Chapter Seven
It was a scream - a woman's scream, shrill and piercing. "Help!" it cried. It came from the direction of the mall proper. The sound of mad infected followed.
What do I do? Do I seek her out? Yes. Yes, of course you do! my subconscious tells me. I swiftly make my way towards the mall proper, gun in trembling hands. Fear keeps a tight grip on me. Is she defenseless? Is she not? Will she attack me? How do I let her know I'm friendly? What will the infected think of that, if anything? I'm so frightened I can't think straight. Do I even want to go after her? I... I don't think I do... You have to! She's uninfected! But that's what I'm afraid of most! My mind is split in two. My steps are hesitant, unsure.
A second voice rings out. "Alice! Over here! Hurry!" It is a man. "It's safe in here! Hurry! We can bar the doors!" Nowhere is safe. You aren't safe. Should I save them then? Should I try? I don't know! The infected have reached them. I can hear them fending them off. I keep walking, unsure. I'm shaking. I turn a corner, and there the two of them are, in the distance. A man and a woman, the man brandishing a fireman's axe, killing what infected he can with it, and the woman defenseless, trying her best to escape the horde. Behind them , just a short distance, is an emergency exit. Is that where they're trying to escape to? The mob of infected has nearly surrounded them. They... they aren't going to win, are they? They're... going to die here, aren't they? I think. They don't have a chance. The infected are beating and clawing at them relentlessly. Put them out of their misery. I lift my rifle, and point it down the long mall hallway with the mad mob at the other end. Can I do this? I can't, can I? I try to aim, but my awkward hands are shaking in fear so fiercely. I can't... I can't do this... "I can't do this!" I shout, and I tear out of the building.
Out in the night air, under the moon, I lose my will to continue running. I can still hear the sounds behind me, terrible gnashing and tearing of flesh, screams both human and not. Why... I couldn't do anything. Why did I even come here? Why bother if I can't even do anything?! I fall to my hands and knees on the gum-stained pavement and I can't help but weep.
I scream out at the world, but it's really directed at myself. "You fucking idiot!" I shout in between the tears. "What did you think this was? Some kind of adventure? Quit being so childish! This-" I quit. I can't say anymore. The words only turn into sobs. I bury my head in my palms and let it all out. I'm tired.
It isn't for another twenty minutes that I pull myself together. I need to go home. My mind is made up. I need to go home because that's the only place I can be. I can't be out here in this jungle of death, with its violence and cruelty and... and reality. Yes, I need to just... to just hide. I'll just hide away in my house and... and I don't know what else, but I think... I think that's enough. That's all I can do. That's the only thing I know how to do that's any use in this world I've been thrown in. And right now, it's all I want to do.
I pick up my belongings and begin the walk back home. I have a new sense of awareness with me this time, but at the same time, any eagerness has been dissipated. The remains of the city I grew up in no longer seem empty and lifeless, as it did on the way to the mall. Now, danger seems around every corner. I walk with the eyes of a frightened puppy, constantly cowering in the face of the world around it, afraid to act against it.
It's going to be daybreak soon. I should hurry, but I don't. I've lost the energy to hurry. I'm gone half of the distance between the mall and my house, and my sadness has undergone a slow transformation. I can feel it changing from sorrow into anger, dark blue to flaming red, uncaring apathy to blind hatred. I want it out; I don't want to feel this way, but I don't know how to get it out of me, other than slashing signposts I shuffle past with my hand and watching them topple over.
I pass by a Mr. Gatti's. Damn, I want some pizza now. I'm not hungry, but it would certainly calm my nerves down. It'd probably taste terrible though, and that thought only makes me angrier. I groan out loud. "I almost wish I had lost my mind with the plague. Things'd be so much simpler, then." I can't believe I'm saying this, I think and let out a melancholy noise half a sigh and half a laugh. I must truly be at my wit's end.
It is now morning. I see the world in the colors I should be again. I pull the hood of my sweat shirt back and shake my head, letting my hair fall out. I sigh, and sit down on the sidewalk, against the wall of a small clinic. My things are at my side. I decide to sit here for a little while. Fuck the danger. I almost hope it finds me, if it even exists for me.
I ask a question to the wind. I'd thought it numerous times since I woke up infected, but I never really gave it much thought, concerning myself instead with more pressing matters of the moment. But now, I can't help but wonder: "Why was I spared as I was?" I honestly don't know if keeping my mind was a good or a bad thing. "I didn't… I didn't ask for this. There's a responsibility that comes with it that's just… far too much for me to handle." What am I saying? I don't want to lose my sanity. I don't want to die, but I just… I can't quite put up with living either. I must be mad. I'm not normally a religious person. Hell, I can count the number of times I've been in a church, mosque or what have you on one hand. But I think I'd like to pray. I don't see what else I can do right now. My mind tells me it's a fool's option, but… well hey – I'm a really foolish person. The only problem is: I haven't a clue what to pray for.
The last leg of the walk is uneventful, as I knew it would be, though my paranoid side kept me constantly on edge just to torment me. There's someone behind that house in the distance! Fuck off. I still creep through the bushes and trees though, instead of simply walking down the sidewalk or what part of the street isn't cluttered with dead cars, just because I fall for the falsities my brain keeps telling me. By the time I'm home I so wish I'd stop thinking things I don't want to think. My head is pounding, and my eyes hurt. I set my two rifles down on the sofa, carefully, toss my bag somewhere, and immediately make for my bed. I know I won't sleep, but lying down in it for hours, trying my best to think about as little as possible will do just fine.