Hey Zombies

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Mayday

April 22, 2002

The sun slowly sunk behind the buildings as the day started coming to a close. It was still early afternoon and all the students were let out of PS 118. Gerald and Arnold hopped off the last step of the stairs to the school's front entrance.

"I'm telling you man, if you think it's fate, you're more insane than I thought."

"I don't think so Gerald. I think it's one thing to believe in fate and another to believe in freak coincidences. The facts are there but I believe it all got put together for a reason."

"Listen Arnold, as your loyal friend and practically your brother, I commend you to be institutionalized for thinking that your so called 'pen pal' Cecile was actually Helga in disguise." Arnold smiled as Gerald patted him on the shoulder. Just then there was a car honk. The two looked toward the parking lot on the left hand side of the school to see Jamie-O hopping out of his Mercedes.

"Speaking of brothers and coincidences." Arnold said. Jamie-O ran up to the duo with his hand raised.

"High five bro! Ready to head home?" He said. Gerald reluctantly raised his hand and slapped Jamie's. Jamie however was fast to grab Gerald's hand and twisted it around his back side, causing Gerald's shoulder to twist in minor pain.

"Uncle!" Gerald said, almost automatically, knowing the routine when Jamie picked on him.

"Things have changed little bro, now you have to say 'Jamie brings the party, Gerald sucks the eggs'."

Without missing a beat, "Jamie brings the party, Gerald sucks the eggs!" Gerald replied. Jamie let go.

"You're a fast thinker Gerald." Jamie replied. He looked at Arnold, "What's up skirtman?"

Arnold looked at both Jamie and Gerald, "How many times do I have to show people," He said as he grabbed his green long sleeve shirt and lifted it to reveal the rather extra-large plaid shirt underneath, "It's just another shirt."

"Jamie lay off for the last time; Arnold gets enough flack about it at school." Gerald said, standing up for his friend.

"What's the big deal? Arnold just likes fat people shirts right?" Jamie replied.

"It was one of the only things his dad left behind." Gerald replied. Arnold had told him the story years ago, how he promised to wear it every day to school to remind him of what had happened…

"I'm sorry little man," Jamie said patting Arnold on the shoulder, "I keep forgetting what kinda sitch you're in at the moment."

"It's okay Jamie. I've found ways to cope with it." Arnold replied, very gently. Just then, a loud clanging sound drew the trio back towards the parking lot where a small boy in a yellow orange striped shirt had just staggered back to his feet after knocking over a trash can.

"Hey!" Jamie cried, seeing the boy was in proximity to his car, holding something small and metallic in his hand that glowed a single pixel of light from the setting sun.

"That's Curly." Gerald said, "What's that rat up to now." Curly had disappeared between two of the tall apartments across the street. The three ran up to Jamie's car, a small paper clip lay next to the driver's car door which Jamie stared in horror at.

"Oh that little fu…rodent!" Jamie said, embarrassingly censoring himself.

"Oh jeez…Curly's dead next time Jamie sees him..." Gerald said as Jamie proceeded to spit repeatedly on his finger and rubbing it against a small scratch on the red paint under the door handle

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Journal entry #62 – October 27th, 2012.

"In a matter of days, we were able to reunite with our loved ones, fight back against the corrupted people responsible for this, and lose it all in the blink of an eye. Wish I knew what else to write about, try to argue why this was meant to happen for a reason, but I got nothing. This could just be my last words before leaving this desolate world behind. At least I'll leave with the ones I love and care about…I don't know how much more I can take, but if anyone were to find this in the future…not everyone is to blame for why you are living the way you are living. The most you can do is keep pushing, keep trying to survive, and never let go of hope. This is Arnold Shortman, twenty year old survivor from Hillwood, Massachusetts; signing off for my family, my friends, and maybe even all of mankind…"

Arnold didn't clap the journal shut like he usually did. He gently closed the front cover of the black leathery book and stood up from the piece of wreckage he sat on, walked fifty steps past Stella who was mending the head injury on Miles' forehead, Suzie and Bob were sitting in the dirt, stirring the sand with their fingers, and Charlie who was still fainted but alive being carried by Helga and Sid. They set him next to Jamie who was clutching a bloodied hole on his side, Gerald holding his hand.

Arnold kept walking till he was barely in the light of the burning wreckage that glowed in the night sky. He slumped to his knees, sat the journal at his side and began to dig in the sand. He made a small burrow, big enough to put a book in, and proceeded to set his journal, wrapped inside a plastic bag, inside. He took the pencil he was writing with and dropped it in after the journal. Arnold took all the sand he dug up and buried the journal, creating a small mound for anybody to find. Arnold stared at the mound for a second before getting back on his legs and walking back towards the other group. After setting Charlie down, Helga went over to Stella to assist with Miles. Arnold walked over and sat next to his mother and his girlfriend.

He glanced from the left side of the wreckage to the right. Everybody looked very melancholy. To them it felt like unluckiness, to Arnold it felt like fate. He wasn't meant to get out of Hillwood; He wasn't supposed to find his friends or rescue his parents. ..and now, his intervention, it cost him dearly. Arnold looked over at Gerald who was sprawled on the ground, talking to his wounded brother.

"You should go to him Arnold. You know he doesn't blame you for this." Stella said. Arnold silently nodded, stood up and walked over to him. Stella and Bob began to help Phil who was trying to start a fire from the cabin seats and the leaking gasoline.

Arnold sat in the dirt next to Gerald.

"Hey there he is…hehe," Jamie chuckled, coughing painfully, "Skirtman." Gerald laughed as well, although some sniffles leaked through with his giggle. He looked at Arnold whose eyes spoke volumes without opening his mouth.

"Is he going to make it?" Arnold said with his eyes.

