The Walking Dead Apocalypse
The night grew darker around the Sauk Taum Mountains as the sky was now misty with the stain of blood. Near a church, a campsite had experience a near massacre of sorts, but the evil had vanquished . . . or so it seemed. A fire was burning, burning away and turning the one known as Dexter into ash. Four more bodies there laid at rest, once known to be called The Foreigners. They were all killed, and by multiple means, at least almost all of them were dead. One remained, the leader himself Andrew, begging them all for mercy, however Scott did not kindly accept that request.
Scott continued dragging Andrew deeper and deeper into the forest. Everyone knew he needed to die, but they certainly did not want to witness it. Scott had stuck a cigarette in one of The Foreigners eyes, and then used him as a bullet shield moments later. Shortly after, he lit another one of them on fire, just letting him burn away instead of making it quick. Scott wanted Andrew to suffer an even greater death, but the group requested it be elsewhere.
Finally far enough into the forest, Andrew sat on the ground, looking into Scott's cold dark eyes with the intent to kill. His bowie knife was still out, and Andrew just continued pleading for mercy. "Please don't kill me! I'm sorry, I really am! Please just let me go!" he pleaded, but that just made it more enjoyable for Scott.
Scott heard a snap from his side, reaching for his pistol. "It's okay, it's only me," a voice said, coming out of the bushes. Moments later the face revealed itself, showing it was Tristan. Scott just went back to looking at Andrew, brushing him off.
There was still blame towards Tristan for Amanda's death, and not even a few hours ago did Scott try to shoot him, after beating him to a pulp. Tristan approached with caution, seeing a weeping Andrew still cry for mercy.
"You don't need to see this," Scott said.
"I know . . ." Tristan muttered.
Scott looked into Andrew's eyes one last time, seeing the tears fall down his cheeks, still begging his life was to be sparred. A swift kick hit is chest as he fell on his back against the leaves. Scott pressed his foot on Andrew's chest, then stabbing him twice in the stomach. Andrew coughed up blood, not being able to speak anymore. Scott dived his knife right into Andrew's neck, piercing from side to side until his head was completely clean off. Tristan covered his nose from the smell.
Scott ripped the remaining portion off Andrew's body, completely looking into the head, absolutely more than dead now. Scott stood up, leaving the body behind but taking the head back with him, while Tristan followed behind, keeping his distance.
"Scott, can we talk about this please?" Tristan asked.
Scott stopped walking, keeping his backed turn on Tristan for a shear moment. The wind blew through, breezing Scott's red hair against the gust. Scott turned his head, replying "What's there to talk about?" then turning back and continuing back to camp. Tristan stood there pondering that moment, wondering where this will lead their relationship in the future.
The two of them arrived back at the church, with six corpses all piled up at ready to be set a fire. Tristan bumped into Wesley along the way. "Sorry Wesley I didn't see you there," Tristan said, giving him a humbler apology.
Scott walked over himself, as everyone backed away from him due to fear. Tristan just kept rubbing his eyes, not being able to shake exactly what happened tonight.
"Was it quick?" Bailey asked from Tristan's eyes. Tristan stood there for a sec, giving Bailey a look of confusion. "Did he kill Andrew . . . quick?" he asked.
"What do you think?" Tristan replied.
"Didn't think so . . . at least it's all over," Bailey replied.
"No . . . it's not," Tristan muttered.
"What do you mean? The Foreigners are dead?"
"Yeah and so what? They're dead? By the looks of it . . . we may have a bigger problem on our hands."
"Yeah well . . . eventually man . . . all roads will just end."
Scott placed Andrew's head on a stick, raising it high above the air as he lit the fire to the corpses, watching them all be distinguished by the burning fires, and the ash that laid to mist under the smoke.
Tristan looked at the burning fires that erupted into the darkness from above. He could smell everything burnt to a crisp, other than himself. His hands were shaking, feeling a sharp pain in his right side ribs, his right leg, and his broken left arm. There was something itching inside his pocket, and he needed to be rid of it. There he glared into it, the dog tags, with an inscription known to be read Sergeant Scott McGregor.
Historia Calamitatum
Tristan sat at the bar, draining his second rum and coke. He hated it here. In some spots it was impossible to see anything, and in others he felt like he might go blind. The smell of smoke clung to everything, and even though he didn't really mind that, it was just one more thing he could complain about. This was the only place near home that he could get a drink though, so he came often.
He looked over at some biker snorting something off the bar as he signaled the bartender for another. "No," he said after some thought. "Give me an Old-fashioned."
The bartender came back with Tristan's drink before setting off for God knows where. The man could never be counted on to stay in one place, Tristan thought.
As he sipped his drink he noticed someone sink beside him out of the corner of his eye. He tensed up, ready for something, before realizing that this wasn't the desert anymore and relaxed. He looked for the bartender for another, but not before the man spoke with him. "This isn't exactly the kind of shit hole I expected to find you. I mean, maybe a ditch somewhere, but you're better than this."
Tristan recognized the voice vaguely before looking at the man, seeing his once fire red hair a little darker because of the lighting, but still red none the less. He'd begun to grow something of a beard, but his eyes looked cleansed of the darkness Tristan had seen months ago. "Scott McGregor . . ." Tristan said. "How the hell did you find me?"
Scott smiled, one that looked strange on him as he said, "All I needed was Facebook and your name, which I already had. Then I just needed to recognize you, which was a bit tough. You look a lot different now."
Tristan shrugged, still looking for the bartender. "That picture was taken a long time ago, maybe I asked the wrong question, why are you here?"
Scott stared at him, obviously trying to figure out what he was all about, and then eyed his empty glass. "How many of those have you had?"
Tristan smirked. "Three? Yeah, three. Not my fault the bartender runs off every chance he gets. Why, did you want one? Well when I find him, you can catch up."
"How often do you come in here?"
Tristan slapped Scott's shoulder, laughing a little. "Relax bud; you don't have to save me again or anything. I just needed a drink tonight, that's all." Tristan looked in Scott's eyes, trying to figure out why he was here. He hadn't seen the man since he was coming back from the war, and then he looked dead. "What is it then, your parents rented out your room, need a place to stay?"
Scott shrugged, and Tristan realized that probably was what it was. Tristan nodded, looked around and grabbed an abandoned pint before leading Scott. "I live just out of town, not that far. And you're driving."
Scott nodded, smiling. "I didn't plan on dying in a car accident with you anyways."
