Me again! You probably forgot who I was, I took so long updating. Sorry about that, I had some problems with logging in and motivation
A few more chapters until the end! Woop!
*In the Blink of an Eye
Her eyes are dead and her mouth lolls open. A single dangling strand of saliva droops over her lip. Once she may have looked lively, energetic, alive. But now the colour is sapped from her skin and her movements are clumsy and graceless. As she stumbles past, the back of her sagging head is revealed and what a sight it is. Shards of bone peek out of the redness and the edges of the hole are tinged with black. She shouldn't be alive. But she is.
There is a figure behind her too. In fact, this was her victim. His shirt is ripped and his chest gapes open under it. This one's eyes are dark and hooded. Whereas she is lifeless, he has a glimmer of intelligence, a certain way of holding himself. Although, one would not notice at such brief glimpse, this one's brain was not damaged in death.
Bronte Pratt, District Six
The first breath I take is gasping. It's dawn. Natalie found me. I realise it's reality but Natalie won't fade. I blink fast to dispel the mirage. But it remains inked onto my vision. The world blurs as tears fill my eyes. I can't live with this.
Every moment, waking or sleeping, she's there. The frantic whirling of her arms as she fell to the ground. The crunch. The blood. So red. So much.
How could she hold so much blood?
Starting to shake, I look down at my hands. They are red. As much as I rub them, the colour does not fade.
Charms Penlum, District Three
The good feeling I had after alerting the alliance to Kyle's gun vanished after the cannons. The contentment that had clung to me for just under a day – gone. Only to be replaced with guilt. I should help them. If those were Kyle's kills, I'd feel terrible.
But I helped them? My mind protests. It's not enough.
Tomorrow, I will find the alliance, and kill Kyle. If need be.
Coraline Rige, District Seven
We left Bronte sleeping. Her slumber was punctuated by sharp mutters and sometimes cries of pain. It was best like that. It's nearly over. There's only us, Charms and Bronte.
...
The girl doesn't recognise the shivering, sobbing shape on the ground, but she knows it's food. Instinct perhaps, not thought, makes her tread a little lighter. A bit closer. She can smell it now. Sweet and succulent. A feast.
She is close enough to reach out and touch the thing. Her head whips back to the other one. It's her kill. Stay back.
She extends her body forwards, a sudden cat like pose which contradicts her earlier grace. It's almost like one of those vintage horror films. The victim freezes – maybe a sound out of the ordinary or a breath on their neck. It is then when the killer strikes.
Precision, balance and strength. You can see that this undead being has been tampered with.
Mottled hands close around her throat and the sobbing girl's misery is cut short. Soon she'll die from lack of oxygen, but for now, she kicks and writhes and scratches and bites. But it's not enough, the girl is weakening. Her scrabblings are trailing off. Her lips are going blue. There must be some fight left in her.
BAM.
It's so sudden, the world goes white. She did have some fight. The shotgun. Oh, that shotgun. Killed several of the non-human beasts. The undead girl is hurled backwards by the blast, brains and bits of bone spraying in an arc. That'll keep her down for a while.
Bronte Pratt, District Six
I don't look back. I don't stop to hear the body fall to the floor. I don't stop to check if she's dead. I know it was her. She's come back to haunt me.
I take the shotgun and run.
Charms Penlum, District One
The girl careens around the rocks and smashes into me, throwing me to the ground. Sweat droplets that aren't my own soak my face and a hard object pokes into my stomach. The girl is already picking herself up and the sharp object turns out to be the rifle Kyle used. She is getting ready to sprint away.
"Wait!" I cry, "what are you running from?"
Her eyes are showing too much white and her breathing is ragged. She keep scrubbing her hands on her top, even though they're clean.
"The blood won't get off my hands," she wails, and before I can stop hers she's off.
I'm curious to see why she is so scared. If it's Kyle, I'll take him on. Especially if he's without a shotgun. My knife feels sturdy in my hands. Revenge, that's what I'm looking for.
As I round the mossy boulder, an unexpected sight meets my eyes. A bloody figure is limping towards me. Surely it must be dead. Is it a mutt? No human could look so injured and possibly be alive.
"Hello?" I ask, like it could answer. But from it's cracked mouth, comes a rasp, not unlike the sound of snakes on the floor of my house. I don't like this. I don't like this one bit.
I turn to flee and come face to face with another being. It's Kyle, but he's clearly injured to the point of death. "Kyle?" I try to whisper, but my voice chokes up with fear.
There's no recognition. Just a shuffle forward. I take this opportunity to stab up with the knife. I am aiming towards his open mouth. Just like they taught us. If you want to get the brain, the most exposed place is the roof of the mouth. Not that it's easy to get to.
The point jams through his teeth and into the roof of his mouth. But it won't go any further. I cry with terror, try to pull the knife out. It remains firmly embedded in his mouth. I'm surrounded. Rocky walls coated with slippery moss surround me and the undead creatures wall off two other exits. Now what!?