Chapter Six : Rath

Well, four guys crammed into a room meant for two isn’t exactly ideal. The air’s heavy with the smell of sweat, panic, and whatever cheap cologne someone slapped on this morning -- back when “this morning” still felt like a normal day. But you know what? I can’t complain. I’m just grateful to be alive.

More than that, I’m relieved -- so relieved -- to see Taylor here, breathing, unbitten, still his same jittery self.

“Tay… how the hell did you even end up in this room?” I ask, genuinely curious. I hadn’t heard his side of the “oh, I found out the world’s crawling with zombies this morning” story yet.

Taylor’s eyes go wide, his face still pale from the adrenaline crash. “I, uh… I went straight to the washroom when I woke up,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t check my phone. Thought it was just a normal day. Then there was a freaking zombie waiting for me right outside the door. I nearly got bit. I bolted, ran for my life -- and that’s when I ran into Jacob and Mike here.” He gestures at the two guys sitting across the room, both of them looking equally rattled. “We three locked ourselves in here since then”

I glance over at Jacob and Mike, genuinely feeling a twist of gratitude in my chest.

“Thank you,” I say, nodding toward them, my voice soft but sincere. “Thank you for saving my brother. Really. I’m glad he’s not dead… or worse, the undead.”

Jacob gives me a tired half-smile, his eyes shadowed but sharp. “It’s not a big deal,” he says quietly. “We all have to stick together if we have any chance at surviving this s**t.”

I huff out a humorless laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah,” I murmur, “you’ve got that part absolutely right.”
Because in a world like this, it’s not the number of people in the room that matters. It’s whether the people in it have your back.

Just as Tay stretches to grab the water bottle a few meters away, something catches my eye -- something I wish I hadn’t seen.
No. I’m just paranoid. It’s nothing. Maybe it’s a scratch from somewhere else. Maybe it’s not what I think -- no, no, no, please no.
My voice comes out shaky, thinner and weaker than I’ve ever heard it. “Tay… what’s that on your wrist… under your jacket?”

Taylor freezes, his body visibly trembling. “Where? What?” He coughs. Once. Twice.

Jacob doesn’t wait. He yanks up Taylor’s sleeve, and there it is -- the bite. Raw. Ragged. Deep.
Taylor’s coughing worsens.
“That’s what happened to Landon,” Mike says quietly, as if the words cost him something. “The coughing. Right before he turned.”

“Taylor. Get the f**k out. Now,” Jacob snaps, eyes cold, stepping forward.

I want to speak, I really do, but no sound comes out. My throat locks up, strangled by the rising panic. Please, no. He’s all I have left. Please don’t take Tay from me.

“No, please, you guys, I’m not gonna turn” Taylor’s voice breaks. He’s almost crying now, desperation thick in his words. “I don’t wanna die! Please don’t throw me out there -- I don’t wanna be eaten alive. Please”

“And what, we’re just supposed to sit here and wait to turn with you?” Jacob shouts, fury breaking through his mask. “Get the f**k out before I push you out myself!”

Taylor’s eyes dart to me, wild and pleading. “Rath, please! Tell them! Help me! Please, Rath! Don’t leave me out there all alone, please” His body racks with coughs, violent, ragged.

And then --
Right in front of me, the brother I know shatters.
His face twists.
His eyes cloud over.
His hands curl into claws.
And what was once Taylor… becomes something else.

I don’t know how long I stand there, frozen, heart hammering against my ribs. Jacob and Mike are gone. I’m alone.
I have to leave. Now. Before he lunges. Before the sound draws others.
But my body -- why won’t it move?
I don’t wanna die.
His voice. His voice echoes in my head like a curse.

I only move when the creature before me -- the thing that was my brother -- snarls and launches at me. My hands grab the curtain rod without thinking, shoving him back, pushing him, forcing him toward the door Jacob and Mike just escaped through.

No, no, no. I don’t want to leave him out there. This is my Tay. My brother. Please.
But I do what I have to do.
Not what I want to do.

I shove him hard, out through the open door.
And I slam it shut.
Lock it.
The sound of the bolt sliding into place hits me like a gunshot.

And then I break.
I swing the rod, hitting myself, over and over, because I don’t know what else to do.
I want to hurt. I need to hurt. I need to feel every ounce of the pain I just caused.
I failed.
I didn’t protect him.
Why is he out there, while I’m alive and safe in here?
Tay is gone.
The realization slices through me, hard and cruel.
I sink to the floor, my back pressed against the locked door, the curtain rod slipping from my hands and clattering to the ground. My fingers tremble, curling into fists that press hard into my chest, trying to squeeze out the ache.
I close my eyes, letting the silence wrap around me like a noose.
Maybe… maybe it’d be easier to just give in. To stop running.
To stop fighting.
To let them take me. To become one of them.
Because I don’t even know what I’m fighting for anymore.