I can no longer hold the heartbreak as I fall to the ground as my grief pours out. My strength leaves my knees, a lump in my throat as I let out a gut-wrenching sob. My hand presses on the rough cement as my other squeezes my aching chest where my heart used to beat a happy rhythm. A loud roar escapes from my diaphragm as I recall her face again, not caring about our situation right now. All I care about is that I let her die… in my arms. My cheeks hurt like they’re burning, and my throat tightens, taking short intakes of breath. I can no longer take it. I just want to lie down until I fall asleep.
Or maybe I’m already asleep and I’m having a nightmare. I need to wake up.
I feel the heaviness in my head, but I can lift it a little. The first face my eyes land on is the face of the dog that looks like it’s pretending that nothing happened—tongue sucked out, breathing rapidly—standing right next to Andrew. The others surround me while Nathalie rubs my back. I look up at her and see teary eyes and find her handgun in her holster.
I clenched my jaw, hostile thoughts flooding my mind. In a millisecond, the handgun is in my hand, pointing it down to the dog’s face.
“Isaac, no!” Nathalie reaches for my hand, then I push her away, aiming the gun at her. She walks back with her hands up.
I move it back to the dog, but then the others come struggling to open my fingers to get the weapon. I push them away and now the aim is at their faces.
“Don’t do it.” Stephen grits his teeth as he hisses, hands are up as well.
I pull the slide on the top of the gun as I put it back in front of the dog’s face, which Andrew then drags away from me, yet I insist on keeping my range close to the dog as I follow it. They grab me by my arms and waist, while others were trying to get the handgun from my hand. I wriggle around to get free, then I fall on my back so hard that the force slams my butt on the ground. I don’t know who pushed me, but all I know is that the dog caused Riley’s death. I drop the gun, but my hands are tired of getting it. Sobbing continues, and my head aches just recalling all the angles of her face, her smiles, her seriousness, her collarbone, and the softness of her thighs. Everything… gone like fireworks.
I take a deep breath and let out the loudest roar that comes straight down from my chest. A prolonged scream filled with anguish, causing pain to be at its worst, tears blinding me to my surroundings.
I hear footsteps, seemingly approaching us. “They heard you,” a voice says. I know who is speaking without looking at who it is. Alia’s still alive, huh?
“Oh! You’re okay!” Ysa cheers.
“Where’s Riley?” The name that comes from Lenore’s mouth brings me flashes again. A seemingly endless set of flashes.
“I don’t smell her,” Alia replies, almost whispering.
Everyone stays silent, probably listening to my excruciating snivels. I don’t know what happens next, as everything else just comes by like a whoosh of wind. I remember being on my feet again, running, with Riley’s ax lying in my hands. My tears dry up as I dash through the air alongside them. Then we meet a horde. Maybe twenty of them.
They all turn to face us, then roars echo through the whole town, and then they start running. We prepare ourselves with our weapons, except for Alia. She sprints toward them with no weapons in her hands. She just starts scything each bloodie with her nails, which surprisingly penetrated their skins, blood spurting out of the deep scratches she’s created on their rotting bodies. She throws a strong kick, a sucker punch, then twists their heads and breaks their bones—cutting off their limbs, even. We all stand in our positions, stunned to even make a move, surprised by how Alia is executing them with just her own little body in a skirt and a sweater stained with blood, without sharp objects on hold.
She moves so fast that I can’t catch every other move she makes. She swifts like an assassin on a killing spree, but without a weapon. All twenty bloodies fall lifeless almost all at once while she stands in the middle, arms half-spread on her sides, nails looking longer than I remember, and her veins, dark green to almost black, covering her skin as if they were tattoos. Her legs split slightly as she partially bends forward. She sighs as if everything was just effortless for her.
Blood oozes down from her mouth, and she wipes it away with the back of her hand. She stands straight and turns to us. She looks apologetic, asking for forgiveness. We stay quiet and unmoved. Adam and Lenore, however, seem to know something that we don’t.
Alia opens her mouth to say something and then closes it again, perhaps hesitating to use her words.
Her body comes back to normally flawless, veins fading inwards, and her nails retracting. The scenario gives me chills—maybe because I went from crying to getting shocked—but she herself scares me a little. Somehow, I know what she is, and I knew it days ago. I just didn’t realize it. Everyone had their suspicions, but they turned to only hearsay because Riley told them to. Maybe she did notice something strange about Alia, too.
“I’m regretfully sorry for what I’ve done,” she says, clasping her bloodstained hands together in front of her.
We don’t answer. We can’t.
“I… I got bitten.” She waits for us to respond, yet she continues anyway. “No one knew but Adam. I was scared that you might kick me out, so I kept it a secret. I’m… I’m sorry.” Tears fall, she almost didn’t finish her sentence.
Though she’s asking for forgiveness, I think that was unnecessary. I feel sympathy for her somehow. The others look mad, or sad; a mix of emotions fogs us around. Dan finally moves, picking up a rifle off the ground and hanging it on his shoulder. He walks past her without saying a word or glancing at her. Josh and Andrew—with the dog—follow him silently. The others walk by next, and it’s me, Lenore, Adam, and Mark left. Gwen is the only one who stares at her, but the stare tells something different. A stare that shows contempt and probably disgust. She finally walks away, almost jogging.
Lenore approaches Alia and embraces her gently, which Alia doesn’t reciprocate for she looks confused by the unexpected hug. Lenore drops her hand and runs it down her arm as she follows the withdrawing team. Mark goes first, then Adam kisses Alia on the side of her forehead and mutters something in her ear.
I lower my head as I notice it’s just me and her left facing each other. My heart still aches because of my greatest loss, which she had lost, too. I decide to go ahead, but my feet stop working as I end up next to her.
I ask without looking at her, “Was she a good friend to you?”
“Yeah... She was,” she whispers. I sense her crying about it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
I shut my eyes as tears blur my vision again, turning away. I see shadows through the windows of the surrounding buildings, and my heart pounds again. Deep inside me, I know Riley is now running along with the horde, and I might face her again, which I think I can’t handle. I can’t see her like that. I can’t even imagine it.
“We must go,” I say, patting her on her shoulder. We run together back to the team, where we hear gunshots from their rifles. The gunshots are slower, only shooting a few per horde to save ammo. Some of us only use our melee weapons to kill them. Alia helps, going on a killing spree with her claws again.
We were slightly scared at first, but I think we’re getting used to it. The Bloodies ignore her, and that’s because she’s one of them. And they’re brainless; they don’t think. So I believe they can never think of betrayal, which, for me, is an advantage. Having her is an advantage. Now I get why Riley risked her life to save Alia. Not only cos she’s her friend but also cos she found potential in her.
I think all the decisions she made, which others may disagree with, will always have something ahead that saves the best.