Francis Stillwater, now a man, had kept his promise.
Before, there was cruelty. Now, there was hope.
Although, mankind still choose hate over love. But with all he had done to take off the blindfold of the little amount willing to change their cruel ways, he was able to walk the streets, the sun feeling warmer as everything felt brighter.
But is it really? His subconscious would always ask, bringing back all the dark he had lit away.
Francis stared down at the ground, sighing. All around him the people unwilling to change surrounded him, feeling as if they were crowding him in his pain. He would never see them as people, but as monsters.
He saw too much to bare the slightest of humanity.
But humans are intelligent, compassionate and ambitious.
Yet, destructive.
Yet, cruel.
Francis had seen it all. The stupidity, the cruelty and anything else as hopeless as the actions and beliefs of humanity.
His father had always admired humanity.
Their ability to think, and their emotion to feel. He found himself curious about them and saw the beauty in them. Such magnificent creatures he thought of them as, but not as magnificent as the creatures he had made them to be.
Zombies.
Humanity is cruel, Francis thought to himself, his mind wandering back to those dark days.
The nights of his nightmares.
In his pocket, there he held his deceased father, Victor Stillwater. He held a photograph of his, in which he pulled out to stare down at him, a faint smile on his face.
"Good evening, father," He welcomed him warmly, as if he were right there, standing in front of him.
As calm he had seemed, he felt as if he kicking and ripping apart all the ones that hurt. As if he were breaking and burning. Soon, he felt, violence would not be his enemy, but his victory.
"I know things are going extremely slow in all the years I have dedicated to our organisation, but no one has really been willing enough to join," He told him. "But I promise, I will give them what you were unable to give them; what they deserve."
Despite feeling as if he were there, he felt lonely. He was not there, but gone with rest. Tragically ended by a bullet shot into his head, the gun held in the hands of a human he had feared he would never know of before his own passing.
If the unknown killer of his father were to be known, he would've avenged his father and shot the bastard back like they did him already.
All he knew his father to be was a man striving for peace and freedom of the innocents that suffered. Yet his killer left off, never turning back as if he had killed so many times before.
I will find you, Francis vowed, hands gripped tightly on the photograph of his father. And when I do, I will kill you.
"Francis," A man suddenly called out, snapping him out from his dark thoughts.
He quickly put his father's photo back into his side pocket, his father to be seen afterwards. He looked up and put on a smile, seeing who was walking towards him.
"Liam," He greeted the familiar man, giving his hat a bow.
The man, Liam Hollis, approached him, smiling softly. He leaned against the wall beside him, staring cautiously at the people that passed by. They gave him a small glimpse, almost none not caring to give him any thought, just continuing straight ahead.
But Francis thought, staring at him, being reminded of a memory he felt he would always remember.
Finally, Francis brought up the courage to face the dead beneath. He stared down at their faces, not seeing the monsters his own saw, but the the faces of people who were only in need to be saved.
Not only lay zombies, but humans.
A human boy of his age caught his attention amongst the pile of dead bodies. His curly blonde hair was dried with blood as he was staring up at the sky, lifeless.
Dead, he no longer was.
He father was one to create the virus, and was the one to find the cure.
If only he hadn't died so early, his knowledge hardly written on paper but kept in his mind. His cure would've saved them all.
He wouldn't be where he was now, still seen as a disappointment to the healing society of humanity.
People passed, and then the next. All passing the important posts he had ordered to come up, hoping it would make a difference. He stared up at the biggest that was sprayed on the wall with bright green. It read:
SAVE THE UNDEAD.
Everyone walked passed it, not even giving it a little thought. It angered him by seeing such ignorance of people when facing a hard truth.
The right thing to do.
He tried to ignore them all, choosing to gaze at Liam beside him. Liam, with a small smile, stared back at him. They waited for the many to leave, wishing to be closer.
As the last person finally left, they embraced into a kiss.
