Chapter XIV: Celebration
"Come take another shot, Jack!"
(Music: "Don't Bring Me Down", by Electric Light Orchestra)
"Grrrhhhhh." I growled disapprovingly in a drunken daze, splayed across the emptied and alcohol-soaked booth in the corner of the large open-floor tavern; Small groups of people danced in the clear space with drunken jubilance, many of them clearly misstepping and stumbling around more so than actually dancing.
The blaring music of the speakers around the bar continued to be a near-intolerable shock to me, even after coming here once before. It was such an unnatural contrast to the life of relative silence I had lived outside; It was a necessity to be a silent individual, considering the infected that stalked the earth for so many years-
"TURN IT OFF! TURN IT THE FUCK OFF, YOU DUMB FUCK ANIMALS! HOW HAVE YOU SURVIVED THIS LONG?!"
...Is what I wanted to say.
My body and mind had become so attuned to that silence that the music had immediately sent tremors from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, and it felt wrong in every way imaginable.
When the ear-grating speakers had initially started up, my nerves immediately immobilized my body; Every fiber in my being was frozen in apprehension, awaiting the distant screams of civilians getting slaughtered by the hordes of Infected; Waiting for the doors to creak and groan and eventually break under the weight of the horde, fanatically drawn to the sound of rock and roll.
An hour passed, and the bar-turned-party had devolved further into drunken festivity, then hedonism, and eventually debauchery. Today was a series of cultural shocks, and seeing young men and women engaging in sexual displays around the bar was counted among one of the most shocking. To think that people would drop their guard so low like this, and not feel that ever-present anxiety and apprehension of being swarmed by Infected, or found by marauding groups of humans.
How lucky they were. How ungrateful they were. Was the mere ability to relax and enjoy the feeling of life not enough for them already? To not be hushed into an eternal silence by the only world they've likely ever known?
I was reaching the drinking point of no return, and Jesse wasn't fucking helping by ordering rounds of shots every ten minutes. In making the shots free for myself for the night (and for life- apparently that wasn't a joke), their kindness had invariably become the very tool that tortured my psyche.
Before now, I had almost never drank; The scarcity of resources made it a unicorn in terms of rarity, and even for the few remnants of liquor I had found, I always thought it practically suicidal to lose myself in the deadly environment I was surrounded by at the time. No, at the time it was far better to use the alcohol I scrounged for filling bottles of Molotovs. Something that actually raised my chances of survival.
I had been offered more than plenty of liquor and beer during my time in the Vultures, but from direct observation, I had deduced that those who regularly drank were far more likely to be caught unaware and off-guard by a Clicker or Infected playing dead.
But now- with giant walls surrounding every edge of the city, armed guards on constant patrol, and a relatively-joyous population living peacefully inside... These were characteristics that tended to erode even the most guarded personalities, with enough time and... incentives. And staying vigilant in the depths of hard liquor and beer was a nigh-impossible task to ask of anyone.
Especially a 17-year-old kid that was carrying a world of insecurities and past trauma.
"Gaaaaawwwddd..." Jesse spoke belligerently, his words slurred to the maximum. "Thaaat Hi-Powwwerr took meee da fuuuck out..."
"Tawk 'bout it." Owen commented, reaching across the table to dab Jesse up. Even in my most drunk of stupors, I had instinctively kept track of the little group's shot count throughout the night (as a mechanism for detecting deception), and I had definitely noticed that Owen had only taken two shots the entire night so far. Either he was faking his lack of sobriety... or he was a lightweight. Though he was certainly being deceptive, I didn't think it was for malicious intentions; He probably just didn't like drinking all that much.
I, on the other hand, was not enjoying my time drunk. I had spent a good hour refusing drinks when we first arrived here, but after taking the first shot, the damning effects of alcohol on my mind had forced me to be more pliable to requests for shot-taking. What an IRRITATING side effect!
In differing circumstances, I would have no doubt left the bar at this time; I could barely tolerate the buffoons in front of me as they talked about irrelevant subjects and flapped their mouths without a care in the world. I wasn't sure why, but I found it impossible to relate with anyone who spoke more than a few sentences at a time; Maybe it was conditioning from my environment or personal preference for mutual silence, but having the silence broken by inane conversation and overbearing personalities was simply insufferable.
The only two things keeping me in this foul-smelling tavern were my father, whom I would speak with again when I sobered up, and-
"Hey, Jack!"
("Supersonics", by Caravan Palace)
I felt my heart rate jump rapidly as my dim gaze swung towards Ellie's voice, seeing her departing from a table of her friends and walking over to me. She waved her hand, smiling at me, and carrying a large pint of beer in her free hand. Her demeanor was bouncy, her eyes shining with a mixture of inebriation and general euphoria.
GHHHHH!
