Day 1099 – Nightfall

Thomas

Eyelids fluttering as he regained consciousness, Thomas groaned and wiped his face with his forearm as he pushed himself off of the ground. Dark blue light spilled through the smashed window a metre above his head, followed by a strong night breeze. It hadn't been quite that dark when they'd jumped through, so he must have been out for at least twenty minutes or so.

He was lucky he had not landed on his machete, as that would have been the end of him. He crawled across the room and reached for the blade which had slid all the way under what looked like a set of shelves. The blue handle barely peeked out from beneath, but it was obvious enough that he spotted it easily.

Grabbing the weapon, Thomas saw something sparkle on his forearm. Looking at it he realised there were a few minuscule shards of glass embedded in his arm, light wells of blood sliding down towards his hand. He hadn't noticed them before so he assumed that the adrenaline was keeping him from being able to feel any pain. He was okay with that.

Wiping his brow again Thomas jolted as he saw something stir in the darkness. Ready to attack he raised his machete but sighed with relief once he saw Anders roll onto his back. The man had a large cut across his forehead and cheek, from which a dark pool spouted and slid towards the ground. Anders grunted as he climbed to his feet and took an uneasy, wobbly step forwards.

"Ack," the Swede moaned, "I ache all over."

Thomas nodded. "Think I got bruised ribs or something," he admitted, glaring up at the smashed window, "but that's a small price to pay compared to being gnawed to death. Anyway, any chance you know where we are?"

Looking around, Anders appeared confused. "Not at all." he mused. "A few parts of the mall were sealed off until we got more people. Dis musd be one of dem." He wiped the blood from his face and examined his hand while Thomas stealthily tried to hide his fascination with the red fluid and the wounds his ally had. That was in the past now; he had to forget it. "I guess we'd better find a door." he murmured.

The two of them strolled through the dimly lit room, hoping they'd find a way into the mall before it became too dark to see. On the way Anders spotted his crossbow and knelt down to grab it, slinging the weapon over his shoulder.

"You got any other weapons aside from that thing, buddy, pal?" Thomas asked. "Like a gun? I'm sort of against guns myself. Cowards use guns."

Anders shook his head. "Had a knife, but losd it in a dead man's skull. That was when Lyle..." he gulped. "Fuck. I forgot."

Thomas shrugged. "He's dead. Forget about him." He advised, unable to remember the name of the man he had killed three days ago. Bill? Fr... Fred? "Anyway," he boomed, voice more upbeat than it ought to be give the circumstances, "Door."

The two of them crossed over to a set of double doors. This side of the hallway was a wreck, collapsed shelves and part of the ceiling blocking their path, but the door looked relatively clear. They only had to clear some of the excess debris.

"Help me with this." Thomas ordered, pointing to a plank of wood that blocked the door. "I'm guessing this is blocked up on the other side?"

Anders nodded. "I put mosd of dat stuff up when I first joined. Onse we ged dis rubble out of the way we should be able to open the door and knock the blockage away."

Thomas reached for the wooden board blocking their way and tried to pull at it, but Anders noticed the glass in his arm. "Are you not going to pull dose out?" he questioned.

Thomas shook his head. "Can't feel it at the moment," he reported calmly, "and if I pull them out the bleeding'll only get worse. I'll deal with it when we have the time. It's only little bits." He reached for the wood again and pulled it back, only to cause a disturbance in the debris that blocked off the rest of the route down the corridor. Yelping, Thomas jerked back as something slid out of place and an undead arm grabbed for him from the other side of the blockage. Trying to free his arm from the death grip, he found himself face-to-face with what was once a man. The face was torn up, rotted away and half-eaten, a grey-black hooded jacket covering whatever else was visible.

Anders raised his crossbow but Thomas yelled for him not to, lest he miss and hit his ally. The lurker growled and gnashed its dislocated jaw as Thomas gave one last tug and fell backwards onto his ass, pulling the corpse through the gap with him.

The thing landed on top of him but he managed to grab its neck and throw it off before it 'realised' what was going on. Chucking it to one side Thomas rolled in the opposite direction to put distance between them and climbed to his feet, retrieving his machete and storming over to the corpse. It tried to reach for him, the trick of the light almost making the action look like a plea for mercy, but Thomas was not interested in that. Raising his boot he slammed it down on the lurker's head multiple times, finally putting it out of its misery - after what had probably been months lounging around in a blocked up hallway.

Stepping back he rubbed the back of his head and hunched over to regain his breath. In doing so he saw that the walker had not been much else aside from a head, shoulders, chest and a single arm. The rest seemed to have been torn off, or eaten, much like the face.

"Yuck." the hunter grimaced, wiping his hands on his shirt. "I hate these things." Using his foot he lightly kicked the corpse across the floor so that the path to the door was clear once again and gripped the wooden panel. "Let's hope that doesn't happen again, buddy." he grinned, looking at Anders.

