Free Web NovelChapter 161: Chapter 161 - Why?
Iyisha turned around.
The gray cloud had filled the decon room completely now. It hung thick in the air, swallowing the corners, coating the walls. The hunter lay where it fell, a dark hole torn through its chest. Its jaw tightened once, useless limbs twitching against the tile before going still.
In the corner, the bloater was shrinking. Its swollen flesh sank inward slowly, collapsing in on itself. Its only purpose done.
At least it was contained there.
Inside the plant.
Even if others ruptured, the spores wouldn’t drift into towns. Only whoever walked in by mistake would breathe it.
She pulled open the door leading back toward the turbine room.
Marybeth was nowhere in sight.
Good.
Iyisha didn’t wait.
She didn’t want them to see her turn.
She didn’t want Malcolm to have to do it.
Even if they promised each other...
She couldn’t.
God. No. She couldn’t face it.
She walked forward.
The wound on her back didn’t burn anymore. It was numb now. The heat replaced by something dull and spreading. When she shifted her shoulders, she didn’t fully feel it. That scared her more than the pain did.
Her steps felt strange. Lighter. Heavy at the same time. Her right foot dragged half an inch before she corrected it.
She retraced their path through the turbine room. The broken glass. The twisted catwalk. Her tears hadn’t dried on her cheeks.
She wanted to scream.
To demand why.
She had been good. She followed rules. She tried to protect people. She didn’t cheat or betray or hurt without reason.
And still.
The world did not care.
It didn’t measure fairness.
It didn’t reward effort.
Even the careful ones died.
Her jaw tightened suddenly. A sharp clench she didn’t choose. She forced it open with her fingers. It released slowly.
She ran toward the exit.
The outside door gave and sunlight flooded in, blinding her for a second.
She stepped out into it.
The sun was rising.
Warm light spread across the parking lot, across the cooling towers, across the scattered undead that barely moved in place. The sky was soft orange at the edges, blue pushing through.
It was beautiful.
Her chest tightened painfully.
When a person felt death coming, it wasn’t dramatic at first. It was a narrowing. She tried to imagine tomorrow. She couldn’t. The thought didn’t stay. It slipped away before it formed.
Her body felt both too light and too heavy. Her fingers tingled. Her thoughts moved slower, then sharper, then slow again. A wave of cold moved under her skin even though the sun was warm.
She blinked up at the sky.
A tear slipped down her face.
"I don’t want to die," she said quietly.
The words felt small in her mouth.
Not now.
Not when she finally understood what she felt.
Not when she finally found something worth staying alive for.
Her breath shook.
The world kept moving around her. Nothing paused.
Biting her lip, she walked toward the shore.
Lake Erie stretched wide ahead of her, the surface catching the early light in broken flashes.
Months ago she would never have stepped outside alone without a weapon. Now she walked unarmed. Exposed. Her fingers twitched and she looked back once, thinking she should have picked up the gun from the floor.
Too late.
She kept walking.
Malcolm’s face came back to her.
The way he pounded on the glass. The way his mouth moved, shouting something she couldn’t hear.
Was he angry?
Was he relieved he was alive?
Did he wish he had said more?
Her throat tightened.
What if he thought she gave up?
What if he thought she didn’t fight?
She shook her head hard.
She had a good life.
When this started, she was protected. Fed. Sheltered. When she finally stepped beyond the walls, she met him.
How lucky could a person be?
If she had a superpower, it would have been luck.
Her breath shook as she inhaled deeply.
Halfway through the inhale, her lungs seized. A sharp, involuntary gasp cut it short. She coughed once, dry and hard, then again. It hurt. She pressed her hand to her chest until the spasm passed.
Fear slipped in.
Not just dying.
Turning.
She reached a tree near the waterline and lowered herself down, leaning her back against the trunk.
The bark pressed rough against her torn shirt.
Her body felt heavier now. Warmer. A pressure building beneath her skin. Her heartbeat stuttered, then raced. Her fingers trembled in her lap. One of them jerked suddenly. She stared at it like it belonged to someone else.
For the first time since all of this began, she wasn’t running.
She just breathed.
Then she bent forward and the first scream tore out of her without warning.
It was not loud at first.
It was broken.
Then it grew.
"Why?" she shouted at the sky.
Her voice cracked halfway through the word.
She dropped to her knees in the dirt. Her hands clawed at the ground like she could hold herself there.
"I try," she sobbed. "I try to be good."
Her shoulders shook so hard she could barely breathe. Snot and tears smeared across her face. Her chest heaved like she was choking.
"I don’t hurt people. I don’t steal. I don’t betray anyone."
Her jaw locked again. Harder this time. Her teeth ground together and she let out a strangled sound until it released.
"So why?"
The lake didn’t answer.
The sky didn’t change.
Nothing stopped.
She curled into herself and cried until her throat burned and her ribs ached from the force of it. Every breath felt sharp. Memories hit all at once.
Cena’s laugh.
Mary and Esther’s faces.
Malcolm’s hands on her waist.
The way he looked at her through the glass.
She pressed her fist to her mouth but the sound spilled out anyway. A broken, animal sound.
"I don’t want to die," she whispered. "I don’t want to die."
Then softer.
"Please don’t let me hurt them."
Her face swelled from crying. Eyes red and puffy. Her nose ran. Her lips trembled uncontrollably.
She forced herself to stand once.
Her knees gave.
She fell back down hard and let out a sob that felt like something tearing inside her chest.
She tried again.
This time she stayed up, but barely. Her legs shook under her weight. The numbness in her back spread wider, crawling toward her sides. Her fingertips went cold.
Her vision flickered at the edges.
She turned slowly.
The nuclear plant stood behind her, cold and gray against the morning light.
At any moment Malcolm would come out.
He would look for her.
He would run.
And she could not let him see this.
She already said goodbye.
She already made her choice.
If he saw her turn—
If he had to raise the gun—
If he had to watch her eyes change—
Her stomach twisted violently.
She wiped her face roughly with both hands and started walking away from the shore, deeper into the trees. Each step uneven. Her breathing still hitching.
She stumbled over a root and caught herself on a trunk. Her hand didn’t feel the bark at first. It took a second. That delay made her panic spike.
"I’m sorry," she whispered.
Then quieter.
"I’m sorry."
The sun climbed higher.
The world looked peaceful.
And she walked away from the only person who ever made her feel safe, hiding herself so he wouldn’t have to pull the trigger.
That thought hurt more than the wound.
She kept walking anyway.
