No Sympathies For Me

I wrote yet another zombie drabble. However, this one is COMPLETELY UNRELATED to my other ones. Figured I was boring people with too long of a story. So kick back and breathe a sigh of relief for not having to read all those other ones!My friends Landen Hill and The Hunter wrote their own perspectives on the same scenario. In context, their stories provide inside story-telling for mine and vice versa. Be sure to check their parts for underlying information.

Warning: Dark and disturbing themes are present. Language might also be a problem, depending on the reader. Enjoy!

No Sympathies For Me

Holocausts were a prominent staple to the Nazi rule. Complete genocide. Apathetic treatment. Funny thing is that we're using that same mindset against the undead. Hypocrisy runs in human beings I suppose.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not calling us the perfect race. In fact, those imperfections are what make us...us. That's probably what God was thinking when he made my brother.

George. I couldn't tell if he cared about anything. He was like a baby brother to me even though his 26 years of life have trounced my own 23.

Special. Slow. Retard. Dur dur dur.

Just rolls off the tongue, don't it? Every time I hear those words, I don't know whether to defend him or conform with the majority. Defend him and fail to admit George's faults. Conform with everyone and disgrace my brother for what he is.

That choice is really hard to make nowadays. Five years after the nuclear holocaust and people are still waiting for me to end George's life.

He slows us down.

He's my brother.

He holds us back.

I can't kill him.

He gets us killed.

George is my world.

He makes our's miserable.

Shoot him in the head.

Shoot him when he's not looking.

I'll kill him for you.

He's stupid; he won't know a thing.

You're doing him a favor.

He doesn't need to live.

Shoot him.

Kill him.

Leave him.

He's useless.

He doesn't do anything for us.

Shoot him.

Kill him.

Leave him.

Retard.

Shoot him!

Special.

Kill him!

We hate him.

Leave him!

Both my sister, Michelle, and I have agreed that no one understands him. Yet I disagree with her. Everyone understands him. He really is slow and useless. Why don't I put a bullet into that retard's head so everyone can start cheering and living happily?!

No, dammit! I can't fucking kill him! He's my brother, not just a weight tied around me! Do you idiots have a fetish for guns?! Let's shoot whatever moves! Pull the trigger! Kill the mindless and useless!!!

I should've killed him. I should've ended his life. That way, he wouldn't have caused this whole mishap.

On our way to the next area, George gets sick. Immediately, I turn to Landen's dad and ask him if he knows what's wrong. He tells me that he has a slim idea by observing the symptoms. We hope that the next building we reach has the medicine for him.

Despite our efforts to move, George refuses to budge. I see that the sickness, whatever it was, had rendered him immobile. As my sister tries to convince our special brother to move, I notice that everyone was giving me the eye. Which makes me roll mine.

Those stares. They were the same stares that were cast on me from the very beginning.

I was eating dinner with my brother and sister (parents were working late yet again) when my brother mentioned that it was going to snow. I remember laughing at him. The sky was devoid of clouds! How could it possibly snow?

Then I saw the missiles drifting through that blue canvas.

Before I knew it, George had predicted the weather perfectly: 100% chance of nuclear snow.

I pushed my siblings to the bunker. As I approached my friends, I noticed that they were staring at my brother.

They were wondering why I was bringing dead weight. I knew that stare, that head shake, from a mile away. Don't think that you're the only one. Everyone does it yet they don't notice the consequences.

For the umpteenth time, I had to reevaluate George and his potential.

Usefulness: None

Importance: Infinite

As you can see, they allowed my brother entry. They allowed him to survive. Yet he was going to get us killed here.

I tell my friends that I wasn't going to shoot/kill him. Joe immediately shakes his head, just like all the others I've met. Brittney, Landen's girlfriend, took pity for our burden manifest as George.

I tell her that I didn't need sympathy and neither did Michelle or George. But I thank her anyways.

It was decided that I was going to scout the next town with Landen and his dad. Joe's jurisdiction was the safety of Michelle, George, and Landen's girlfriend Brittney. As I take a step forward onto the ashen road, I feel my heart pang. Joe could take this chance to end my brother's misery...

...yet I couldn't move my legs to stop him. Obviously, I was considering Joe's (as well as the entire group's) solution to the problem.

I close my eyes. The stressful thinking is too nostalgic.

After we failed to conjure up any medicine, we began our backtrack the next morning. All those houses contained nothing useful. Basically it was a waste of time.

The whole way back my mind was in the middle of conflict. George's sickness is going to worsen because of my incompetence...but was that bad? For all I knew, George could've dropped dead and relieved the pressure on our shoulders. Yet I still wanted him in the world of the living.

I started worrying a shit ton when I saw that everyone had disappeared from their spot. A blood trail had appeared from where they once stood. Of course it was Joe's; he was the only one out of all of them to be validated as a potential threat. So they took him out and simply captured the others.

How did this happen?

Cause I didn't kill my brother. Woe is me.

Since our loved ones were kidnapped/killed (fingers crossed for the former), we enacted a plan to get them back.

After reaching a house where the blood trail led, I felt my own blood boil. A good part of me wanted to run in guns blazing regardless of how many cannibals there were. Landen agreed with me on that but then he considered the backfire to it; the cannibals could be poised to kill them at any moment. Going in with a loud bang might make them accidently pull the trigger.

The daylight was desaturating into a deep gray. We had to hurry.

So we decided to sneak in. I argued that we should try the backdoor. However, Landen and his dad stated that the window as a more logical approach as the backdoor might have guards on it. You can't guard 10 windows at a time.

We found a window on the left side of the house. Landen slowly pulled it up until it was big enough to crawl through. However, it was too tight for Landen's dad to squeeze through. Landen told me to go in and open the door for his dad. Since I was virtually a stick, my thin structure and light weight allowed me to quickly surpass the window and the squeaky floorboards. As I passed the kitchen to the front door, I aimed my rifle in every direction. Positive that there was no one on the first floor, I reached for the doorknob. To my dismay, the door creaked rather loudly. Nevertheless, we had to keep going. Who knows what's happening to everyone?

We crept up the stairs slowly, each one of us pointing our guns ahead. I made a misstep and kicked the next tier.

Suddenly, a man burst through a door on the second floor! Landen grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me back! The axe sailed an inch from my body before splitting three steps on the stairs!

As we aimed our guns up, we realized that the owner of the axe was the mighty Joe himself.

As the night frost settled on us, Landen made preparations for a fire. We made a vote to stay in the house till the morning, assuming that we would freeze to death if we decided to continue.

My sister was alright. Nothing bad happened to her. I need to thank Joe later for saving them.

Then I looked at George, who was shivering in his chair. I threw a blanket I found over him. As he sat there, I contemplated on doing the deed.

He was sick and dying and needed a reprieve. So did we. As the group ate their canned foods, I decided to get some shut-eye. The green beans just weren't appetizing today.