A snap here and there, one after another Tristan stumbled on a twig, but truthfully he didn't have time to be quiet. After the car crashed, having him smash right through the window, he was still shaken after hitting the pavement. Physically, he felt numb, and he personally wanted to throw up, and then would take a little nap. There was no doubt in his mind he had a concussion, but that was the last thing he needed to worry about at the moment. There was still a maniac out there.
Tristan at first had been following Scott's trail after the crash, but considering Tristan is not in the right state of mind, that trail went cold. Even from the distance Tristan put between him and the hospital, he could still see the black cloud of smoke arise from the fire inside. Continuously he kept blaming Scott, and that was the most logical thing to do at the heat of the moment. He just prayed everyone else made it out safely, and that Bailey ran far away from the place as possible. All Tristan could promise everyone was a safety net against Scott once he dies.
Tristan pressed firmly down on his knees, needing to rest. There was this urge of him wanting to collapse on the ground, feeling like he wanted to pass out. His vision was beginning to abandon him. He slapped his own face, whispering to himself "No Tristan you're not doing this now, focus."
Tristan looked at the wet snow on the ground, then looking around his area, but it was all the same. Trees and bushes, no sign of any life, or dead. "Come on, I know you're out here somewhere," Tristan said, making a reference to Scott.
Tristan heard a screeching cry from behind as something grabbed his shirt. Quickly he turned around, throwing the walker on the ground. Immediately after he picked it up by the hair, dragging it over to the nearest tree possible, bashing its head into the tree until it was officially deceased.
A flash went through Tristan's head, and a powerful one. The memory of Savian's death began ringing through Tristan's eyes, the day Andrew bashed his head in the side of a tree before shooting him. Tristan let go of the walker and fell to the ground, rubbing his eyes, trying to come back to reality. "Tristan . . . don't do this now," he muttered. Tristan stood on his feet, looking around once more, asking "Come on Scott, where the hell are you?"
Matias let Kiersten and Austin go forward in the south wing, while him and Hannah stayed back, covering the rear just in case one of Scott's men were following them. It wasn't long ago that they breached the hospital entrance, and even as they continued walking, Matias knew they were lurking around somewhere, just waiting for someone to pop out and be killed, and he wasn't sure how much he could take. He just needed to lead everyone out of the hospital and to safety, this place was gone.
Matias glanced over to Hannah, who had kept her eyes on the floor. "Hey you okay?" Matias asked.
"Considering out home just got invaded by lunatics, you can probably assume the answer," she replied.
"Don't worry we're going to get out of this," Matias said. Hannah stopped walking and instead just stood there. For a moment Matias didn't notice, but once he did, he asked "What are you doing?"
"I'm going back," she said.
"Hannah . . . you'll die," he muttered.
"Tristan and Bailey are still out there. You know none of us will last long without those two. I'll find them, then we'll rendezvous at the town like we planned okay?" she asked.
"Hannah don't do this, Tristan can take care of himself."
"If that were true, we wouldn't be in this mess." Matias stood there, not clearly being able to think of a response. Hannah unsheathed her machete and turned back around, heading back to the center wing. "Get to safety Matias, and hopefully I'll see you soon," she said, vanishing into the shadows.
Matias turned back around, noticing he was completely alone in the hallway now. Austin and Kiersten were nowhere to be seen and immediately raised concern for Matias. "Oh shit. Kiersten? Austin? Where are you?"
Derek fell off the bed after trying to stand, causing his glasses to fall of his face and fall on the floor. His vision wasn't the best, and he was having a hard time finding his glasses. He knew he needed to hurry, after hearing gunfire and explosions he knew something was wrong. The most likely scenario that played out, Scott arrived, and Tristan wasn't able to hold his ground. Derek finally found his glasses, standing up as he racked his brain to figure a way out of this.
He heard footsteps approaching the door, and he knew he needed to act quickly. There was a knife placed on the counter beside him, so with no hesitation did he pick it up and wield it. Each second felt like an eternity for him, hearing each footstep as if the devil was about to knock on his door. It was either him or them, and regarding everything that has recently happened, it would probably be them. Still though, he needed to try and save himself. The door slowly began to open, and there he raised him arm, preparing to stab anyone who would enter.
Katheryn opened the door, seeing Derek wield a knife. "Derek are you okay?" she asked.
Derek sighed in relief, lowering his arm. "It's just you, thank god," he replied.
"We need to get out of here," she said. Katheryn grabbed Derek's arm, pulling him out of the room and into the hallway.
"What the fuck is going on?" Derek asked.
"Scott came, we're being invaded."
"Jesus. Is everyone okay? Where's Austin? Where's Kiersten?"
"I'm not really sure to be honest with you here man, I left them behind so I could come get you," she said.
"Fuck. We are so dead."
Both Katheryn and Derek saw shadows down the hallway, growing bigger and bigger as they pressed forward. "Shit," Katheryn said. She grabbed Derek, turning the corner to make sure they weren't spotted. She peaked by, seeing three men turn the corner around them. She looked back at Derek, putting a finger on her lips, implying it's time to be quiet.
She looked over, seeing an exit only a few feet away. "There's the exit, let's get the hell out of here," she said.
"What about everyone else?" he asked.
"We don't have time to worry about that," she replied. The two of them shuffled over to the door, carefully opening it, while at the same time going as quickly as possible, trying to avoid getting spotted. Luckily for them, they escaped unseen.
Tristan continued stumbling down the path, still looking around. Sweat began dripping down his face, even though it felt pretty cool out. There was still this urge to collapse on the ground he had, but he continued to fight the pain and press forward. Scott was around here somewhere, and in no time would he kill someone unless Tristan found him first, but Tristan wasn't sure if he would have the strength to carry this through.
"You don't get to make the decision!" a voice screamed from behind, and it sounded an awful lot like Scott's. Tristan wiped out his revolver and spun around, but nothing was there. He looked confused, wondering where that voice came from. "You took away the only real thing I had worth fighting for," came from Tristan's left. He spun around, but saw nothing once again. Something about all of this sounded very . . . familiar in Tristan's recollection. "I am not going to stand by and take order from this lunatic anymore," Scott said, but he was still not there.
"No no please not now," Tristan muttered to himself, pressing his gun against his face.
"You will watch as I crumble your world, and only then will I give myself the pleasure of killing you," Scott said. Tristan dropped to his knees, pressing his hands against his ears, trying to keep the voices out. "You won't, you can't kill me Tristan." The struggle began to become unbearable, he felt like his mind was about to explode. "Kill them all!" Scott screamed.
