I lost Greg. Those three simple words were hard to admit to myself, especially because it meant that I was all alone now. In the fucking zombie apocalypse. The fear that took hold of my body was paralyzing. . . deadly.
Greg was gone. . .
One minute we were asleep on the rooftop of an old law firm building, the next we were shooting at walking dead lawyers. The decaying flesh splattered against the cement roof, a dark color that seemed to blend into the night. I heard a scream as I reloaded, turning to my right to see a zombie digging its bloody teeth into my brother's side. I watched in horror as he elbowed the zombie in the head, threw it at the rest of the dead, and shot them until not even a muscle twitched.
His eyes grew dark as he fell to his knees, gun sliding from his grip as he coughed up black blood. He looked up at me with so much pain in his eyes, tears running down both our faces. I knew what I had to do, but I didn't want to. I shouldn't have to!
"Do it, Niall," Greg ordered me through clenched teeth. "I want to die while I'm still human. I don't. . . I don't want to die a monster."
I gulped, shakily holding the gun up to Greg's head, willing myself to shoot. This is what he wants, I tried to console myself. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. I felt the blood drip down my face. His blood burned my face like acid slowly eating away at me.
I killed him. I killed my brother. I killed the only family I had left in this damned world!
I hated myself, and I hated him for making me do the one thing I dreaded ever since the zombie apocalypse had begun.
Immediately, I was on my hands and knees, dry heaving because of an empty stomach. I couldn't ever imagine having to throw up again at the smell of death, not after knowing what Greg smells like when his brains were painted across the rooftop of some irrelevant place in time. In a few hours, he would be nothing but bone once the vultures and other scavengers found his body.
I looked at the gun still clutched in my hand. I frowned, looking at it in disgust. This thing gave me the power to kill my brother. I hated it, but I needed it if I wanted to survive. And I did want to survive, if not for me, then for the promise I made to Greg. I would live on. Not that I could call this living. I was an empty shell now. Hollow to the core. My soul had transcended my body a long time ago.
The wind blew, rustling Greg's hair and clothes, as well as whatever shreds remained on the zombies. A sudden groan caught my attention, my eyes landing on Greg's slowly transforming body. His skin started to pale, veins turning black, and his mouth opening and shutting as if a puppet master were trying to make him talk.
Watching in alarm, I stood back up, walking briskly to Greg's discarded gun and picking it up. I aimed both guns at Greg's head, where a bleeding hole already was. A moan left his purple lips, his eyes following my every movement. I shot him twice; one in the chest, the other between his eyes.
Deader than a doorknob.
I sighed, releasing the tension that had built up in my chest. It was easier this time. I didn't have to kill him a second time, I had convinced myself. That thing was not Greg; it was a flesh-eating monster.
I couldn't feel anything after that. Nothing but suspicion. Before I was living, now I am surviving. Emotions and relationships get you nothing in this world but heartache. I had learned that the hard way.
I decided that it was for the best that I was alone. I was no longer a burden. And nothing was a burden to me.
~.~.~.
Lmao, sorry for the short chapter, but I felt that nothing else should have been added.