The Strong Will Survive

Chapter Twenty-One - Lilith [EDITED]

I had never had a panic attack before. It was, put simply, horrible. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like my lungs just wouldn't expand, and everything else felt surreal, almost as if I was dreaming. I could barely hear Jared over the strange ringing in my ears, but when KC hugged me tightly, everything calmed down. Maybe it was that she so rarely showed physical affection (or affection of any sort, for that matter), or maybe it was the simplicity of that grounding feeling.

As my strange chest pain ebbed, heart still trying to bust through my chest, KC handed me her phone and gently directed me to a calming playlist. It was composed completely of dubstep, but the opportunity to just relax and not subconsciously focus on lyrics was, in fact, incredibly calming.

As I calmed down, I smiled coldly and said difinitively, "All right. Let's get rid of these zombies." I knew that they weren't aware of their actions, not with the disease riddling their brains, but I couldn't help but blame them for that awful panic attack.

We piled out of the car, Benji dragging the zombie ungracefully behind him. KC led, next came Jared, then me, and finally Benji in the rear. He laid a hand on my shoulder gently for a second before letting it fall uncertainly to his side. I loved how supportive my friends were being, but I was at the same time sick of being useless and the weak link of the group. After all, KC wasn't afraid and didn't even seem to care much about the apocalypse. Jared hadn't been scarred, as he had had no one to lose. Benji had turned his pain into pure determination.

But me? I was aching. Raw with pain. Like an exposed nerve.

Useless.

The first step is to stop feeling sorry for yourself, Lilith. Every single other survivor can relate, and I'm sure some have it worse.

I took a deep breath and straightened my back, holding my head high. I remembered what my mom always used to tell me whenever I criticized my own body or clothes: "Fake it till you make it."

And that's exactly what I intended to do.

*

The hospital was just about as creepy as an abandoned, half-destroyed hospital in the middle of a zombie apocalypse sounds.

Scratch that, I thought as something creaked from behind a closed door. Ten times worse than it sounds. I felt like I was in the center of a horror movie.

"You guys okay?" KC asked quietly, but I knew the question was really directed at me. We all muttered our respective variations of, "Fine," and forged onward silently.

Wrecked and dead machinery, the kind that was supposed to be next to the beds of patients, filled the halls. Hospital doors hung uselessly from their hinges. Some were closed, although none of us dared to check if they were locked. Others were missing completely. Almost all of the remaining doors were scratched, blood-spattered, or otherwise marred.

None of the lights were on or working, as several experimental flips of light switches soon confirmed. Thankfully, my father had stocked my car with a plethora of flashlights when the apocalypse began, so KC was sweeping one's wide beam up the walls and down shadowy corridors.

I swallowed a large, painful lump that was lodged in my throat at the thought of my father and kept walking.

The flashlight beam highlighted the tracks on the floor of dirt and bodily fluids, the dried blood splatters on the walls. As I passed one room, I saw a lump under the blankets, a dead electrocardiogram looming over them. A horrible smell wafted out to greet us.

I began to breathe more quickly at the idea of corpses in the very building, waving away Benji's comforting hand. "I'm fine. I'll be fine," I muttered, not sure if I even believed myself.

I began to repeat it over and over in my head to solidify it and give me something to focus on. I'm fine. I'll be fine.

Just a creepy walk through what is probably the very hospital where the zombie apocalypse began.

I'm fine. I'll be fine.

"Now," KC said, "you all need to listen closely. I - "

A thump came from one of the rooms.

It took all of my self control not to scream, and as it was, I had to clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a whimper. We all glanced at one another frantically. Benji nodded slightly at KC and she raised her gun.

We crept slowly toward the room. KC stood with her back to the wall, parallel to the door, gun pointed toward the ceiling. "One, two..." she mouthed.

"Three!"

She swung to the side, kicking the door open and pointing the gun at...

A little girl, who promptly started screaming.

"What the - " Jared began.

Benji made a choking noise and forced his way past KC and Jared and into the room, falling to his knees and scooping the little girl up in his arms. His shoulders shook with sobs, an incredibly unnerving sight to witness from stoic Benji. "Lydia," he gasped tearfully.

"Benji, who is this?" KC demanded, relaxing slightly at the realization that the little girl was A) not going to try to kill us and B) not a zombie (which was basically the same thing). I could also see she was relieved to not have used the gun.

I knew. "Isn't it obvious?" I whispered.

"That's Benji's little sister."