Snap.
Tristan looked over in the distance, seeing a figure run down from the side. Tristan drew his revolver, finally finding Scott, and this time he wouldn't let him escape unscratched. Tristan screamed as loudly as he could, firing the first round towards him. The bullet scratched by a tree, and Tristan continued to scream. The second round also missed Scott, but only by an inch. Tristan screamed once again, and finally the third bullet put the figure down for the count. Third times the charm he thought.
Tristan began to stumble over, feeling the greatest sign of relief course through his veins. He finally did it, he finally killed Scott. All that was left now was a confirmation he was dead. After a few moments, Tristan finally made it over to Scott's body, but only to realize it wasn't Scott. It was Bailey.
Tristan stood in the kitchen, over his BLT and a beer that was half gone. He heard footsteps coming from the living room, and saw Scott emerge into his kitchen. "You slept for a long time."
Scott nodded, trying to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. "First time I've had a decent sleep in a while." Tristan eyed Scott, and saw he was telling the truth. He wondered what life was like for him down at that institute, and what he did to get there. He figured it was best not to ask. "There's a mug of coffee on the counter there. I just left it out because I didn't know when you'd be up. Use the microwave."
Scott threw the coffee in the microwave for a minute, noticing the half drained beer on the counter. "So, what exactly do you do?" Scott asked.
Tristan looked at him. "Uh, nothing right now. I've been... living off my GI insurance."
Scott looked at him, nodding. "You have any idea what you wanna do with your life? Enlist again, maybe?"
Tristan shook his head furiously, memories swelling up now. "No. Not at all."
Scott smirked. "Good cause I don't either. And I also don't wanna go to that shit hole of a bar every time I want something stronger than a Bud Light."
Tristan looked at him, wondering what he was doing. "You making an offer, here?"
Scott nodded, walking towards. "We're both men, who were at war, come home to find ourselves wondering what to do with our lives after it all ended. We get a license, and I say we open a business together. A bar."
Tristan looked at him, bewildered. "Why would you want to start a bar with me?" he asked.
Scott looked him up and down. "Because I saved you once. So you owe me. And you can at least make me some money before we're out of this."
For the first time in a while, Tristan had a good laugh. One that was genuine. "Alright soldier of fortune. What do ya wanna call this place?"
Tristan couldn't swallow what just happened; it was like a nightmare come to reality. He could barely breathe, looking into Bailey's body, which now was implanted with a bullet in his head. Tristan began to shake, dropping his revolver on the ground. He dropped to his knees, looking upon his friends' body, brought down by his own hands. Tristan still couldn't believe it; it was like this was some kind of sick joke. What he assumed to be Scott was Bailey, and that's exactly what led to his death. It was only know Tristan figured out it was time to start crying.
"No no no no no!" Tristan screamed. Tristan put his palms on Bailey's body, crying over his face. "Bailey! Bailey!" Tristan called out, but he got no answer. Bailey's eyes were just wide open, starring into Tristan with no real intention of giving him a response. Tristan buried his face into Bailey's body, continuing to weep from the recognition he had just murdered his best friend in cold blood.
Tristan finally stopped crying, looking back at Bailey's face, only being able to whisper "I'm sorry," before shutting his eyes, putting him to rest.
Tristan glanced over at his revolver, noticing there were only three rounds left. Tristan called out a mighty scream into the air as he stood on his feet. He picked up his revolver, tucking it back in his holster, and began walking away from Bailey's deceased corpse. Scott was still out there.
Scott thought he had heard three gunshots go off somewhere, and that's where he put his money on Tristan's location. A while ago he left the car wreck in search for Tristan, knowing full well he was alive, and that George was dead because of him. That makes four now. The first being Alex, who just happened to stumble across their path at the wrong time. The second was Adam, shot point blank in the face once Tristan invaded private property. The third was Alvero, being put down by Scott himself after being turned to the enemy by Tristan. George made four. He didn't even bother to count Andy, considering that became his choice.
All Scott could think about was all the havoc that went on in the hospital. George's men, along with David and Arber, must be having their fun right about now, although for Scott it wasn't fun. It was payback, something that needed to be done. He gave them all permission to kill everyone inside, leaving no prisoners, no loose ends. Tristan however was his own problem, and so Scott continued to search.
Austin and Kiersten made it to the back door of the south end in the hospital, only inches away from escaping. Kiersten put her hand on the handle, but Austin kept looking back, waiting for something. "Austin come on what are you waiting for?" she asked.
"We should wait for Matias," he replied.
"Are you serious? If we stay here, we'll die for certain," she said.
"I'm not leaving without Matias!" Austin screamed, looking back at Kiersten with a dirty look. "He'll be here shortly," Austin said, looking back forwards, seeing an unfamiliar face.
Bang.
The sound of a shotgun went off, and Austin turned around slowly towards Kiersten, with a big gaping hole in his body, bleeding like mad. Austin tried to scream the word "run," but he could no longer breathe. He collapsed on the floor, leaning against the wall. "Austin! No!" Kiersten screamed.
A man entered the room, holding a shotgun and pointing it at Kiersten's face. She began to cry, completely panicking, knowing there was nothing she could do. "Gonna die now bitch," the man said, and Kiersten shut her eyes, waiting for the other side.
A swift knock from the back caused the man to go unconscious and hit the floor. Kiersten opened her eyes, seeing Matias holding a shotgun of his own. "Oh my god Matias," Kiersten said in relief.
Matias looked over to Austin's body, now seeing he was dead. "Oh Austin . . ." Matias muttered, feeling like there was nothing else that could be much said.
"What do we do?" she asked.
"We need to get out of here," Matias said. Matias walked over, opening the door outside, seeing the wilderness in the distance. Matias eyed back to Kiersten, whispering to her "Don't look back for nothing."
Naomi used exerted force to pry open the doors of the west wing. It wasn't snowing, and there weren't any walkers within the area, a huge relief on her part. She approached with caution, considering there were still people trying to kill her somewhere, but she was just looking for the one. The same bastard that shot Molly was roaming around the hospital, and it was time for Naomi to get some payback.
Phillip followed shortly behind; hoping she wouldn't notice him following her. "Where are you going Naomi?" Phillip whispered to himself. Naomi turned the corner, and immediately Phillip followed behind her.