Anders took a step back, anticipating a second walker attack, but Thomas managed to pull the board away without so much as dust dropping from the barrier the lurker had got through. The hunter was starting to regain feeling in his right arm – and with it, the pain of the glass housed inside – but it wasn't too much of a burden to bear... at least, not yet.

Pulling the door back, the two companions were greeted with the sight of a plywood barrier, just as expected. Pressing his body against it, Thomas could not get it to budge, but once Anders applied his own weight it started to give. "Needs one good barge." Thomas announced, pulling back and preparing to use the opposite shoulder to the one he'd used to smash the window. "On three." he said. "Again. One... two... three!"

The two men charged at the door and let their body weight do the work. The wood snapped and splintered, but this time no shards embedded in Thomas's arm as he and Anders skidded into the adjoining room. Thomas flexed his fingers, feeling the tendons shift and the nerves twitch all the way up his soon-to-be-bruised shoulder with an uncomfortable tenderness that felt almost... raw, as if he were just a skeleton with tissue paper for skin. Shaking his wrist to loosen up his hand he attempted to leave the sensation behind, but it just wouldn't go. "Any idea where we are now?" he called, eyeing the room. It looked like a large stockroom, filled with supplies and clothing – probably moved from elsewhere in the mall so that they had more space and didn't have to rifle through so many different locations to find a specific thing.

"Yeah," Anders said, sounding slightly surprised. "Dis is where Maya checks all the stock..." he looked back at the door. "Honestly I'm surprised this is where we came out, but looking at it now it makes sense."

"Yeah, yeah, buddy. I get it." Thomas groaned. "Where are we headed?"

"That way." Anders instructed, pointing towards a door on the opposite side of the large hall. As he spoke, the door juddered. Thomas paused, then hushed his Swedish ally. Once the man obliged they were able to listen out; Thomas was already able to identify the mass moaning of a herd, but not from behind them where the parking lot was located; he could hear them inside the mall.

"Fuck." he growled. "We're too late. Lurkers already got in."

Anders looked at him pleadingly. "Surely there's something we can do?" he pressed. "We've gotta think of something."

Thomas shook his head. "Running away is always an option."

"I mean something we can to help."

"Oh," Thomas chuckled. "Well, in that case you're screwed. This is just my luck." He turned to look at Anders. "Y'know, I thought this was gonna turn out all right. I thought things would be good, but look at what happened. The universe got its hand out and fingered my asshole. I don't even know why I helped you once I realised what those bandits were doing, Anders. I knew this place was a lost cause from the beginning and I got my hopes up." He felt the rage coming on. Pushing his eyelids as far together as they would go, he grimaced, baring his teeth as he leaned on a table that was covered with supplies.

"You helped..." Anders stuttered, "because you're a good man."

Thomas yelled and thrust the supplies to one side. "I AM NOT A GOOD MAN!" he yelled, turning and throwing his machete across the room. "We are going to die in here! We can't go forwards; herd! Can't go back; herd!"

Clenching his fist he yelled in a fit of rage and paced around the room, throwing things this way and that.

The hunter's head whipped around as someone opened the door that he and Anders had been meaning to proceed through. A man slammed the door behind him, huffing and panting heavily as he pressed his back against the door to prevent any walkers from pushing it open. He had dark skin and a grey-toned hooded sweatshirt on along with thick, curly black hair that smelled distinctly of smoke. As soon as he spied Thomas and Anders, he jolted and raised a pistol fearfully and pointed it at the first of the two.

"Don't try anything!" he cried, voice breaking in fear. "I'll fuckin' shoot you, I swear!"

Thomas glared at him and opened his hands. The enemy looked from him to Anders, who had his crossbow raised, then lowered his gun knowing that he couldn't take both of them at once. "Jus' don't hurt me," he begged, putting the pistol on the ground. "I just wanna live."

Thomas walked over to the man, steely gaze on his face, still seething from the rage of being screwed over by the herd. Taking a deep breath he waited until he was a foot away from the man, who backed up against the door, then patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

The enemy seemed a bit confused, then reassured until Thomas violently wrenched him forwards and thrust his chin up, opening his jaws and tearing the man's throat out with his bare teeth. Gurgling, the newcomer raised his hands to try and stop the choking but he collapsed to his knees and drowned in his own blood. Thomas spat his neck flesh out and let the blood stain his beard.

As the – presumed – bandit dropped dead, Thomas stamped on his forehead, then raised his fists in the air and bellowed like an animal, screaming at the top of his voice like he had done when he'd killed the other man three days prior.

He didn't have to put up this charade any more.

Turning back to face the way he had come, he attempted to call, "Hey, Anders, you see that?" but his words were strangled in his throat, just like those of the other man. Anders' crossbow was still raised, pointing at Thomas's own chest.

"He surrendered to you." Anders stuttered. "And you did... that to him."

Thomas scowled for a second, then let his expression relax. "Look, buddy, pal, I get that this might look a little creepy from your end, but let me explain. This is how I survive. I mean, boy do I hate it, but the relief it gives you is second to none."

"You... you're a...?"

