Hello, readers!

SO THIS IS A WEIRD ONE. I had to POST a new chapter and slap this puppy in the middle of the story so I didn't interrupt the flow, so everything's been moved back a SMIDGEN. So until I finish the rest of the updates, the chapter numbers are going to be all kinds of wonky and I APOLOGIZE PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

But I guess on the bright side the story is back on the first page? And now everyone knows I'm editing these soooo I hope you enjoy the edited version of the story lmao.

This marks the end of the updates! I'm not sure when the next batch will come out, but I hope it doesn't take as long as this batch did. This is the shortest chapter so far (in a while, at least) but I'm not sure what else to do! Let me know if I rushed anything I could have spent more time on, and of course let me know if there's any inconsistencies with this update (if anyone else is reading this updates lmao).

This chapter has been updated as of 5/7/2016.

~Crayola


Chapter Eleven

Alone

Time came to a standstill and I lost track of how long I lied there. It could have been two minutes or two hours. Eventually I ran out of steam and turned into a simpering mess of silent sobs and dry tears. My body still trembled, tired and worn out, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to stand again.

It wasn't fair.

Why me? Why was I okay? Why was I the person who had survived? Why not my friends?

I didn't deserve it. I'd left them. Maybe if I'd just stuck with them until the end I could have helped them out. I could have stopped them from being infected altogether.

But would I have even escaped without Anderson's help?

Tears had long since stopped spilling, and my sobs had subsided into quieter hiccups. I remained in a tight ball, quaking and beating myself up.

After all, I'd done this.

I had convinced Jess to come on this stupid trip. I had withdrawn so far from reality that I couldn't see the truth, and Jess had suffered. She'd died a horrible death because I was too selfish to believe that she was in pain.

Wolf had tried to tell me. Jake had tried to tell me. Why hadn't I just listened?

I'd done this.

My fault.

Slowly I sat up and braced myself against the wall. Though I didn't cry, I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. There was nothing left for me to do. I'd followed after Wolf because it was my ticket out of this hell hole. If I got out, I could save my friends. Maybe stop an invasion while I was at it.

But now I had no friends to save.

And stop an invasion? Yeah right. Wolf could kill them all by himself. I'd just been the tag along shadow, riding his wake to safety. Maybe he could kill the Queen and the Echo both. It's not like I was going to be any help.

Did he really need me at all?

There had to be another survivor around that could help him. It was a big ship. Even if they had been wounded, they could have holed themselves up somewhere, tended their wounds, and were waiting for help to arrive.

No one needed me. No one needed a selfish, naïve child. Who was I kidding? Wolf might have saved one of his comrades. Might have already killed the Echo.

And I'd slowed him down.

At least the cop had been on top of it. I only wished there had been more time. Wished he could have allowed us to say goodbye. A goodbye I would never be able to say to Jess. It was for the best that he hadn't hesitated or waited, though. In the end it would have been harder to let go, and they had been in pain. Half a minute later and they would have suffered like Jess had.

Maybe I should be grateful. I couldn't deny that it had been quick. Wolf might have ended it just as painlessly and killed the chestbursters in the same fell swoop, though. I could still hear their bones cracking, bouncing around in my skull.

I didn't feel grateful, though. There wasn't much I did feel.

Just a lot of guilt.

I lifted my head to rest my chin on my knees. Though I didn't move, I glanced around the room within my peripheral vision. There was nothing in it, and I wondered briefly what it was for.

Again I hid my face in my knees, squeezing tighter until the caps pressed into my sternum. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I said to no one in particular. The ghosts of my dead friends, haunting me until the end of time. Blaming me.

Not that they needed to. I was doing that for them.

My fault.

More screeches sounded in the far distance. I lifted my head to look, but they were nowhere near my room. Whatever room this was. I thought I heard the Echo somewhere, but it could have been anything. It started my brain, though. Why was I sitting here? Was I waiting for him, or was I waiting for a drone to find me?

Was there no end to my own stupidity?

I didn't have to. Why wait when I could go find the trouble instead?

Whatever part of me that still wanted to live picked up the blade on the ground. I dragged myself into a stand and shuffled to the open door. First glance told me there was nothing outside, so I wandered out. Had Wolf told me to stay? I'd stopped paying attention to him long ago.

