This Isn't A Game Anymore (VenturianTale fan fiction)

Chapter 28- For You and Your Denial

Rochelle sat in the darkened corner of the safe house, scowling into her knees with her forehead resting on them. Her eyes were narrowed, staring straight forward and not trained to anything in particular. Every now and then she'd give the opposite corner of the room a half-glance, watching the other, less still figure with a resentful eye. Why was it that the moment this boy was brought here, they'd turned against each other? She meant to protect them, but Nick and Ellis endangered their own survival just to keep this one infected alive. Even Coach was doubting Rochelle's choices! It was driving her slowly mad.

Not literally, of course.

But in Isaac's case, it was quite literal.

Nick had kept Isaac under a watchful eye, pity in his gaze. He could tell that whatever the boy was going through was not easy. He himself would never have to face such a thing, and thus he reasoned that he'd probably never understand. He sympathized as best he could, though, mostly due to the fact that there was really nothing else he could do.

Coach had been busying himself with anything that would occupy his mind, which ranged from organizing and reorganizing the weapons, mindlessly drawing diagrams of possible routes with charcoal on the wall, drawing a mustache on the sleeping Ellis, to various other activities to help him avoid Rochelle. It was getting increasingly difficult to do so, as her eyes sometimes fixed on his with silent condemning. Currently, he had just been sitting and thinking about how they'd get Isaac outside when he turned, and sometimes his mind would wander to what kind of infected he's turn out to be. Smoker, by the looks of it.

Isaac's appearance had dramatically shifted from when he'd first landed in this Realm. His eyes had shifted to a deep green, a dull glow coming from them whenever they flickered open for a brief moment. His hands were jet black, but weren't shriveled like the other infecteds of his type. In traditional Smoker style, a baconlike appendage lolled out of his mouth. Unlike what everyone appears to believe, the appendage is not in fact their tongue, but rather a thick extra arm that they use in combat. Their tongues are normal and are used for speech, when they're not rotted off. Isaac's skin had become a deep gray, and his hair had darkened in color. His clothes were tattered, his t-shirt torn in places and jeans fraying and ripped up. Dark dreams tormented his mind as he fitfully tried to sleep. He was changing, and changing fast.

Turn

Turn

Turn

You'll never see them again

Turn

Turn

Turn

Too much was left unsaid

Isaac shuddered, clutching his head to try and get the Infected instinct out of him. Nick frowned, muttering "It's too late. We have to finish it" under his breath. Isaac heard, and it only seemed to make everything worse.

Turnturnturnturnturnturn

NO.

Isaacdefied the voices. He defied the changing. He defied the inevitable. No zombie, no apocalypse, no dark force of hell would keep him away from his family. No matter what happened, he was going to see them again. He was going to make it through. He was going to survive.

He jumped to his feet and tried to take a step, falling to the ground. He extended a hand, trying to push himself up. Once he made it to his feet, he staggered a bit but then steadied himself. He glanced to the others, expecting at least a bit of relief from his comrades, but instead of staring into the faces of friends...

He found himself staring into the barrel of a shotgun.

Isaac was taken aback, startled to say the least. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn't. He tried to take a step but once again found himself unable. Fear pulsed through him, his eyes widening.

"Kid," Nick stuttered, face pained. "Calm down."

Isaac's hand lurched forward without his consent, swiping at the barrel of the gun. It flew out of Nick's hands, crashing into the wall and nearly shattering on impact. Isaac was startled at his own strength, though he wasn't sure that this counted as him anymore. Rochelle barked a command to Coach, who tossed a pistol to Ellis.

"Kid, stop it!" Ellis warned. "Stop this or we're gonna have to shoot!"

The appendage in Issac's mouth lashed at the pistol, wrapping around it and tossing it to the ground. It then proceeded to knock Ellis into the wall, and he slumped over, unconscious.

"ELLIS!" Shouted Rochelle, grabbing a medical kit and rushing to his side. "SHOOT HIM, COACH!"

Coach reached for another pistol, but Nick pushed his hand away. "Wait!"

"WE'VE WAITED ENOUGH!" Rochelle thundered. "We listened to you and waited for the kid to turn, and now look! What were you expecting to happen?!"

Nick hesitated, fixing her with a look that Isaac couldn't read. "Give. Me. A moment."

"WE. DON'T. HAVE. A. MOMENT."

"'We' don't. I do." Nick stood, approaching the trembling Isaac.

Isaac, or whatever was controlling him, pausing, looking at Nick. There was a moment of silence as everyone held their breath in anxiety.

"Kid." Nick breathed. "I don't know if you're hearing this, or if you're really awake anymore. But what I do know right now is that it's the end of the world. Anything goes. We've survived by fighting and shooting and killing, watching death and destructing rage around us every day, never flinching. We live in a world where all we have is each other, and everyone else is dead. There's no hope.

"And then all of a sudden you come along, surrounded by infected and doomed. You had no weapon. You had no medkits. And, to most, that meant that you had no hope. But somehow, you survived. You didn't give up, even though to anyone else that moment up there on the roof meant certain death. We came and saved you- a living human. Another reason to hope that it'll end. Another reason for us to keep going. It seems like a hopeless battle out here, fighting for a world that's already ended. There's nothing left to lose, but there's nothing left to gain either. And yet we cling to life.

"We were giving up. We were losing it. We were being forced into the same monotonous nightmare day after day, believing that it would never get better... Until you showed up and proved to us that there is still hope for this world. A single living human pops up amongst a million of the undead. There's still a chance for this world. There's still a chance for us. And there is still a chance for you. If you can hear me, just try as hard as you can to get control of yourself. I know you're still in there, Isaac. Please, please, please just try."

Nick's eyes pleaded, and he slowly began to approach. Isaac tried to move, but wasn't able to control himself. Whatever was in command of him stilled, shifting back and forth as if contemplating Nick's words. There was a low, rumbling hiss at the back of his throat, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his head to the side. The dull glow in his eyes pulsed for a moment, flickering like a candle flame.

"Nick," Rochelle warned as he stepped closer.

"It's okay," Nick assured her, not glancing back. "It's just Isaac-"

The Smoker that was Isaac screeched, its tonguelike appendage striking Nick in the side and wrapping around his chest. He shouted something that was inaudible to Isaac, who was struggling to move by himself. Nick's eyes were wide with fear as he struggled in Isaac's grasp. In the flurry of panic, Isaac managed to choke out two simple words to the survivors.

"I'm sorry."

Rochelle had grabbed a pistol.

Isaac never heard the gunshot that ended it.