Apocalypse [1]

Day 8- 15.24pm

Hayley sped up to the farm as fast as she dared, glancing in the mirror above her head to check on Warren. His face was ghostly pale, his eyes bloodshot. Hayley tore her eyes from him and concentrated on driving. She refused to cry. She had to be strong for Ginge.

 She brought the car to a halt and jumped out quickly, leaving the engine running in her haste. She headed to the back of the car to open the doors, afraid of what she might see. Ginge snuffled as she carefully passed Warren's weak body down to Joe and Hayley, cradling his head in her arms.  His blood had dried on her hands, covering them like scarlet gloves.

 "Let's get you inside," Joe said softly to Warren, his strong hands gently holding Warren's limp weight.  Behind them, Laura stood, her head bowed solemnly.   

 "No," Warren croaked, gazing at Joe with imploring eyes. "Please. I'd like...I'd like to be outside. When I go."

 "Warren, please," Ginge said as, together, they carried Warren into the garden.  Laura took Warren's feet, relieving Hayley, who immediately hurried to Ginge's side and put an arm around her sniffling friend.  "Stop talking like you're going to die." No one reminded her that he was. Hayley took Ginge's hand, pulling her after them gently.  Silently, Laura and Joe lay Warren gently down on the lawn, as if laying down a sleeping baby. Warren gripped the grass, his face wrinkled in agony as he fought the infection spreading through his veins.  His eyes rolled in their sockets, and he let out a soft whimpering noise that made tears trickle down Ginge's face.

 With a massive effort, Warren opened his eyes and focused them on Ginge.  "Come here," he whispered to her.  He held an arm out helplessly. "Come here, Ginge.  Please."

 Ginge fell to the ground beside him, stroking his hair off his face. Laura, Hayley and Joe stood solemnly a few metres away, before Joe gently led the two girls inside to give Ginge some space. The two girls took one helpless look at their dying friend, and knew it was what he wanted.  Warren looked up at the three of them with fierce eyes, saying everything without moving his lips.  They held his gaze, unable to express their grief, before leaving him for the last time.  Looking away, Warren reached up to Ginge's face with his uninjured hand, softly stroking away her tears.

 "Don't cry, Ginge. We still have some time."

 "Let us amputate," Ginge said quickly. "It might work, we could-"

 "No, Ginge," Warren said softly. "I wouldn't make it. I may be injured, but I'm not blind.  I've lost too much blood already.  It's everywhere."

 He was right. His face was growing paler by the minute, his butchered arm lying limply on the ground in a pool of dark blood. Ginge sniffed.

 "Warren. Warren, I love you," she blurted, tears streaming down his face. "Please don't leave me." And through the pain, Warren smiled.

 "I love you too, Ginge."

"We should have said that sooner," Ginge managed through her tears, her body shaking as she looked at Warren.  "We could have had more time.  We could have been happy."

"I was happy," Warren told her softly, stroking her beautiful hair.  "Happier than I'd ever been.  With you, Ginge."

"We should have had more time."

Warren nodded, the effort of doing so draining the colour of his face.  "Another life, another time," he whispered. 

 He exhaled slowly and for a moment, Ginge thought he was gone. Gone forever.  Then his lips parted, and he whispered "Tell me a story, Ginge. Something happy."

 Sobbing, she tried to think of a story to tell. She riffled through her memories of happier times, and one came to mind.  She smiled through her tears.