September 22, 2013
Alvin's bad; his arm twitches and when he slept last night it was like he had nightmares. He had to have woken up a dozen times, each time his fur was more matted than before drenched with sweat. He rarely removes his hand from the injury and I think it hurts him just to breathe. I'm worried his arm might be infected, something horrible that might make him worse. I fear he'll turn, although so far he hasn't shown any symptoms mentioned by the reporter. I've been keeping tabs, making sure that his fur isn't turning gray -any highlight is dangerous- and I've been making as much eye contact as possible with him, even though his are practically glued shut most of the time, trying to absorb the slightest amount of pain. Other than the pain itself, he seems okay without a trace of the virus. Watching him now, he's lying with Brittany, who refuses to be any more than two feet away from him.
Looking down through the hole in the ceiling tile, I can see the eight corpses below as they reach up as if they can actually grab us. It doesn't matter if they can't reach us; they'll be able to wait us out. Based off of all the video games Alvin's played, corpses starve at a decelerated rate than that of a living being. Not to mention the fact that we barely ate before. I'd hoped that overnight they'd have left us, lost interest in me and the three other chipmunks that are stuck in a freaking ceiling, but being… undead made them stubborn, or perhaps smart. Do they know Alvin's injured? Can they smell the dry blood on his hoodie and in his fur? Is this all stuff they learn or is it just a lust for survival? Second nature?
I'm staring at the pill container now wondering how bad Alvin will get. Judging by the description, these pills are strong; as soon as I fed my brother one earlier he'd mentioned the pain wasn't as bad. He could have been lying for all I know, but this was powerful medication. The thin hole in Alvin's arm is no longer bleeding, but still, if anything, it looks like it's getting worse. The hole is deep and dark and it reeks. It's like that small part of him, the skin around the hole, is dead. Alvin's tough, but I'm not sure he can make it back to Theodore… What am I thinking?! Of course he can; he better!
Unlike Alvin's, Theodore's medicine is unfamiliar to me. The packaging it's in, labeled, "Theodore Seville: Do not open unless patient is being treated," is dark and smells like it came straight from the hospital. Whatever drug is in here, it isn't your ordinary pharmaceutical that anyone can get. It needed to get to Theodore, and fast, but Alvin's in no condition to take on the corpses below us, and even if he was it wouldn't help; currently our only weapon is the hammer. Alvin dropped the knife when the corpse jabbed him and if he wanted it back, one of us was going to have to go swimming in undead bodies for it.
"Is the knife really that important?" Brittany asked as we sat to debate the current issue as well as our next move, "Is it worth going through so much trouble and risk?" We have options; we can try to find a way out of the ceiling, we can dig through another tile and hope that it brings us to another corpse-less area of the building -there are risks to this plan, it could get us trapped even further where there's absolutely no hope of escape, but it was still our best hope for a safe exit. But Alvin thinks we need the knife.
"It's the best weapon we have," He said, "It can help us later, I just know it… and it's the last piece of Dave I have left." He tried to lean over the hole that led down to the creatures we might have to face if we follow with his decision, but Brittany pulled him back, forcing him to grab his arm and release a sharp gasp, "D-Don't do that." He's biting his lip, and I think that's the only thing keeping him from crying. Listening to him, I'm actually considering it! We could really use that sentimental knife. It means too much to just give up, right? Even though it was stained with blood, Dave's presence still accompanied it.
"We can't all go down there," Brittany pointed out, "We'll get slaughtered!" With her voice growing, so did the endeavors of the corpses, one actually attempting to climb up a shelf, but to no prevail. I brushed a finger over my mouth and she understood: voices down.
"I'll divert them," Alvin suggested, "Distract them and lure them away, that way you guys can get the knife and easily escape with Theo's medicine."
"No!" Despite our rule, Brittany can't help it, can she? Although I'd probably scream out too if Jeanette had volunteered, I can't help but wish that Brittany will listen. Wait, what if she's thinking about volunteering? She hasn't said a word throughout this entire debate. I can't allow that! Looking her way, I can tell she has something to say. Maybe I'm letting delusions get the best of me, but I can't take the risk of losing her.
"I'll do it." I stated, earning the three pairs of eyes to glue themselves to me. I don't know what I'm saying, but I'm doing this for everyone; now Jeanette won't volunteer for a suicide mission, Alvin doesn't have to do everything (never thought I'd ever say that), and Brittany gets the satisfaction of not having to lose Alvin. Everybody wins.
"W-What?" Jeanette stammered, but I never caught her finishing her sentence.
"I said I'll do it." I repeated. Immediately tackled by Jeanette with her sobbing into my shoulder, I'm only now realizing what I'm signing up for. Is this the right thing to do? I think I see this as a favor to Alvin, but with the world ending, I think doing things like this are a must. Whenever the chance comes up, I think making these decisions can make all the difference.
"Simon, are you sure?" Alvin whispered, inhaling quickly, "You know you don't have to -we can make it without the knife." Rationalization; my older brother doesn't want me to go, but I know I have to for the sake of some sanity in this world.
A couple of hours later:
My mission: lure the corpses away (shouldn't be too hard) from the vet's office and keep them away long enough for Alvin, Brittany, and Jeanette to find the knife and escape with it and Theo's medicine. I can only hope that I'll be able to get out of here with no trouble; I was also tasked with losing the corpses once they're on my tail. If I get stuck, I know very well what my fate will be. Doing this for my brother, after everything we've been through, was still worth it.