Every single time the sight of Ellie came into my mind, it was as if I'd been drugged by a euphoric agent; Dopamine surged through every nerve in my brain, and I focused on the small details of her that stuck out to me; The freckles across the midsection of her face, the strand of hair that hung from the left end of her scalp and draped over her cheek, her piercing jade eyes that tore my screaming soul out of my body and into a vision of paradise.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-
I subtly unsheathed my hunting knife and dug the tip into my skin- a desperate attempt to tear myself out of this fanatical obsession. Nothing in all my seventeen years of living could compare to this mind-bending infatuation I was experiencing; Though at the time, I had truly thought this was what 'love' felt like.
The sight of a drunk Ellie was something to behold, but it also scared me- If I had been an emotional wreck around her sober, then I couldn't imagine what type of shit I was going to say while being drunk.
Bump!
"HEE!"
I covered my mouth in deep shame and shock at the involuntary sound that came out, as Ellie had suddenly butt-bumped me from the side and scooted into the sitting booth. She apologized with a shit-eating grin, but even that was too stimulating for me to handle; Though I certainly wasn't going to move away from her.
"JACK!" She shouted happily, despite being right next to my ear. Surprisingly, her shouting was more pleasant than the music blasting through the overhead speakers.
"Uh- ELLie!?"
I'd been forced through social convention and complete inebriation to respond to her shouting with shouting, but it was so incredibly against my nature that I managed to lower my voice in the last half of the sentence; Though I was almost never a fan of people calling out to me loudly in any setting, Ellie was a shining weakness to my nigh-invulnerable solitude. Before I knew it, a slap-happy stupid grin sat on my face, and I was singing right along with the other dickheads, to shanties and tunes I'd never heard in my life.
For a moment, I felt a budding, temporary attachment to those around me. A communal feeling was... a comfortable experience.
I was primarily focused on Ellie, to such an extent that I felt incredibly pathetic for a rare few moments; Like a dog mindlessly following the gestures and movements of its master. I couldn't help it in the slightest, though; She was more intoxicating than all the liquor in this bar put together.
The crowd eventually moved to the dance floor, and I felt heart palpitations equivalent to cardiac arrest when Ellie suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me into the center of the dance floor.
"Hhhh, hhhh, hhh-"
I was having to manually breathe in and out to calm myself from the tsunami of ecstasy that flooded over me. For the first time in my life, I was made painfully aware of the excruciating starvation for attachment.
Seventeen years.
Seventeen years of isolation, of experiencing physical starvation and malnourishment, of battling diseases and mental depression, of overcoming existential despair to continue surviving, of grappling with the notions of suicide to end this miserable existence, of seeing people die in droves, of dealing with the numbness to morality and ethics, of driving myself over the edge of sanity to just stay alive-
ALL. FOR. THIS. MOMENT.
"G-Goddamn!"
"Those are some moves!"
Before I knew it, I had begun dancing to the music, as a tune that was to my liking came over the speakers. I was shocked by the movements my body was making in accordance with the music;
Ev-ery-sin-gle-beat-was-on-point-with-my-danc-ing rhy-thm.
To describe how I felt at this time would be incredibly insincere, as there were no words I knew at the time that would have been able to properly suffice the feelings and experiences that flowed through me at that moment.
Seeing Ellie match my bombastic energy was even more of a euphoria shot to the brain, and before I knew it I was completely immersed in the dancing. Fatigue had disappeared completely, thanks to the rapid flow of shots from earlier. This moment couldn't have been more perfect...
"Ellie!"
"Dina!"
I noticed Ellie suddenly talk to another woman who'd moved in through the crowd. I had assumed it was a friend of hers, and kept dancing. I wasn't the type to be jealous of Ellie not diverting all of her attention to me-
...
...
...
They... locked lips...
...
...
...
I fled. I could only remember slinking between the living corpses of bodies and slipping out the side door, slamming into several different walls and objects. One unseemingly face came up to ask something of me, I grabbed his face and shoved him away, making a beeline for the partially-filled hole made under the gate by the failed Raider attack.
dreadful
horrifying
horrific
horrendous
frightful
fearful
awful
terrible
shocking
appalling
hideous
grim
grisly
ghastly
harrowing
gruesome
heinous
vile
nightmarish
macabre
unspeakable
hair-raising
spine-chilling
loathsome
monstrous
abhorrent
detestable
hateful
execrable
abominable
atrocious
sickening
These were only a few of the words I could use to describe the life-ending experience that gripped me in that passing night. But underlining the broiling foundation of this whole ordeal...
WAS THE VEIN-BUBBLING CRAVING FORK-I-L-L-I-N-G.
Clawing madly at the partially-filled hole with my bare hands, I was overtaken by a black rage that drove me mindlessly towards escaping this insufferable haven. After minutes of feverish digging, I squirmed through the small opening and popped out of the other side, dragging the remnants of a nearby dead tree over the hole entrance to cover it, and ran wildly into the woods.
In those fleeting minutes, I truly wasn't able to determine if I was running away, or releasing stress to calm my murdered psyche. I remembered sprinting, then running, then walking in exhaustion. I fell into the snow with quivering not induced by the cold.
Why hadn't I killed that bitch right then and there? Why hadn't I lost myself in that foul tavern? Because... Because...