Gerald twitched his eyebrows as if to say, "He won't make it through the night." Arnold was quiet, for a second, a weighted cloud seemed to push down on Arnold's body. His mind started to tremble and his chest tightened.

"Jamie, how're you feeling man?" Arnold asked.

"Like hell…Curly did me good, glad that bastard paid…" Gerald nodded in agreement. "To imagine, that was the same kid you guys got along with when ya'll were young…" Jamie coughed more, blood sprayed from his mouth, little drops leaked down one side of his lips.

"Take it easy Jamie. You need rest while we take care of that wound."

"Arnold," Jamie replied, "This is a desert. No need for bed side manner…just let me talk to my bro, one last time, okay?" Jamie finished. Arnold nodded. Gerald watched as Arnold walked away.

"And Arnold," Jamie called, grunting from his pain. Arnold looked back, "Don't give up on these people, they need you." He said. Arnold smiled and nodded. Jamie let his head fall back down to the ground. Jamie's comment may have sparked a little light in Arnold's heart once again, licking at the negativity that clouded his mind.

Arnold walked back to the main wreckage where Bob, Phil, and Suzie attempted to stoke the existing fire with more debris. He passed them and went over to where Sid was tending to Charlie.

"How's this guy doing?" Arnold asked.

"Still breathing." Sid said. Arnold's heart thumped in his chest.

"Maybe after a little more rest, he'll wake up soon." Arnold said. Sid nodded, although reluctantly. "Hang in there Sid, he'll be fine, stay close to him okay? You know I trust you." He said. Sid nodded again, this time more optimistic. Sid didn't feel fully redeemed but he was glad to know Arnold accepted him. As if there was ever a doubt Arnold had rejected him in the first place.

Arnold went back to his parents who were discussing Victor. Helga had gone over to say her good byes to Jamie.

"Where is he?" Arnold asked.

"Jamie had some cuffs, we locked him in the cabin." Miles replied.

"I want to talk to him." Arnold said as he walked towards the cabin, torn and bent in ruins but still intact in certain places.

"Arnold, you don't know this guy like I do." Miles said.

"He was gonna take us all back to San Lorenzo right?" Arnold asked, "He's after the Corazon again isn't he?"

"RIght." Miles said reluctantly, realizing he had forgotten how intelligent his son was.

"I want to know what he's thinking. What he's after." Arnold added as he walked. Miles followed his son in, like a papa bear to his cub.

"Arnold, I don't think this is a good idea." Miles said.

"Curly tried to kill us and Victor was the one to try talking him out of it. Why would he try to save us if we're his 'enemy'?" Arnold said. Miles stayed quiet. The two climbed through the wreckage until they came across Victor, on the ground, his arms locked in cuffs around a chair that was still attached to the hull. Arnold and Miles got down on his level. Victor looked at them in high esteem but still had a touch of fear in his breathing.

Miles said, "Let's talk."

"I have blatant proof that I was not in any way responsible for bringing down your plane and yet you still treat me like such a monster. I wonder why?" Victor replied, looking at his cuffed wrists, his charm still bright as ever.

"No games, you're not conning your way out of here."Miles said.

"What could we possibly have to talk about?" Victor asked.

"You were gonna take us to San Lorenzo," Arnold chimed in, "I want to know why."

"Isn't it obvious? You were there yourself ten years ago. And yet you still choose to ignore the events around you…events that relate to that shadowy past."

"You know what's happening to us don't you?" Arnold said, "You know about these special powers Gerald and I possess, and why we have them. You know why Charlie is immune don't you?"

"Well, he's not the only one, you all are." Victor said. Arnold looked at him in disbelief, "You ever wonder why when the infection first started that some people in your town were overwhelmed in minutes while others took hours, even days before the virus overwhelmed them?"

"A friend of mine knew to chop off the limb that was bitten before the infection spread too quickly. A friend that you killed…" Arnold said.

"What was his name?" Victor asked.

"Marty Green, you killed him with your little experiment."

"Arnold..you're not getting the big picture here-ACK!" Victor abruptly started coughing. He lurched over to the side, hurling up wheezing coughs. Blood sprayed with every cough."

"Victor?" Miles asked out of concern.

"I'm fine…just…let me be."

It was then that Arnold noticed, while Victor was turned to the side, he saw Victor's stretched arm. Near the elbow, the veins in Victor's arm looked more swollen than the surrounding area. They seemed to change color, morphing into a brownish purple hue. Arnold noticed how the miscolored and misshapen veins spread up his arm and centered around the middle finger on his right hand.

"Your arm, Victor." Arnold said.

"It's fine." Victor said. Both Arnold and Miles sighed in frustration. They'll have to keep him alive if they wanted answers. Arnold stood up, and left Miles to look after him.

Arnold left the cabin and back out into the night sky. He looked around at the bland field around him. It was a chaotic world that somehow he and his friends had survived in…how was it the plane crashed and tore itself to shreds, yet not a single one of them were harmed in a major way. With all his plans in ruin, and his family stranded in Kansas for all they knew…

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard sniffles coming from the group. Gerald was slumped on a passenger chair, sunk in the cool desert sand. Everybody else was standing or sitting around him. Arnold looked off in the distance, the dark figure of a body lay on the ground, covered by a piece of tarp, lifeless. A single hand jutted out from under the cover. The body lay motionless. Arnold realized that was where Jamie was resting.

Arnold walked over to the group who noticed him. Gerald lifted his head and looked at Arnold. The two made more conversation with their eye contact than they would have with words. Arnold approached him with open arms. Gerald returned with his own. The two held each other in a tight embrace, like the friends they always were…It felt like a different story to Arnold. Things were not going to be the same…Jamie was gone…

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To be continued.