Chapter Seven

Deteriorated Hope

The Outsider's Regret

Aiden and the others returned as the eerie glow of daytime invaded the cracks and openings of the feeble storage room. I was beginning to recognise and associate language with the letters I loved to read so much. I carried on muttering to myself as all but the boney-looking zombie went to sleep. I didn't have to and I was uncomfortable being unconscious around the other sleepless creature as the others exploited their ability to dream.

It stared at me.

For hours.

I kept on talking with myself, paying close attention to my own voice.

The thing growled. I looked up. It was clawing at its own face, ripping off chunks of grey flesh as it writhed against the brick wall it was leaning against. Shreds of skin caught on the uneven surface and made me feel sick.

Its eyes rolled back into its head and fell to the floor with a dry thump.

I didn't have a heartbeat, but I probably looked more appetising than a bunch of moving corpses.

It just stood there for a minute, me not breathing and it smelling the air and oozing drool from its clamped fangs.

Boneys rarely attacked zombies, but it was well known that they didn't like outsiders.

There I was.

The epitome of an outsider.

Shit.

It lunged forward, hissing and raising its left claw above its disgusting head in a preemptive position to strike me.

Anyone would assume that, due to my frail and milky form, I'm not exactly the strongest creature.

This is true to a certain extent.

I used to be vicious; seizing my prey with the power of bitterness within me, slicing through beings and bodies as easily as I could to water.

Alas, just like how my speech deteriorated, my strength decayed.

I couldn't beat a boney. He might be able, though.

Sharp breath.

Gather courage.

"AIDEN!"

I jumped to the left the avoid being killed but I suppose I was too slow.

I fell to the floor like an abandoned doll, head hitting two surfaces of concrete as I descended.

I could still see out of one eye and I watched lethargically as Aiden reluctantly fought one of his friends to the death. I heard a clear voice, which I recognised as my teacher's, state how it was near impossible to give hope to those who reject it.

I noticed Aiden slouch over himself even more so than usual in disappointment.

Then a dark blur crept into my limited vision.

Like some kind of changeling, unconsciousness snatched me away from my observations and into my usual state of dream-like embodiment.