Scott continued walking through the forest, hoping Tristan would present himself on a plate sooner or later. It was like he was chasing something that truly wasn't there, but he had the gut feeling Tristan was close, and he just needed to run with it. Whether it is a bullet to the head, or a stab to the heart, Tristan needed to die in Scott's plane eye.
A cliff came to Scott's view, letting him proceed with caution. Looking down the slide, he noticed something not too far off from below. He noticed metal, and some kind of plant on the ground, with cases upon gases of gasoline. Metal rods, as well as a whole tank of gas that a truck would have to pull in order for it to move. This seemed like a viewpoint not observed for quite a while, and that was just a pity for what it had to offer.
"Scott!" a voice screamed from behind. Scott turned around, seeing Tristan standing behind him for a short distance. They both engaged each other, deadlocking into each other's eyes with blond rage. Tuck was holding his pistol, but he quickly tucked it away in his jeans. He slowly pulled out his bowie knife, while still looking at Tristan. For a small moment, the two just stared into each other's eyes, one last time before it would all end.
Both of them began to charge after each other, Tristan coming with full force while Scott ran with a blade in his hand and the intent to kill. Both of them had eyes like a wolf at that point, thinking this was finally the time. It has come to decide to would stand on top of this world, which would remain in control of their lives, who would prove to be the better man, and only one would come out of this alive. Those were both of their thoughts, right before they finally clashed.
The bar was crowded with people, and more came every night. Tristan thought it was because people actually enjoyed the atmosphere, but it was probably because it was better than a bar that the people couldn't get a drink at. And with two people running it, him and Scott, it was easier to serve a massive crowd.
He looked at Scott and smiled. An exchange of thought that they had created something that had saved each of them probably. 'The Finis', as the place had come to be called, was a place that seemed to serve both of them, as well as the town, for a little while longer. As he had said it would. Something to distract them from the end of their war, which was something Tristan desperately needed.
Scott lit up a cigarette, and Tristan shook his head smiling. He didn't mind, but he thought Scott had finally kicked that habit. In the end it didn't really matter all that much, Tristan thought. If it relieved the stress, it relieved the stress.
He poured himself a fifth of whiskey, downing it really quickly as he saw another customer come up to the bar. A woman, and a beautiful one at that. Blonde hair, not too short but not so long that it frayed everywhere. She looked like she was filled with confidence, ready to shoot anyone down that night who tried to make a move.
Tristan looked over at Scott, who was about to go over and serve her, and rushed over there as fast as he could. "What can I get you miss?" Scott smiled at his speed, trying to contain his laughter. As he went by Tristan, he said in his ear, "All yours buddy."
"A beer," the woman said. "Please."
Tristan smiled and pulled one out from the cooler beneath the bar. "So, if I can ask, what's someone like you doing in a place like this?"
She eyed him, trying to figure out what his move was, even though he didn't exactly know what his move was yet either. "What do you expect the answer to be?" she asked, with the hint of a smile on her face.
"Well I'd hope to talk to a guy like me," he told her, smiling, not knowing why he said something so stupid. "What's your name," he asked her.
She smiled, not seeing any reason to deny him. "Mary," she said.
Tristan stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you Mary, I'm Tristan. I run this place with Scott."
She shook his hand. "Yes I saw him earlier. Oh, and here he comes now."
Tristan looked behind him, and saw coming up the cigarette gone from his mouth. "He bothering you miss?" he asked jokingly. "I can throw him outta this place easily, trust me."
Mary laughed. "No, he's fine. Promise," she said as she sipped her beer. Tristan smiled at her and she returned it. Scott saw the signs and let them be, laughing as he lit up another cigarette.
Scott ran with the intent to stab Tristan, but with a swift tackle, the two of them fell to the ground once they finally clashed. Scott's knife fell of the side of the cliff from his viewpoint, but there was no time to worry about that now. He turned back to Tristan, looking up at him from the ground. Scott kicked Tristan in the face with his boot, right on the nose. Tristan felt like his nose was broken, if not shattered. If there was any chance he was going to survive this, he needed to ignore the pain and continue fighting.
Both of them finally stood up. One swift punch to Tristan's rib cage from Scott erupted, and after Tristan returned heavy fire, punching Scott's left side eye. Scott kneed Tristan in the stomach, giving him the impression he was going to collapse. Scott locked both his hands, preparing to slam Tristan's head into the ground. With Tristan's head down, he acted quickly, slamming the back of his head against Scott's face just in time, causing him to fall backwards.
Tristan stood up, reaching for his revolver in time to put a bullet in Scott, ending this. Scott quickly reacted, moved with great speed and flipped Tristan over before he even had the chance to pull the trigger. With the gun still in his hand, Scott kicked it away, having it also fall of the cliff and out of sight.
Tristan grabbed Scott's collar, throwing him back on the ground, pinning his arms down with his legs. Two swift punches came from Tristan's hands on Scott's face, feeling his knuckles get soar already. He continued to punch away at Scott's face, right until he began bleeding from the head.
Scott wrapped his legs around Tristan's waste, now slamming him onto the ground. Scott took that chance and pinned Tristan the same way he pinned him a second ago. With the same intent, Scott began slamming his fist against Tristan's face. He had been waiting for this for quite some time, and was enjoying every second of it.
Tristan struggled, but managed to free one of his arms, catching Scott's fist. Tristan kneed Scott's stomach then grabbed his collar, trying to push him off, but instead causing something much worse. Neither of them noticed they were on the edge of the cliff, and immediately after Tristan threw Scott off, they both began to slide down, splitting them apart once again.
Naomi continued walking down alongside the west wing, still curiously wondering where Molly's murderer was. Naomi wasn't sure how she was going to do it; she didn't even have a gun to use. It needed to be done however, it just had to. That thought slowly diminished however as she came across a familiar viewpoint.
It was Molly's grave, causing Naomi to drift off and instead visit her deceased love. All the feelings Naomi had before, rage, vengefulness, revenge; they all disappeared, and instead were replaced with emotions of regret and sadness. She wiped back her head, seeing the smoke on the other side of the hospital rise into the air, clouding the area with darkness. She couldn't hold in the tears anymore, her girlfriend was dead, her home was destroyed, and there was a good chance all of her friends were dead.
"Naomi!" Phillip screamed off. Naomi didn't notice Phillip following her till just now. "What are you doing?!" he screamed.
"You were following me? What the hell Phillip?" she said, sounding disgusted.
"Doesn't matter what I was doing, we need to leave right now," he said.
"I'm not going anywhere, not until I kill that bastard that murdered Molly," she replied.
