Muted Complications
They were dead.
Holden, Lily, Lucinda, Emma, Faith, Natalie. Gone. He had caught a glimpse of Ethan's bloody shirt on the coffee table.
Noah Mayer felt a chill run straight to his spine.
They were dead. They were all dead.
It was too quiet. The Snyder farm had never been a place for silence, but the stillness of death had been too strong, even for them.
Luke had stepped into the kitchen and had witnessed the remnants of the massacre. Their bodies were not even recognizable. Without warning Luke hurled the entire contents of his stomach. The sight had been unbearable and the smells had kept him dry heaving for hours.
But the silence had been deafening.
The water staining Luke's eyes seemed unworthy. The coiling pain in his heart was not enough. His family was dead. And it wouldn't be long before the revenant killers returned. He was next.
All there was left to do was wait.
Noah had always believed he was a rather practical man. He preferred the calculated to the intuitive. Yet, as he worked another morning shift at Java, he considered the faint sensation of guilt, fear, and doubt stretching through his being, as if he was being given a warning signal that needed deciphering.
Noah was unsure if a bad feeling was enough of a reason to skip out on work, but was conveniently relieved of that conundrum when a crazed customer, pale and dull, stumbled into Java. Broken screams and splintered thoughts rushed through his brain as the intruder began attacking patrons. The chaotic rush to escape the mad man resulted in several tables being destroyed and Jeff missing a sizable chunk of his leg.
The weight of the gun felt completely foreign in Luke's hand. He could not fathom the shape of it. He studied Jack's old firearm with a fierce sense of dread. So focused was his gaze on the gun that he didn't notice that the front door was still wide open until the intruder was almost on top of him. It was Jim, the Snyders' neighbour, Luke realized with the half of his brain that was still functioning.
Luke fired the shots with his eyes tightly shut, unable to look his victim in the eyes. He refused to memorize the jaundiced shade of yellow that stared back at him, stuck in a state of perpetual hatred and hunger. The bullet had already found its place in Jim's skull.
And the unforgiving silence had returned.
Luke considered making a list of everyone he had ever known. He would cross out the names of the people he knew were dead, circle the names of the living. A trial in self-torture. But Luke didn't need to think about death to feel dead himself. His muscles and joints were frozen and stiff, unable to move. He couldn't pry his teeth apart even to scream.
Luke did not dare let his mind linger on those whose mortality he was uncertain of, on those whom he loved most.
He would lose his mind, but he would not lose Noah to uncertainties. A small flicker of hope was the only thing keeping him alive.
The streets of Old Town were strewn with flesh and debris. Chaos. Noah spotted a man hunched over another woman's body. Perhaps she was in trouble, maybe Noah should see if they needed his help. He couldn't simply sit by and watch Oakdale fall apart.
As Noah neared the scene, the man pulled away from her body. Noah caught sight of the strings of skin that dangled from the man's mouth. The woman's blood looked brown, leaking slowly into the cracks of the pavement. He was eating her, shoving her guts into his mouth, filling his insatiable need.
This was madness.
He had to get out of there. He had to get home. He had to get to safety. He had to find…
In his haste to flee, Noah's arm brushed the course, wet skin of the monster. Dead. It was the cold chill of death that was devouring that poor woman half-alive. Noah would forever hear her moans of despair in every corner of his mind. Oh God…
Luke.
At the end of the world there is no pain, only emptiness.
The shivers had finally subsided but Luke still felt a hollowness so deep within him that he wondered if there was any part of his soul left. He felt numb, because if he felt even one more ache, one more unbearable reality, he would snap. And even then he would have no alternative. There were no more choices left for Luke to pick.
This was what it felt like, at the end of the world.
Luke twitched fearfully as he heard the front door creak open once more. He was unsure how much ammunition he had left as he cowered in the shadows. It would only last so long until his time finally ran out…
"Luke!" A voice called out in panic and Luke almost fired out involuntarily.
That voice couldn't be real.
"No...a–" Luke Snyder's voice came out low, broken, raw. He watched his boyfriend's tear-streaked eyes slowly meet his own.
"Luke." Barely a hushed whisper. Always silence.
"Did they – are you – Noah!"
Luke's hand reached for Noah's, but both of their palms were cold. The world was devoid of light, of hope, of warmth.
"I'm right here." Noah feigned strength, his arms coiling around Luke protectively.
Luke remained quiet, still. He had lost all words. Noah understood. Oakdale, his home, his family, his childhood, was gone.
Just.
Like.
That.
The only thing keeping him alive was the soft stroke of Noah's hand, steadfast on his back.
Luke laid his head on Noah's chest and listened to him breathe.
Because it proved that he wasn't dead. They weren't dead.
Noah hadn't left him to die, too.
The jarring crunch of breaking glass ripped the silence open again. Noah, ignoring the nagging fear that tugged at the back of his mind, moved into the hallway of the Snyder farm.
"No!" Luke choked back a sob. "Noah, don't. Please."
"Luke, I –" But there was no arguing. There was nothing left anymore. Only the echo of howls streaked through the night, reminding them that they weren't alone.
Two bullets.
Luke's eyes had said more than any words. They had run out of options.
Luke's fingers trembled before they were stilled by the recoil of the smoking barrel. Luke's body slumped unceremoniously onto his boyfriend's leg.
Noah Mayer was already dead inside.
He lifted the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.