The camouflaged partners sit in an old pick-up truck, its headlights turned off. Beyond the cracked windshield sits a cabin, light streaming from its windows and open door. A constant thudding of music reverberates through the darkness between the vehicle and the structure.
Shadows lurch through that darkness, slowly approaching the unmistakable sign of life. The men are still as they watch the shadows reveal themselves in the cabin's glow. Human in shape but that's where comparisons end.
"Moths to a flame," the driver whispers.
"I knew it would work," the passenger replies.
How long has it been since the dead refused to stay dead? Weeks? Months? Years? It doesn't matter now that it has come down to this. The two of them waiting in the old pick-up. Waiting for an end.
All the driver can think of is the beginning. They met in college, when the world buzzed with life and possibilities. Their relationship didn't happen overnight. A connection took time to develop, but when they finally clicked, he thought it would be forever.
He glances at the passenger. That serious face is nearly concealed in the darkness. Always so serious, like he knew this nightmare was coming. Like he knew forever was just a dream.
"I'm sorry I never joined you on the beach," the passenger speaks softly.
"You had your reasons."
The passenger briefly hums at that truth. He looks over to the driver, wishing he could clearly see those open, giving eyes staring back at him through the darkness. It pains him to not kiss out of fear of passing the infection.
The driver had seen the zombie a moment too late during a supply run. Saw the decayed mouth tearing a chunk of flesh out of his partner's arm. He dispatched the former human with severity, but they knew it was too late.
"One more and then it will be time."
Hands join in the darkest of nights as they focus on the cabin. A lone shadow steps into the door's light. The passenger's hand burns with the fever ravaging his body. The driver's hand trembles with the knowledge of what is to come.
The passenger lets go and cautiously exits the vehicle, a baseball bat ready and the device around his chest activated. No painful words of goodbye or declarations of love. Anything needed to be said was said. He knows it is time to die and take out as many zombies as possible.
The driver peers through the cracked windshield. He doesn't want to see but he needs to know. In a moment of eternity he waits, holding his breath, until his partner is a shadow charging into the cabin. His hazel eyes burn with tears as a fireball lights up the night
...silencing the music
...leaving him alone.
Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words.
P.S. This story may have connecting threads to...
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