"Naomi listen!" Phillip screamed. "If we don't leave right now, we're both going die."
"I would listen to him if I were you," Arber said. Both Naomi and Phillip turned around, seeing Arber in front of them.
"That's the son of a bitch right there," Naomi said, with the intent to kill in her eyes.
Arber raised his gun, pointing it directly at Naomi. Phillip stopped Naomi's approach with his arm. "You two get down on your knees!" Arber screamed. Naomi didn't listen, instead deadlocking him. Arber fired one shot to the ground, causing Phillip and Naomi to leap. "Now!" he screamed.
They were both hesitant, but the two of them slowly got down on their knees. "Alright, where are the rest of your people?" Arber asked. Phillip kept looking at Naomi, while Naomi kept giving Arber the death look. Arber grew annoyed from the lack of response. He walked over, pressing his gun against Naomi's forehead. "You better talk now; otherwise you'll get a bullet in your head."
"Arber!" Logan screamed. He turned the corner, looking at both Phillip and Naomi who were both captives at the moment. Phillip gave Logan the look of shear concern and surprise, while Naomi didn't budge. "That's enough," Logan muttered.
"Don't tell me what to do!" Arber screamed. He went back to looking at Naomi, still threatening to put a bullet in her. "Where are the rest of your people?"
"I said that's enough!" Logan screamed. Logan tackled Arber to the ground right there, but Arber's physical force was too much for Logan to handle. Arber quickly pinned Logan down, making him receive several blow to the head from his knuckles. Right there and then, he pointed his gun at Logan, itching to pull the trigger.
Phillip stood up, running directly towards Arber. He kicked Arber's gun away before he got the chance to pull the trigger. The gun went flying over, and that's all Naomi could focus on now. Phillip kicked Arber in the face, knocking him down.
With Logan still squirming on the ground in pain, Phillip ran over to Arber, screaming "You killed Molly you little shit!" Arber caught Phillip's fist, standing up and pinning him up against the wall. He began pressing his hand on Phillip's neck, choking him to death. Phillip couldn't even speak; all he could do was listen to Arber's words which were "Time to die."
Five rounds pierced Arber's back immediately, causing him to cough up blood all over Phillip. His grip loosened, and with that Phillip freed himself. Looking over, he noticed Naomi, holding Arber's gun. Phillip looked at Logan still on the ground, giving him a hand to stand up. "You saved our asses," Phillip said.
"Yeah well, you did the same thing just now," Logan replied.
The two of them both looked back at Naomi, who continued to dead lock Arber, who was choking on his own blood. Naomi then continued to fire the remaining rounds left in the clip, which was around a dozen. Both Phillip and Logan leaped backwards from this sudden lust, and Naomi continued to pull the trigger, even when the clip was empty. "Naomi it's done . . ." Phillip muttered. Naomi still continued pulling the trigger of the empty gun. "Naomi!" Phillip screamed.
Naomi finally stopped pulling the trigger, dropping the gun on the ground, looking still. "Alright, we need to get out of here," Logan said.
"We? What do you mean we?" Phillip asked. He still did not forgive him for what has happened.
"Look we can talk about this later, after were out of danger at least. But for right now, we need to stick together," Logan said.
Phillip looked misty eyed, screaming the word "Fuck!" Phillip grabbed Naomi, running into the forest with Logan saying "Let's get out of here."
Tristan awoke with dizzy vision and a pain all around his body after collapsing. For a moment he had forgotten what had happened, but quickly it returned to him. Both he and Scott collapsed down a cliff; however Scott was still nowhere to be seen. Tristan picked himself up, observing the territory.
Scott was nowhere in sight, all Tristan could see was some kind of small plant near him, filled with tanks of gasoline and metal rods. Tristan was aggravated with the pain, but continued to fight through it. Upon arrive at the plant, he observed the small little details, even though there wasn't much too it. He had wondered how neither he nor nobody else came across this place; the gasoline would've been for good use.
Tristan heard a click from behind, forcing him to turn around. It was Scott, holding a pistol, and it was pointed directly at Tristan. Tristan ran forward as fast as he could, hearing the sound of a bullet go off. The bullet grazed through Tristan's leg, but only on the side. He still found the strength to run, then kicking the gun out of Scott's hands.
Scott tried to throw a punch, but Tristan ducked. Tristan punched Scott in his rib cage, causing him to call out from pain. Scott tried fight back at Tristan again, but once again Tristan ducked. Tristan leaped his leg upwards, kneeing Scott in the face. Scott grew tired of Tristan's sudden capabilities. He head butted Tristan, so hard it made Tristan fly backwards. Upon the collapse, Tristan slammed his head against the metal of the plant, causing a greater amount of trauma to erupt in his head.
Scott looked down, noticing his bowie knife below him. He picked it up; now seeing Tristan was also back on his feet. The two moved slowly with causing, each trying to think of how their next move would play out. Tristan's leg was beginning to feel numb from the bullet, but he needed to fight through it. His goal was only millimetres away.
"You ready to die brother?" Scott said, cracking a smile as he held his knife.
"Let's find out," Tristan replied, raising both his fists, with bloody damn knuckles.
Tristan woke up, extremely tired from the night before. Every night at 'The Finis' got busier and busier, even with three people working there now. He was careful not to wake Mary as he got up to make himself some coffee. He shut the door as quietly as he could in this house.
He walked past Scott's room, what used to be the study converted into a small bedroom. Most people might find it strange, living with their best friend and girlfriend, but Tristan didn't mind it all that much. He felt content, and oddly complete with everything he had there.
He sipped his coffee, thinking of all the time he spent in bars drinking everything away, or trying to at least. It never seemed to work out all that well for him; the memories always seemed to catch up. He wondered if Scott was like that too, if he was just trying to outrun the awful things he saw over there until, as always, they caught up.
He heard a door open, looked behind him and saw that it was Scott coming out. Tristan went and poured him a cup of coffee. "Thanks," Scott said. He still sounded tired from the night before.
They sipped their coffee, neither man saying much of anything to the other. It was like this zone of trust and understanding that neither wanted to tell the story of what they'd been through, but each man knew that the misfortune had been great on both sides.
One slash to Tristan's right, as well as another to Tristan's left. Scott had his knife on him, and that proved to be more than a problem for Tristan. Scott swung his knife right across Tristan's chest, leaving a large scratch and a ripped shirt for Tristan. Once again Scott tried slashing across Tristan's face. Tristan ducked, then with both legs kicking Scott's shin. Scott dropped on one knee, with his knife still in his one hand. Tristan felt the pain of his leg erupt sharply around him. He used his other leg him to kick away Scott's knife.