"You know how you're going to get out of here?" Alvin reassured, double-checking everything so I'd at least be a little safe and I nodded, too nervous to talk. "Good."
"Good luck, Si." Brittany hugged me, "Thank you." As she let me go, Jeanette threw herself at me.
"Meet us at home," She sniffed, "Alive." I don't want to let her go, but I'm forced to, pushed towards the hole by my brother's eyes. I have to distract the corpses and soon, every second closer to nightfall is another change in the odds of me surviving.
"I-I will." I shivered, though it isn't cold. I gulped and looked down in the savage eyes of the corpses. Could I really take even one by myself? I was supplied with the hammer, but I were to be bound like Brittany was before I'd be dead. Hopping through the hole to the highest shelf, my nervousness is affecting my dexterity. My fingering, grabbing the edge, is a chore all in itself. Already the corpse's heads are following my movements. I look around for something else to jump on and while doing so I hear small gasps from the others above; there isn't much I can hop to that the corpses can't reach me. I grasp the shelf tightly as the corpses begin to violently shake it, letting go only to hop to the next row of shelves. Good, they're following me! Good? I hop to the next row, and then the next. Final row… I search for a soft landing, down being my only option. I can't find anything soft, leaving me with one thing to land on that doesn't include the hard ground. The only thing I can see to land on isn't even soft, but at least it's something. I jumped down from the shelf, landing in the pile of cardboard boxes and glass. I'd be dealing with the pain of the sharp points digging into me if there weren't a corpse a foot away. I ran as fast as I could, pumped with adrenaline, making my way to the front entrance that the corpses originally came through, and further. A cold breeze attacked me and, knowing I'd be caught otherwise, I shifted the direction I was heading so it acted like a tailwind. Safe? Perhaps for now, however now I'm going in the opposite direction, away from home. I glanced back behind me at the vet's office; my family scurried out carrying the knife and Theo's medicine towards safety,
A quarter of an hour later:
These corpses, I can't shake them loose. They have my scent, my trail, and with their blood-lust, I'm not about to lose them. I ran further, deeper into town, until finally, luck decided to betray me. Stuck in an alley where forward leads to a brick wall and turning back means getting attacked. I remember a metaphor Dave used to say to Theodore whenever he was stuck making tough decisions: "Well, Theo, it looks like you're stuck between a rock and a hard place." He'd say. It always confused my little brother, but now I'm really starting to understand what it means. I'm stuck between a wall and an undead place.
Face to face with eight corpses, one eventually lunged forward. I quickly hopped out of the way, up onto it's head and slammed down with the hammer. One down for the count, too bad I'm losing track. There are too many to fight off all at once. Something hit me in the back, and I felt a chill creep down my spine soon after. Whatever had hit me tore a hole through my hoodie, and now wind penetrated through, slashing my fur with it's ferociousness.
"You better get home. Alive." Jeanette's words hang in the wind as if she's saying them over and over again in front of me. I can't let her down. Assaulting another corpse's head, I made a dash through the small pack and secured my place down the right path back towards home.
Halfway there I got caught again, however I was luckily able to slip out of the dirty dense clutches. I grabbed the hammer, swinging. It's like time has stopped moving for me, for this one action while it took place. Blood spilled out of the corpse's skull, bathing me in a river of dark red. I can't see, I can barely breathe, but yet I'm not getting torn apart.
Some time later (unknown):
I'm too afraid to even open my eyes, that is I was until now, but when I did a glimmer of hope and a large amount of fear pushed me to crawl away from the carcass of the corpse that lay on top of me. I'm alive. I'm drenched in blood and smell like I'm dead, but I'm alive. Wait, I have to get home! Who knows how long I've been out for, everyone probably thought I was dead. Running up the street, I dove into the bushes when I noticed a corpse. It didn't so much as twitch to all the noise I was making, rustling through the leaves. Curious. I tip-toed out, holding my breath and trying to make me steps light as a feather while I narrowly passed by. Not a glance, not even a moan. I know I'm being stupid, but I can't help my scientific instinct. Purposely, I walked freely the rest of the way home and up to the doorstep. I hopped through the mail slot, proud of this new knowledge only to be held at knife point.
"Who do you- Simon?!" Brittany exclaimed, "Is that you?" I sighed out of exhaustion and nearly toppled over. I'm home free. I carefully push the tip of the knife away from me, I think Brittany was too shocked to see me again.
"Simon?" Jeanette questioned and bolted out of the kitchen, striking me with her body like a bolt of lightning, and ignoring my fowl odor and bloody fur, "Don't you ever scare me like that again!"
"I-I won't," I said and after letting go of the chipette I pulled my sweater off and looked through the clean cut hole, "Do I have a scratch?" I asked, turning around so Jeanette could see my back. She pushed the bloody fur up and peered into my spine.
"No," She stated and turned back around, greeted by another one of her warm hugs, "You're safe."
"I'm filthy." I stated, "Does the water still work?"
"No," Alvin stated with happy tears welling in his eyes, struggling to lift his bad arm to hug me, "but you might get a few drops to wash yourself with." I nodded and looked down to the object in Alvin's hands; Theo's medicine.
"You haven't treated him yet?!" I snapped, but broke down to my knees, too exhausted. I'm worrying deeply for my little brother, but I can't muster enough strength to move.
