Losing it

Continution of Landen Hill's blog "Wolves"

It has been several years since the outbreak. Certain things one takes for granted finally disappears. One is helpless yet one is accountable for everything.

For every dead family member.

For every dead friend.

Every morsel of food wasted.

Every bullet missed.

Every breath.

Every significant other.

Even oneself.

One loses it. And in times like these, I can concur. You lose a lot.

My sister Michelle and Landen's girlfriend Britney, for example. We almost lost them. They were stolen from us by coveters, lusters, the like.

Almost. Joe saved them. From the start, this man put everything on the line. How does that make him different from all of the other survivors? Simple: He lost it all. He had no more family. He had no more home. One turns into a soul forgotten by death.

What a curse...

Some say death is a gift. Joe wasn't allowed that privelege.

And there I was, mocking his instincts. His morals. His dignity. Yet I had no fruit produced. Joe was the striving force of the entire group and I belittle him. I have done absolutely nothing to help.

Which vouches for my adolescence in canine defense.

During the night (Then again, the sun never shines anymore. What's day and what's night?), we were forced into the wilderness. We were staying in the household that took the girls, much to my chagrin. Landen spotted a group of people trodding towards our sanctuary. No wanting to risk a fight, we fled to the darkness of the land.

We stayed there for a certain amount of time.

"Are we safe?" my sister asked in the silence. Michelle and my brother George were standing next to me the whole time, trying to keep warm.

"I'm not sure," I responded. "It's best to be quiet though."

"I'm scared, Waley!" yelled my brother. (In case you didn't read back, George has...a brain problem).

My sister and I grasped his face and pulled him to the floor in an attempt to muffle him. Alas, our attempt failed. We had only succeeded in making him wail in pain and throw a fit. By the time we got him settled, I felt a pang in my chest. Again, my brother got us into trouble.

Can I ask you, the reader, if I should shoot him? I'm his brother so it's hard for me to decide. But I know you, the reader, know what to do. Shoot the retard right? I agree, should've done it years ago to save us the trouble.

But that can't be helped now. We were in danger. And danger came on fours.

Hehe, dirty mind.

I meant that there were wolves around the place. Heard the howling. I rushed to Landen and Joe's position.

"How many?" I asked.

"I'd say around six," answered Landen.

"And we can't shoot them cause its too dark."

"Correct."

"And if we make a light, that'll not only attract the wolves but the cannibals in the house as well."

"Yep."

"Did the boy scouts ever teach you how to wrestle wild animals?"

"Get back to your position, Waley."

I shrugged and walked back to my siblings. Aside from Landen, his dad, and Joe, none of us could hold our own against wolves. In all honesty, the only way we survived has been through luck. The big guys have been through rough situations. How can we compare?

I took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust but I finally saw them. Two wolves were 7 yards in front of me. The ground was barren save for the occassional brush. There was nothing between my siblings and the wolves except for a lone stick.

I meant me.

If it were zombies, you grab a gun or a machete and take the head off. After fighting them for so long, one develops a sort of immunity to them. Not from the physical infection but from the the mental infection. The infection called fear.

Zombies just moan and awkwardly amble towards you. Not much fear instilled after five years of experience.

These wolves brought fear back and I felt it coursing through my body. It was a strange feeling, just staring down these animals.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. Holding the urge to jump at the sudden touch, I turned my head to the source. In her trembling hand, Michelle held a packet of sliced ham.

"It was in the house," she whispered. "I was hoping we would celebrate and eat it."

"We'll celebrate without it," I responded. Looking like someone from a kid's movie, I took the ham in my hand and made a soft whistle.

"Please eat this and not us," I pleaded. The two wolves continued to stare us down, not budging from their spots. I gently tossed the stack of ham about 4 yards towards them. It flopped in gooey goodness. It took a while but the canines inched towards the meat. Finally, they started consuming the ham. My sister said they looked adorable.

Women.

Just as we all calmed down. I heard a yell from one the other guys. Apparantly, they weren't having Walt Disney luck like us. Much to my dismay, the yell interrupted our two wolves from their meal. Their eyes were now intent eating me.

Fortunately, I was fast enough to push my siblings out of the way. That left me open to the jaws of the canines.

Not before long, the ravenous beasts were ripping at me. One took my arm while the other took my calf. I felt my flesh burning with pain never felt before. I felt like a present getting its wrapping ripped off. I felt my leg turn completely numb, which was a very bad sign. I threw sand at the wolf biting into my forearm. I used that temporary time to try to crawl away.

My journey was shortlived however. The wolf I blinded jumped onto my back and began shredding my shoulder. I could no longer feel one of my legs. One my arms was limp in pain. I felt wet but it hadn't rained in this area.

I took a century but my friends finally killed the dogs. It didn't help though. I wanted the gift of death. I wanted to lose it.

I had blacked out for hours. I woke up because my stomach growling. Then I felt it sink in.

A section of my right shoulder had been pulled apart. Deep lacerations and punctures in my left leg. The ulna of my left arm was exposed. I didn't feel the one that replaced my belly button until I looked at it.

Landen and his dad tried their best to stitch and sauterize but I was forever a messed up man.

"I feel like shit," I said spontaneously. For some reason, we were at that gas station that Landen and I scouted days before. It was empty save for the shelves and the abandoned cars parked outside. Must've been a bad time to raise the gas prices.

"Don't feel that way," Landen's dad replied. "Not everyone can be a mummy." We were sitting around the main counter, which seemed to be our camp. Landen and Britney found some of the scratchable lottery things and tried to find a winning ticket. My sister and my brother were looking for food in the aisles. Joe was standing at the door, his gun slung over his shoulder.

"What'd you guys do to the wolves?" I asked Jay AKA Landen's dad.

"We ate them."

"Without me?"

"You weren't exactly in a hungry mood. Just kidding, they all ran away."

"You didn't kill any?"

"They dragged their dead away."

"Wolves do that?"

"Times have been rough. I'm sure even animals feel the stress of losing whatever they had left."

I turned my head towards my siblings. George found a box of mints. Michelle looked at it ecstatically.

"Amen to that," I said. It was intended for Jay but it was mostly to myself.