Well, if he had, he'd just have to come find me. I wasn't going to wait anymore.

The blade hung limp at my side, long enough that the very tip dragged across the floor. It made a gentle scratching sound every couple seconds, but it was a good distraction from the horrible silence. On a whim I pulled my phone from my pocket. It had a small amount of battery life left and no reception, and the clock read close to five in the morning. Still more than an hour until sunrise.

Sunrise meant it would be easier to make it down the mountain.

Maybe even off the ship.

All I had to do was find a section of the hull that the crash had destroyed. A hole or something I could crawl out of. The drones had to be getting off the ship somewhere, so I had to find it and sneak through it myself. If the sun rose, I could find the hole easier.

Then I'd go home and . . . .

And what? Go back to school? Pretend everything is fine? There wasn't anything left for me. Maybe to see my mom again, my dad, my siblings. I wasn't sure, but I didn't know what else to do but try to go home.

If I lived through stumbling about, I'd figure it out.

*:・゚✧

I fumbled around in a daze, feet dragging. The ship was silent except for the ambient cries of the aliens. They were far enough away I wasn't worried, and even if it had been close I wasn't sure if I would care anyway. I had the serrated blade Wolf had given me. If something came, I'd do my best.

It wouldn't be enough, but I'd try.

Somehow I found myself doubling back to the place my friends had fallen. Maybe I couldn't let them go quite yet. I collapsed next to them, blind to the bloody mess that was their chests. For a moment I stared, then remembered why I was there. Why my legs had carried me back to their corpses.

Identification.

The dog tags were still heavy around my neck, and I rubbed my thumb against the metal tags. They wouldn't have those, but I was sure I could find something to give their parents when I returned.

If I returned.

My hands fumbled through their jackets' and pants' pockets. All Jake had was his wallet, so I pulled out his ID and stowed that with the rest of the things. Michelle had her wallet, phone, and her digital camera, so I put her license next to Jake's and shoved her camera in my back pocket. Jess had her phone, but I was encumbered. I went through the rest of the wallets to find IDs, leaving behind what I could while still keeping something worth keeping.

At least I could wear the dog tags. And it was something that I could do.

A new goal to live for.

Give the dog tags to the military, give the phones and shit to the adults. I could do that. I could live for that.

Oh, but . . . I didn't want to.

My eyes strayed to the officer. I took his badge and as I was finding room to shove it in my pockets, I saw his gun resting in his limp hands.

It still had one bullet left.

Lip quivering, I pulled it from his fingers and held it in both my hands, the sword on the ground at my side. My hands shook as I stared at it, considering the bullet left in the chamber.

"Use it if you need to." That's what he'd said.

I tightened my grip on it and let my index finger slide onto the trigger. Though I tried, I couldn't raise it higher than my chest. My face contorted into anguish and I tossed the weapon away. It skittered across the ground and smacked into a wall, far out of my reach.

Can't do it. I snorted at myself in disgust and stood up to leave.

Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids and weighted my limbs. My mind was running on fumes, ragged and dry. I wandered aimlessly for a while until I could no longer. Even then I soldiered on, stopping only when I found another empty room. It was open, so I assumed it was a public room for all who lived on the ship.

There was a few metal tables welded to the floor. I curled up underneath one, figuring I could take a small break after all that I'd done, all the progress. All the death. I deserved that much, right?

Just a few minutes to lay down?

After wandering for the fifteen or so minutes, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of anything. No Wolf. No drones. No nothing. I figured I could have a couple moments to myself to just rest. I wanted sleep, but I couldn't have sleep.

My tears had dried up, the sobs subsided to an occasional hiccup. The crying had taken its toll, though. I thought I had done a decent job keeping it together. I was mostly keeping it together, still.

Mostly.

Maybe I could sleep. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. If I just let myself succumb to my exhaustion, I would be asleep for when the drones found me. Maybe then I wouldn't feel them tear me apart. I'd be asleep, and I would never wake up.

Easy.

I wouldn't have to wake up deal with the consequences of what I'd done.

It would be better than dealing with the sharp pain in my chest. Better than the knowledge that I had killed Jess. That I had killed them all.

But I'd already known that.

From the very second that I'd left them behind in the woods I knew I'd killed them. Why did it matter now? What was the difference? Killed them then, killed them now . . . .

