Letting go

He couldn't do it. it was his brother, his little brother, and he couldn't do it. Even when he told himself little Frankie would want it this way, Thomas still couldn't pull the damned trigger. Frankie was still in his room, bashing his body against the door. The kid was only 14, too young to die, but death doesn't care about age, gender, race, it only kills. The virus didn't care either. It took Frankie like it took Thomas’s parents. Thomas himself was a young, fresh 21 years old. Too young to be leaning against his brothers door trying to build the courage to shoot him in the head, too young to have already done the same to his mom and dad. Thomas did what he always did when he couldn't bring himself to do something, he went for a walk.

His plan was to hit the supermarket for food, the apartments for potential survivors, and come back home and try to shoot his brother. Right outside there were three of those things. his first shot missed but the other three found their makes, right in between the eyes. they slump to the ground, their decaying flesh releasing a horrible, deathly smell. Thomas scanned the area him for more of the infected. He only saw a few corpses, a burnt out car, and a crow. He reloaded his revolver, a silver .357, and started walking, his brother fading into the back of his mind. For now.

The store looked empty save for more bodies. In the back, near the canned foods, there was a zombie. The infected woman was eating the flesh from a little kid, he looked no more than five or six. Thomas almost gagged, would have, but he had seen worse things since the infection started. The sight of his mother tearing out Frankie's neck is one sight he will never forget. Thomas gladly put a bullet through the half-dead woman's head, and one through the kid for good measure. There was a girl who worked here, Thomas’s sweetheart. He had to kill her too. She was just wandering through the isles, that blank stare of the undead in her eyes. He shot her behind her back, not wanting to see her beautiful face, the delicate lips. Instead he pressed the barrel of his gun to the back of her head and closed his eyes. When that was done he collected his cans and left the store. Hot tears ran down his checks as he ran to the apartments.

As soon as he saw the apartment complex he lost hope of finding anyone alive. Corpses littered the ground and dead wandered from room to room looking for any fresh meat. He searched anyway, but he did so carefully. He didn't disturb any of the infected by shooting them, that would have been suicide. Instead he looted a hammer from one of the ground floor rooms and beat their brains out. The meaty thumps didn't alert any of the others and he got a savage pleasure in defeating them this way, up close and personal. He found several disturbing things on his trip. In one room he found a man eating the body of a pregnant woman, the man wasn't infected, only crazy. He still had his brains beat out. In another he found a whole family, mom, dad, and son, all hanging from a beam in the roof. He vomited in this room, the reality of it just so sick. In the last room he looked into he found a man sitting in bed eating cereal.

“Hello there stranger, what brings you here?”

Thomas couldn't quite form words for a moment, he stared dumbly at the zombie girl chained to the wall.

“Wh-what is that?”, he asked, pointing to the chained monster.

“Why, that's my daughter Sylvia, and I'm Colin, who are you?”, Thomas looked directly at the man, into his eyes, and saw insanity there, waiting to come fully to life. He had to say the right things.

“I'm Thomas, I couldn't help but notice that your daughter is, umm, chained to the wall”, he said lamely


“Oh yeah that. well she’s a little unstable right now, but its just that fever that's been going around, nothing to worry about”, Colin looked so calm, so sure of what he was saying.

“Well Mr Colin sir I hate to break it to you but, that, err, that isn't your daughter”,

he waited for Colin to say something but for a while he didn't, when he did Thomas realised how big of a mistake he had made.

“You know, that's what my wife said. she said we had to kill her, we had to put her out of her misery”, Colin got up from his bed and pulled out a shotgun from underneath him. “Now you want to take her too, don't you!?!”,

before Thomas could reply Colin pulled the trigger. The bird shot went wild, only one actually hit him and it was in the left shoulder. Thomas, who had more practice with guns, had his revolver pulled almost instantly. His first shot hit Colin in his chest, the second in his head. The body slumped to the floor and his daughter strained in her leash, eager for fresh meat. He put a bullet through her too.

In the bathroom he looked for supplies. Even though he only got one pellet it hurt something terrible. He looked in the mirror, not concentrating on his short, matted red hair or the unshaven beard on his chin, but instead looking at the small hole in his shoulder. He figured it had hit his collar bone, not cracking it but still sending waves of pain through his whole body. In the cabinet he found some pain killers, downed three, and kept the rest. He was heading home, and he had a job to Finnish.

The front door was still unlocked, no need to when everyone is dead. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. He could have drank from the tap, it still worked, but the infection lived in there too. He placed three more pills on his tongue and washed them down with a huge swish of cool water. He then went into the couch and waited. Soon enough he felt that dreamy indifference he had hoped for. The pills where strong and he was soon very high indeed. Not enough that he saw ponies eating Paul Grey but plenty high all the same. Loading his revolver,he walked nonchalantly to Frankie's room. He whistled a tune and Frankie once again charged at the door. “Its OK little bro, I'm here now, and I'm gonna Finnish the job”, He opened the door and out toppled a little boy. He only looked ten but his short stubble and long hair said otherwise. he looked at Thomas with his bright blue eyes, the same ones Thomas had. he crawled towards Thomas, moaning and salivating. This time Thomas didn't waver, didn't pause for a second to look into those beautiful blue eyes. Instead he pulled the trigger and blew a hole in his brothers skull. He collapsed then, the sorrow cutting through the high, and he sobbed with his brother in his arms. He felt he could never stop.

The baby wouldn't stop crying. “shut that thing up Freda”, someone in the group called. Freda pulled the baby close and sang him his favorite lullaby

Hush-a-bye don't you cry,

Go to sleep-y, little baby.

The baby boy, Arron, stopped crying. The group ceased walking down the road to hear this young woman, only 17, sing to her child in her golden voice.

When you wake you shall have

All the pretty little horses.

Her voice calmed the baby, it filled the haggard, tattered group with hope, just as it always did.

Blacks and bays, dapple grays,

Coach and six white horses.

the people held each other close, drawing from each others strength and warming each others hearts

Hush-a-bye don't you cry,

Go to sleep-y, little baby.

Arron sighed, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.
The leader of the group, a red haired young man with beautiful blue eyes, called time to camp. The man approached Freda and Arron, his eyes brimming with tears. “I used to sing that song to my brother, before he died”, he said to her
“Oh, I'm so sorry, whats your name?”

“Thomas, and its OK, you do alot for this group you know, without you, we wouldn't have hope”, He studied her and she felt the first pricks of love fill her heart.

“Thank you, what was his name?”

“Frankie, little Frankie”, he crumbled then, leaning on her shoulder and sobbing. Freda held Arron in one arm and Thomas in the other. Freda did the only thing she could think of, she sang him to sleep