The breeze causes the exposed nerve endings in my side to scream in agony and I grit my teeth as I close my eyes.
I listen to the patter and think that maybe it’s time to leave all this behind. I’ve lived long enough to hear that final storm and that’s all I really wanted. Maybe now I can know peace.
The pistol feels so heavy that it takes every ounce of concentration I have just to lift it. But isn’t this how it always was in the books and movies? Our so-called hero with the barrel of a gun in his mouth, a single round in the chamber, ready to usher his way into death?
I open my eyes to take one final look at the world and see that dark silhouettes are shambling through the doorway. Looks like I reached this decision not a moment too soon.
A flash of lightning illuminates the shack in electric blue and for a moment everything is as clear as day. I can see the decayed and peeling flesh of the rotters, the way their wet clothes cling to frames so frail and withered that it’s amazing that they can still stand at all. And I can also see that the one out in front, the one leading the pack so to speak, used to be a little kid.
Another flash of lightning right after the first and I see the small rotter is wearing a tattered t-shirt that’s splotched with bloodstains. But I can just make out the Power Ranger logo and it takes only a fraction of a second for memory to overlap with reality.
The lightning fades and I can hear the scuffle of feet against the floor. So close now that I can smell the rot and mildew.
The barrel of the pistol floods my mouth with a metallic taste, like sucking on a penny.
I try to tell myself to just do. To pull the trigger and end this fucking thing.
But I can’t. It’s like I’m suddenly paralyzed and this thought keeps going through my head. What are the chances that out of all the rotters out there this particular one just happened to find me?
Lightning again and the creature that used to be Jason is only a few feet away now. There’s no recognition on his face, no emotion what-so-ever. Just that empty stare of the walking dead.
None of the zombies are close enough yet to even think about taking a bite, but I feel someone lightly touch my arm. The hand is warm and for a moment my heart forgets to beat.
“You do whatever you think is right, baby. I’ll always love you no matter what.”
I love you too, Josie. I think I loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make up for everything else.
I take the barrel out of my mouth and aim into the darkness. When the next flash of lightning bathes the inside of the shack, Jason is leaning forward, his mouth opened wide, teeth ready to tear and rip.
I pull the trigger as I should have so long ago and the bullet tears through his tiny skull as his body falls.
I let the useless gun drop to the floor and squeeze my eyes shut as the first hands begin tugging at my clothes.
It should only hurt for a little while. I don’t reckon I can have all that much life left in me.
Still, at least I fulfilled the promise I made to the only woman I’d ever truly loved. At least I kept my word.
I found what I was looking for. And –maybe – what had been looking for me as well.
I close my eyes and await the end.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Named by the Google+ Insider’s Guide as one of their top 32 authors to follow, William Todd Rose writes dark, speculative fiction which often lends itself to the bizarre and macabre. With short stories appearing in various magazines and anthologies, his body of work also includes the novels
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