End of the Line

"I'm cold... gimme more blanket."

I furrowed my brow and wrapped the thin tartan sheet closer to my quaking form, turning my back away from Mikey's outreached hands. We'd volunteered to be the night watch, and even in the dead of summer, the nights were frigid and silent in the confines of the abandoned mall. I shuddered and brought the sheet even closer my my body, blowing air into my cupped palms and rubbing them along my forearms. Mikey huffed and tugged at it again, "Gerard seriously. I'm fuckin' freezing," he hissed, pinching at my shoulder.

Somewhere in the blinding darkness, our mother coughed, and the soft swish of fabric against skin rang out in the desolation. I sighed deeply and glanced over at him, his face gaunt and misshapen in the poor lighting. That's another thing that sucked. We'd been locked in here for almost 3 weeks, surviving off whatever food and water we'd rummaged from the empty shops. Then every night we'd lock ourselves up in some home goods store, someone perched by the steel gate with a rifle and a UV light, waiting for the little parasites to pounce.

So, back to where I started, with Mikey and I huddled over a small fire we built in one of the tin trashcans behind the register, trying to keep ourselves warm. I sniffled loudly and ran a hand along the side of my prickled face, trying to force back shivers and keep myself awake until sunrise. Mikey shifted on the tarp he'd laid out by the door, the plastic crinkling and echoing through the cavernous halls. He looked over at his rifle lying carelessly at his feet, and then back out into the unending darkness, "What do you think is going on in the rest of the world?" he whispered, his eyes shining softly.

I shrugged, and set my gun on the floor, "Who knows. We might be the only ones left in New Jersey, it's hard to say."

Mikey shuddered visibly, "I'd hate to be alone... creeps the shit out of me just sitting here in the quiet like this."

I patted his shoulder awkwardly, and he let out a tiny giggle, "Remember that time Dad took us camping in Pennsylvania and-"

Mikey's little tirade was cut short by a loud clatter and the sound of feet scampering across the linoleum. We both shared a look of alarm and picked up our weapons, checking for ammo and sticking the nozzles through the grating in the gate, aiming for the never ending black. I fell down onto my knees, trying to make out shapes in the shadows, "Mikey, don't fire until my signal." I muttered, slowly cocking the rifle.

He nodded shakily, rising to a squat and adjusting his glasses with his left hand, "M-Maybe it was just a rat or something..."

I gave him a quick glare and pulled my gun back, staring back into the black halls,"Well, whatever it was, it's gone for now."

He gulped loudly and falls back, flicking on the safety of his gun. I looked around at our family and friends, scattered across the floor of the shop, curled into each other for protection and warmth. I sighed deeply and crawled back to my spot by the fire, locking my gun and setting it by the wall. There was another shuffle of feet, and from the corner of my eye, I watched as Mikey paled and tensed up, his hands scrambling for his discarded firearm. The scuffling drew closer, and I grabbed a heavy aluminum bat from the register, holding it out in front of me, "Who's there?" I cracked, swinging the bat around in a wide arc.

I felt the tip of the bat collide with something solid, which then let out a yelping, "Gerard! Motherfuck!"

I sighed deeply, it was only Bob, and I could make out his lip ring glinting in the pale lighting. He rubbed his side vigorously, glaring at me, "Watch where you swing that fuckin' thing."

I rolled my eyes and shifted my weight of my hips, "What do you want?"

He looked down at my gun, then back towards the piles of sleeping forms, "I got my sleep for the day, wanted to know if you'd like to switch." he answered, speaking in a hushed, hurried tone.

I shrugged and glanced over at Mikey, who was slumped over in a broken office chair, yawning widely and gazing off into some unknown distance. I smirked to myself and lifted my hands towards my incapacitated brother, "You can take Mikey's spot, I'll just sleep during the day."

He nodded somewhat dutifully and walked over to the chair, carefully scooping Mikey up and carrying over to Frank's snoring form, plopping him down on a mound of squishy pillows. He returned to his perch and picked up Mikey's rifle, playing with the latch, "My uncle used to take me hunting as a kid, for deer mostly," he muttered, his voice shattering the heavy calm, "I hated it, all the blood and dragging them back to the truck. I'm pretty good with a gun now, though."

I hadn't known Bob, or his roommate Ray, for very long. They had gotten away with Eliza when I sprung her from New York, catching a ride in the back of her Jeep as the three of them bolted from the crumbling apartment building. Bob was muscular and stocky, with thick shoulders and forearms from years of drumming and hauling around equipment for his dad's electrical company. He had soft, almost understanding blue eyes, and long tufts of blonde hair erupting from his scalp. He also had plugs and a lip piercing from, as he told it somewhat admittedly, "his reckless college years." His roommate Ray was a pretty cool guy too. He was into music and film, having studied cinema in college not even a year before the shit hit the fan. He was tall and lanky, and kind of awkward looking, with his big brown eyes and pronounced facial features. But the trait I liked most was his springy hair. It was thick and auburn, and fell around his face in heavy curls.

Again, in the depths of the corridor, I could make out a human silhouette against one of the doors dotted along the east entrance. I let out a sustained groan and picked up my gun again, cocking it somewhat loudly. "There's someone out there..."

Bob studied the patterns in the shadows. "I don't see anything moving."

I carefully raised a finger and pointed towards the large glass double doors that lead out into the vacant parking lot. "See by the doors, there's someone standing there."

He swung his body around so it was parallel with mine, before recoiling with a sharp gasp. "Should we go after it?"

I shook my head, trying to think back to all of the comic books I had read and shitty sci-fi movies I watched to keep a mid-afternoon coma at bay. I looked back at a small metal case Frank had dragged from underneath one of the seats in my van. "Get me a road flare... the big red ones."

