In the hallway, Arelia tried using the other key on the locked classroom door. It opened, revealing two zombie children.
"All right, ya'll are getting annoying, now," Bishop said as he blasted one's face open with the shotgun. He kicked it on the ground a few times while Arelia battled the second child with the kitchen knife she found in the cafe. He watched her silently as the creature fell, and she immediately came upon it, stabbing it again and again and again with such force and brutality that her face became red with smears of blood. When it was thoroughly inactive (he did not prefer the word 'dead', as the creatures seemed to be deceased already) and Arelia was going too far with her frenzy, Bishop crossed the room to her and pulled her away from the beastly emulation of a child.
"It's dead," he said in the calmest, most soothing manner he could arrange. For a while she stared at her kill before sliding the blade back through her belt and running a bloody hand through her blonde hair. She re-tied it in a pony tail, staining the color with red, and went through the next door with her handgun drawn. This was more reassuring to Bishop: Arelia would not dream of wasting the ammunition on another assault like the last one, and he sincerely doubted she would take the time to pistol whip anything to death. He picked up the handgun ammo and followed her into the next class, then the next hall, and down the stairwell. He noticed she no longer had any clear focus in her eyes. She neither looked down, up, or at the grate walls. Bishop could see the bodies above, below, and behind the grates, and understood why.
He was, however, frightened for her. Her behavioral glitches and outbursts were becoming more frequent. It occurred to him that she might be losing her sanity. The possibility hit him with such force that, for an instant, his heart fluttered unsteadily in his chest. Please, God, give her strength. Give her the power to traverse this Hell...
He watched her unlock the gate previously blocking their way and go through. She had not said a word after seeing the hanging bodies in the library.
Give her the mental and physical tools to return this town to normal. Give her the drive to pull through unharmed...
Arelia led him to the infirmary, where she scribbled down some notes on a notepad and sat on the creaky, rusted, bloodstained bed. She lowered her head and held her gun muzzle-down between her knees, her back curved and shoulders raised like the hackles of a wolf. Her face was obscured in shadows. It was the way she wanted it.
Bishop looked at the notes on the pad sadly. "Aim for the mouth of the beast when found; avoid its tail. Please, someone, help me..."
He walked close to Arelia, hoping she would not lash out at him with gun or fist. Her shoulders shook. Her back was tense. Some of her hair fell out of the pony tail and into her face. This was not the stable, organized ex-Marine he had spoken to in the cafe. Her headstrong, stubborn aura had dwindled and faded into a dull glow. She was dying inside.
Please, God...
Lowering himself down to one knee, Bishop positioned himself just between Arelia's knees and looked up into her shadowy features. Her green eyes were still vibrant with life, but their activity had become erratic. He leaned up closer and put his lips near to her ear.
"Arelia...?" When she didn't answer, he cupped her face in his hands to make her look at him. She pulled her gun up to his face and got up, forcing him to crawl backward to get away from her. She held it steadily at the spot between his eyes. When he didn't stare down the barrel with fear and only stared into her eyes with great compassion and concern, she whimpered and threw her gun down. Her face became covered again, this time by her hands, but Bishop pulled them away and held him to her as he had done before. She did not cry. She just trembled.
"I'm a Marine," Arelia whispered. "I'm the best of the best. I'm supposed to be trained for this."
"Ex-Marine," Bishop whispered into her ear. "And you're tough. I know people who would have lost it way before you got this far." He cautiously stroked her hair, taking it out of the ponytail so she could tie it up later.
"Yeah? If I'm so tough, why are you okay?" She sounded bitter. She sounded angry. He was unsure.
"Well, maybe something happened long ago to make you sensitive to horrible situations such as these? Something with corpses, or genocide, maybe?"
Blue and red, blue and red, blue and red...
"Holocaust movies?"
"That could be it." He handed her the hair tie and watched her put her hair up, smiling at the flowing action, so prosaic to her, and yet so different to him. "You'll be okay, Arelia. You'll be okay."
Give her strength...
"Have you any faith, Arelia?"
"No," she admitted. "No, not really."
"I suggest you get some. I've asked God to give you strength. If you can accept Him, He will be more than happy to help."
"It must be true." She looked up into his face. "He gave me you, didn't He?" Bishop smiled, genuinely touched, and leaned forward a little, his lips close to hers. Suddenly, she stood and nearly knocked him over with the abruptness of the action.
"You ready for the big fight?" Arelia asked as she gathered her handgun.
"Yeah," Bishop answered almost inaudibly. He stood and brushed himself off. "Yeah, I'm ready."