Ruben:

Part I – Emerald Eyes

"Jealousy is invariably a symptom of neurotic insecurity." – Robert A. Heinlein

'Ruben!' someone squealed.

I was sprawled out amongst the flat concrete. Wretches charged towards me, faster than I would've liked. A window crashed. More bodies coursed through.

Blam!

Blam!

Bullets erupted over my head. The whole room was dashed in orange light, over and over again. Walkers were blown in half, turning to mist in the air.

Bodies were piling up, sealing my light. Then I was tugged upright and dragged by the wrists out of the room. It felt like my arms were going to be ripped from their sockets.

Up the hallway my bloodied legs trailed. We turned the corner. My brother lay there, a corpse on the tiled floor.

The walls seemed long and heavy as they stood a thick red and grey. Blood and cement. I clattered down the stairs, welding mask hanging loosely halfway down my face.

The air was dense as I was trawled out. Ahead lay the expanse of quietus, behind a scene of slaughter. It's one and the same now.

The road beneath scored gouges in my legs. But on we passed, through massacres and butchery. We reached a timberland crossing first past machinery and stumps. The land shifted like the sands and changed to a heavily wooded area. The oaks were thick as two or three people in places.

I was dragged through into oblivion. Wandering somewhere between insanity and reality…

…I hope that you'll remember,

The days lost in September,

The chill grey dawn,

All children are gone,

The days lost in September…

I don't know why I started singing. I think it was subconscious. I can't even recall where first I heard the lyrics.

…Oh my lord, save my torn heart,

And limbs lost in the fray,

On that awful day,

I hope that you'll remember,

The lives lost in September…

'Ruben' someone called.

…Time ended then.

The clocks slowed down,

The hands they all stopped counting-

-The numbers began to drown.

Now pray that you'll remember,

The time lost in September.

'Ruben!' a smooth hand cupped my mouth. The others stopped. Some knelt, or raised their rifles.

A motor coughed in the distance. I could smell the diesel. As one, the squad kicked off, dashing into the foliage ahead. Firearms rose high as they scampered through.

A warm embrace from behind, then a head poked over my shoulder.

'Natalie?' I said, tears welling.

She kissed him long, lovingly.

'I need you Ruben.' They stood up, Ruben taking the lead, holding her by the hand into the wood.

Ahead, untamed screaming and howling. The others.

An old truck was at a standstill. The windows shattered. Down along the bitumen, a man and woman ran. Following the white lines into the distance, the female turned to look back at the wild pack. She held a baby in her arms. The man rested a hand on her shoulder, turning her. And they fled.

'What was that?' I roared at one of the schoolboys.

He looked at me in disgust and shock. 'What are you, Coward?'

Crack. I punched him square in the jaw. Natalie pulled me by the shoulders down onto the ground. Then the boys' foot collided with my stomach.

'You come, or you die.'

'Jay, you don't have to do this.' Natalie said to the boy.

He released his foothold on my gut. And held his hand out. It was shredded. I gripped it, pulling up. He turned to look at the others.

I took the chance, punching him in the back of the skull. On the second swing he ducked under, coming up beneath my chest. He shouldered into me, crashing us both into the ground. Natalie swept in behind Jay, pulling him off onto the ground. He sat there, before turning and grabbing Natalie, kissing her long and hard. She didn't pull away.

I looked at her in astonishment. '…Nat…' I was more like a brother to her. Not some missed love interest.

My hands slithered across the hilt of my mallet.

Jay stood up with Nat' and gave me a smile, knowing how it hurt me more than any fist.

A larger boy, with jet-black skin and short black hair strode over, shouldering past Jay. I remembered him from one of my classes, Antoine.

He pulled a small Colt M1911 pistol from his shorts and handed it to me.

'Take it'. All around, I was looking through the barrels of the others weapons. A final, wrong move and they'd hack me to shreds. I got the message, and tucked the pistol away in the pocket of my torn blazer.

Everyone piled into the cargo hold of the truck and took a seat on the rutted metal floor. The group discussed their next flight, to move up from Atlanta into South Carolina and push to Columbia. Others suggested that it too would be overrun, that they would be better off dodging through the major cities, taking a more rural passage. Apparently, the last reports had pinned Washington D.C safest point for its' military control at the time.

The sun thickened its' colours as it drooped lower in the evening. The debate continued, tempers flaring.

'Everyone just shut up. You talk like the decision is life or death. Right now, the truck is life or death, and if we stay here it'll be an easy decision.' Antoine tuned in, his first words all evening.

'He's right, its not safe here. We can move to the diner a few miles up or try our luck following this road back to the city.' Another student said. He was fatter than the rest, with greasy hair that stuck to his forehead.

'Everyone move to the diner, me and Tubs here'll head back and check out the road.' Kent, another larger boy said, referring to the other.

Everyone begrudgingly packed their rations into backpacks and jumped down onto the road. Marching like the dead into the haven ahead.

I watched as the boys turned the truck and headed off into oblivion.

The diner was dark. Inside, tables were overturned and chairs were splintered. A walker or two lay dead amongst the rubble.

'Hello?' Natalie called out tremulously to no reply.

'I'll check the back' Jay said, marching through past the counter.

The group wrapped up in blankets and ate no supper. The shelves were empty and rations had to be saved.

I lay next to Antoine in the consuming darkness. It was late, and whether or not anyone was asleep could be questioned. The sound of rubber on gravel stirred me. Across the floor, the headlights sent the shapes of the windows dancing through.

The two portly boys silently crept indoors. I could faintly make out their silhouettes in the night. They both got under some blankets. Kent put a thick, full satchel on the ground beside him and appeared to collapse into sleep immediately.

Curiously, I stood up and casually walked out the back, seizing the satchel on the way.

I got to the bathrooms and stepped in, flicking on the light.

Undoing the clasp, I threw the leather covering back. The clothes the two boys had been wearing earlier were screwed up inside, bloody and queerly burnt. I took them out, revealing a pile of rings and jewellery beneath. Photographs of men, women and children were all shoved in with the accessories.

I scrabbled around, looking at each photo, until one of the last held my attention. It was the family from earlier. Mother, Father, Baby child.

These were the families and their jewellery. I held the photo up to the light. I dug around the other pouches; one held a burnt hand, its fingers caked in rings.

It was murder. Then it hit.

Their bloody clothing, burnt.

The hand, burnt.

The Jewellery… bizarrely clean.

They'd burnt the bodies. But why was the clothing bloody? Walkers? No. It was only on the collar. Unless they were…

'Cannibals.' He whispered in the luminescence of the bathroom.

Click.

He looked up into the mirror. Jay held a huge revolver in one hand and gripped Natalie by the hair in the other. The barrel nudged against Ruben's crown.

'You're wrong' the monster said, barely moving his lips.

'No jay, I don't think I am.'

The cold hard trigger snapped back.

Blam!