HOME | DD

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Many months have passed after that incident where I was tortured for a good two days and two nights. My body is still recovering from the pain, but the cuts and gashes are all healing up nicely. Thankfully I'm getting away with only four major scars: the stab wound from when I went with her back to her base, one down the length of my back from my right shoulder to my left hip from a machete slash during my torture, a tiny scar right above my right eye from her spiked whip, and the long gash on my right arm that she initially gave me at the start of my personal hell. Cynthia and I have gotten together quite often. Almost every night. To give a bit of context, it's been about a year now ever since I met with Damien and Jack for the first time, meaning it's been a little less than a year since Cynthia woke from her initial wounds and actually met me. From that, it would mean I first actually fell in love with Cynthia for about six months now. I sighed at the memories as I sat on top of a hill leading to the newest city that we made into our home. This city was hidden in between a vast valley, making it a well-protected area from almost all fronts save from aerial strikes.
"There you were," Cynthia giggled as she climbed the hill towards me. I turned around to face her, greeting her with a chaste and loving kiss on the lips.
"Sorry about that. Had to clear my mind," I told her, intertwining our fingers together, "It's a lot of responsibility now that we've permanently settled into this place."
"I can understand," Cynthia sighed contently. We finally decided to settle down in this valley city after checking around for supplies. Jack managed to find an underground storage full of untouched supplies, making our stay worthwhile. Being that we were surrounded by lush vegetation and nearby streams and lakes leading to the ocean just a few kilometers from the city borders, this was an ideal place for hunting as well. We started out small with just myself, Cynthia, Jack and Marge. Eventually, as other groups found us, we eventually grew into a prospering and self-sustaining community. And just like with the original tiny group, I was chosen as community leader with Cynthia as my right-hand woman. Jack and Marge became something like advisers to make sure all my decisions for this new community were fair and just. At long last, I felt as if we had returned to some form of the old civilization that I had grown up with; a prospering community where everyone is happily cooperating with one another.

After spending a bit of time in the open air with Cynthia, I returned to the community with her to find Jack and Marge waiting for me with smiles plastered on their faces.
"Jack, Marge. What's with the smiles," I laughed as I approached the gates to the city. Marge and Jack exchanged excited looks at one another before returning to me.
"You are not going to believe this," Jack began, holding on to his lover's hand.
"Jack just proposed to me with a ring he made himself out of molten bullet shells, Zee!" Marge finished for him excitedly, "And I just said yes!" This time Cynthia and I exchanged excited looks.
"Congrats you two!" I cheered happily. Things were becoming more and more exciting as the days passed peacefully. Our community was always lively with activities, from children running around happily in the playgrounds we recreated for them to the adults constantly working hard to keep the community thriving. Everything was peaceful, save for an occasional horde. For the first time ever since the Catastrophe, I felt safe and free-spirited, being with the love of my life and spending the rest of my days with her.

However, like many of the happiest days of life, it all comes to a tragic and devastating end.

