The Diseased

C.16

Chapter Sixteen


For the longest time, I couldn't help but just face towards the back seat and stare at Greg. His face had fallen, and he had just looked absolutely miserable-even as he slept. His snoring was loud and obnoxious, and I had woken up from it several times throughout the car ride, but I didn't find the words, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was an annoyance. I wanted to fashion my gauze pad ear muffs like I had made when it was either extremely cold, or when they would come.
"Can we pull over?" I asked softly, not wanting to wake up Ben's sleeping father.
He glanced at me, then back at the road, a worried look on his face. "Erm, I'm not exactly sure if it's safe to do that now, Beth, its like, four in the morning."
I sighed heavily, and tried to form a pathetic, 'feel sorry for me' face, but it didn't fool him. He just quickly glanced at me once again, and then laughed, telling me that he was sorry and he loved me.
"I'm so sure you do," I glared at him playfully, and slapped his shoulder meanwhile. After I slapped him, his well deserved slap, I should say, I glanced down at the gear, back up at him, and then immediately switched it to park, catching him off guard. As he recovered from the startle, I lept out of the car and ran back around the car to the trunk, where I opened it quickly and scavenged through the crates for the one that contained the medical supplies. I hungrily searched for the gauze pads and the medical tape, and as soon as I found them-
"BETH!" He shouted angrily.
For a split second, my heart tore into two, because his sounded so similar to Aaron's voice. I brought my hands to my face, muffling the wailing sobs that threatened to be heard. His eyes widened at my actions, and he ran towards me, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me tightly, yet comfortingly.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, I mean, you just scared me and I didn't know what happened, and I would just be really really really scared if something happened to you because I really love hanging out with you and everything and you're really cool and you're really pretty, too, okay, so I'm sorry again I really am." He rambled, some words perfectly clear and some words miserably incoherent from his nonstop rambling. I didn't mind at all, though. If it were possible for a human being to form into a puddle of adoration, it would have most likely happened by now.
"I'm sorry," I whispered back into his shoulder, my arms dropped at my sides as I sobbed for my brother, for my mother, for my father. I sobbed for that time that I didn't know what to say when my friend's father had died of lung cancer, and I sobbed for when Aaron's pregnant pet guinea pig Maggie ate her babies and I told Aaron that Maggie was disgusting instead of letting him cry on my shoulder after he realized what had happened. I sobbed for when I didn't let those children in with their parents at the preschool, and I sobbed for when I didn't let those three men in, and I sobbed from when Madeline slumped over and sacrificed her life for her son when I should have done that, because if it wasn't for them, they would not have been in that mess with that psychotic family. And lastly, I had sobbed for myself. I know pitying yourself is a horrible quality, and that it's an absolutely terrible thing to make a habit, but I felt like I should take the pleasure in it, just this once. Because I had everything to pity myself for. I had a right to pity myself. I deserved to be pitied. If your family dying isn't a reason to be pitied, to be felt sorry for, then I had no clue what was.
For a moment, I enjoyed wallowing in my own grief, my own despair, my own pity.
Ben finally made me aware that I had zoned out. It had become so much of a habit; me spacing out or whatever, that whenever I did, he would alert me somehow. At the moment, he would do so by kissing my forehead lightly, softly.
I blinked, and stared up at him, my heart feeling as if it were ripped out and put through the paper shredder.
"I miss my brother," I whispered breathlessly, my voice hoarse from my sudden and constant sobbing. He sighed and held his hand to my back, resting his chin on the top of head.
"And my mother. And my father. And Anya. I didn't know her, but I would've loved her. It's one of those things." I murmured, the rest of my tears slipping down my cheeks. I had felt like I had run out of tears, until now. I didn't know one individual could cry so much.
He moved his chin that was placed on top of my head, and moved his hands to my shoulders, staring at me. At the mention of Anya, I presume, his eyes watered slightly. "What do you mean, 'It's one of those things'?" He asked, bringing the ends of his sleeves to wipe away his tears.
"One of those things that you just know for a fact, I guess."

As I carefully constructed my infamous gauze pad ear muffs, I beckoned for Ben to try them on and to see how well they worked. He actually marveled at how well they worked. They weren't state of the art technology, of course, but they did get their job done, and served their purpose of blocking out as much noise as possible, which was pretty decent for a pair of gauze pads and some crappy medical tape.
I used them at night, when Greg fell asleep. The snoring was absolutely dreadful to listen to, but there was actually something worse, something that the ear muffs couldn't block out.
He would constantly, throughout the night, scream for his wife, sitting up frantically and looking around, crying "MADELINE!" and Ben would park the car, and calm him down and hug him, usually he would cry a bit with him, until he finally settled down, promised he was okay, and fell back asleep. It would happen many times during the night, and Ben eventually would get extremely tired and he found himself shutting his eyes too fall asleep too frequently, so I had said that I would drive for a while, and that we would drive in shifts-every four hours, we would switch and stop to get a granola bar and a bottle of water.
The system had worked extremely well, being that we were less than a day away from Massachusetts. Also, it meant we would only rotate about six more times until we got to Cambridge, so it would make time go by faster. When he wasn't driving, Ben would frequently look back at his father, to see if he was okay. I didn't mention it to Ben, but I knew exactly what he was going through at the moment. The part where you're in denial, because how could they be gone? They were here, alive and breathing, just a few hours ago, and now they're just gone? How is that possible? It's the part where nothing makes sense. Ben was facing this in a way, but in a sort of different state. He was denying that his father was feeling this, denying that his father's emotions were eating him up alive, driving him to the point of insanity, where he couldn't think straight and he could not speak properly or stand up straight or walk, and eating food doesn't seem nearly as possible as it did just yesterday, and you could obviously forget about drinking water.
It was depression.

