Necrocide

Chapter 6

Aaron took a few seconds to scan the door back into the headquarters as he pondered how he'd never see the inside again. But at this rate, he didn't care anymore. Besides, there were only two people in there who he actually felt a connection with. Everyone else was just a forgettable colleague.

Aaron raised his middle finger to the door. "I don't need you guys anyway."

He slowly strolled away from the door back to the Commons. He watched the inhabitants as they went on with their lives as if there weren't a horde of flesh-eating monsters outside their home. The paperboy was handing out newspapers. The shops were as lively as ever. Farmers wheeled their crops down the paths from their indoor farms to the shops of the Commons. Schoolchildren followed in lines behind their teachers.

He was halted by two young citizens--a boy and and a girl, undoubtedly siblings--selling hats and beanies from a small kiosk.

"Excuse me, sir," the girl said. "But would you like to try on something?"

"Wait, uh..." Aaron tried to reply, but he was caught off guard. His focus was gone.

"You look like the kind of gentleman who'd look brilliant in a hat," the boy took over. "Or if not, we have some beanies and sunglasses. Not like anyone even uses the sunglasses."

"No, it's fine," Aaron replied. "They probably wouldn't look great with these bruises anyway."

The two stared at him with confusion. "What bruises?" the girl asked.

Aaron froze. He rubbed his face and pressed around the areas Rupert had punched him. He couldn't feel any bruises or cuts. Even the cut on his lip seemed to have vanished.

"Do you have a mirror?" he asked the kids.

The girl opened up a drawer on the side of the kiosk and pulled out a small handheld mirror. She handed it to Aaron.

There wasn't a single scratch or bruise on his face. Nothing was hurting. The only remaining evidence of his fight with Rupert was a small bit of dry blood on his lips and a bright shade of crimson in his teeth. Yet only a few minutes ago, Schaefer noticed Aaron's injuries. Did they really disappear that fast?

"Sir," the boy asked. "I don't mean to intrude, but why are your teeth so red?"

Aaron didn't pay attention. He continued gazing into the eyes of what could possibly be another Deadman. And the worst part was how he used to kill the creatures he'd become.

"Sir?" the boy asked again.

Aaron slowly handed the girl the mirror. He was practically paralyzed with fear. Every muscle in him stiffened and he moved like he was made of rusted metal.

"I gotta go," he said.

Aaron turned toward the elevator and ran for it, not bothering to look back or around him. He could already imagine the sound of gunfire representing the DZI's attempts to kill him. He felt like they were already in pursuit behind him.

He jumped into the elevator and returned to his home on the sixth floor. He slammed the door behind him and immediately locked it.

Beads of sweat covered his forehead and his breath had sped up. Fear swept through him like the infection. It felt cold.

He looked down at the elastic wrap still tied around his hand. With his other hand, he placed his fingers on the edge of the bandage.

If I'm really infected, Aaron thought to himself as he tried not to panic, then this wound should remain as a reminder of what I'm becoming.