It was one of last things that I would ever expect. Marge was near the end of her third trimester and her belly bump was fully swollen. Cynthia had been taking extra care of her along with the other doctors in our community. We had heard reports that Marge had become violently ill, coughing up a storm. As if that wasn't enough, the bloody coughs that I thought had long since gone returned to me in full force. I knew for a fact that Cynthia was more than stressed due to worrying about two of the people of her life: the mother figure who took care of her when she was unconscious and the one who she loved dearly.
"Really, babe, I'll be fine," I tried once more to reassure her that I was a lot better off than Marge was. Cynthia was trying to get me to let her examine me when she found me in our house coughing up a stream of blackened blood.
"Please, Zee, just let me take a look," Cynthia persisted, tightening her hold on my bloodied hand. Jack had rushed into the house and wheezed some of the most haunting words I would ever hear.
"Zee...! Marge...! She...!" Jack wheezed and struggled to tell me what was wrong. Cynthia let me go, her attention focused on Jack as she and I rushed over to him.
"Jack! Breath! Deep breaths," Cynthia ordered him, to which he complied. After finally catching his breath, he announced to me what I thought to be the worst news I had ever come across.
"It's Marge guys. The baby... she's had a miscarriage and the doctors found her dead in her cot," Jack was tearing up at this point, "My wife and child are gone, guys... Just like that..." His entire body shook as the weight of reality hit him hard, reducing him into a crying mess as he fell to his knees sobbing out loud. I just stood there in shock, and Cynthia tackled into a deep hug, crying openly into my vest. I wrapped my head around the fact that once again, another person I cared for had died. Not to mention that her kid would never see what it was like to live. It was too much, and I didn't bother to hold back my own tears from the sorrow. I wrapped an arm around Cynthia and guided the two of us towards the crying man before us before dropping on my knees to give him a hug.
"I'm so sorry, Jack," I whispered, my voice shaking from my own overwhelming sadness. I felt Cynthia wrap her arms around the two of us from behind me, mouthing the same apology. The three of us stayed that way for a good while, trying to calm one another so that we could continue to take care of the community we all founded.

The news of Marge's death got around rather quickly, and soon Jack was pestered with questions in regards to his late wife as he worked to help me run the community fairly. The weeks that followed her death and her funeral turned for the worst as well. My bloody coughs never stopped and kept rising in intensity until I eventually collapsed in the middle of a road in front of many of my people. I wheezed and coughed heavily, trying my best to stay awake as they called for medics and Cynthia alike to tend to me. After being treated and placed in a hospital cot with my vest hung nearby, I found Cynthia visiting me with tears streaming down her face.
"Zee," she breathed my name silently. I gave her a smile, trying to reassure her that I would be fine. To my dismay, she only cried harder, rushing over to tackle me into a hug. She desperately clung to my shirt, as if she was afraid of letting go. She clung to me for dear life, in hopes that by holding onto me that I wouldn't disappear. I couldn't do much to alleviate her pain, only capable of whispering sweet nothings to her while embracing her gently.
"Zee, please don't leave me," she whimpered softly. My heart shattered into a million pieces as she clung onto me. My hug tightened as much as my chest from the pain.
"Cynthia, you know I wouldn't," I tried to reassure her.
"Liar," she muttered, just barely enough for me to hear. I grimaced.
"I know that you're sick," Cynthia continued, "And I know you don't want me to worry. Please, Zee, we've been together for six months now. I know how you act. Just..." her voice trailed off, trying to choose her words carefully. I honestly didn't know what to say. She was completely right, yet at the same time I still didn't want her to worry about me. I felt like an idiot yet felt justified by my selfish reasoning.
"Cynthia," I began, but was effectively shut up when she locked her lips with mine. It felt desperate yet full of passion and love, as if she was prepared for this one to be the last chance she would ever have to do so. She pulled away after awhile to catch her breath, looking at me with misty eyes.
"Please," she pleaded, "Just let me help you." I remained silent. I was actually considering about letting her help me. After all, I trusted her with my life. There was no point in receiving her love and trust if I couldn't reciprocate.
"Fine, only because it's useless to hide this any longer," I finally gave in, "Many of the adults in the community saw me cough up blood so there's no point in hiding it. Go ahead and do what you have to." Cynthia's eyes glimmered with hope. She kissed me in thanks and rushed out of my room to prepare as I lay back down onto my cot to contemplate my decision.

Over the span of several days, Cynthia conducted her investigation on my coughs. She did everything she could to figure out what was wrong with me, from watching bitten victims outside our community as they turned to studying the ream's blood as best she could. In the end, there was no real explanation to it. She gave up in her frustration and I just continued to cough until my throat was dry and rough. My condition weakened considerably, and it turned to a point where I was bedridden, unable to move. I could still eat and drink water, but my mobility was no longer present. There was only one reasonable explanation of what was happening to me, and neither Cynthia nor Jack liked the sound of it.