That settlement had done too much for me. It was not the fault of the settlement's people, or even Ellie... I had become too infatuated, oblivious to- just- fucking-
FUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUUUUCKKKKK YYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUU! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I screamed and shouted and yelled and cursed in mindless apoplexy, kicking and stomping the snow, punching the air and the ground with no particular direction.
I was so... fucking... angry.
I wanted to murder something. Like an addiction, or disease. Like I was relapsing to a worse version of myself.
I felt... utterly hopeless.
"Klck!"
Instinctively, I raised my head at the sound of a Clicker, and peered forward through the windy night to see a lone Clicker stumbling around idly a few meters away, having emerged out of the nearby brush.
(Music: "Growler", by Elephant Music)
YES.
Like a switch in my mind, I suddenly unsheathed my knife, the rasp alerting the Clicker, who began screeching and clicking cacophonously as it stumble-sprinted towards me. Even at such a terrifying sight, I felt nothing but excitement and relief flood my mind. This was the environment where I felt most at home- where I could give value to my existence.
Where I FOUGHT for my life!
I sidestepped at the last second, watching with violent delight as the Clicker missed its grab and fell into the snow, where I immediately grabbed its fungal growths by the back of the head and slammed its face into the snow repeatedly, stabbing it in the back and sides repeatedly despite knowing that a stab to the head would be the most effective.
I just kept stabbing. And at some point, I thought myself to be... laughing. Manically. Uncontrollably.
Naturally, the sounds I was making attracted other Infected and Clickers, including animals, but I had no care in the world.
I wanted to die.
Just. To. Die.
Shick!
I evaded another Infected's grab, slicing its wrists to take away its ability to grip. Watching its arms flail helplessly only drove my insatiable urge for violence further, and I giggled as I stepped forward, plunging the knife through its eye and into the ground. Carelessness got the best of me, and I felt a Clicker sink its teeth into my shoulder. Rather than shocking pain, a surge of animosity compelled me to twist my body, dislodging its teeth, and slicing the knife across its fungal face growths. The Clicker screeched seemingly in pain, and it was then that I discovered another weakness of these insufferable archetypes.
Yet just as I finished getting one Clicker off me, another Infected sank its teeth into my side, and once again I twisted my torso and brought the knife down into the Infected's skull, piercing through its brain.
One after another, scratches and bites and claws came at me from all directions, and I felt nothing but vigor as I sliced, stabbed, and punched my way through the growing horde of Infected. I could sense my body slowing as blood seeped through the many flesh wounds on my body. As the inkling of death began taking over my mind, I released an insane cackle that echoed through the somber, windy forest- my final death rattle.
THIS WAS MEANT TO BE MY FATE! TO DIE AT THE HANDS OF THIS CRUEL AND UNFORGIVING WORLD!
BANG! BANG-BANG!
The sound of gunshots startled me, as it did the Infected that were surrounding me; Heads popped one after another, and Infected dropped like flies at the excellent marksmanship of an unseen shooter. As I fought off the current Infected human grappling with me, the other Runners and Clickers began heading towards the shooter, and out of sight, I heard multiple more gunshots ring through the cold night.
Eventually, with sapping strength, I plunged the knife through the Runner's throat, tearing it out and slamming the knife blade through its eye. The Runner finally fell limp in the snow.
Taking exhaustive breaths, I peered behind me to see-
"...Jo..el...?"
My vision grew blurry; my mind began to slowly shut down from the blood loss; my limbs nearly paralyzed with fatigue and exhaustion, having already endured a battle before this. As I stumbled and fell to my knees, I heard the sound of crunching snow and the worried tone of my father.
(Music: "Father", by Olivier Deriviere)
"JAAACK! Oh, Jesus Christ! Oh, Christ, NOOOO!"
The heart-wrenching cries that came out of the normally stoic figure had broken what remained of my psyche, and I felt tears begin to form in my eyes.
"D...ad?"
Joel tackled me, holding me so tightly I was sure I'd be crushed. He muttered repeatedly, "Please don't take him, too, God. Please not him, too. Please. Please."
I was thrown into confusion by his hysteria, then I quickly realized- nobody had actually bandaged me up at the lodge. None of them had seen the numerous bite wounds that lined my body; And that was primarily because they had never seen most of my skin. In this cold climate, I was almost always wearing full-body clothing.
I was somewhat pissed, because the shrapnel from the previous firefight was still digging into my skin, and many of the gashes from that fight had also been reopened by this last stand.
More importantly, Joel didn't know that I was immune. He very likely thought I was going to die after seeing the bites through my clothing.
"Joel-... Father."
Joel's teary-eyed face raised towards me, a mixture of unbelieving outrage and mounting despair burning in his eyes; He looked as if he'd endured this terrible ordeal before.
Distressed by the sight of my own sobbing father, I took off some of my clothes weakly, revealing the innumerable old gashes, bites, stabs, scars and scratches that covered my torso legs, and arms. The look on Joel's face was one of sheer incomprehension, mixed with deep shame. He didn't seem to yet mentally grasp the situation. Despite my own fading consciousness, I hurried the words out of my mouth.
"I... am immune... Father."