By a force of habit, I woke up extremely early in the morning. Or extremely late at night. Whatever 5:00 AM is classified as.
Ben was still driving, the bags under his eyes dark and purple. After quickly glancing in the mirror, I had noticed that mine were fading, still visible, but fading, most likely because I've been sleeping more and more. The thought was sort of exciting, but then I remembered his dark under eye circles, so I slapped his shoulder repeatedly.
"Move. Didn't wake me up." I mumbled. "Move." I repeated, as he stubbornly ignored me the first time.
He sighed heavily and parked the car, making it suddenly come to a stop. I lept out as I met him by the trunk, already opening it when I arrived.
He handed me a granola bar-a honey flavored one-and a water bottle. I thanked him, hugged him quickly, and wandered to the driver's seat of the vehicle.
As he got in, I found it appropriate to punch his shoulder again.
"What-" he yawned, and I giggled sleepily at the fact that he interrupted himself. "What was that for?" He finished, blinking slowly as he reclined the seat back.
"Why didn't you wake me up? You drove for like...two extra hours, you idiot." I frowned, causing him to smile groggily.
"Should...you should sleep more." He explained.
I rolled my eyes, and tore open the wrapper before driving again.
As his eyes started to shut, mine widened. I leaned over and shook his arm, finishing chewing the bite I had taken out of the honey flavored granola bar.
"You followed me. After I followed Aaron. You saved me."
He nodded, his eyes yet to open.
"Why? How?"
"Greg..." he yawned, sitting up and pointing to his dad. "My dad. He was just getting there when I was about to find you, and he came to. Said that the medical crate didn't fit in the...in the trunk." He explained. His blinking was actually quite hilarious-he would open his eyes for a split second and when he closed his eyes, they would stay closed for over five seconds, and the process would repeat itself, though it seemed like they would stay shut for longer each time.
"I told him...about your brother...told him to follow me...you..." He yawned, and held his hands to his forehead as he stumbled over his words, obviously from the lack of sleep.
"Didn't see you...for a while. Found you with Ingrid and guys and thought you were dead. Scared. Dad...my dad killed them though. When I was fixing your boo-boo's."
I smiled, laughing hysterically-mentally, anyways-at his deliriousness and his use of second grade terms, so I told him to go to sleep, that I was so grateful for him and thank you, and that I'd wake him up when it was his time to drive.
He smiled and nodded, and turned on his side, just after pulling the ear muffs over his head to block out his father's snoring.
I turned away from him, tore open the wrapper, and bit into the bar. As I took one bite, my hunger was suddenly extremely noticeable, which caused me to finish it in a few mere seconds. Yet I was faced with the problem that I was still extremely hungry for seconds. I had considered waking him up and telling him that it was his turn to drive again, but as I leaned over to tap his shoulder, the dark purple bags under his eyes seemed to tell me otherwise, convincing me that he needed his sleep. Because of this, I sat back in the seat, pursing my lips.
I had decided that I didn't want to make any noise and wake up the sleeping, brown haired boy next to me, which prevented me from exiting the car and opening the trunk. So I had decided to face my hunger, and act as if I had just eaten a full course meal and that I was extremely full, as if I were tricking my mind into thinking something that wasn't actually true at all. I had done this technique before, not just for hunger, but for back when I was at the lonely, abandoned preschool. I had tricked myself into thinking that classes were still going on, and young students were still roaming the halls, and I had disregarded the people that were screaming at me from outside, begging me for shelter. No one is outside. I would tell myself. There is no such thing as an apocalypse. Who would even begin to imagine such a thing?
It had eventually worked. I was no longer in such need for something as simple as a bar of granola.
I supposed I was just so used to tricking myself into thinking something otherwise that was happening, that I could confuse and trick myself in minor seconds. In a way, I was proud of the skill I had acquired. It was necessary. Not just for tricking yourself into thinking that you weren't hungry-it was necessary for survival.
I considered all of this as I moved the gear out of park, and set it to drive. Until I started driving, did I realized that the road ahead was extremely dark and it was way too difficult to see, so I had no clue how Ben was able to drive. I sighed and inspected the knobs and the buttons, looking for which one was used for flashing the head lights on. When I finally found it, I flicked it on. I then looked out at the road before me, my plan to let Ben rest as much as he could immediately back fired horrendously, as I screamed at the top of my lungs at what I saw before me.
Ben lurched upright, his eyes widened.
"What? What happened? Are you-" I interrupted him by screaming and pointing out the window, large herds and clusters of the Diseased roaming slowly towards the car, stumbling and tripping over their own bloody, reanimated carcasses.