I was dying, and that meant that I may soon become the very same as the mindless reams that took the lives of many.

"Could it be from that Hannah girl?" Jack was discussing my condition with Cynthia. She shook her head.
"No, she's had it long before that," Cynthia answered, "She's had it ever since that horde ambushed her so long ago." They went back and forth about my health as I lay there motionless. Whatever was killing me definitely came from the reams, but what on Earth could it be?
"I want to think that Hannah started this," Jack was saying, "Sure she may have had it before, but it didn't affect her this much before that. I think that Hannah's torture must have helped to weaken her system to be more susceptible to the black stuff throughout her system. That caught my attention. If that was the case, then I knew for a fact that I was infected. If that were to be true, I needed to get out of this community and fast. For the sake of Cynthia and all the survivors of the community I helped to found.
"That could be it," Cynthia mumbled. Her brow furrowed as she lost herself to her thoughts, and Jack did the same moments later. I may not have been able to speak due to a raw throat from all the coughing, but that didn't mean that I was useless. Using whatever strength I could muster, I moved my hand towards a sharpened edge of the table and began to bash my arm against it, eventually drawing blood. Cynthia and Jack noticed me immediately, rushing over to my side to stop the bleeding.
"Zee, what the hell?!" Jack yelled at me as he applied pressure to the new wound. Cynthia opened her mouth to do the same, but stopped herself after she realized that I was trying to tell her something. After a bit of thinking, her eyes sparked with inspiration.
"Zee, how are you feeling? Weak?" she began to question me. I closed my eyes to focus on my body's current condition, noting that I was in fact feeling much weaker with the loss of blood. I opened my eyes and nodded. Cynthia breathed a sigh of relief.
"Jack, I know what's wrong now. She's lost too much blood over time," Cynthia explained to Jack, "If she starts to lose even more, her immunity will only get worse. We need to get her blood levels back to normal and she should be feeling much better."
"Are you saying that we are going to need to ask people to donate blood to save Zee?" Jack asked for confirmation. Cynthia gave a quick nod, bandaging my wrist as fast as she could. Jack gave a huff and began walking towards the door.
"In that case we better start right away," Jack said, "Cynthia, have Zee write down her blood type if she knows it, and that way I can try to find people with the same type of blood that are willing to donate for Zee."

And within a few more days, Cynthia and Jack managed to find blood of my type to help me raise my blood levels. After resting in my cot for a few more weeks, I found myself feeling much better and much more alive. The only problem was that my coughing didn't subside, and my skin still looked pale despite how I felt. Cynthia and Jack couldn't really explain it for themselves, but it never stopped them from running the community and tending to me. More days passed and that eventually turned into two more months in the hospital cot. Soon, I began to look ghostly and it became easier for me to faint from fatigue. I tried to brush it off as exhaustion, but I knew that it was a weak excuse. Cynthia watched me with worry, sometimes going so far as to lay in the cot next to me. Somewhere in my mind I already knew what was happening. I was sharing the same symptoms, so my theory would make sense. One night, I finally decided to discuss it with Cynthia. I drank a bunch of water to provide moisture to my throat before speaking.
"Cynthia, I want you to remain calm as you listen to what I'm about to say, alright?" I asked Cynthia. She looked confused when I asked, but responded anyway with a single nod. I gave her a bittersweet smile, taking her hands into my own.
"Know that I will always love you, no matter what happens," I kept going, "I would never intend to hurt you and I love you with everything I have. If I wasn't on the brink of death I would have even proposed to you at this point and live the rest of my life with you." My heart began to throb and ache in pain as I continued, trying my best to keep my composure. Cynthia didn't fare any better than me, her face paling in color as she began to worry. I swallowed hard, and forced myself to tell her.

"I think I'm infected, and I am in the process of turning into one of them."