Tristan tackled Scott to the ground, but with short coming Scott threw him off. They both stood up, now making the fight one on one even again. Scott fired two fists to Tristan's side, but Tristan tried to block it with his arm. One punch hit across Tristan's face, causing him to back away. Scott dashed forward, and shortly head budded him.
Tristan tried to kick Scott's face, but in time he dashed to the side, avoiding it. Scott wrapped his arm around Tristan's leg, then using his other to grab his collar. With all his might he picked Tristan off the ground, then slamming him into a chuck of metal, causing the rods to fall all over the ground.
Tristan fell, feeling the leg's pain coarse throughout his body. He noticed the rods fell to the ground, so he grabbed one, and swung it towards Scott. Scott grabbed the rod, and then pulled it forward, twisting it around Tristan's hands, using the very weapon against him. From left side, Scott nailed the rod across Tristan's face, then slamming down it on Tristan's face against the ground.
Tristan bit down on his tongue to fight through the pain. He got up, a threw two punches at Scott's face. Scott dodged the third one, leaping upwards and kicking Tristan at the chest, collapsing.
"Come on is that all you've got?" Scott asked.
Tristan picked himself up again, replying "Not even close," before throwing another punch again.
Hannah emerged outside and out of the center wing, where it seemed to be completely deserted. The first thing she noticed was the burning car, which was probably the cause of the first explosion in her logical thought process. She wielded her machete with great care, having her guard up at all times. Tristan and Bailey were still out there somewhere, and she needed to find them before it was too late.
Hannah turned the corner, walking alongside the destroyed car, which is where all the smoke was erupting from. Scott took things too far now she thought, and it was only a matter of time before someone dies, she just wasn't sure who.
She looked at the edge of the hospital, seeing the snow on the ground looked significantly different than before. It had looked like someone had laid there on the ground, then just got up and walked away, due to the footprints. Was it Tristan? Or was it Bailey? Those were the only two names she could come up with.
"Bitch!" a voice screamed from behind. She turned, then being struck in the fast by a fist immediately. She fell backwards, hitting her head against the wall then collapsing. Her vision was abnormal, but she recognized who it was from the Mohawk. There David stood, holding a pistol in his hand, waiting to pull the trigger.
From the corner of Hannah's eye her machete laid on the ground. She tried to sneakily reach for it, but David saw through that immediately. He loaded his gun, screaming "Don't even think about it for one second you cunt!"
Hannah stopped reaching for her machete, knowing full well that would lead to her death. She left her rifle back inside, and she didn't have a knife to use. She was pretty much out of options at this point, the only thing she could do was wait and die, and by the look on David's face, that wouldn't be long.
"You know first Bailey attacks me, and then he runs off, making me look like a fool," David said. Hannah knew Bailey was out there somewhere, alive hopefully, but as of right now it didn't matter. "You know . . . I never liked you bitch!" David screamed, pointing the gun directly at Hannah, ready to pull the trigger.
Something from behind pierced through David's vest, something sharp. She spat out blood right in front of Hannah. He first fell to his knees, gasping for air. Shortly after, he collapsed face first onto the ground. From there in David's back, a blade stabbed him, and from Hannah's perspective, it looked like a boomerang.
Hannah looked up, seeing Andy in front of her, covered in blood and also gasping for air. "You alright?" he asked as he rushed over.
"Andy?! What happened?" Hannah asked.
Andy leaned downwards, replying "Scott tried to kill me. He left me for dead at a walker herd, too bad for him I killed them all."
"You took down an entire herd by yourself?"
"Yeah, but that doesn't matter. We need to get out of here."
"I can't leave yet; Tristan and Bailey are still out there."
A slash across Hannah's face arose, and it just so happened to be from Andy's boomerang, wielded by David. The cut was deep across Hannah's cheek, and Andy barely had any time to react. The vest must've stopped the boomerang from finishing the job Andy thought.
David kneed Andy in the face, then climbing on top of him. He placed one hand on Andy's throat. Andy grabbed his wrist, trying to push it off. David still holding his boomerang readied to stab him, but Andy caught it just in time. Slowly the blade kept getting closer; somehow David's strength was too much to bear, especially after the herd he just fought off. With him getting choked while at the same time about to get stabbed in the heart, all David said was "Good riddance."
A blade of some sorts went right through David's chest, causing him to cough up an extreme amount of blood all over Andy. The blade was pulled back out, and with it David collapsing on the ground. Andy looked, seeing Hannah with a bloody cheek wielding her machete.
She extended her hand, getting Andy to stand on his feet once again. The two of them looked back at David, who was squirming on the ground. He found the strength to look back up at the two of them, looking like he still had the intent to kill, reaching for his pistol. Hannah screamed into air, then swinging her machete across the side, beheading David completely.
David's head was now completely chopped off, and with it blood came gushing outwards. Andy picked his boomerang off the ground, then dragging himself towards David's head. He stabbed it in the temple, preventing him from turning.
"Alright, now we get out of here," Andy said, right before collapsing. Hannah caught Andy in time, then wrapping her arm around him. The two of them then started limping away from the hospital, and then back into the forest.
Tristan slammed his fist against Scott's face three times before he returned the favour. Tristan was pushed back, but he was still up. He kicked Scott in the side of his kidney, causing him to go downward. Once again Tristan flew a punch in Scott's direction, but within no time Scott caught it.
While on his knees, Scott flipped Tristan right onto the ground. Tristan tried to get up as soon as he could, but Scott pressed his foot against Tristan's chest. "You're out of shape," Scott said.
"Thanks for the update," Tristan replied. He tried to throw Scott's leg right off him, but that quickly proved to be pointless. Scott pressed down even more pressing, making it hard for Tristan to breathe. He also punched Tristan's leg, causing him to cry out in pain. Two more punches along his leg, and Tristan began to feel the heat.
Scott put a knee down on Tristan's chest, pinning both his arms. He placed his hand on Tristan's neck, beginning to squeeze tightly. With the pain in Tristan's leg, on top of being strangled, he was in a tight spot. His vision began to get impaired, and slowly he began to pass out once more. To him, it had looked like Scott had finally won.