"They're attracted to light-headlights! You turned them on-shut them off, Beth!"
I was paralyzed for a moment, unsure of what to do. I mean, it was clear. Turn off the headlights. But the dead creatures that were feet before me prevented me from moving. On top of that, Greg had awoken, and he was crying and screaming, yelling for Madeline.
Ben yelled something indistinctly, and slumped over the center console and over me to turn the headlights off. My panting had only quickened, though.
"Th-there's so many..." I mumbled, hyperventilating, as I couldn't stop shaking for anything, even when he squeezed my shoulders and tried to calm me down. His hands were warm against my skin, and I had felt the coldness of the winter and its affect on me slowly diminish as he warmed me.
"Hey...hey, calm down, or it'll only get worse." He whispered, and then looked back at his father to tell him that he needed to go back to sleep, and everything was fine. Greg immediately obeyed, yet I swore I heard him quietly crying in the back seat, his current method of falling asleep.
Ben turned back to me, trying to hold my shoulder firmly to stop my shaking.
"Calm down, okay? We're just going to drive through it quickly-"
"I can't. I can't. I-"
"Then I'll drive. It'll be okay."
"How are we going to move?"
Ben shut his eyes, and I immediately knew what he was going to say.
"No...no I can't. I can't get out of the car with those things out there, Ben, I can't, please don't make me." I repeated, my hands shaking as I stared down at them. He held the sides of my face and made sure I looked at him directly.
"They won't get you...I promise. I'll even take a flash light and draw attention away from you. Either that, or you have to drive through them." He explained, which somehow caused me to cry even more.
"I can't!" I wailed, tears slipping down my cheeks one, by one, by one, falling to my neck, and trailing down. "I...I almost died in that basement with one of those the Diseased...how am I going to survive with all of these here? There's hundreds!" I sobbed, my head dropping.
He pursed his lips, wrinkling his eyebrows. "Beth...they're getting closer. We need to go if we're gonna-"
I interrupted him, not with words, but by taking a deep breath, clearing my mind, and telling myself that I would be okay if I died. I would see my family once again, and it would be a happy thing. I'd feel nothing...nothing but peace.
I opened the door, and lept out of the car. The sounds that filled my ears were pure snarls and moans and groans, raspy ones, struggling and straining to hold on to that last bit of life that they had.
I felt like my feet were stuck to the ground, for a moment, like I couldn't move at all, as if I were frozen solid or something. But when I felt one of the gnarled, mangled hands brush up against my arm, I immediately regained my senses, and bolted around the car to the passenger door. The door was wide open from when Ben had left, which I was incredibly grateful for, because it saved me the effort of opening the door myself.
I climbed in and shut the door, heavily panting as a constant flow of tears fled down my cheeks from pure exhaustion and paranoia.
"Good job," he smiled softly, his eyes shut as he was leaning back in the seat for a moment before he started driving again.
I bit my lip, and reclined the seat up a bit from the low position he had set it to. "When we...drive by...I'll start driving again, if you want."
He shook his head, and a small laugh playing at his lips.
"No...I'm wide awake now." He assured me, before leaning back up in the seat and starting up the car. I cringed when he told me that we were going to go through the Diseased creatures, but nodded anyways.
As we drove through them, I couldn't help but think about how they all died. Their loud snarls only got louder, but they turned more to screeches and cries rather than the threatening groans that they uttered. It was truly scarring, and I prayed that I wouldn't experience anything else like it again.
But there were more of them that I had guessed. It made the hand slamming against the windows, raspy moans, and blood staining on the doors last for longer than I had hoped. All throughout this, though, Greg had slept, which made me suddenly jealous of him.
Driving through the Diseased took around ten minutes, more or less. Slowly driving through the fowl beasts.
As we crept out from the crowds of the Diseased, I couldn't help but look back at them. They weren't following us, just straining to find light and crawl towards it. Perhaps they were lost souls still stuck on Earth, thinking that this literal light they were trying to go to was actually the great, metaphorical light.
And then, for some odd reason, I had wondered if my parents had experienced that, when they had became Diseased. I knew they were one of the firsts, aside from the one that bit them, but I couldn't help but picture what they would look like...dead. Diseased. Pale skinned, blood splattered, huge gashes and scratches running up and down and throughout their bodies...
Afterwards, I shook the image out of my head.
I didn't particularly like the thought.
I apologize in advance if you're looking for a Walking Dead fanfic. Just so you know, I adore theWalking Dead, but none of the characters are in my novel. thank you for understanding & enjoy!x