The Last of Us

Dry gravel crunched under our workboots as we approached the outer layer of the town. Occasional buildings, houses and shacks, sitting in an out of uniform disaray. As we approached the town, I was wary... Looking over my shoulder constantly, and certain I'd heard things coming from the shadows.

Tommy walked ahead of me now, gun half raised, scanning the surrounding buildings for threats, I walked behind him quietly, yet leisurely. I felt like I should still fight, for something, at least. It's a losing game no matter what I do, I can choose to fight, fight in honor of Sarah's memory, or fight to the death to save myself. I mean, sure, I could put a bullet between my teeth, but that'd just end it for me, what about Tommy? He'd have to deal with the aftermath of being the lone survivor, and no matter how annoying he was, I couldn't do that to him.

We walked beneath a creaking metal sign. The painted oaks are featured on it, along with the golden cursive script: 'Welcome to King's County, enjoy your stay.'

I snorted and kicked a rock across the ground, proceeding to follow Tommy deeper into the little roadside community.

The streets were empty and dark, stretching out block after block into a community that looked like it used to promote 'southern hospitality'. It's white picket fenced in homes, pastel painted, two story houses with neat as a pin front yards that looked like they belonged in a magazine ad for Home Depot.

I could picture what the place looked like a week ago, the storefronts lit up with neon signs detailing ongoing sales about their merchandise, children playing in the park, that was situated in the center of town. Cops leisurely driving the streets in their cruisers and the weekend barbecues with neighbors, that's how the little town struck me.

It did not display such a scene anymore, trash tossed across the vacant streets, blowing from overturned trashcans. Front gates and garage doors left open in a permanent state of hurry.

There was one power line we passed that had a minivan wrapped around it, ambient sparks fell from exposed wiring on the transformer at irregular intervals.

"Shit definitely went down here..." Tommy muttered as we looked around, his voice echoing faintly off the damp concrete. It became more and more obvious as we looked around, looking up at the houses, down the streets, examining the damage... That no one had seen it coming. One neighbor turned on the next, then the town was overrun and everyone left in a hell of a hurry, or stayed behind to either fight off the dead or they were the dead.

I believed these... Things, they were dead. Tommy, he... He didn't agree as much. To him, they were just 'sick' and people weren't twisted and ready to kill us at any given moment.

"What're we doing, Tommy?" I asked, walking by a storefront, the remaints of the broken front window charred from a recent fire, some of the unrecognizable merchandise still smoldering inside.

"Well, first, we're gonna sweep the main buildings. If there's anyone here, they'll be holed up there. If we find nothing, maybe we take residence in one of these houses for the night? Look for supplies in the morning." he shrugged, leaning over to peek through the foggy windows of a parked Volkswagon.

I slowed my pace. "Why're we lookin' for people?"

He shrugged again, looking up at the second story windows of a brick department store. "Safety in numbers and all that shit, plus, people now are scared shitless. It'd do 'em some good to be socialized."

"That doesn't answer my question..." I muttered, following him through a tight alleyway "why do we need to be around them? Isn't it enough to give them some supplies and be on our way?"

Instead of responding, he smiles at me thoughtfully and chuckles. "You were never the soft, giving one, were you? You were the one studying, working two jobs and watching reruns of Full House through high school while skipping collage. Never once seen at a pep rally or hanging around charity events."

"Are you sayin' I don't have a heart because I didn't give every last one of my physical possessions to the 'less fortunate'?" I grunted in irritation, quickening my pace to walk beside him.

He just shrugged.

"I didn't think there was a place for me, playing support-boy for the flood survivors and volunteering. It wasn't me. That was you, Tommy, not me." I shook my head and looked down the deserted street to our left. The burned up husks of family cars and pickup trucks littered the main street. An overturned semi truck lied out in the open, crates of peaches strewn across the cracked asphalt, most of them squished into the the cracks or blackened from the fire that came with the crash.

"I just didn't feel like I needed to help everyone back up, they were more than capable-"

"Shut your trap, Joel, look." Tommy braced an arm across my chest and flattened me back against the brick siding of some downtown building. Holding a finger to his lips, he peeked out, and pointed across the street.

At first, I didn't see it. Until it moved...

"What in the hell?..." Tommy murmured in confusion. Leaning forward a little bit, we both studied the creature. It was slightly similar to the infected we fought the night of the outbreak in Texas, but this one was weathered and looked like the infection had taken full control.

It looked human... Yet, it did not. It stood on two legs, the physic of a human, too. Arms, legs, fingers and a head. But the right side of it's face was contorted. The skin appearing like it was carved from wax or plastic, it was folded upwards,forming little waves of rubbery skin into the scalp, where it's hair was thinning. Clumps of bronze hair poked through the mass of watery skin, sticking out in different directions. One eye was still intact, the other was lost in the folds.

The creature stumbled forward, aimlessly down the street, twitching involunteerily. Odd sounds fell from it's slack jaw, slurping sounds, similar to choking noises, as blood dripped from it's intact white teeth. More like clicking noises, to be honest.

It made more noises, and it's head jerked backwards as though an invisible force grabbed a fistful of it's hair and yanked back. A high pitched squeal came from it then, mixed with the coughing choke, making it sound similar to the noises an exotic bird would make.

Tommy and I exchanged glances, then looked at it. It's ankles turned inwards, it tripped over them in it's hopeless stumble.

"What do we do?" Tommy whispered, crouching down behind a trash bin and studying the thing from afar, toying with the silver revolver in his hands.

