Chapter Text
‘Come back... '
The words scrape my throat raw and taste like blood and vomit. Pathetic croaks in the darkness. 'Don't leave me... don't fucking leave me here!'
I don’t even know who I’m talking to. He can't hear me anymore and there’s nobody else left, just the rats and roaches. People used to joke about cockroaches surviving the apocalypse and hey, they were right.
I guess I'm talking to myself now because my voice is all I have left. One last desperate shred of me. I'm fading fast and I know it. I can beg and pray for the universe to let me live but no one’s listening.
'Please...God, make him come back, please don't let him die...' The fever must've made me delirious, I don’t even believe in God.
Shit. I give up on praying and then my voice gives up on me. My throat is fucked and there's no water to quench my thirst. Sticky stringy puke is drying on my ragged shirt. I can barely move, can hardly fucking breathe, lying here on dirty concrete that stinks of piss and gasoline. Every inch of my skin hurts and I'm so cold I'm shaking. White-hot screws of agony are twisting into my skull and throbbing in my bones and I have to cover my mouth with shaking hands to muffle the sobs and groans escaping my lips. I don't want anyone except Gerard to find me here. My fingers are bloodied, half the nails torn off. I don't remember how that happened. Fuck...
This disaster was all my fault. We wouldn’t still be here if I hadn't got sick. I always get sick. I don't even know what caused it this time: dirty water, rat bites, starvation, chemicals...All I know is I'm blind with headaches and too weak to walk, puking up every stolen scrap of food in my aching guts. My skin hurts when I move and the distant gunshots and screams coming from the city gates roar like jet engines in my ears. I'm so scared and I don't want to die here! Come back, Gee, I don't wanna die alone!
He tried his best to get us to the South Gates by midnight and if we had made it in time we might have been released from these iron walls at last and put on a bus to Bio-Clearance and a different refugee city, maybe even one with proper housing and real food. Anywhere would be better than here. But we didn't make it and I'm to blame. I vaguely remember my legs giving out, and collapsing face first on a broken pavement. Gerard helped me up but I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone stand and walk. He even tried to carry me on his back but he hadn't eaten in days and was too weak to keep it up. When he couldn’t drag me over the barricade of rubble and broken furniture that borders our District I begged him to leave me behind and save himself but he wouldn't, the stubborn bastard.
Other residents of this hellhole - skeletal junkies, skinhead thugs, moms with hungry crying kids – practically trampled us in their rush to beat the deadline that had only been announced on the District speakers an hour before. No one stopped to help us and I don’t blame them. Gerard could have left me there and run for his life but instead he hauled me into this old bus shelter and stayed with me and now we're both doomed.
The deadline passed hours ago and the final most terminal phase of Quarantine is in full effect - I can tell by the sound of gunfire. The Virus can't be contained in the medical zone uptown anymore so tonight the Hunters gave everyone who wasn’t infected an hour to get to the South Gate for testing, sanitizing and possible release into the outside world. When that hour was up the city walls would be sealed again, forever this time, and the gates barred and armed with Hunters who would shoot anyone who tried to escape. A couple of thousand people might have made it out in that hour, probably less. There’s no way to know and I don’t really care.
People aren't treated like human beings anymore: we're nothing but sick animals waiting to die. Rats in a cage. Maggots in a bucket. Thanks to the Virus and its 97% mortality rate there is no functioning government left, barely any army or cops. The Hunters are the only form of law still alive in this city: sadistic shadowmen in armoured hazmat suits with big fucking guns, and as the Virus spreads they watch us dying through security cameras or from circling helicopters. When we are all corpses they will leave to go and guard some other hellhole. Whatever is left of the outside world is dying slower than we are.
The screaming is getting so loud my ears are ringing and I'm shaking with chills but soaked in sweat. Where the hell is Gerard? It's so dark in here. What if someone else finds me and hurts me?
'Come back, Gee, please!’
My head hurts so bad it feels like my skull is splitting in half and my fists are scrunched up against my eyes, slippery with sweat and tears. I can taste blood and I want to throw up but my stomach is empty so I just dribble green bile. My eyes are shut but I can see flashing lights, like a thousand razor-sharp stars... And the fading memory of Gerard’s worried face, a pale blur in a black void, his lips by my ear whispering goodbye. He pressed something cold into my trembling hands and then he was gone. He said he was going to find water and medicine for me but he's crazy because there’s nowhere to get that shit for free anymore and he doesn’t have any drugs or food to trade. He’s more likely to get a bullet in his brain tonight than anything else and I just want him to come back and hold me and tell me it's gonna be alright even though it's not.
Something oily is trickling past my head and I smell smoke and burnt plastic. I wish dawn would come so I could see a little light breaking through this darkness, but everything is blackness and pain and the smoggy air clogs my lungs like clotted blood. I don’t want to die here but my sight and my breath are leaving me and I’m so fucking tired... If I pass out I doubt I’ll wake up again. The thing that Gerard left in my hands was a gun.
It's our only weapon, an old six-shooter with one round left. If a Hunter catches Gerard out there tonight he's as good as dead and I'll be left alone too weak to move and dying in pain. So this last bullet is for me. I don't have to wait for the fever to kill me. I can go out with a bang.
My dad used to say that all we are is bullets and the day we're born we're shot blindly towards the sun.
That goddamn screaming is so loud. Why won't it stop?! My ears are shredded and shadows and sparks rip holes in my blurred vision. I can’t feel my legs anymore. Oh god...
Gee, where are you?!
I try to sit up but I'm too weak and the movement makes a wave of fresh agony roar through my head as the shadows twist and melt into demonic faces screaming and spitting in my eyes. What the fuck is happening? Am I already dead? Is this Hell?! Frozen with fear, I can barely breathe and even with my hands over my eyes I can still see the demons and my long-dead family and friends, screaming hate and blame and sorrow at me because they died and I didn't. Because I couldn't save them. I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry! All of my lost angels have turned into devils and they're clawing at my skin, spitting in my face, ripping me apart! I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! STOP IT, YOU'RE KILLING ME! LET ME GO!
Where's the gun? This can't be real! Where's the fucking gun?! There's blood in my mouth and nose and I'm crying with pain as the darkness and demons smother me and crush my bones, roaring in my ears, stabbing me with their hate. Stop it! STOP! LET ME GO!!