She was gonna be my wife and now she was leaving me too. I held her cold hand and stuck by her side. I noticed her mumbling was starting to come to a stop. Her sentences were left unfinished and the light in her green eyes was fading. She reassured me she was fine, but I think that she was trying to reassure herself more. She was dying. I could see it. She was slipping away from me and all I could do was helplessly watch. Ronnie tried to help me, he tried to get me to let him kill her, to end her suffering. Some disease hit her, so naturally, it was only a matter of time before she would be lunging for me like that homeless guy the night this all started. But I couldn't do it. I was being selfish. I was making her suffer here. I didn't want to say goodbye; to her or anyone for that matter.
Later that night, Ronnie put his foot down. He was gonna end her life before she could suffer as one of those things. I know that if she turned, I wouldn't be able to kill her, and it'd be hard to watch. TJ kept me company while Ronnie and Oliver went to do end her suffering. Oliver carried her body out of the car and into the field. Like fore, Ronnie was gonna do the actual slaughtering. I managed to say goodbye somehow, I kissing her forehead as she stroked my cheek, telling me to stay out of trouble. She put her engagement ring in my hand and told me to keep it always. I put it on my coffin necklace. I gave her the coffin ring I always wear for I wanted her to have something -- anything, to remind her of me in death. She fought me on it, but eventually didn't have the strength to keep fighting and took it.
After that, I didn't focus on anything in particular. I just knew that now, I lost everything. It was gone. That's it for me. I wasn't meant to be happy, even in times like this. Originally, I'd lost Oliver to someone else -- having loved him before Megan and I decided to rekindle, having thought he was absolute walking perfection, a flashed smile from him and my heart would melt - and now, I had permanently lost the only person who'd restitched my heart when Oliver tore it open. I loved TJ on some explainable level but he'd always been dedicated to Cady. I also couldn't replace Megan - rather she was currently dead or alive.
A few days later, tragedy struck yet again. Oliver and I were left alone surprisingly, both Ronnie and TJ preoccupied in scoping. I'd decided to hang back. After all, I was still recovering. Such didn't just happen overnight. The conversation was short -- clipped replies transferring into a different question, someone looking in might think the event progressed slowly, but really, I don't remember every precise words exchanged but I do recall him asking me what being alone felt like. I snapped. Maybe, I blamed him partially. I don't know. Either way, I know that I hated him in that precise moment. He could have loved me in return and he refused to. Ronnie could have kept the others alive. So what if they killed us? We were going to die eventually. There was a knife in the bag we were carrying, and though I don't recall driving the blade through Oliver's ribs and up into his heart, I can't deny that I felt the cold metal in my hand. The next thing that's vivid clearly, TJ is sheltering me from a raging Ronnie -- blood soaking my clothing; my old guitarist inspecting every inch of my body to confirm I was still Chris Cerulli.