"Tommy... You know damn well no one could be alive in that condition..." I whispered, crouching down beside him, speaking calmly. Tommy believed that someone was still inside, and that we shouldn't kill them. But what he doesn't know, or doesn't realize, is that they're already dead.

"We can't kill it!" he exclaimed under his breath.

"What the hell else are we supposed to do? Let it live? If you were like that, do you think you'd still be alive?" I hissed back, glaring at him now. "we ain't got time for this, Tommy."

He looked at me, there was a shimmer of untapped fear behind his eyes, a horror for something greater than death and survival. The fear to kill... His hands shook, wrapped white-knuckle around the handle of the gun, his eyes wide in disbelief. I guess it was harder for me to understand... Tommy was great at everything, communication and civilization wise, but as far as defending it, he couldn't.

"Tommy..." I whispered softer, but he flinched, he held up the gun, checking to see how may bullets he had left before thumming the hammer anxiously. He raised it carefully, his shoulders quivering with fear and shaky breaths.

"Tommy, let me-"

"No!" He hissed, his eyes bright, determined. "I need to do this... You, you're right..." He let out another shaky breath, sounding very faint.

I knew he wouldn't let me speak to him, or try to persuade him to hand it over, he wouldn't want to be weak, and he seems to think this is his only chance at redemption.

"I've got this, Joel..." he murmured outloud, though I don't think he meant it for me, but for himself.

He readjusted his fingers several times against the handle and trigger, taking slow, calming breaths, he looked down the gun, fixed on the drunken target. Two more deep breaths... He exhales shakily and then he sighs, a whimper of defeat and his eyes are watering, he lowers the gun in failure and watches as the creature stumbles off behind the semi.

"I- I can't do it..." he whispered sadly, watching in a dazed state.

"Tommy..." I sighed, holding out my hand. "give me the gun."

Tommy looks down at it, the shiny clump of dangerous metal, and sniffed, tossing it at me, he stood up. "Fuck it..." he muttered, walking away. "I'll never be able to do it, I'm weak and I'm gonna die anyways."

I grumbled something incoherent under my breath and glanced around quickly for danger before jogging after him and grabbing his arm, turning him to face me.

I'd only ever seen Tommy upset a few times. By a few, I mean three times total. Once, in high school, he broke his leg in multiple places and cried from the pain, when his dog Buckley was hit by a car seven years ago, and the other day... When uh, Sarah...

But he was wrecked. Tears in his eyes, forehead clammy with sweat and his eyes were wild. "Joel, I can't do it!" he shouted at me, I grabbed both of his shoulders to steady him.

"Tom, Tommy, no one cares, alright? If you can't... Then, we'll think of something, whatever, I don't know right now, but we will, okay?"

I finally managed to meet his eyes, he looked upset and weakened, Tommy didn't like being weak, he also did not like to be the one who had to enforce anything on anyone.

"Joel, I'm sorry..." I whispered.

"Don't worry about it, okay? But listen to me, we need to keep moving."

He caught his breath and nodded. Tightening his backpack strap and looking around the empty street. I know he doesn't want to talk about it, he will want to move on and forget his weakness.

"We'll stay at the sheriff's department up the street for the night, look for some weapons and head out tomorrow." I told Tommy, trying not to be obvious about his breakdown.

He nodded, took deep breaths, and we began walking up the darkening street. Three out of the twelve street lamps we passed flickered either sparks or were dimly lit with ambient energy. They flickered as moths beat against the bulbs.

I glanced down at my watch, holding it closer to my face to read the time. Six forty-five. I could see the station up the street, situated on the corner of Main Street. I had the gun out, half cocked, ready to fire at the first thing that moved. We ventured further, and as we passed alleyways, we'd scope them out before continuing on. Too many shadows for things to hide in, follow us, and even attack us.

"Tommy, get the door." I nodded towards the double glass doors of Kings County sheriff's department. There were no chains wrapped around the handles or visible damage to the building, it looked almost unscathed.

Tommy crept up beside the doors and reached around to grab the handle, pulling it open, I stared into the black abyss of the previous waiting room.

"C'mon," I whispered "keep it down, there could be someone here." I hoped there wouldn't be, because being the kind spirit Tommy was, he'd want to save all of them, and there were hardly enough supplies on our backs to take care of ourselves.

Tommy nodded in agreement, holding his breath while I walked in first, he followed and shut the door behind us. We stood on the pale white tile of the small waiting room, the walls lined with plastic mold chairs, fake plants, awards and thank you notes. A coffee table sat in the center of the seating area, it's top cluttered with People and Woman's Day magazines.

There was dim lighting coming from the small green lights on the battery powered smoke detectors on the ceiling. It wasn't much but just enough light to see the walls.

"Hey, Joel..." Tommy hissed from behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. He pointed down a hallway to our left, all the doors were shut, but the one at the end of the hallway, had a yellow splinter on light underneath it, along with flickers of black shadows as something moved around inside.

"Avoid it and move on?" Tommy whispered.

I shook my head and raised the gun, slowly, quietly approaching the door. "we need supplies..." I whispered back.

"What are you thinking? If someone's in there, we're gonna take them?!" He yelled under his breath.

"Tommy, you don't seem to understand our predicament-"

"Who the hell are you?"

We both spun around, scared shitless, Tommy knocked into me, making me drop the gun and I heard it clatter underneath one of the chairs.

It took me a moment for my eyes to adjust and make out the shape of a tall dark figure standing in the opening of the opposite hallway, a shotgun raised in his hands, fixed on our faces.