3. Gulp it down. This is exactly what you need.
Without hesitating, you pop the can open, tilt your head back, close your eyes, and dump it down your throat, knowing it's going to make you react negatively.
It feels (and tastes) like you're pouring acid down your gullet, but you manage to down about half of it before you cough, gasp, and convulse, spilling some from both can and your mouth onto the floor.
You shudder, breathing heavily as dust motes dance in the beam of light from the window. The birdsong is joined by another.
After a minute you grimace, open wide, and drink the rest. A few minutes later, it's like a fog in your mind that you didn't even notice before has lifted.
Jesus, you think. I wonder how much 'fog' is left? Or did I get it all?
There's no way to tell. You feel fairly normal. No hissing in the back of your mind, as far as you can tell, at least. The first time, you had to get piss drunk, but maybe you overdid it? It's not exactly like you've had time to perform the scientific method.
More time passes. You stare at the empty can, the room, the cage you're trapped in. Birds continue to chirp, as regular as a clock ticking, from somewhere close outside.
About an hour later, you hear footsteps on the porch, and the front door opens.
The young woman who captured you walks in.
Ripped jeans, black shirt, green jacket. Her strawberry blonde hair is done up in a ponytail. Black shades obscure her eyes. Brown hiking boots. Each is neatly laced all the way to the top, her jeans bunched up above.
Eyes?
She's also carrying the rifle she had before, and you can see your flaregun at her hip. She looks to be a teenager. Sixteen, seventeen, maybe.
She places the rifle on the table and raises a hand to take off her sunglasses.
One eye. The other is just clean gone, like Benny's.
or your own, once upon a time
"You drank the beer," she says, her voice hard and clear, the same as last night. "That's good."
"Why have you done this to me?" you ask, gesturing to the cage, the beer, the cabin.
"I had to be sure you weren't an infected," she replies, staring at you with her one blue eye.
You shake your head, confused. "But... you're missing an eye... and you said you knew you were infected."
In reply, she opens a fanny pack on her opposite hip and brings out another can of beer. Popping it open, she chugs it with a look of distaste.
"Man, I didn't even like beer before I had these fuckin' things inside me," she grimaces.
You get to your feet, walk forward to the bars. "So, uh. How about letting me out of this cage?"
She looks at you evenly for a long moment. "Not sure it's safe yet," she says finally.
You sigh. "Fine, I guess. What do I have to do to convince you I'm not a danger to you?"
She sits down. "What's your name?" she asks.
You tell her. She blinks.
"And yours?" you ask.
She doesn't reply, just continues to stare at you.
"Come on, what's the deal, here? Am I a prisoner? Are you all alone out here? What the hell is going on?"
"Where'd you get the car?"
You shake your head. "Back a ways. Why is that important?"
"Just seems odd, a guy, alone, in the middle of nowhere, in the dark."
"I was looking for supplies, if you must know," you say. "I didn't expect to find anyone, really."
She doesn't reply. The silence stretches.
"What the hell do you stick me with, anyway?" you ask.
She just stares. Finally her eye narrows.
"No... I don't think you're one of them. You drank the beer, after all. But you still seem... odd."
You throw up your hands. "Join the club, lady."
She takes a few steps forward, bringing out a set of keys. She holds one up in front of you, just out of reach.
"If I let you out of there, are you gonna behave? I don't want any trouble."
"Of course. I don't want any trouble, either."
"Good. Because I'm gonna be watching you. You just get in your car, and go."
She steps forward and unlocks the padlock, then immediately takes a few steps back to her rifle, pointing it at you.
You come out through the gate. She motions you toward the door.
**************************
1. Leave.
2. Try to talk to her.
3. Try to attack her.
4. Ask for your flaregun back, then leave.
**************************
Poll
4 (66.7%)
Author
Topic: The Ends (Read 59239 times)