Talker – Chapter 6: Under The Gun
Author's Note: Chapter six. Yeah…Well, there you go.
For an almost comical span of time, not a single breath was drawn nor a single move made amongst the group.
The survivors blanched at the unexpected plea, each still as all eyes fell onto the zombie at Kenneth's feet as the incredibility of what they had just heard sank in.
"…D-damn it, shoot it, Kenneth!" Terry snapped quickly, eyes wide.
The ex-law enforcer instinctively shoved the gun forward at that command, but did not fire, simply looking down at the young corpse with an expression of amazed horror. The zombie was staring up through terrified eyes, boring into Kenneth with what would seem to be some form of hypnotic trance that willed him not to blow his head off.
"God, what…what are you waiting for?!" Nicole shouted, snatching Terry by the arm with her eyes locked onto Kenneth. "It's one of them, kill it!"
"It just talked." Kenneth answered in a dumbfounded hiss, unable to bring his finger away from or into the trigger.
"It has bite marks, Kenneth." Terry said in a stern tone, his eyes turning serious quickly as he motioned to the creature's mangled arm.
"But he…" Kenneth grit his teeth in frustration and stared harder at the man as if in deep concentration.
"No…no, don't kill him." Ana's voice suddenly piped up. The others were silent, awaiting her explanation despite the high tensions of their conflict. "Look at him, Kenneth, he's not attacking. He knows what the gun is. He's not one of those things."
Kenneth considered what she said for some time, pressing the gun harder into the creature's temple before letting it droop down. "Shit…" he said defeated, backing away from the presumed zombie.
Terry seemed very disturbed and in great disagreement over this, but he said nothing in confidence of Ana's judgement. She had said very little after they lost Michael, and what small amount she offered now was taken gravely, often ending up the final word in any matter. Even in this bizzare turn of events, this time was apparently no exception.
The injured zombie fell back into a sitting position, distraught as tears of both horror and relief trickled down his face. He was shaking like a leaf, eerie bright eyes scanning the people before him like he was trying to decide if he should bolt. They watched him with a twin panic, mirroring his very contemplations. There was another span of dead staring, niether party able to register their options in the confusion and fear. Ana, bewildered but determined, was the first to dare and approach him.
"Ana-" Kenneth warned in shock of seeing her step out towards him, almost reaching out to stop her. After a few short seconds of debate, however, he decided not to interupt her and his call came out with more of a 'be careful' sentiment as he raised his gun cautiously.
She came to him edgily and very slowly, both trying to prevent the zombie from running and trying to give herself the opportunity to do just that if need be. He backed away a little when he decided that she had come too close, teeth chattering. "Tell me you can understand what I'm saying…" she ordered, lowering her body to the sand under his watchful gaze. "We won't hurt you if you don't hurt us."
He let out a sharp cry and backed away a little further, arms shaking so badly that it was a wonder he could keep himself up at all. "You just had a gun to my head!" he choked out in a hissed whisper.
Ana's lips parted in awe. "What's your name?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her like she must have been the craziest woman on earth. Then again, with only a one out of two chance, she very well could have been.
"Do you remember what it is?" she repeated. "Your name? Answer me. Now."
"Tyler! Yes I fucking remember my name!" he snapped, gripping at his hair. Kenneth shifted his gun at the sudden movement. "Oh God…"
"Kenneth, put it down." She pleaded, holding up a hand to him before turning back. Reluctantly, Kenneth obeyed. "Tyler…" she swallowed and went to her knees, risking to get a little closer to him. She almost reached out a comforting hand, but quickly thought better of it. She could not yet be certain that he was indeed a man. "Were you bitten?"
He slowly pulled his head from his hands, ravenous eyes searching over hers and leaking tears. "…Yes…" he gingerly concealed his bitten wrist with the other hand, his head low and staring blankly.
"How long ago?" she questioned again, leaning her head down to try and catch his gaze.
"I don't know…" he whispered. "I don't…"
"…More than…and hour ago?" she tried to narrow her field a little.
"Yes." Was all he answered. "I didn't know anyone else was out here…please, I know I…don't kill me, please, I didn't do anything wrong…"
"We won't." Ana said, sounding almost soothing as she glanced back at Kenneth. "We won't kill you…Calm down."
"Calm down…" he repeated with a mockish laugh that held anything but humor. "Calm down, calm down. Okay…sure…"
"…Where did you come from…?"
Tyler took in a breath and threw his eyes upwards, some kind of unreadable expression on his blood-streaked face. "I don't know anymore. I don't know. Where am I now?"
"An island…Admittedly I don't know which one." She gradually eased, taking up a slightly more comfortable sitting position.
"Well I wasn't on an island before. On a beach." He waved his hand for a moment like he was trying to retract that and say it more clearly, but instead let out a sigh and rubbed his temples idly.
"How did you get to this island?" she probed further.
"A boat…" his voice came out dark and heavy now, hands falling into his lap.
She looked at him strangely for a minute, seeing that his body was drenched, but decided not to question it. "So…you don't know how long ago you were bitten." She looked back at her companions briefly. "Was it today, at least? Can you tell me that much?"
"It was today...maybe…maybe, I think so." He nodded. "God, it was just—I-I can't believe…" he looked like he was about to go off on some kind of gibberish rant, but he quickly bit his lip instead and lowered his head back down with a couple of painful coughs.
"…Are you…sure that…" Ana trailed off, unable to complete that thought as she watched him in wonderment. Here in front of her sat the utmost paradox of the world they now lived in, and the shock, she supposed, won out.
Tyler wheezed, his breath coming out in muted gurgles through the mucus and the cough-torn skin in his throat. His shirt stuck tightly to his form, staining his skin with burgundy blood from his chewed up arm even through the material and giving him the image of a perpetually dying creature. Everything about his appearance suggested that he would simply fall to pieces at any given moment. It made the others increasingly nervous. Was he really dead yet? Was he trying to fool them? Would that mean he was a zombie with intelligence?—
Slowly he pitched forward and passed out into the cold sand.