Fear can hold you prisoner, hope can set you free.
All dead.
My whole family is dead. I am the only survivor, but I won't last much longer. In a way, I don't want to. I long to die. To join them, see them all again. The only reason I am writing this is tolet the people who find us, know what happened. For nine months we have not ventured from Quest compound, moving only to bury our dead.
We had decided when we first knew about the disease. We would shoot our own family, that way each of us knew the other was out of pain.
I had to shoot my father.
He was the first person to have the disease. The first to die. The first to be killed. Before he died he screened us for the disease. All of us were positive, although I was only in the very early stages. That's how I have lasted so long. Hadji died three weeks ago. I had to shoot him as well. He asked me to.
Three weeks alone with memories.
And four graves.
It was our five insignificant lives, against millions of innocent ones. If whoever is reading this wonders why that quote is at the top. Well. You can probably guess. Hope was the last thing my family had. And even that ran out on them. You are also probably wondering why we didn't commit suicide.
We couldn't.
If we had, and God knows we wanted to, the disease would have searched for other hosts. We had to wait until it had nearly killed us, then kill it.
Amazingly there is no pain.
Knowing what it is doing to my body is not needed. I know that it is slowly eating me away. But there is no pain. No, I only feel hollow. And I know that I have that feeling because I am on my own.
Not for much longer.
But before I die I must bury Bandit. My faithful dog. The last to contract the disease; from me. In that, I feel as if I sentenced him to death by loving him. He's sitting by me now as I write. Faithful, obediant. Thank God he doesn't know what I am going to do. Now I look at the gun.
Race's gun.
The gun used to kill all of my family.
It only holds six bullets, there are two left.
Six bullets; six members of the family. Four used; four dead.
Finally I have nearly finished. What is left in my work is to tell you a little about the people who died. The bravest people I know.
My father.
Holding on to me when my mother died. Saving my life God knows how many times. His face as he told us we all had the disease. The understanding, grateful look as I pulled the trigger. The bravest man I knew, apart from...
Race Bannon.
Ex Navy S.E.A.L. Our bodyguard, my friend and hero. His reckless manner and strength. He kept that strength right up to the end. He had to for his daughter to shoot him.
Jessie Bannon.
A girl as strong as her father in her will and bravery. At the end she knew I could not shoot her. Hadji had to. Out of the two who loved her she had to pick the one who loved her most.
Hadji Singh.
My friend, my brother. The first to accept we were all to die. He never changed, never. Not even at the end. The same glint was there and all he said was "we will meet again, my friend."
That leaves me.
Jonny Quest.
The person who had to kill two people. The murderer. The boy with the blond hair and bright blue eyes. The last to die. After having so many people try to kill me, it seems ironic that I am to kill myself.
Lastly, after you have read this, go out to the lighthouse. There you will find the graves. And me. When you read this I will already be dead, please bury me, cover my body with the earth. Don't dig our bodies up. Leave us under the shade of the lighthouse; the place where so many of our adventures began. It seems fitting that it is where the last adventure of all will end. My life.
My job here is done. I have finally finished. Now I can join my family.
Jonny Quest.
[A chair can be heard scraping across the floor. There are footsteps and the pattering of small feet. Silence. Then a gunshot. Sounds of digging. Silence. Another gunshot. Silence.]
Two years later.
A breeze rustled the leaves on the trees around Quest compound. Blowing around the lighthouse and swirling around the six simple wooden crosses. On each was a name and an age.
Dr. Benton Quest, 50
Race Bannon, 38
Jessie Bannon, 16
Hadji Singh, 17
Bandit, 4
Jonny Quest, 15
The grass had covered the graves and the crosses were the only trace of what had happened. The house stood empty and desolate, the waves crashing on the cliffs below.
The breeze lifted, as if, some people might think, it was sighing at the last name. Then with a final breeze around the house, the breeze disappeared.
Taking its ghosts with it.
All dead.
My whole family is dead. I am the only survivor, but I won't last much longer. In a way, I don't want to. I long to die. To join them, see them all again. The only reason I am writing this is tolet the people who find us, know what happened. For nine months we have not ventured from Quest compound, moving only to bury our dead.
We had decided when we first knew about the disease. We would shoot our own family, that way each of us knew the other was out of pain.
I had to shoot my father.
He was the first person to have the disease. The first to die. The first to be killed. Before he died he screened us for the disease. All of us were positive, although I was only in the very early stages. That's how I have lasted so long. Hadji died three weeks ago. I had to shoot him as well. He asked me to.
Three weeks alone with memories.
And four graves.
It was our five insignificant lives, against millions of innocent ones. If whoever is reading this wonders why that quote is at the top. Well. You can probably guess. Hope was the last thing my family had. And even that ran out on them. You are also probably wondering why we didn't commit suicide.
We couldn't.
If we had, and God knows we wanted to, the disease would have searched for other hosts. We had to wait until it had nearly killed us, then kill it.
Amazingly there is no pain.
Knowing what it is doing to my body is not needed. I know that it is slowly eating me away. But there is no pain. No, I only feel hollow. And I know that I have that feeling because I am on my own.
Not for much longer.
But before I die I must bury Bandit. My faithful dog. The last to contract the disease; from me. In that, I feel as if I sentenced him to death by loving him. He's sitting by me now as I write. Faithful, obediant. Thank God he doesn't know what I am going to do. Now I look at the gun.
Race's gun.
The gun used to kill all of my family.
It only holds six bullets, there are two left.
Six bullets; six members of the family. Four used; four dead.
Finally I have nearly finished. What is left in my work is to tell you a little about the people who died. The bravest people I know.
My father.
Holding on to me when my mother died. Saving my life God knows how many times. His face as he told us we all had the disease. The understanding, grateful look as I pulled the trigger. The bravest man I knew, apart from...
Race Bannon.
Ex Navy S.E.A.L. Our bodyguard, my friend and hero. His reckless manner and strength. He kept that strength right up to the end. He had to for his daughter to shoot him.
Jessie Bannon.
A girl as strong as her father in her will and bravery. At the end she knew I could not shoot her. Hadji had to. Out of the two who loved her she had to pick the one who loved her most.
Hadji Singh.
My friend, my brother. The first to accept we were all to die. He never changed, never. Not even at the end. The same glint was there and all he said was "we will meet again, my friend."
That leaves me.
Jonny Quest.
The person who had to kill two people. The murderer. The boy with the blond hair and bright blue eyes. The last to die. After having so many people try to kill me, it seems ironic that I am to kill myself.
Lastly, after you have read this, go out to the lighthouse. There you will find the graves. And me. When you read this I will already be dead, please bury me, cover my body with the earth. Don't dig our bodies up. Leave us under the shade of the lighthouse; the place where so many of our adventures began. It seems fitting that it is where the last adventure of all will end. My life.
My job here is done. I have finally finished. Now I can join my family.
Jonny Quest.
[A chair can be heard scraping across the floor. There are footsteps and the pattering of small feet. Silence. Then a gunshot. Sounds of digging. Silence. Another gunshot. Silence.]
Two years later.
A breeze rustled the leaves on the trees around Quest compound. Blowing around the lighthouse and swirling around the six simple wooden crosses. On each was a name and an age.
Dr. Benton Quest, 50
Race Bannon, 38
Jessie Bannon, 16
Hadji Singh, 17
Bandit, 4
Jonny Quest, 15
The grass had covered the graves and the crosses were the only trace of what had happened. The house stood empty and desolate, the waves crashing on the cliffs below.
The breeze lifted, as if, some people might think, it was sighing at the last name. Then with a final breeze around the house, the breeze disappeared.
Taking its ghosts with it.