Reworking the Dead by Xautnis Leonhart (reading fiction txt) 📖

Jackson’s voice came through for a second. “Boss, we’re in trou-!!” Before he could finish, his truck suddenly flew into the air while spinning slowly. I could see it in slow motion as the truck spun around and around in the air, just barely showing a terrified Johnny and a dumbstruck Jackson before it crashed into the stadium seats with a muffled thud.

“Jackson!! Johnny!!” Without thinking, I jerked on the wheel hard to the right while braking, and when I came to a complete stop, I thrust the emergency brake on and leapt out of the truck and ran towards the truck. “Guys!! Guys, I’m coming!!” I could hear Thompson shout something at me, but I couldn’t hear it over the frantic beating of my heart.

I climbed up into the stands and ran to the truck to find it upside-down with its wheels still spinning. The windows and the windshield were shattered and hard to see through, and the engine seemed to weep as it purred in pain. “Guys!!” I took off my jacket, wrapped it into a ball around my clenched fist, and used it to break the passenger window. As I loosened it, I peered inside to find Johnny moaning as he faded in and out of consciousness with blood trickling down his cheek into his eyes. And next to him was a still Jackson, barely breathing as fresh blood dripped and dropped into a slowly growing puddle beneath him. “Thompson, Thompson, get over here, now!!”

Once I have my jacket back on, I grabbed Johnny’s shoulders and started to pull him out just as loud noises reached my ears, making me turn my head around to see several Jumpers and Speeders come into view, but that’s not just what made me more scared; it was the single Smart that was leading the way.

A Smart looked human, but its skin was a pale ghostly white and its hair was just as white; it could’ve been mistaken for an albino, except it was the eyes. Instead of a normal color like green or blue or even brown, it was a demonic red. If you ever had the extreme misfortune of meeting a Smart face-to-face, if you weren’t killed immediately, then you would feel those evil eyes staring through your body into your very soul.

It gazed around the stadium thoughtfully, but when it caught sight of me, it paused and broke into an amused and horrifying shark-toothy grin. It felt like its eyes were boring into my brain as if it was looking into me instead of at me. Then, it raised a single dead finger at me and let out a roar, an order to kill me and the others, and the Jumpers and Speeders did as they were told.

“We have to get outta here, right now!!” I yanked Johnny out of the truck and threw an arm over my shoulder and half-carried, half-dragged him over to the working truck, and when I glanced over my shoulder, I could see Thompson dragging a very limp Jackson over his shoulder as well. “Get him in the back of the truck!!” I eased Johnny into the open back and ran into the driver seat. Eventually, he got Jackson inside and leapt in after him.

Without waiting, I forced the truck into gear and it shot forward with a jerk, just as the first infected was about to reach us. The wheels squealed as the truck surged forward and I drove us into the exit, gaining further distance between us and them. I didn’t let up on the gas as we shot out of the exit and into the streets again, and I refused to look back until I passed the last of the ruined city; only then did I let up on the pedal.

“Alright, I think we lost ‘em…” Thompson poked his head through the window as I slowed down a bit.

“How’re Jackson and Johnny looking?” I glanced at him a few times as I drove.

“Johnny came to a minute ago, most likely a slight concussion. But Jackson, he…”

I wanted him to finish his sentence, but I was also scared of what he would say. “We’re only a couple minutes away from home; we can take care of him there…” Even though my voice sounded calm, I was really scared for him. About roughly ten or fifteen minutes later, we finally arrived at where we called home. Once, it was a small city called Puyallup, but now with all that’s happened, it was nothing more than an unrecognizable wasteland.

I drove us up to the large tent we use as the hospital and almost on cue, several dirty figures popped up seemingly out of nowhere and got a stretcher out for Jackson. One of the figures, a woman younger than me, was the first to ask, “What happened!?” I then told her what happened and what transpired to it as Jackson was wheeled into the tent with Johnny trailing half-dazed behind them. I was about to enter the tent as well when she stopped me suddenly. “No, you wait here! There’re too many bodies in here as it is! Just wait outside and take care of those canned foods you mentioned!”