Tristan was out working on his truck, changing the oil and hoping that that's all that had been wrong with the thing. It was parked next to Scott's bike, and out of envy seemed to take up as much space as possible. Tristan looked up from his work for a second, which was when he saw Scott descending the steps with a fully packed bag over his shoulder.
"Taking a trip?" Tristan asked, wondering what the hell all of this was.
Scott looked almost sheepish, but covered it up almost immediately. "Yeah. No offense but this place only has so much to see and do, after a while you need to see some wilderness again."
Tristan looked at him, his mind running wildly. "You're not . . . like, going over again, are you?"
It took Scott a moment to see what Tristan meant. "Oh no. No, not at all. No, I'm just taking a little hunting trip I think. Only be a week or so. I just, I need to get out. You know?"
Tristan did know. He knew what staying inside for too long could do to you. It was an easy way for all those memories to come welling back into your mind, and once that happened it was harder to get them out. One look in Scott's eyes and Tristan saw that he was beginning to break. Tristan wanted to let him go, but he wasn't sure exactly how well he'd do without Scott there. There was Mary; she would help him he knew. But Scott was always the stabilizing force in the room. The man that knew everything but didn't, and Tristan didn't know how well he'd be able to keep the memories down after he was gone.
"Jesus you look terrified," Scott laughed. "I'm not gone forever. Besides you couldn't run that bar without me for longer than a couple weeks. I'll be back."
Tristan smiled in spite of himself. There it was. "All right, I'll hold down the fort for you. And I could keep that bar in one piece for as long as I needed to."
Scott smiled. "Yeah, except we'd have no customers and the booze would all be gone. You'll tell Mary for me?" Tristan nodded. "Okay," he said. He grabbed Tristan's hand, shook it, and then he was off. Peeling away on the motorbike, Tristan watched as he faded into the distance, the sunset almost looking like a wildfire, and Scott drove straight into the flames.
Exerted pressure, as well as a coursing pain throughout his leg had struck at Tristan with every passing second of suffocation. From a visualisation he knew Scott was using all of the strength he had left to finish the job. Tristan kept staring into Scott's eyes, his cold dark eyes that were even more tampered with than the day they met. Whatever kind of beast Scott was hiding within himself the day he met, the little cub with a fierce look, had evolved and grew up into the wolf he was seeing today. Scott's fiery of red hair burned through into Tristan's soul.
"No wonder you couldn't protect Mary," Scott said. Tristan bit his tongue, spreading his eyes while feeling a surge of adrenaline rush throughout his body from those words. He found the strength to free his left arm, swinging it towards Scott. Within no time at all, Scott predicted his movements, grabbing his arm. "Come on Tristan, I expected better," he said. Scott moved both his arms around Tristan's arm, wrapping it around, starting to feel it bend, then at the same time placing his knee on Tristan's throat.
Snap.
Tristan screamed through the agonizing pain that stabbed into his arm. His bone, which now felt completely broken, was now also completely immobilized. There was no room to breathe, Scott had begun to suffocate him once again, and his arm made it just that much worse. With the pain still active, Tristan didn't notice for a second, but he noticed an opening. Once Scott had moved his knee upwards, it had freed Tristan's right arm.
Tristan swung his fist at Scott's face, and without a doubt it was the hardest punch he had received all night. Scott fell to his side, coughing up slight blood from the strike. He tried to get back up on his feet, but he received a kick to the face quickly after. There laying on his back, Tristan jumped on top of him, pinning him down with his legs and causing Scott to choke up some more blood.
Tristan raised his fist at Scott. "Ben!" Tristan screamed, then nailing his fist against Scott's face. "Molly!" Scott received another blow to the head. "Wesley! Alvero!" Scott received two more punches. "Bailey!" Scott got another fist nailed against his face, having a big red spot plum up on his face. "You killed them all!" Tristan yelled with might, continuously beating Scott down to death.
From the corner of Scott's eye he noticed his bowie knife just sitting there, and it was only inches away from his finger. "You were supposed to be my brother! But you killed all of them! You're a monster!" Tristan screamed. While still receiving blow to the head, Scott kept reaching for his knife, and it was only millimetres away now. "Burn in hell you son of a bitch!" Tristan screamed, raising his fist up in the air one final time.
With the knife now in Scott's hands, he quickly stabbed Tristan in his rib cage. Tristan wanted to scream, but instead he could find the oxygen to be able to breath. He muttered up a few words, but the swift agonizing pain caused him to collapse on the ground, seeing blood purge out onto the white snow.
Scott picked himself off the ground, slowly and carefully. There was a certain chance he received a concussion after that strike, but he was still better off than Tristan. He just continued to look at him, squirming around on the ground like a fish on dry land.
"Look at you, you used to be a proud soldier of America, and now you're nothing but trash," Scott said.
"W-Why? Why did you . . . do this?" Tristan asked, stuttering as he continued to bleed. Right in front of Tristan's eye, his revolver laid on the ground. He started to crawl for it, still bleeding everywhere like mad.
"Why did I do this? This was all of your fault Tristan, you couldn't protect them. You couldn't protect Mary, you couldn't protect Amanda, you couldn't protect Bailey, and you couldn't protect any of them. There are certain people you told me about that just need to be put down, and it just what must be done. Throughout the time of this apocalypse, you've turned. You need to be put down once and for all."
Tristan leaned over, grabbing his revolver, with his hands shaking uncontrollably. He looked back, seeing Scott there in front of a gasoline tank, and it just happened to be pouring onto the ground below Scott's feet.
Scott took out a cigarette, lit his lighter, and took one long drag to enjoy the moment of peace he was receiving. "I'm sorry Tristan," Scott said.
"Yeah . . . I am too," Tristan replied. Tristan spun around, firing one round towards Scott, but missing. The round may have missed Scott, just hitting the ground beside him, but it caused him to flinch, with the lighter still in his hand. The lighter fell onto the ground, right on top of the gasoline below. The last thing Tristan saw were flames goes off like fireworks.
Boom.
Tristan found himself in the bar early that day, cleaning everything up. He told Mary to take it easy; she'd had a long night and should just rest. He'd handle the bar tonight. He was cleaning off the bar and setting the stools down, getting ready for customers when he saw a pack of Scott's cigarettes behind the counter. He picked it up and inspected it for a moment, almost prepared for his buddy to be inside. He threw them down when he realized he wasn't and went back to cleaning and humming "I'm On Fire" when he felt a strong urge. He ignored it, and started to wipe off the television screens.
