A Fan of Angels

         I'm a fan of this place. It's quiet here. I don't have to worry about people being angry or depressed. It's just quiet. And beautiful. I guess that's what happens when the world ends. When you die. It gets quiet and you see all the beauty you missed. All the places that you wish you could have gone, all the people you wish you had been nicer to, everything gone. Quiet. So quiet. The quiet doesn't help with the loneliness though. The fear that I am the only one left. That I will never see another human face again. As I walk down these barren streets, the barren supermarkets, the remnants of west Texas, I can't help but wonder...am I the only one left? The only survivor of the Infestation.

         Maybe I was. I haven't seen anyone walking around here in awhile, alive or dead. Definitely not the dead. I cleared those guys out of here months ago. Or was it years? I've lost a lot of time in this place. This quiet place. Especially with nothing to do but slaughter the recently deceased. Or were they deceased? Maybe they were all alive and I was just a crazy bloodthirsty maniac murdering everyone who crossed my path. Were they dead? Was this real? It seemed to be something out of a bad horror flick. The whole world gone. Everyone turned into flesh eating monsters. The unlikely hero immune to some strange parasite, fighting off the horde alone. It would almost be unique if it had not already been done a million times before.

         I heard a noise that sounded like a distant shout. An echo of the past maybe. Was I hearing things? Was I going truly insane? Maybe. Nothing could stop that now. Not like I could go to my local psychiatrist for medication. There it was again. That distant noise. That faint echo of a scream. I looked to my left across the parking lot, over the mass of decaying bodies and rusting cars, toward the noise. Was it real? I saw someone. Maybe I saw someone. The pavement was emanating heat causing the area in my vision to look wavy. It was hot. I could be hallucinating. Wouldn't be the first time. That happens when I don't take my medicine. It has been awhile since I took my medicine. The scream came again. A woman was running for her life toward the supermarket where I sat, perched on the bar of the handicap ramp. I dropped down and retrieved my backpack and bolt-action rifle from the ground below where I sat. I looked through the scope of the rifle to see what this woman was running from. I noticed three bloody men running after her. Well running is the term I use. Its more like wobbly jogging. I hold my breath and pull the trigger. The head of the creature closest to the woman lurched back sending blood and brain matter over his companions. They didn't seem to notice. I pulled the bolt back, propelling the spent round to the ground. I slammed the bolt back forward putting a new round in place. The woman was getting closer. She noticed me and ran right toward me. Hard not to notice a man in blood stained clothes shooting a rifle toward you. She was getting closer and closer. I fired another shot that whizzed right past her head and into the eye of the second man gaining on her. She didn't even flinch. She was close now. I did not worry about reloading. I dropped the rifle and picked up a metal pipe, that looked like it had been apart of a long abandoned cart corral. The woman ran right for me, as if I held the key to everything within the metal pipe in my hands. She ran up to me at the corral and I could see the sweat pouring down her face. She looked beautiful behind the panicked look in her eyes. She collapsed at my feet panting, gasping for air. I couldn't help but notice her long, flowing hair, draped over her shoulders in a disarray of perfection. It was black. Midnight black, swirling around her face. Her pale skin was unblemished, given the current condition of the area around us. Definitely not from Texas. It was elegant, only slightly dirty, from the dust and sweat beading down her face. Her eyes were hazel, an intriguing array of yellow and green that danced with the light and tears streaming from her eyes. They sucked me in. Making me forget about the infestation, the months or years that I have been in this place. Her eyes looked oddly familiar. Very familiar. I got the since that sometime long ago we had met in passing.

         I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to protect this woman, to keep her safe from anything that dared threaten that flawless skin. I tore myself away from her and looked toward the immediate threat. The man was running right at us. He was about six feet tall and of average build. He must have been in his thirties or forties judging from his black and gray pepper hair. His eyes were bloodshot and dead. Unnatural. He had blood, and brown and black substances pooling out of his nose and mouth. He was charging me, so naturally I charged back, metal pipe in hand. My first strike hit him in the neck causing blood to spray out of his mouth and onto my arm. Not the first time. No problem. I felt his throat crunch from the force. His neck was broken. The man hit the ground, coughing up blood among other undesirable things. He wasn't moving anymore. I had paralyzed him. I came back for my second strike. It collided with his head. Blood flew up into my face. I could taste the murky liquid. The normal copper taste within the blood was gone. It was just liquid paste. I hit him again. More blood, more barren taste. Again. I felt his head caving in. Again. Blood oozed out of his head. I saw bone and brain matter splatter the pavement and my shirt. My metal pipe was bending from the force. Again. Again. Again. Finally, I saw the parasites twitch and move out of his skull. The parasite looked like a giant tic. With beady little eyes and a black body. It crawled out of the mans head, and scattered on the pavement if it were disoriented. I walked over and crushed it under my boot. Green and black substances oozed from underneath my boot. Gross.

