The Railroad

Chapter 3

By the time George finally left the hospital, dusk had turned to night and the only noise on the street was that of crickets and the rustling of rodents in the garbage. Most people would find it eerie, but George thought it to be quite peaceful. Sure, there was no one else around. Yeah, it was creepy that it was so empty. But it was comforting to George: he didn't really like people all that much, and taking out the factor of the sun just made night time in Tallahassee all the more enjoyable.

The one thing George missed most about life-before-zombies was music. It still existed, but it was much harder to find and there was nothing new coming out. George could swear that he'd heard everything there was to hear. He knew it wasn't true, but it was aggravating to hear seemingly the same songs repeated over and over again for twelve years.

Music made silence feel more permanent. It was like nothing could interrupt that smooth melody or punchy chorus. With it, George didn't have to think about how awful life was now, all the pain could evaporate with the noises of the real world, swallowed by song.

The brunet's father did not share the same love of music that George did, but he had his reasons. If he heard music playing in the house he would yell at George to turn it off or come in and power it off on his own. Because he'd lost his headphones back in 2024, George could hardly ever listen to the music he so desperately wished he could.

The brunet approached the lab where he'd found himself spending the majority of his days. He wasn't quite sure what brought him here: he hadn't been anticipating coming here, it was just where his feet had carried him.

He didn't turn back, as long as he was there he might as well get some work done. The exterior of the building was beautiful, glass windows stretching all the way up the façade. But the interior was cold, unwelcoming. George hated it there, so it was ironic that he spent so much time here. He longed for the day when he could work in a real hospital or doctor's office, helping people in real time.

For the time being, this is where life had decided to put him. He figured he may as well roll with it, after all he knew so many other people who had it way worse than he did. Doing this meant that there was meaning in his life; he could do so much from within the walls of this building, and no one was there to tell him what boundaries he could or could not go past. His passion was fueled by so many things, there was a drive he felt deep inside that caused him to want to slay this demon that had hurt so many people he cared about.

His passion, his motivation, his incentive kept him coming back to the depressing lab day after day, regardless of how badly he wanted to stay within the comforts of his dark blue comforter. He was ready for this to be over: he had been since the war began. George was determined to be the one to stop it all, to be a hero to his father and Wilbur.

And he was so close.

The brunet worked till late that night, concentrating so hard on his work that he feared he might have grown some gray hairs. Once he became entranced by his work, it was incredibly difficult for him to break out of it again, he would just become so absorbed in what he was doing that he often became unaware of his surroundings.

The work itself, studying the virus and how it reacted to certain chemicals, environments, etc. was so fascinating. Sometimes George loved his job.

The sun was slowly creeping its way above the horizon, bringing with it a new day, new possibilities. George could feel it. This was the day. He was so close. So he kept on going. It didn't matter that his eyes were trying to close, it didn't matter that his muscles wanted to relax, none of it mattered. All that mattered was that he was so close.

And finally, after five years of testing and searching, George had done it. As he injected one of the syringes of liquid into a zombie rat, the physical features began to change instantly. The smell was one thing: the rotting, dead scent radiating off the rat was extinguished in a matter of seconds. The greasy feel to the otherwise clean rat also disappeared, almost like it was soaked back into the fur.

George made a noise, one filled with disbelief, surprise, and utter joy. That wasn't the last thing, however. There was still one thing George had to test before he celebrated.

He delicately set the rat back in its cage, turning to grab a regular rat from another. Hesitantly, the brunet placed the regular rat in with the possible zombie rat, and waited. He waited for three minutes. Five. When it reached eight minutes and the zombie rat had still not attempted to eat its companion, then George allowed for celebration.

He cheered, even hopping a little, as he laughed with a child-like glee. He couldn't believe he'd finally done it, after all these years. Wilbur could be human again, he could go back to his family without hesitation. He could see Sally, witness her delight and kiss her without fear that she would become like him. They could even have kids, just like they had always wanted since day one.

George hurriedly grabbed his things, including the only remaining vial of the cure, and rushed out of the lab, running down the street to catch a taxi. One finally stopped, and he jumped in, eagerly telling the driver his home address.

The driver seemed annoyed and confused at George's strange enthusiasm, but he said nothing of it and did his job, starting up the taxi and heading on the route to George's home. The entire ride there, George could think of nothing but the look on Wilbur's face when he found out about the potential cure, and how his face would light up when George told him that he'd done it.

He was so excited, but his father needed to come first.

As soon as the car pulled up in front of the gate of George's house, the brunet hopped out of the car and practically skipped inside. It was early, but he knew his father was already awake and no doubt already doing his work, so George ran up the stairs that led to his office, excitement causing him to ignore how out of breath he was.

Through the large wooden door of the office, George could hear his father talking faintly. Not wanting to interrupt, George stood, bouncing a little, growing more impatient as the seconds ticked by. He pressed his ear to the door, trying to figure out what his father was saying to distinguish what point in the conversation he was at. Some words made their way through, and a certain phrase made his heart stop.

Then, he knew. He couldn't give his father the cure.

~Word count: 1,208~

A/N: gogy's padre is kinda sussy, ngl. anyways, things are getting more interesting! there's not a whole lot to talk about with this one other than the fact that george is a legend, we stan. otherwise... kinda boring. so i guess i'll leave it at that, have a wonderful rest of your day my lovelies!