Maybe because I hadn't watched them die.

Now I had.

Wolf's blade laid next to me on the ground, dropped when I had collapsed. I blinked at it, then pushed it away and rolled over, my back to it. I didn't want to use it anymore. I didn't want to try. I was too tired. Shooting myself was too hard, just as saving my friends was.

I didn't deserve a quick death. That was too good for me.

Being torn apart in my sleep was almost too good for me. Why did I deserve to live? I was nothing but a burden. A useless heap of flesh that needed to be saved and protected, a selfish waste of space that left her friends behind and forced an alien to help her.

I'm done.

Done, done, done, done, done . . . .

Closing my eyes, I pillowed my head on my arms and curled up tighter. My breathing slowed and it felt amazing to close my eyes and rest. To pretend that I wasn't on an alien ship crawling with things that wanted to eat me.

It was way past my bed time, anyway. I should be in bed, sleeping. None of it should have happened. They'd warned us.

But it was too late now.

Finally I started to slip. I let my eyes close and took in one more shaky breath, remnants of crying. My mind raced with "should'a, would'a, could'a" scenarios, threatening to keep me awake.

Not for long, though.

I knew that with how exhausted I was, I would pass out into sleep sooner rather than later and then it would be all be over. A drone would find me, and I could only hope that I would sleep through the infection or mauling.

That was a mercy I didn't deserve. Let me wake up to find them tearing at me.

Let my punishment come.

*:・゚✧

Somewhere—somewhere close—a screech jerked me from my slumber. I started violently and my eyes shot open, immediately darting around the small room.

I couldn't have been asleep for long.

So, after all, I would be awake for my comeuppance.

The sound came again, louder this time. My heart started to pound against my chest and I blinked away the dreariness from my sight.

Part of me wanted to curl back up and try to sleep again, but my lizard brain forced me to find out. I crawled out from under the table, my hand brushing the hilt of the big-ass blade that Wolf had gifted. My fingers folded around the cool handle out of instinct and I inched toward the door.

All I saw were shadows inside shadows on top of more shadows. There was something out there, though, in the hallway. I thought I saw movement somewhere to my side and I stared, but saw nothing. They were beginning to dredge up more feeling of flight or fight.

But why? I shouldn't care. I wanted this. I forced myself to calm down, to take a deep breath.

This is how it should be.

When the drone's shape appeared, no matter what I thought, I was afraid. It was unadulterated and viscous fear burning in the back of my head.

Its form had the hairs on the back of my neck raising. I lifted the blade higher and tried to sneak back into the room, but it spotted me. The drone swiveled its head toward me, chrome fangs glinting in the dim lighting. Though the damage was already done, I ducked back inside.

I raised the blade higher, then lowered it again.

Let it come. Let it finish this and dole out your punishment.

Frozen in place, my eyes were wide and unblinking. The drone's head peered into the room and I backed up further until my back hit a table. My heart dropped.

All you have to do is stand here.

My arms moved of their own accord and raised the blade higher. Though I tried, my arms was stuck in that pose, fingers white-knuckled around the grip. I was just waiting for the angel of death to swoop in and end my misery.

When it squealed and lurched toward me, adrenaline forced me into movement.

Flight.

As if under a spell, my legs jerked me out of the way. I stumbled and picked myself up, then tore down the hallway. The thing shrieked and give chase. I pushed myself faster, arms and legs pumping. A corner blocked my way and I skittered to change direction, thumping against the wall. I almost dropped the sword.

At least the hallways, unlike the forest, were a straight shot. There wasn't as much debris to deal with but the occasional hanging wires and tubes or pieces of ceiling. Maybe I was a goal keeper and not a striker, but I was in shape. I could still run, I was still fast.

Stop running!

My body wouldn't listen to the desperate, guilty voice that plagued me. Fear drove me forward, fueled by every sound the thing behind me made. I knew not to look backward and I kept my eyes forward, on the prize. Possible escape.

But it wasn't escape.

It was a dead end.

I was running fast enough and it was dark enough that the end of the hallway snuck up on me. I slammed on the breaks, but I still collided against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I practically bounced off and my arms flailed as I tried to keep my balance.

What about the drone?

Whirling around, I put my back to the wall and held the blade in front of me, trembling. I coughed a few times, trying to fill my lungs with air again and rid myself of the pain.

