The Railroad

Chapter 35

Only then did he start to fight back. Only when he realized the fault in his plan did George start to try and stop his dad. He shielded his face as the punches continued to be unrelenting. Dream's shouts came into focus, pushing past every other noise, including the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

"Kick him where the sun don't shine, George!"

George did just that, putting all his force into kneeing his dad in the crotch, sending him rolling on the ground with pained groans. The brunet shakily made his way to his feet, wincing at how sore everything felt.

He wiped blood from his nose with one hand, the other feeling the back of his head to discover where it felt the most tender. One of his eyes was swollen and was trying to remain closed, but he fought it and won, being able to see fairly clear with both. He could taste blood from the cuts on the inside of his mouth, but it didn't faze him much. Blood was dripping down from a larger cut in his forehead, but none of this hurt that badly to him.

Adrenaline coursed through him as he looked down at his dad. Passion fueled every muscle in his body: the pain of Wilbur and Boomer's death, the anger for having his life's work taken from him, the desire to protect Dream and all of his new friends.

Could he really kill his dad? He talked a big game, but it really came down to it in this moment. It was his choice to make in right then, so what would he do?

It proved to be an easier decision than he'd thought. He extended his hand to his dad.

Everyone in the room--and those outside the window who were watching through the glass--went silent as he did this, wondering what trick George could possible have up his sleeve. Andrew simply looked at the hand, then to George, remaining on the ground, unmoving.

"Unlike you, I don't believe in killing. Regardless of what the person may have done."

Was that shame that flickered through his eyes in that second? Regret, possibly? Whatever it was, it made him take George's hand and get to his feet. For a minute, the whole world stopped. Everyone else disappeared, and it was just George and hid dad. The man he use to worship, who he looked up to.

Technically, he was still looking up at him, but the second that George had offered his hand, he'd grown ten feet tall mentally. He hadn't second guessed his decision even for a second. In his mind, he knew he did the right thing.

Slowly, all the other people in the room slid back into clarity. Dream, Punz, every guard and person who saw what had just happened. No one said anything; every breath was painfully loud. Until, clapping came from one person in particular. George spun around to see Quackity standing at the door, Karl, Sapnap, Ranboo, and an unknown brunet all at his sides.

"Well done, Gogs," he said.

Murmurs ran throughout the crowd, most talking about Quackity, Karl, and Sapnap, and not just for who Big Q's dad was. They weren't kidding when they said that they'd changed things around here: they'd visibly made an impression on most of these people's lives.

"I know you all know me," he said in a loud voice that echoed off the the high ceilings, reaching every person in the room. "And I know you know of my amigo, George, here. But, I've known him for a long time, and I can tell you that he is one of the best people--other than my boyfriends, obviously--I have ever met. And I mean truly good. He came to me because he needed help stopping that man there," he pointed an accusing finger at George's dad, "from doing something terrible.

"Obviously, I, we helped him. Because Andrew Davidson wants to murder all zombies everywhere." This earned a few gasps, even some from the guards. "Even though his son, George, has done the impossible. He's found a cure." Now that really got a surprised reaction. "Now, tell me, is that something you want to support? Is that something you guys would stand behind? Because I certainly won't. And none of my friends, here, would either. They've gone through so much just to prevent this from happening. Hell, George lost his best friend because of it. I won't condone what I've heard and seen with my own eyes. Will you?"

It took a minute, but soon, several people were shouting no, trying to push past the guards as they cheered and shouted. Some of the guards gave up trying to withhold them; some joined in the protest. They all approached Andrew, who was cowering in the middle of the room at the moment.

Dream was released, and the first thing he did was make a beeline for George. He swept the brunet up into his arms, completely ignoring the pain in his arm. He kissed his hair and forehead repeatedly, thanking the gods that he was okay.

"Never do that again," he said through a sob.

George was smiling up at him widely, tears of his own brimming in his eyes. They had done it. And they had people backing them up, as well. He felt so relieved, like a weight was finally gone. The last thing holding him down was the unbelievably heavy weight of the cure in his pocket.

Which reminded him...

Dragging Dream with him, he got up onto a desk that had been knocked over and cleared his throat loudly, gaining the notice of the majority of the people below. They paused with... attacking his father for a moment to give him their undivided attention.

"This right here," he held up the cure, "is the only cure for zombie-ism." Again, more gasps. "It is not the original one that I created, that one went to my best friend before his untimely demise. This is one that a few of my recently departed friends and I created just two days ago when I first arrived here. But, what I never told anyone, is that this cure wouldn't do anything."

Confusion was present among the people below him as they all turned to each other questioningly. Even Karl and Quackity looked bewildered. Only he and Dream knew what George was talking about.

"You see, I knew that my father was planning on using my cure for the opposite of the intended purpose, so I made a precaution to prevent him from being able to use it if it just so happened to fall into his hands. It is missing one key ingredient. That ingredient is human blood."

Gaping stares met his gaze, including one from Dream, who's eyes were widened.

"Prove it," someone said from in the crowd. They all parted to reveal his dad, bloody but not dead.

"You've seen it work with your own eyes," George retorted.

"Sure, but they haven't."

George sighed. "And where am I supposed to find a zombie to use it on?"

"There's one right here."

George went rigid. Could his mind really be so cruel as to play this joke on him, especially in front of all these people? There was no way he had heard right. He saw that Dream had a similar reaction, and as the blond turned to locate the source of the sound, George followed him.

Until he laid his eyes on Wilbur.

~Word count: 1,304~

A/N: you're welcome, i guess. i wasnt gonna bring him back, but my friends guilt tripped me into it, so you can thank them. after missing the past three days, im going to make three updates today, including this one, and then this story will be done!