Thomas shrugged. "Literal man-eater? Cannibal? Monster?" he chuckled. "Go on, friend, throw me one. I promise I've heard 'em all."

Anders' eyes darted around, searching for a lie he hoped was true, but he believed Thomas's identity. "I..." he mumbled, raising his crossbow, "I can't let you around my people. You're... insane."

Thomas scowled at looked over at his machete which lay on the ground, too far away to grab before Anders could shoot him. "Wrong fucking answer, kiddo." he announced.

Before a plan could form in his head, a crossbow bolt slammed into his shoulder. Yelling in pain, he staggered back and fell to his knees but knew this was the opening he needed to grab his blade. Pulling the bolt out of his shoulder he screamed as blood spurted like a fountain, he disregarded the machete and dashed directly at his former friend, fueled by adrenaline.

He was on Anders before the Swede had a chance to reload. Swinging at his former friend maniacally, Thomas yelled and made bestial barks that made him seem more of an animal than a man. Anders ducked below the first swing and gripped Thomas' wrist, punching him in the gut and sending him sprawling backwards, but the hunter was not going to relent so easily. He ran in for another attack, machete raised high above his head in his left hand while his right shoulder sagged uselessly, riddled with a crossbow wound and glass shards.

Anders dodged and darted back, trying to use his crossbow as a shield or weapon which he could use to bludgeon the cannibal to death. The Swede knocked Thomas upside the head and knocked him back onto his hands and knees. Before Thomas could get to his feet a tin can whacked him in the side of the head, the metal slitting his brow but only succeeding in making him even more enraged. Turning on all fours, Thomas pounced on Anders and knocked him onto his back, the crossbow skittering across the floor. The hunter bared his teeth and tried to tear Anders' throat out, but the Swede saw it coming and quickly pressed a hand to his attacker's neck to prevent the biting jaws from getting any closer, pushing into the soft flesh until Thomas was forced to pull back. When the hunter relented, Anders sat up and grabbed his enemy's shoulder, digging his thumb into the hole the crossbow bolt had been embedded in. Thomas screamed in pain, his body erupting into spasms as Anders thrust him to one side and scampered over to where the bandit's corpse lay.

Grunting, Thomas pushed himself to his feet and dived for his machete, gripping the blue handle in his left hand while his right hung uselessly to one side. Yelling, he turned to dash at Anders but saw the man pointing the bandit's pistol at him.

Thomas spat at the sight of the gun, the bandit's blood still muddying his mouth. Not even considering surrender, he snarled "Cowards use guns."

Anders took a deep breath, panted "I... guess you can consider me a coward, then" and fired.

Thomas didn't even register that the bullet had hit him in the hip until he moved forwards. Struggling to hold his own weight he collapsed a foot or so away from Anders but still had enough energy to crawl on top of his ex-ally and force the machete down. Anders struggled with all his might, but his hands were full with the pistol meaning that he could not properly block the attack. The blade went in just below his chest and Thomas left it there, toppling to one side as the pain in his hip became too much to bear.

The two of them lay side by side, Thomas bleeding from his bullet wound while Anders slowly expired due to the machete in his gut. The Swede's head tilted to look at Thomas, his hand raising and pointing towards the pistol. A weak look on his paling face, his eyes begged Thomas and his mouth uttered a single word. "P...please."

Looking back at Anders, Thomas realised he had made a mistake. He now realised that he had killed what was possibly his only friend in this world and both of them were slowly bleeding out on the floor. Granted, the hunter might survive, but the Swede was on his way out and would easily kill him if he turned. A quick send off was the least he could do.

"Y'know, Anders..." Thomas wheezed, chest heaving. "I wanted to change. I wanted to be a good guy, but that's not who I am... not someone I can be. You saw me eat that guy's throat, I just wish you'd understood that's what I am and all I'll ever be."

Anders twitched and gestured to the gun once again. "min familj..." he coughed. "Jag ska vara med dem."

Thomas grabbed the pistol from where it lay on the ground and slowly pressed it to the Swede's head. "You'd better believe it." he chuckled, then pulled the trigger.

Anders' brains spilled across the room. An empty look on his face, Thomas let his head roll back into its resting position and stared at the ceiling. He could feel a wet patch where the blood was pooling around his leg, and he didn't know what it'd look like if someone found him holding a gun and lying next to Anders' corpse, but he was not all that phased. It didn't matter any more.

Nothing mattered. Sighing, Thomas rolled onto his side, pressing his good arm into the linoleum and trying to drag himself away from Anders' body. A trail of blood followed him as he slowly slid across the floor towards a crate and pressed his hand on top, using it to push himself up onto his feet so that he could limp away.

After a few steps his hip gave out on him and he collapsed to the floor with a yelp. Landing on his bad arm he seethed with pain and rolled onto his back, using his good arm to position himself so that he sat against the wall. Looking down at his trouser leg he saw that it was stained with blood, as was his shirt. In this state he wasn't going anywhere.

Sighing, he resigned himself to his fate. At least he would eat people in death too.