Survival of the Unfit

Chapter 43

April

“NO!” I screamed, stumbling to my feet, only to fall again. My head was pounding as I stood up again, slower. Another gunshot sounded and shattered my eardrums. I screamed and dropped to my knees again, hands over my ears. My eyes were squeezed shut. This was a nightmare. Wake up April, wake up! Dammit, wake me up!

I cautiously opened them, slowly lifting my head and taking my hands off my ears. My gaze fell upon a body on the beach, one dressed in all black with blood seeping towards the ocean. I suddenly felt very lightheaded and sick, like the feeling you get when you fall in a dream. Where’s the kick. Where’s the kick to wake me up from this, c’mon brain, c’mon.

The crew that lined the beach started clapping and cheering as a girl took a flamboyant bow before the body, long red hair moving picturesquely in the sea breeze. They laughed and congratulated her. Slowly, my feet found themselves underneath my body, by some unknown act of incredible willpower. And I found myself walking towards her, towards the killer. She had no name. She was the killer.

They all caught sight of me and I started walking faster and faster, running, spitting blood and tackling the killer to the ground with an aggravated scream. They all backed off and the girl held up her hands, gesturing for them to stay back, smiling as she stared up at me. I screamed again and brought my fist back, punching her straight in the nose as hard as possible. She smiled through bloody teeth, and I punched again and again, over and over until my hand was completely covered in blood and hurt like hell, until surely her nose was broken and she would pass out before I did. But all the killer did was laugh, and laugh, and laugh. 

I screamed and punched again, harder. That took the air out of her for a brief moment, but she still smiled. “Fight back!” I yelled at her, delivering another punch in a flurry of blood droplets and bruised knuckles, feeling tears want to fall. “Dammit, FIGHT BACK!”

Her face was a bloody mess and the minimal shaking she had been doing stopped, laughter ceased. Brown eyes watery, lone tear leaking out the corner of one, face paler than usual. She smiled again, sadly. "I have no reason to fight," she whispered, voice hoarse. The killer smiled wider. "Not anymore."

I felt tears come on, frustrated tears. “Why won’t you fight?” I asked, desperately.

The killer laid her head down and mumbled “six” over and over again, smiling, shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes flittered closed and twitched, painted with blood. “Six, six, six.”

I pursed my lips. “You’re on your way out anyway, aren’t you.”

She started choking on her own blood, and foam came out her mouth. I probably smashed the broken bones of her nose back into her brain. She was probably short circuiting and in unfathomable pain right now. I could leave her to die like this.

I dropped my arm and stared at her convulsing, disgusting, disturbingly, but there was no emotion running through me as I wrapped my hands around her head, holding it down. I leaned in and whispered a few final words to Casey Lamoureaux. “Don’t ever say I wasn’t kind to you.”

Picking her head up off the ground, I twisted left as hard as I could. 

There was a sickening snap, and her head went limp. She didn’t shake anymore. I didn’t feel her stomach move. There were no twitches, no more spitting blood, foam; no more laughter or deranged smiles. No more heartbeat in my own ears. I snapped her neck and killed her, and I felt nothing. 

I slowly picked myself off of her dead body, stumbling back like a drunkard and still in quite a bit of pain myself, but I couldn’t stop staring. I have killed two people now. The small congregation of people had dispersed, several of them running. I looked to find Aly being the only one left, and fear was in her eyes. Wiping under my nose, I pointed to Casey’s dead body. “Take care of it.”