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gjnhjfdhns: Part FORTY-THREE: Morality

The gunshots made everything quieter, but still I screamed. Through the attempts of consolement, I screamed. Through the threats, I screamed. Through the screams, I screamed. Eventually, though, I lost the ability. My throat was dry, more dry than I remember it ever being, and it only became worse when I kept trying to cry out, trying to force the horror out through my voice box. It started to feel like each time I kept trying to scream, frantic nails were crawling up my neck for escape. I had to get them out, I had to,but there was no noise to signify their departure.

On my knees, I covered my ears with my hands, as though doing so would block the images from entering my mind. I was huddled in the center of the security room, no longer trusting the corners that I thought were a good vantage point. My eyes were squeezed shut, so I couldn't see the others in the room, but I could hear them catching their breath.

"What happened? What's wrong with her?" /they were saying earlier, when we got into the security room and I had quieted down. "Don't know. Just started screaming. Wouldn't shut up. Stopped fighting back. Just kept screaming."/

I bit back a sob, not wanting those foreign nails to rake against my throat again.

"So, where'd you come from, Kevin? And where'd you get that gun?" It was Brian.

Mitchell interrupted the reply. "He got the gun from his boyfriend, and he's here to kill us all and take the prize."

"Oh, shut the f-ck up! I saved your ass!"

"No, you let that f-cker get Andrew!"

"Right, yea, I'm gonna try and shoot a guy who's practically using Andrew as a shield!"

"Better dead than /that/."

There was a thoughtful silence following Mitchell's remark, in which I was sure that everyone was wondering: Would I rather be dead, or would I want to be that/?/

"What's happening?" Marina finally asked. "How'd you get here?"

"I-"

"He's just here on orders for his boss, and he's gonna use that gun to kill us while we sleep, 'cause he can't take us all at once."

"Shut the hell up, f-cktard!"

"You're a f-cktard!"

I heard sounds of a scuffle; running feet and blows landing. I could feel things coming dangerously close to me, but I wouldn't move. I couldn't move.

"Holy sh-t!" This was from Jerome, who sounded just a tad bit farther than everyone else. "Holy sh-t, guys, look at this!"

Everyone walked over to where Jerome was, and soon enough, Mitchell and Kevin stopped fighting and began to pay attention. Finding the silence unnerving, I peeked at what they were looking at through my fingers.

On the monitors, the mall was empty, save for one screen- The camera showing what was just outside the door. In that little screen, a group of monsters were clustered around the door. There were about ten or eleven of them, but more joined the group. We couldn't see them walking in any other panel, but they were all trudging onto the last little screen.There were monsters like those from the pet store, or those from Sportcheck. And there were people who looked as changed as Andrew was.

People like Anthony. People like Angel. People like Ale.

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.

"Sh-t. What're we gonna do?"

"This room doesn't have any windows... Any other doors..."

"Air vent?"

"Right there."

"F-ck! Jerome can't even fit in that!"

"We can't just stay here forever..."

"We can't just go and kill them all!"

"Kevin's got a gun!"

"Yea, and like, no ammo."

"What do we have? A baseball bat... A tennis racket... A ski pole... A hockey stick... A metal rod... A... Coat hanger?"

"Oh, that's badass."

"Well, we'll have to make it on these."

"We should start now, before there get to be too much."

"Who wants to open the door?"

I stood up and moved away from the door biting on both
my thumbnails. The crowd on the monitor only got bigger and bigger as we waited for a volunteer.

Mitchell, wielding the metal rod, stepped forward and swung the door open. They pushed out the doorway, not giving the creatures an opening. I watched them fight their way through on the monitor.

The screen flickered.

Suddenly, the monsters on the screen were real people, normal, regular people, pleading for entrance and receiving a blow to the face, or a kick in the head. And my friends? The ones who were here and not crazies and wanting to get out alive? They were the monsters. Though, when I looked at them, they were as normal as a regular human being, on the monitor, they were horrific things. Abominations of sight.

But they're not monsters. They're my friends. They're fighting to live. Those people, those are the monsters. The camera's playing tricks.

Oh, so it's not your eyes playing tricks on you?

I put my hand on my forehead, watching them all just outside the doorway, trying to dispatch the growing mass of rabid creatures. They weren't monsters, they're just trying to stay alive.

Fight or flight, right? And there's no room to flee. They're fighting. Like I should be.

My eyes darted to the security screen.

So you're going to fight? And hurt people like that? People who've never done anything to you before? You're willing to live a life born from murder?

I tore my eyes from the screen and to the doorway, where Marina had buckled over in pain. Someone sent her crashing into Jerome, and Mitchell, Brian and Kevin were getting closer to the doorway, retreating from the battle. I could see that it took them much effort to attack, that they were hurting and there was no reprieve.

On the screen, the monsters were surrounded by the bodies of the dead, and ruthlessly destroying more.