After a while, when he found himself with nothing to do, the feeling returned. And before he knew it he found himself grabbing a glass and a bottle from under the counter, and pouring himself a drink.
When he finished that one, he poured himself another. After that glass, he began to pour himself one more, but stopped when he saw Scott's cigarettes. He pulled one from the pack, and found some matches in a drawer. He lit the cigarette, inhaling the smoke into his lungs before expelling it, coughing up a cloud like he figured he would.
He sat there for a while, a lit cigarette in his mouth and a dying bottle of Jameson by his side. He heard something like a car engine backfiring, and walked to see what the problem was. He looked out the door, hearing what sounded like gunshots and yelling. He flipped the bar sign to closed, panicking when he heard something in Farsi, backing up back to his drink after locking the door.
In that moment of solitude, alone in his bar with his drink, he wondered where Scott was, and if he was beginning to fall apart like he was.
Tristan awoke, disoriented, feeling like he had the worst hangover he's had in a long time, seeing flames engulf the sky in smoke. He rested his head back against the snow, feeling like it was time to relax, and yet he still felt pain course through his body. His leg was begging to go even number than before. His arm was excruciatingly painful. And then there was the stab he received in his rib cage. Blood covered his arm, and he just looked at it, guessing this was finally his time.
Andy and Hannah ran through the forest, taking out a walker here and there, but for the most part they kept moving on. They put a great amount of distance between them and the hospital, and for the most part they assumed they were safe.
Andy looked at Hannah, with a cheek still bleeding. "That's going to scar unfortunately," he said.
Hannah ignored Andy's comment, replying "We should keep moving."
"Alright, where?" he asked.
She put her machete back inside her sheath, walking down the path while replying "Who the fuck knows." Andy shortly followed her behind, tucking his boomerang back into his jeans.
Matias kept walking, but he heard crying from behind her. Looking back, he saw Kiersten, just weeping there, standing there with no confidence. "We need to keep moving," he replied.
"They . . . Austin's dead . . ." she muttered.
"Yeah I know, but where not out of this yet. We need to keep moving, and hopefully we'll run into everyone else later. Let's just hope there aren't any walkers nearby," Matias said. Matias took point, aiming his shotgun down the path, hoping Kiersten's tears won't get them killed.
Katheryn and Derek kept walking down the road, just a few miles off from the hospital. Katheryn managed to grab a sniper rifle from the bag just before departing, but she only had so little time. There were at least three men who stormed the hospital, at least. There was no telling what happened to everyone else, she knew she just needed to keep pressing forward. To say the least though, she prayed Tristan worked things out with Scott one last time.
Derek stopped walking, momentarily for Katheryn to raise concern. "Why'd you stop?" she asked.
"We should go back, we can't just leave them," he replied.
"Derek . . . this might be hard to hear, but that place is gone now."
"I don't care about the hospital, but Austin and Kiersten are still out there somewhere, and I'm not abandoning them."
"We don't even know where they are, but we know what's at the hospital, armed men who are trying to kill us."
"So what are we just supposed to leave everyone behind? Fend for ourselves?"
"That's the hand we've been dealt . . . come on let's keep moving," Katheryn said.
Katheryn continued walking down the road, while Derek kept standing. He contemplated just turning back around and going back to the hospital, however he didn't have a gun. All he had was a knife, and it's not like that would get him very far. He hated admitting it, but Katheryn was right, he had no idea where everyone else was. "Dammit . . . hey wait up!"
"You're not coming with us!" Phillip screamed.
"Phillip calm down," Naomi said.
"Naomi I'm not calming down. This bastard was with them; he came with them and destroyed our home!"
"If you want me to leave . . . I'll respect your decision," Logan said.
Naomi looked back over at Logan, knowing she couldn't just abandon him. She didn't think of him as a traitor, just a person getting dragged into something he had no business in. He was one of her oldest friends, and she wasn't about to let him die to, especially not alone.
Naomi whispered into Phillip's ear, "Look . . . just give it a few days okay? If he acts up, then we'll do something about it. He's unarmed, and frankly I like our odds. Just give him a chance okay?"
Phillip looked back over to Logan, regretting what Naomi request was, and how he was willing to accept it. "Fuck. Alright Logan you'll stick with us."
"Thank you," he said. The three of them began walking through the forest again, and hopefully away from the burning fires the hospital still produced.
Tristan picked himself off the ground, wondering how he still had the strength. Surviving a car crash was one thing, but then an explosion that was practically right in front of his face, it was a goddamn miracle on his part. He continued to leap over towards the now destroyed tank, wondering if there was anything left to remember him by.
It was just a sudden flash of light, that's all he could remember. Scott was engulfed in a light of some sorts, but where that took him was unknown to Tristan at the moment. After stumbling back over to the plant, there he found what he was looking for.
A corpse laid there on the ground, still burning up, with three out of the four limbs just gone. The figure had no face; it was just a burnt crisp of a memory. It became like a candle, only the scent was completely foul. Tristan couldn't' believe it; he couldn't believe this is what had become of Scott, just a pile of ash. It's like he turned into one of his cigarettes.
Tristan reached for his old dog tags within his pocket, reading Sergeant Scott McGregor. For some weird reason, every regretful memory Tristan had of Scott these past weeks just vanished. He had no memory of all the death he surrounded Tristan with, and he didn't even remember there was a war. All he could remember was the good old days, back at The Finis where the two of them poured glasses of whiskey and rum into the lives of people willing to reach for their wallet. At this particular moment, with a fire like a campsite, Tristan smiled.
Dragging his body completely over, Tristan took a knee at Scott's corpse. He ripped off one of the dog tags, placing it on top of Scott's chest. "Sergeant Scott McGregor, a brave soldier, and a loyal friend. I hope you rest in peace brother." A swift pain erupted in Tristan's side. He placed pressure down on his rib cage, figuring now was the time to escape.
He began walking away from the plant, not thinking about his next move. Not thinking about whether everyone had survived. Not thinking about his home being burnt to a crisp. All he could keep thinking about was Scott, and the kind of being he became. He was a clear definition of what this world has to offer, however throughout all the pain and suffering, Tristan still stood, limping his way back into the gates of hell, forced to start living.
"And the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur where the beast and the false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever. Then I saw a great white throne and him who was seated on it. From his presence earth and sky fled away, and no place was found for them. And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Then another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to what they had done. And the sea gave up the dead who were in it, Death and Hades gave up the dead who were in them, and they were judged, each one of them, according to what they had done. Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire."