"We're going to be driving for a REALLY long time," I said worriedly.
"What? No we're not! We're almost there!" Shawn replied, swerving to avoid rogue trees and the like.
"What do you mean?!" I inquired, looking back at the helicopters.
The non-existent helicopters. Where did they go?
"The base is like a mile away, we'll be there in a few minutes!"
"Well the helicopter things are gone, and I have yet to see more zombies, so I guess we're okay?" I meant to say, though it came out as more of a question.
"Okay whatever let's just get back to the base!"
And so we did. Shawn continued driving frantically, and Mark and Tina were looking confusedly at the empty sky.
"They were right there..." Mark whispered softly.
We hadn't the time to analyze the situation. As quickly as we got in, we jumped into the camouflaged hole one by one.
"FINALLY!" Sylvia exclaimed, turning to look at us. Claire was sitting with an old-looking radio.
"Sup," Shawn said, gesturing for us to sit around the radio.
"...likely mutated. Recent medical studies have traced the plague back to Miami, Florida. It was reported that, prior to flying into a cannibalistic rage, victims complained of a mysterious rash on their wrists..." the radio sputtered, lapsing into static.
All at once, we all raised our wrists to check for any sign of a rash, then just as synchronized looked up again as the radio resumed the report.
"...has been bombed. The bombs should annihilate at least 67% of those infected with the virus..." it managed to sputter before lapsing back to static.
"That's just stupid. They're killing off the weak ones so only the strong ones will remain. The virus isn't mutating, they're forcing it to f*cking evolve at a highly accelerated pace. Are they retarded?!" I exclaimed, glaring at the radio.
Everyone in the room looked at me, nodding. Then we all focused on the radio again.
"...recommended that all who are still uninfected remain indoors at all costs. Don't go outside. And if you see one of the infected... do not hesitate to act. You must destroy the brain.."
It went on to declare that it was only in America and Europe that the disease was spreading.
"Oh, okay, let's just swim to Australia!" Shawn said sarcastically. I frowned.
"So what, are we just stuck here?" Tina asked. Then I realized something.
"Tina, weren't you supposed to go with Jack, Sebastian, and Viola?" Shawn asked, apparently realizing the same thing.
"Was I? Oops. Where are they anyway?" she replied sheepishly.
"Well shit," Shawn said, "I hope they're alright."
Sylvia, Mark, Tina, and I all nodded in guilty agreement. We knew they weren't.
"...Shouldn't we look for them?" Claire asked guiltily.
"Claire... There's no possible way they're alive," Tina said solemnly. For a nine-year-old, she sure was mature.
"Oh, dear..." Claire mumbled, realizing the connection between the bombs the radio spoke of and the fate of their recent allies.
A heavy silence rested upon us all as we reflected upon who we had lost. We had all lost someone.
"Look, this is getting ridiculous. Tragic and emotionally tormenting. We already have to deal with the idea that the word is in an apocalyptic state; we can't keep losing people. It will be our downfall.
What makes us humans? Living, breathing humans? Our emotional connections. Every emotional tie we sever is going to be a new stress on us. This stress is going to drive us to insanity. We need to get organized, get smart, and most importantly, get to know each other. Our families are f*cking gone. We are all we have left in this hell," Mark declared in a very unexpected paroxysm of tormented emotion.
We all looked at him, his words penetrating our consciousness and forcing us to realize what we already knew.
Claire burst out crying, soon followed by Tina. Sylvia tried to comfort the two of them.
"What the HELL? What loving God would wreak this havoc upon His creations?" Shawn asked, his eyes shiny with tears.
I looked at my shoes. My muddy, black Chuck Taylors. I lost faith in that illusion we worshipped as God when I had to shoot my father.
My eyes, too, were shiny with tears, but Mark just looked angry. Angry at all that had been thoughtlessly stolen from him.
I watched as he stood up and punched the wall, leaving a bloody silhouette of his fist. It dripped down the cold, unfeeling cement, just as his tears finally succumbed to gravity and fell down his cheeks.
We had cracked. It had finally sunken in. The radio broadcast added a sense of reality we had suppressed with adrenaline and our instinct for survival.
But with the base locked and our hope shot to hell, we had finally broken. Shattered like fallen tea cups, into millions of dangerous pieces.
We remained in this depressed state for what felt like a few hours. Eventually, Sylvia, Claire, and Shawn went to bed, soon followed by the weeping Tina.
Only Mark and I remained.
"You're right, you know? We really are we have left. I never thanked you for saving my life," I said softly. He turned and looked at me, his bloody hand still balled up in a fist.
After a few moments, he sighed.
"You're welcome, Celia."
He came and sat next to me on the couch. I looked at his rather bloodshot grey eyes, which reflected my own.
"We never did get to really talk," I mentioned, wanting to finally find out about my mysterious savior.
"You're right," he said, looking down at his fist. I looked at it, too.
"Let's get that cleaned up first," I said. We both got up, and I led us to the bathroom, where I doused his fist with water.
He cursed as I put hydrogen peroxide on his wound.
"Sorry," I said, watching the little bubbles come up as they cleaned his knuckles.
"Not your fault."
I half-frowned as I bandaged him up, because to be honest, I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn't a nurse, nor had I any experience at mending wounds. Regardless of my inexperience, he seemed grateful.
Finally, I finished. The bandage actually looked okay. I hoped he would heal soon; with the virus spreading as it was, any open wound was a very real risk.
"Don't punch walls anymore," I whispered as we walked back to the big entry room.
All Mark did was half-smile at me. I could not wait to learn more about this boy.