The End 2

Chapter Fourteen

Lainie's pov...

(One year later...)

It's been a year since Dylan fell into a nasty coma.

We carried him.

On our backs.

Taking turns.

He wasn't heavy, exactly... but still.

Chance's hand was better, but he was still a bit weak from it.

It was hard for him, as you might think.

But, he was still tough (especially with all those years in cross country).

Dylan is too. He was in football for more than five years in middle and high school.

We were now around 18-19 years old.

Birthdays were measly crumbs of bakery bread, hats made of paper, and no presents.

If we were lucky, we would give each other stuff found from ruined houses.

Dylan came and went from his coma. We got him to drink.

We ground soft food into the earth (I know... not sanitary AT ALL) and mixed it with water until it was a liquid-ish substance.

Dylan opened his eyes last Thursday (I think it was a Thursday). He had them opened for a full hour.

He talked, too. Not to us in particular... He was mumbling about Claire.

Well... now he is like he always was before.

In a coma.

Speechless.

And, that's the update.

We were carrying Dylan on our backs, Chance and I.

Chance: Can I take a break? My hand is hurting...

Lainie: Sure. But first, help me lay him on the ground.

We did so, and Heather subbed in for him.

Heather: ...

All was quiet, until...

Blaize: GUYS! HE HAS A PULSE! AND A HEART BEAT! IT ISN'T SO FAINT NOW!

We laid him on the ground.

We waited.

Nothing.

We were about to get ready to leave him, when...

Dylan spoke.

Dylan: ... (moans) Oh... Wh-what happened?! I feel like, like... Crap!

Blaize: Dylan! It's alive! It's alive!

Dylan: Quit yelling! Oh man... I think I'm gonna puke!

And he did.

Ew.

Dylan: I was right for once...

He vomited.

Again.

Blaize: Dude, you're, like, really sick.

Dylan: (throwing up) I-I'm pretty aware of th-that...

Lainie: We need medical help! Oh, wait... THIS IS THE END!!!

And, it was...