Begin and End - a zombie short ⚒

Part 6

Why had he always allowed the woman to hunt?

Stupid laziness.

He'd forgotten how much he loved hunting, and his recent stints were easy, and satisfying. A day went by, and Brian took down two cats. Shauna had been right, at least. Felines were numerous, with other animals harder to come by.

He was never happier to be a dog person.

Dark flakes descended, interrupting his dinner. He ditched the meat roasting on a spit, and dragged himself under a large blue tarp. Time crept by, and to busy himself, he traced the patterns on the plastic sheet. For days, he hadn't written or read a journal. Whenever he tried, a stabbing pain lit up his stomach.

On occasion, he lifted the tarp to peek on the storm. After an eternity, it was all clear. He crawled out from his sanctuary, the ground littered with a thin layer of stuff that looked like ash.

An orange sunset threw off ribbons of color along the gray sky. The fire pit still smoldered, and when he inspected his ruined dinner, he found he'd also left out the second carcass.

"Damnit!"

Brian kicked the dirt, instantly regretting his action as soot flew into the air. Coughing, he stumbled away to make camp somewhere breathable, and to find more meowing compadres.

Hunting so close to nightfall was asking for trouble, Eater kind of trouble, but his rumbling stomach informed him that he had zero choice in the matter. With a minimal amount of daylight, he tracked a prancing black cat. It dashed around a mess of bushes, almost like it was playing with him.

Can't trust a cat, or a woman.

He wondered if Shauna was dead yet.

Brian cut through underbrush with his machete, sweat stinging his eyes. He could barely see in front of him anymore, and with all the noise he was making, he suspected the cat had fully bolted. Although, he couldn't help it. Slashing the bushes felt good, damn good, and he didn't know why.

Finally, he cleared a path and stepped through. The cat had stopped in front of him, busy licking a snack close to the ground. From the smell, he guessed it to be a dead animal, and from the glimpses of fur and flesh, he was probably right. He couldn't believe his good luck in procuring his third source of meat in one day. Brian sighted, and shot the cat. It dropped, and he put his weapon away with a chuckle.

Turning back, he saw what had distracted the cat. An arm.

The tattoo on the forearm mocked him.

RESIST.

Suddenly, Brian's head spun and he couldn't see straight. He stumbled away from the limb, nearly tripping over a line of spilled innards, but backed up into a rigid structure instead. He groped behind him and was rewarded with a splinter. When he checked for the source, he realized it was a pike, a head affixed at the top.

He circled to the front of it, nausea cutting up his stomach upon viewing Gavin's slack mouth.
All the times the bastard screamed at the sight of the pikes...like he knew he'd end up there.

He was alternately sick and relieved, sick because no one deserved such a fate, and relieved because it wasn't Shauna.

A cry carried over the wind. Brian's eyes widened. Somehow, he knew it was her.

Maybe I can save her.

However, reticence crushed his initial reaction. She was a traitor, and perhaps she of all people was meant to be left atop a pike.

What happened to 'no one deserved such a fate'? A voice inside wondered.

Plus, if she died, he would never know what she had done, or why. Decision made, he rushed in the direction of the distress, knife drawn. He had never killed anyone, but would if he had to.

~*~