Bob scrambled off the chair and towards the box, handing over the papery flare with a look of apprehension etched into his smooth features. I bit the cap off, careful not to inhale any of the fumes as I tossed it into the darkness. The room lit up in a red spark, and for a brief second, I could make a blonde man, maybe even a boy, standing petrified and staring down at the flare. He dashed off into the black shroud, yelling out to someone. Bob and I exchanged nervous glances, before we each grabbed a flashlight and threw our guns over our shoulders. He dashed up to the steel gate, pushing it up so we could go out and try and scare away any of the undead we stumbled across. This, of course, woke everyone in the room up.

There were the initial groans and protests against the grating noise, but soon I felt tiny hands tugging away at the back of my jacket, and I turned to see Eliza standing behind me, her arms folded across her chest and dressed only in my old t-shirt and a pair of blue panties. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she spat, her blue eyes burning with rage and faint trace of fear.

I gave her a quick passing glance and headed outside the gate, Bob already down by an overturned sunglasses kiosk. She huffed loudly and went to the back corner of the store, picking up a large shotgun and hoisting it over her back. "I'm coming with you," she exclaimed somewhat defiantly, pushing past me and dashing out into the hallway to keep in pace with Bob.

"Oh goddammit," I muttered to myself, flicking on my high-powered flashlight and chasing after them, my bare feet sliding across the smooth tiles.

I could hear feet padding after us, and did a quick double take, only to see Ray scrambling to catch up with us, his pockets stuffed with road flares and the heavy metal bat plastered to his side. The heavy clang of the steel gate shutting rings out, and I could hear Mikey shouting from down the hall, "Please hurry!"

I caught up with Eliza and Bob, who were darting behind trashcans and flipped couches, keeping a vigilant lookout of any danger. I slipped a ginger hand around Eliza's waist, pulling her into me. "You're a stupid motherfucker, you know that?" I whispered, hugging her gently.

She snorted and pecked at my cheek. "Possibly, I think I've been dating you a bit too long."

I pushed my hands onto my hips. "Oh, hardy har. You know one of these day I'm gon-"

There was a loud clang not even 50 feet in front of us, and I could make out about 3 bodies darting through the darkness. I pointed my flashlight towards a security gate; the polished metal reflected back the powerful beams. But no signs of life. Not human anyways. Bob stood up from his spot behind one of the love seats. "Who goes there?"

The time ticked by slowly as the air around us became drenched in silence. Another clang, and more footsteps. "You tell us!" a voice shouted back.

I pointed my flashlight in the direction of the sounds, coming across a blonde man and a dark-haired man, both of them seemingly young and both of them crouched behind a large stiletto display. Bob shifted, holding his gun up. "Are you human?" he yelled, cocking the rifle with a snap.

The blonde man's brow creased with annoyance. "Duh! Now can you please get the damned light out of my eyes?"

I lowered the flashlight to their feet, watching as a pair of tattered sneakers came towards us, cautiously. The blonde man approached us first, and he looked to be about 20, maybe a bit younger. He had bleach blonde hair that hung over his eyes in an asymmetrical fashion. He was skinny, his faint curves shown off by the tight shirt stretched across his torso. He smiled somewhat lopsidedly, holding his arms in the air. "Don't shoot. I'm clean, I swear."

Bob lowered his rifle, keeping a wary eye on the dark-haired man behind the other. The blonde cleared his throat, wiping his dirty hands on his shirt before saying, "My name's Quinn, and that guy is Jepha."

I blinked slowly, as Quinn took another step forward. "Do you trust us?"

Our motley group exchanged frightened looks, but soon the nods were unanimous and Quinn grinned through the darkness, the Jepha guy now standing by his side. The two looked like polar opposites, his dark hair striking against Quinn's silvery yellow. Every inch of skin was covered in a piercing or tattoo of some sort, and his clothes were tattered and wrinkled, but I think they were that way before the disease swept across the country. Jepha held out a colorful hand, his palm shaking softly. "Do we have a truce?" he asked.

I reached out and shook it, making the two men smile. "So where are you camping?" questioned Jepha.

I pointed down the hall. "In that little fruity store. It had the most floor space."

Quinn nodded to himself. "We've locked ourselves on the first floor, in some dressing room."

Somewhere in the distance, there was a sharp hiss, and the sound of fabric rustling. Quinn's eyes doubled in size, and we all turned in shock as glass began to shatter and store alarms shrieked. In the blinking red and yellow warning lights, we saw a mass of zombies hobbling towards us, howling and hissing at us. I jumped over the couch, pointing the end of my gun towards the store. "Eliza, run now!" I screamed, watching her bolt through the darkness.

Jepha ran headfirst towards the mob, firing round after round into their knees. "We need to spread out!" he yelled, climbing into a kiosk and reloading his gun magazine.

Bob took off after him, yelling in triumph as he buried bullets into their dead flesh and they stumbled over one another in an attempt to flee. I, however, took off towards the stairs, trying to fight off any that would sneak up on us from behind. I skidded around the corner of a huge department store, knocking over a rack of over-priced DVDs and slipping on their plastic shells.

Somewhere amidst the chaos of the shouting and gunshots, Eliza let out a scream of pain and terror, her feeble voice crying out for help. I ran towards it, screaming to anyone that could hear me, "Eliza? Eliza, answer me!"

As I came to the edge of the stairwell, a body collided into me, and I kicked back on it, feeling the weight give out form underneath my feet. I looked up in a daze, feeling my body rolling into itself as I tumbled down the broken escalator. For a brief moment, I saw a man leaning over the edge, yelling out to someone, before my eyes flickered shut and the mute button was finally pressed.