The Railroad

Chapter 27

His father came through the door, accompanied by two guards, one of which the brunet remembered as the one Dream told him he bribed to get through the wall. The brunet was too angry to think about what this may mean, what would happen to them. He was fuming, absolutely furious at the two people he'd thought were he his friends. They had never been super close, but they had spent a long time working together and had gone through the grievances that their job delivered together, something that obviously meant nothing to them.

But they also clearly had no regard for the lives they were ruining with this decision. So many innocent zombies, including Wilbur, could die because of what they were doing. George was so stupid for trusting them; he should've just given Wilbur the cure when he had the chance, but he had to be all righteous, and now Wilbur may never escape his fate.

He'd spent so long, put in so many hours just to prevent that exact outcome. He'd gone on this dangerous journey with a total stranger just to keep him safe, all for these people to take an easy trip and strip him of the thing he'd worked so hard to achieve. Some people sucked.

"Georgie, what were you thinking," his father spoke. The tone which he used infuriated George further: he sounded like he was talking to a child instead of his adult son who was honestly smarter than he was.

"What were you thinking, dad? You want to kill my best friend! And not just Wilbur, all zombies. They're still people!"

"How could they be people? They're murders. Wilbur is a murder. He killed your mother because he is a monster. A monster who can't control his impulses."

"He is not! Don't you dare say that about him!" George shouted.

"Your mother was the best damn thing to ever happen to me. She was the sweetest, most caring person, and it's what got her killed. Her one weakness, her one flaw, was what Wilbur exploited and took advantage of her. I don't care what science nonsense you use to defend him, George. He doesn't deserve to be here when she can't be."

Suddenly, with a gesture of his father's hand, Dream let out a cry of pain and collapsed to the floor. Behind him stood a man with a crowbar in hand. The man rose it again, hitting Dream in the back. When he tried again, George moved to block it so it hit him across the arm, sending him sliding across the floor.

"GEORGE!" Dream yelled, attempting to escape the grip of the man who was restraining him but failing due to the pain in his spine and the significant difference in strength of the two.

"Soon you'll see, George. You'll see exactly what this so-called best friend of yours truly is," his dad said, leading the two guards to stand in front of a glass that saw into a room used for observations.

He dismissed the two scientists who departed without so much of a glance in George's direction. The man holding Dream was beginning to struggle greatly with the effort of holding the blond back, who was trying desperately to get to George. The flame in his eyes was extinguished with a zap from a taser in his side, bringing him to his knees.

"Clay! Dad, make them stop! Don't hurt him!" George shrieked, finally finding the will to drag himself up off the floor and trying to make it to Dream before he himself was stopped and hoisted onto someone else's shoulder.

It was the same guard who apparently couldn't be bought. George beat on his back, but it was to no avail as the blond man continued walking like it was nothing. He brought him into the observation room, but before the burnet could be set down a threat came from Dream.

"Punz, if you don't let him go right now I will make you regret the day you were conceived," the blond snarled.

Punz set him down without a reaction and left the room before George could protest, locking the door behind him. The brunet's heart was racing, palms sweating and hands shaking uncontrollably. He didn't know what was going on: all of them were just standing outside the room, watching him through the glass. What was supposed to happen?

He looked to Dream, who remained on his knees, beads of sweat matting his hairline and dripping down his nose. His green eyes looked exhausted but so concerned. George tried to telepathically tell him how much he loved him, drawing everything he felt into his gaze, just incase he is never able to tell the blond just how much he means to George, the impact he'd made so easily on the brunet's heart.

"Dad, what are you doing?" George whispered, voice quivering with anxiety.

"I told you, son. I'm going to show you just what your best friend has become."

This made him even more confused, until another door opened at the other side of the room. Out came a zombie: its skin already seemed to be deteriorating, though it couldn't have been starving for longer than a few days. The stench radiating from it was putrid, and George physically gagged when it wafted into his nose. Though its posture was slumped, George could still tell that it was very tall. But perhaps the most notable thing about it was its empty eyes. They were such a rich brown, once able to be spilling with warmth, but now they just held desperation and hunger.

George recognized them in an instant.

Wilbur.

~Word count: 1,570~

A/N: i can already tell that this is going to end very well :D