Another step. And another. And another.
Just then the world seemed to jog sideways for Sophie. She stumbled, tried to catch her balance, but her own leg didn’t cooperate. She fell. She saw the ground rushing up to meet her. And then saw nothing.
SOPHIE AWOKE, LYING on a couch in a dim living room. The curtains were all drawn, the only light coming in from the doorway.
She moaned lightly as she stirred.
“Dean,” she whispered softly.
She heard movement, and Dean appeared, his eyes full of emotion and concern.
“Babe, I’ve been so worried. Are you OK?”
Sophie started to say that she was, but the truth was that she was far from it. One of her eyes was already swollen shut, but all she wanted to do was shut the other one as well. She didn’t think she’d ever had a headache this painful, and she felt terribly nauseous. But even worse was the pain high in her chest. It seemed to vibrate up her neck and into her jaw, then down her arm all the way to her elbow and even to her hip.
Oh my God, am I having a heart attack?
She saw Dean, concern etched deep into his face. She nodded slightly, although the movement almost made her vomit. She looked up at him and tried to smile.
She forced out the lie. “I’m OK.”
The instant relief was palpable. His large body unclenched as if coming out of a cramp. “Oh!” He laughed, a sudden release of tension. “You had me so worried.”
“What happened?” Sophie managed to croak.
Dean’s eyes lit up. “You should have seen me, babe. Coach Jackson would have been proud, the way I swung that table leg. I must have killed ten of those things. They kept coming one at a time, which made it easier for me. Anyway, once I killed the last one — wait, is it kill or destroy? Ah, never mind. Once I disposed of the last one, my arms were pretty much done. I managed to pick you up and make it over to this place. The front door was unlocked, and the house empty — so that was a bonus.”
Sophie only understood about every second word. She was dazed by the sound. Nevertheless, she smiled up at Dean.
“My hero,” she said. Dean beamed.
“Can you get up? I got something set up in the kitchen, and I think we had better get started. We don’t have much time left... My gut is starting to hurt, and I know you were in worse shape than me.”
Dean helped Sophie to her feet and held her up when she swayed dangerously. He half-carried her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table. An electrical cord lay in front of her. It looked like Dean had torn off whatever the cord was supposed to power. The end of the cord was stripped to reveal wires.
Dean was taking off his shoes as he explained, “All we have to do is be in contact with two of those wires. The third one is the ground. Once I plug it into the wall socket, there will be an electrical flow. I’ve rigged the fuses downstairs, so this should work.”
“Is it going to hurt?” Sophie whispered; her eyes wide.
Dean nodded. “Yeah, it’s going to pack a punch. It might leave burn marks.” He saw the fear and hesitation in Sophie’s eyes. “But it will help us get cured. I’ll go first!”
He misunderstood the fear in Sophie’s eyes. It wasn’t fear of an electric shock, or pain. Sophie felt a searing ache in her chest, and her dizziness increased. Dean kept talking, but Sophie could barely hear him.
She watched Dean pick up the end of the cord and plugged the other end into the wall socket. “I’m going to sit in this chair. If something goes wrong, then just push me off the chair and that should pull the plug out of the wall and kill the shock.”
Dean sat down, still holding the rubber portion of the cord. Sophie could see him smile. “Wish me luck, babe. See you on the other side.” And with that, he gripped one of the wires in his left hand, hastily reaching to grasp the other wire with his right.
Sophie could see Dean shake. She saw the muscles on his arms stood out. She knew that he wasn’t breathing.
But Sophie could do nothing to help him. Her vision blurred. High inside her chest, an aortic artery had been punctured too many times, causing the blood to stop flowing to her brain. She slid off her chair onto the ground with a soft sigh and was no more.
DEAN WOKE UP ON THE floor of that kitchen sometime the following night. He was covered in his own puke and piss. His hands were burnt to a crisp, and he cried like a baby because of the pain. He called out to Sophie for help before passing out once more. The next time he woke up, it was daylight — and that was when he saw Sophie’s corpse.
It felt like the joints in his body were dislocated and his muscles torn. All he could do was crawl along the linoleum floor towards the still form of his girlfriend. He softly called out her name as he inched towards her, repeating it like a mantra. The wounds on his hands started bleeding as soon as he opened them and mixed with the puke that coated him. The stench of piss and bile were strong enough to make him gag.
“Sophie...” He dragged himself closer with each repetition of her name. “Sophie.”
She lay on her side, her back towards him. When Dean got close enough, he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. He called her name one more time and pulled her shoulder towards him, oblivious to the fresh blood he left behind. Sophie flopped onto her back. Her eyes were closed, her expression frozen in a small grimace of pain.
“Is it going to hurt?”