Longing and loving it was, their lips meeting and their hearts beating. As long it lasted, they part their lips, resting their heads gently together. Like their first kiss, and maybe like their last.
Staring into his eyes, Francis smiled. "You know, I have a good feeling about today," He told him, a sense of hope filling in his eyes.
Liam raised a brow, surprised a little. "Oh?" He said, backing a bit and crossing his arms.
"I feel as if today will be our beginning of something...greater," He answered, loosing himself in a little daze.
"I hope it will be," Liam said with a strain of a smile, the smile dropping as he stared down at the ground. "I've been doubting today, yesterday...all of this."
Unable to help the intruding disappointment in him, Francis didn't reply.
Liam sighed. "Sometimes I feel like all of this isn't worth fighting for," He admitted, staring elsewhere but at the man that observed him silently.
He stared at him hard, wanting them to meet eye to eye. "Today might be the day, so don't go thinking that way," He demanded of him.
Liam felt a bit taken aback from his words. "Of course," He promised with a nod of his head, keeping his conflicted thoughts behind him. "I won't do it again."
There were innocent, living beings being forced into slaughter. Who in their right mind wouldn't feel a little angry?
Francis went in to caress his cheek, his eyes softening. He then closed his eyes, leaning in to meet his lips once again. Their kiss lasted longer, more lovingly.
Until suddenly, a loud bang shot through the air, causing them to break their kiss.
The bang sounded of a gun, banging again and again. And then until they stopped, the hunters likely on the hunt. The thought of them marching right to the undead to shoot them down made Francis feel upset, yet sickened.
Mostly furious.
"Are they hunting down zombies or what?" Liam asked out loud, quite shook from the sudden shooting of guns.
But it didn't take long for his question to be answered.
Francis took lead quickly, entering into the streets the guns sounded. His eyes stared ahead coldly, almost firey. With this, he looked about ready to ruin someone's life.
Beat them, shoot them, kill them.
Francis turned to face Liam, gesturing with his hand for him to to follow. And he did, following behind hesitantly. They walked into the street that they believed the evil lay, where the sun tried to shine light, but only to be consumed whole by the dark.
As they entered into the street, they both saw a group of men walk towards them, guns ready by them. Smiles as wicked as the Devil himself, guns as deadly as bombs themselves, and stares as wild as a beast itself.
In that moment, Francis wanted to take them down with his own gun and bring in the terror that he knew all to well they would be doing.
All the men walked past, heads high as their pride. A man of the many was the only to take notice of his passing.
Their eyes met, their fates set.
Just wait and see when I take you down like you did them, Francis thought, his insides burning with rage. Just you wait.
He lift his hat in greeting to the heartless man, hiding away his true intentions. The number on rule he found to keeping identities hidden and enemies close was to blend in their ways.
Become one to bring down many, he saw it as.
The men left the street, on the way to shed blood. With the deadly stare Francis gave, Liam gave the unknown man a deadly stare, warning him to back off. But his spoke more kindly, giving him a small reminder to think better of himself.
He looked at Francis, seeing that his eyes were still raging. "Don't," He warned him, seriously. "It's not worth it."
Death stares weren't all he knew Francis to be capable of.
Francis nodded as calmly as he could. He wished to stop them, but knew violence had a chance of putting on a bad name of his organisation, Save The Undead. So, he stayed back, the triggered feeling still keeping in his gut.
With his hand tightened into fists, he let them loose, looking down in defeat.
"Get outta here, you freaks!" A sudden mocking call then set him off.
"Francis-" Liam was about to say, but abruptly stopped once he left his sight. Quickly, he followed behind.
They both entered into the street that held the heated protest, seeing a large crowd before them. Men, woman and children were all circling around a white van, whispering to each other with a look of judgement. Near the van stood a woman holding onto a microphone, causing all the rile.
Marcy Stone.
________________________________________________
Word count: 1686