With that, I was forced to wait outside, thinking of what happened and what I could’ve prevented from happening in the first place. I knew it was too early to bring in Johnny for a food raid, and I should’ve filled the tank up for the truck. “How could I have been so damn slow…?” I rested my face in my hands, rubbing my sore eyes as I lamented over and over. But then, about an hour or so later, the woman from before slowly came out of the tent, holding something in her hand I couldn’t make out. I quickly stood up, swallowing the first words I meant to say before I remembered what I wanted to ask.

“H-how… How’s Jackson?” As I waited for her to answer, my hand started to unconsciously touch the old dog tags I always wore around my neck, and they clicked and clacked as I rubbed them between my index and thumb in same repetitive motion.

“I, umm…” She clearly couldn’t find the right words to say, but as she held up her hand and stared at whatever was in it, she let out a sad defeated sigh and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, but…” Then she held her hand up and revealed to me what it was: they were Jackson’s dog tags. The very sight of them in her hand made my heart stop and drop to my stomach; the fact that she was holding them out to me meant one thing, and one thing only. “Jackson… Your friend… He’s dead.”

Chapter Two (incomplete)

I stood before a dirty broken mirror, staring at the disheveled man staring back at me; covered in scars, some fresh, others old, he stood at about six-feet tall with sand in his dark black hair, and the long hairs on his chin informed him that he needed to do his weekly trim, but his eyes, they held a long history. Once, they shined with hope, now the light within them had slowly begun to dull down over the long merciless years. Another death, I thought, yet another death on my hands because of a food-run. My hands clenched as emotions flared up inside my chest, a bitter mix of sadness and anger. I probably would’ve started to cry right then, but I couldn’t; the air was too dry, and these painful months had been stabbing my heart so many times, I barely noticed the pain anymore. I hadn’t cried for so long; not from happiness or joy, not even from sadness or hatred.

I slowly began to pace around my large tent as I continued to berate myself silently. How could I have been so stupid? I shouldn’t have brought Johnny for his first food-run, not in those conditions. I should’ve just brought Thompson and Jackson… Jackson… I looked up at the ceiling of the tent, quietly asking, “Are you there, Jackson…? Do you hate me for what happened…?” Nothing but the harsh howling wind answered my questions. It may have been Johnny’s fault that we were caught, but it was mine for not having a better plan set up or for being able to keep them all safe.

I continued to stare at the man in the mirror, honestly wanting to strangle him until his different colored eyes, one an unusual red, the other a deep blue, would bulge out of his thick skull. “Nate? Nate, you in there?” I turned away from the mirror in time to see Emily Burke, a girl about my age who’d been with me for the longest time. I wouldn’t go so far as to call her my girlfriend, since she saw me nothing more than a friend and her leader. “I overheard what happened during the run… I’m sorry about Jackson…”

“It’s my fault he’s dead… I should’ve been more prepared for this…” I couldn’t look her in the eye as I spoke, so she surprised me with a soft hug. I could feel her forehead press into my chest as she held her arms around my chest.

“He would’ve wanted to go out the way he did, Nate. It’s not your fault,” she spoke in a soft voice as she held her ground. “It was just an accident, Nate…” I honestly didn’t know what do to: either push her away and ask her to leave, or to hug her back and just stay silent. When she touched my arm, she suddenly pulled away and stared at the blood in her hand. “Oh my god, y-you’re bleeding!”

“No, it’s not-” Before I could finish, she suddenly took my jacket off and quickly ripped my dirty shirt off, but when she touched the arm where she found the blood, she was surprised to find it unscathed. “It wasn’t mine, Emily.” When she touched part of my side, I grimaced sharply and instinctively touched it as well. When I withdrew my hand, the tips of my fingers were dyed a bright red. “What-? How-?” Then I remembered something from before; while I had been trying to get Johnny out, I thought I had felt something touch my side, but I had shrugged it off thinking I was imagining it; it must’ve been a shard of glass from the truck that had nicked my side.

“Well this certainly is, Nathan.” After all the years I’ve known her, she never called me by Nathan unless she was serious or concerned about my wellbeing. “If I don’t sew this up, then you’ll most likely get an infection.” Whenever she wasn’t helping the others, she usually helped the wounded and was a skilled sewer.