A Bit of Guilt



By Ken Burch

I sat there, motionless in my chair and waited for what I don't know. My hands were sweaty and covered with blood. There was this god awful stench of sweat and flesh that seemed to hover above and float beneath me. The others were resting near-by but I couldn't sleep. There would be no sleep for me tonight, maybe never for what I've done. Outside the evening heat reminded me of him. In the distance, I can still hear the cries, the yell for help and the decision I made.

We were trapped back there, no doubt about it. The walls had closed in and there was little time. We had tried as best as we could to figure out a plan, but he was on edge that night almost uncontrollable.

I should have known, I should have taken out the time to notice more, to do more to insure the safety of my people. I should have tried harder, but I had little time to think. I know I should be able to think at a moments notice and adjust at will, but that night was different from the others. That night I think I too may have cracked.

Those stone walls were painted red with the blood of many and we were getting tired. We had walked several miles that evening, searching for a place to sleep. We had come across a truck secured on a lift which had no power. The generator was some fifty yards away and the screams of zombies echoed through the heat of the city streets. We were low on ammo and as I said, he was getting jumpy. We had decided we would have only one shot at this and put our plan into action.

Finger ran out and started the generator, the others were to stay tight in the corner and kill everything coming. It should have worked and was doing so until I saw him step out a bit, not much but just enough and get the attention of a smoker. It spotted him and latched onto him dragging him along and out from our tightly grouped circle. The generator sputtered out and we had to restart it again. This time the lift activated and the truck began to lower. More zombies came and we fired off at anything that moved. I heard someone ask should we help him and thats when it happened. My mind closed off and despite his yells for help, his hand waving us on I gave the order “No”. As the truck lowered we moved out to another wave of zombies running after us, their bodies bloody and hands reaching. I ran past my friend and into the truck, glancing back only once to see him.....

We made it that night, but I'm sure I'll never find the sleep I need, until we find him.

Editor's note: There are several other stories I should be editing but this one is short enough to post on the front page and it's all about me, an irresistible combination.

I was fortunate enough to find a picture of Bill doing his heroic last stand shtick. It's not quite what went down but it's close enough for three in the morning.

And, for what it's worth, I wouldn't have rescued me either, not in that situation.