Chapter 14 – Talk

Kirsty's POV

"We need to talk" I said to the Doctor. He turned to look me in the eye and I could see the seriousness build up in his eyes.

"What about?" He finally replied.

"This. What is going on and you better have a plan."

"I don't know fully, and not yet."

"What's the bit's you do know then?"

"Well, basically. The Slitheen have invaded earth thinking they can change everybody into replicas of them, but the Daleks came and infiltrated the government, taking control of the UK. From there, they took out the Slitheens but left everybody as zombies because they want earth to be human-free by tomorrow."

"Right...well...plan?"

"We get Tiff and then wing it from there." The doctor finished with a huge grin. I smiled back and headed out of the room, not knowing what to do. I decided that if we got in touch with Tiff, and the doctor talked her through it, she could fly Michael, herself and the others back here safely so we could fight this war together.

I walked into a room with no furniture. I knew that there was a pistol hid just behind the wall there; the builders put it there for emergencies. I didn't blame them after the Dalek attack about a year ago. I grabbed a chair from the other room and began smashing it against the hollow part in the wall. Sure enough, it caved and I picked up the silver pistol. It was pre-loaded with 6 bullets and it rested on top of a box with 12 additional bullets. Carefully, I stowed it in my jean pocket, taking extra care to make sure the Doctor would not see it. There was a huge crash outside and I darted to the window. Shock overcame me and I was rooted to the spot.

A van had crashed outside. Somebody was in trouble. I watched on a little longer and something caught my eye. The person in the van was wearing a green t-shirt. The same green t-shirt Michael had been wearing.

I used the chair I had used to retrieve the pistol from the wall to smash the double-glazed window. From there I just jumped onto the concrete floor below, possibly breaking my ankle. I didn't feel it at the time because I was too busy running toward the van which was now upside down and on fire. Eventually, I reached the van. Sure enough, it was Michael.

Crimson blood covered his face from a deep cut on his forehead and ran down his face like little teardrops. I screamed a silent scream and ran to his side in a desperate attempt to pull him from the vehicle. Due to the fact he was near 5 and a half feet tall and I was severely underweight, Michael happened to be almost double my weight. Still, I managed to grip his arm tightly enough and drag him far enough from the van as possible.

I collapsed on the floor next to him as the van finally gave in and blew up. Bits of shattered metal flew everywhere but I shielded Michael's almost lifeless body so he wouldn't be injured any more. I looked into his eyes but there was hardly any life left there. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and rolling down my cheek, finding their way to fall on Michael's cold, pale wrist. I whispered his name softly as his eyes shut, but I refused to let him die.

I screamed, at the top of my lungs. I screamed for help, from anybody. I would probably attract a few zombies but if it meant that more alive people would hear too, I didn't care. There was no point in phoning 999; there were probably so many casualties that they wouldn't have time for another dead guy. I screamed so more but there was nothing I could do without leaving his side. I looked down at him again and he looked so peaceful. His chest moved slightly, telling me he was still holding onto life.

Unfortunately, I knew it wouldn't be for long. The cut on his forehead was too deep and he would bleed to death within the next few minutes. I had to be strong; it would be what he would want. If I was strong, maybe he would hold on a little while longer.

"Michael. I know you probably can't hear me, but I just want you to know that I've loved you for an extremely long time. Before we were actually together I loved you. Every morning, I wake up and think of you, and how when we turn 18 it's all going to be alright. We'd be able to wake up in the mornings and know that we're under the same roof together. I'd probably set the kitchen on fire trying to make you breakfast and you'd laugh at my fails and it would be happy." I said. More tears welled up in my eyes as I leant over to kiss his still body.

Once I did, I looked away.
Got up.
Walked away.