Gasoline | Ben Parish

47

MORNING doesn't stop nightmares. It only makes horrific things real. 

This is something I discover when we start to look for food. There are bodies everywhere, all in various stages of decay. I've seen dead bodies before – I've made them and I've disposed of them. But I've never seen so many of them packed into one place.

Dumbo covers his nose with his sleeve. "Jesus, that's ripe."

"Breathe through your mouth," Ringer suggests.

"...that doesn't help. The smell is so strong that I can taste it." He shakes his head.

"Don't be such a baby," Teacup advises, though her face is slightly green.

Poundcake smiles as the light banter continues. He walks beside me. Every now and then, he glances in my direction.

I think I've put everyone a little on edge. I haven't said a thing yet, but that's only because I'm afraid that if I open my mouth I'll start screaming.

I can feel it, too, building up in my chest. The anticipation of letting it loose is overwhelming. I fight against the urge with more force than I have ever fought for my own life.

Truth be told, the dream I had last night is bothering me. A lot. More than I care to admit.

Am I a freak? Is Zombie okay? Who am I?

Reznik labeled me as a freak the first day I entered Barracks 10 and Squad 53. I accepted that at the time, because I thought that I would never be anything more than a killer.

...but now I want to be something more. No matter how much I don't want to admit it, I miss Mary Beth. I want to be my old self again. I'm still trying to find her among the ruins of this world, but I know she's still there. Zombie brings her out. He molds the two, Mary Beth and Croak, into one person. Someone who is capable of being strong and being compassionate.

Ringer holds her hand up and then crouches into a defensive position. Immediately, I mimic her stance. The rest of the squad takes a knee, cautiously looking around, trying to see whatever it is that has caught Ringer's eye.

We're stalled outside a small gas station – well, what used to be a gas station. The gas pumps were utterly destroyed; they look like they were blown up.

I glance over my shoulder, checking out our surroundings. Empty cars, empty houses. In the distance, I can see a large plume of white smoke. It hovers where the explosion happened last night.

We've covered a larger distance than I would've expected. It makes me nervous to be so far from Zombie's rendezvous point.

Back to real time. There's something moving inside the gas station. Could be a hungry racoon, could be a hungry human, could be a hungry alien.

"Croak," Ringer whispers. Her voice carries on the icy wind.

Of course it's me. Ringer is counting on me to be the cold-blooded killer. To keep the rest of the squad's hands clean.

"You got it, boss," I whisper back nonchalantly. Then I creep forward in a low crouch. Teacup moves to take my original position. When I look back at her, she gives me a firm nod.

Nice to know that I have the kid's vote of confidence.

My approach is something we practiced a thousand times at Camp Haven. The thought crosses my mind that this could be an alien, so they would know everything that I'm about to do.

Can't think like that when I'm about to go in. Just do it, Croak, and if you get killed, you get killed.

I stop at the door. Take three deep breaths.