         I pulled the machete out of my backpack and walked to where the other two bodies lay twitching slightly. I stabbed the first man I came to, with the bullet in his eye, in his forehead until I saw the same green and black substance pool from his head. A pang of hunger gnawed at my empty stomach and my walk grew stiffer. Maybe I could find some food inside the market later. I walked to the second man who had stopped twitching. I could see the same liquid bubbling out of the bullet wound in his forehead. Good shot. I've gotten better. I cleaned the blade of my machete on this guy's shirt. Hey, he didn't need it anymore. I put the machete away and walked back to the woman with the hazel eyes.

         She looked panicked. She saw me coming back and scrambled to grab my rifle. She shuffled awkwardly over to the weapon. I walked steadily to her. She was beautiful. Way to beautiful to be from around here. She was also the first woman that I had seen in awhile. You know, that I didn't have to kill. She picked up the rifle and whipped it up at me in defense. Wow. That was mean. I had just protected her, defended her life. Yet this is how I was repaid. Luckily, she didn't pull back the bolt. Obviously not used to using a gun. I could tell she wasn't a killer. I could see the innocence in her eyes. It was like she was a child under that perfect façade. Innocent. Scared. I felt powerful in this moment, when our eyes met. I felt like I was in control. The fear emanating from her shaking body was arousing. It was pleasing to know that I was feared. My smile widened.

         "Back off". The words left her mouth in a wavering tone. Even with the shaking her voice was a chorus of angels. I took another step toward her. The barrel of the gun was now pressed into my chest. The smile on my face was now borderline psychotic.

         "I'm warning you. Back off or I will shoot you." Her words flowed delicately over her lips, kissing my ears as they came. Her voice had an accent to it. British. Sexy. Her words were intricately designed. She seemed very educated or wealthy.

         It felt amazing to hear a female voice. Her voice was soothing. It had a motherly tone to it. A familiar tone. As if I had heard it years ago. Her voice was still shaky, but more confident. The confidence was fake. I could see it in her eyes. Her beautiful hazel eyes. I could live there, in those eyes. She seemed warm and inviting. Cozy. Comfortable. Loving.

         I jumped at her and grabbed the rifle her hands. She screamed and fell backward. It looked like she hit the ground hard. It didn't seem to effect her. Adrenaline I guess. She curled up on the ground, looking like a scared child again. I set the rifle down, and approached her like I was approaching a deer. Slowly, I moved toward her. Her eyes flickered to something being me. I didn't care. I was mesmerized. I reached out for her. I wanted that warmth that radiated from her. I felt a sharp pain in my neck. Ow. That stings. I started to feel very dizzy and my vision began to blur. I tried to reach my hand up toward the pain in my neck, but nothing happened. I just wanted to sleep. At some point I hit the ground. I didn't even feel it. My eyes blurred in and out. I could make out soldiers and a man in a suit. They were talking.

         "It took you long enough.", came that British angels voice, " He killed all three of the others."

         Yeah, I thought. Didn't she see them? They were zombified. The parasite had them. They were already dead. I just helped them. I protected her.

         "Yes ma'am.", one of the soldiers said, "Everyone inside is dead too. They have been for awhile."

         "Damn!", came that chorus of angels, "I thought we made it herein time." The fear was gone from her voice. She sound ruthless, confident, passionate.

         "It's not your fault, ma'am. This guy was a wacko. All the bodies were either beheaded or had their heads crushed. We got him now though."

         It was a different soldier now. Maybe. I couldn't tell.

         " I don't believe wacko is the clinical term." Her eyes flickered to me. She sounded hostile toward them, concerned for me. I wasn't crazy. They all were infected. I saw it. I killed the bugs. It was quiet. So quiet. Peaceful. I had to show them the bugs, the creatures those people had become.

         "He protected me," she said. "It was strange. I saw him reach out for me. He showed emotion." She trailed off. I let the darkness take over.

         I felt something cold and solid around my wrists. Handcuffs? I could feel my head pounding. It was more annoying than painful. A gentle breeze was blowing over my face. I could feel that I was being moved. My mind was drowsy. I opened my eyes but everything blurred from the sudden light. All I saw was the panels of those hospital lights flashing overhead. Flash....... Flash....... Flash. It was very interesting, all these lights. I couldn't move. My body was just being wisped along by some unknown means. Those lights flashing all the time. Flash.....Flash...

         Suddenly I was in a white room. Surgical tools all around. People talking in hushed tones. But then, in the distance. Could it be? No. It couldn't. But there it was again. A chorus. A chorus of angels singing to me. She was here. Somewhere in this room. I couldn't make out what she was saying. I could just make out that gentle, steady angels song. Then, in my blurred vision, I saw her. Her face was half covered by a surgical mask, but it was her. She was above me, floating upside down. I saw her lift a scalpel into the air. It floated toward my head. There was a brief pain. Then it was over. I felt nothing. All I could see was this sweet, angelic figurine, floating above me. This angel had a faint light that began from her heart and began to envelope me. Its rays were warm, soothing, as I expected them to be. That's all I could feel. These glowing lights, covering my body. Taking me up. An angel's chorus, singing for me to join them. Then, I let go.