It was still sprinting toward me. I couldn't drop the weapon and as the beast bore down on me, there was only one thought in my head. It overrode any of the guilt I was feeling and overwhelmed any of my higher cognitive thoughts.

I'm scared.

When it saw I was trapped, it slowed its pace. Its head swung one way and another, considering me, checking for other enemies. Weighing its options and seeing what I would do. The waiting was killing me. The end result would be the same—so what if I put up a little bit of a fight?

Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it would just outright kill me instead of bother with having to string me up to a wall.

Step by step it came closer, hissing and snarling. My chest heaved with each breath and I couldn't hold the blade in my hand steady, even with both hands. When it was about ten yards away, it stopped and crouched, muscles bunching. I knew it was going to spring and attack.

I wanted to let it, but my body tensed in preparation.

I don't want to die.

Self-preservation won over guilt. When it leaped, I was ready.

The drone sprang with its powerful back legs, arms outstretched and claws ready to strike. I bellowed an incoherent battle-cry—more like a frightened scream—and lashed out with Wolf's blade. The black serpent screeched as the swing connected, slicing off one of the large shoulder protrusions.

It wasn't enough to stop it and it slammed into me. I smashed back-first into the wall and the weight of the monster dragged me to the ground.

Grunting and whimpering, I fought to slice with the blade, to thrust it upward. Claws tore the arm of my shirt and my skin, then I found my mark with the blade. The creature snarled and I used all my strength to shove it away from me, the blade driven deep into its chest.

It thrashed on the ground and I rolled away from it after pulling my weapon loose. I had to get away from it, had to crawl . . . .

White-hot pain exploded on my shoulder blade. I screamed and flipped over, convulsing once. The drone hadn't quite died, and it was looming over me to strike. Acid blood poured from its open chest and I squirmed away from it.

I'd pulled out the only thing plugging up the wound on its chest.

Its blood ate through my jacket and seared my skin. I kicked away from the alien as it stumbled and fell. Just in time I yanked my leg back to avoid dripping acid. It screeched and reached out with a claw, tearing my pant leg, but it couldn't stand.

The barb-tipped tail lashed out at me, striking the ground by my hip. I thrashed and somehow pulled my feet under me enough to propel away from it.

I had to put some distance between us, had to deal with this burn . . . .

The pain was almost unbearable. I did the only thing I could think to do—I threw myself toward the drone.

They drooled copious amounts of thick slime, and it was pooling underneath it. That was the answer. Those things didn't burn themselves. I dipped in to soak my fingers in the pooled slime, then zagged away from sharp claws.

In order to stop acid you had to drop the base, and the slime was the base.

Rolling to avoid a tail-slash, I braced against a wall and slathered the slime over the growing burn. I caked as much onto it as I could and the relief was almost instant.

Though the pain didn't stop, it didn't worsen and that sound stopped. I could no longer hear my flesh sizzling and I whipped around, picking up the blade I had dropped. The drone hadn't gotten back up, but it was still trying to crawl toward me. I stood and took a few swift steps toward it, ducked under its tail, and then drove Wolf's sword into its skull.

When I pulled it out, the drone slumped, and didn't move again.

Stumbling and panting, I fell to the floor. I watched the thing for a few minutes, waiting to see if it would get up, and when it didn't I crawled toward it. My shoulder blade stung with an intensity that brought tears to my eyes, and I feared the acid-blood would eat through me.

The first application had helped, but it still hurt so much. It was corroding my flesh and it was only a matter of time before it ate my bone.

Thick, viscous saliva dribbled from the dead creature's maw. Though it made my skin crawl, I coated my fingers in the nastiness and rubbed some of it all over my shoulder blade. It hurt to touch and I could already tell how marred the skin was.

In a moment of hysteria, I thought what luck I had that it was my back and not my chest.

Relief came with more slime and I held my arm tight to my chest. Every breath was a pained wheeze, my mouth agape in silent screams.

My entire body trembled. I swallowed hard and leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath. There wasn't much time for rest, this I knew, but even a couple seconds of a reprieve would be good enough.

Something brushed against the top of my head. My eyes flew open and I whirled around, swinging wildly with the blade. Too late I realized that it was Wolf standing there.