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Sean knew there wouldn’t be enough space for the both of them on the helicopter. One way or another, one of them was going to die, whether it would be after their rescue or before.
Shadow walked along the edge of the building with his eyes on the horde below. His fingers were curled tightly around his katana, ashen skin turning nearly a perfect white from the pressure. He sent the occasional, ever so slightly distrustful look towards him. They were both circling the three lights that were meant for the helicopter, to stay as far away from each other as they could. By now, only one of the three was still lit, the rest broken by the explosion which had taken out Kiply and Robert.
He was going to pay for that, by the way. He was going to pay for a lot of things. But it wasn’t what drove the need to kill at that moment. Revenge had gotten him far, yet the urges were what kept him focussed. The infection had properly settled in, he’d spent way too long infected without curing himself, and it had made his body a home. It called for blood, made his stomach groan with hunger at the mere sight of a living, breathing being.
He just had to bide his time and wait for the perfect moment.
The groans of the horde were a constant background noise. Sean could understand the hunger in their voices — which did nothing to help his own. He eyed the other once again, adjusting his grip on his own weapon and mentally recounting all the other things he’d taken with him.
A bear trap, which he probably wouldn’t be able to use. Some molotov cocktails, which would only result in setting himself aflame if he wasn’t careful. A bow, which would take him way too long to draw, and Shadow would surely notice. He still had a single strength potion left. Maybe some good old hand-to-hand combat would be his best bet.
“We should probably patch these holes up, before either of us falls in,” he helpfully suggested, finally pausing his useless trek in the same circle as the past ten minutes. When he checked his inventory, he found only a couple random blocks that could help him. But at least Shadow moved over when he looked up again, some items in his own hands.
Slowly but surely, the holes in the roof were mended. Sean couldn’t count the amount of times he had to fight the urge to push the other into the handful of zombies below them on one hand. He wanted the kill, he got to draw first blood, not them. And if he was running his tongue over his teeth as if he could already taste the blood on them, then that was for him to know and for Shadow to miss.
It wouldn’t take long for the chopper to arrive. Over the noise of the horde he wouldn’t be able to hear it, but they’d know. Part of him didn’t want to look up to see if it was anywhere close, another part made him stand up to check the horizon from one end to another. The skies were clear, as they’d been for ages now, the sun starting to get low to paint the sky a brilliant orange. For just a second, he could breathe in peacefully like his lungs weren’t rattling with infection. He could still clearly remember the sunsets from back home, whatever the place was called. Then his face hardened again when Shadow stood up to stand by his side.
It was now or never.
Before the chopper could arrive, before any zombie could climb its way onto the roof, before Shadow could turn on him first, he moved. With a hand that looked more like a claw, he ripped the helmet from the other’s head. Shock was written in his eyes as he turned towards Sean, but the gasp that escaped him was more from surprise than actual betrayal — everyone knew not to trust him after all.
He didn’t let him get far. Reaching out, he grabbed onto armour to pull him back. It was easy enough to shove plating out of place, because unlike those mindless zombies he actually knew how to expose any weak spots. And he sure did. Grey skin was visible to his eyes, and suddenly all that powered him was raw hunger.
Below the first stars that could blink to life in the darkening sky, Sean bit down on the crook of Shadow’s neck with a beast-like ferocity. A scream tore from the man’s throat. Teeth broke skin, drew blood, coated his face in crimson.
But it wasn’t enough. The blood alone didn’t satisfy more than his taste buds. So he clamped his teeth down, digging his nails into where they held onto the other, ripping up the flesh and muscle underneath.
Then it seemed Shadow finally got over his shock. A fist collided with his head, forcing him to let go as his vision blurred for just a second. He stumbled back and reached for his face. Now wasn’t the time to hesitate, but he couldn’t help but lick the blood leaking from his lips with a smug grin.
Shadow was quick to draw his katana as he took a step away. A hand hovered over the wound, wincing and sucking in a deep breath, pain written all over him. “Sean?” he asked, a terrified kind of surprise to his voice. His face twisted into horror when he must’ve realised the bite probably carried an infection. Well, if Sean had been so far gone as to bite him like that, there was no hope of shrugging it off as a scratch. He was infected, and without a doubt fairly badly.
“Do me a favour and put the katana away. We don’t have to make this any more difficult than it has to be. I can make it quick.” He found his own weapon, because there was no chance Shadow would actually listen to him. He’d rather avoid the fight but wouldn’t hesitate if it came down to it.
Shadow scoffed. “Yeah, as if.” Then his face fell. A sympathy took over. “How long have you been infected, Sean? I could’ve gotten you a cure. We could’ve made it out together.”
He fought the urge to snarl, but his lip curled in distaste anyways. “There is no ‘we’ here. You were always going to betray me, Shadow. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t.” Maybe he wouldn’t, he didn’t know. He never knew. It was always better for himself to betray everyone around him, to trust not a single soul until the end, because that way he couldn’t be surprised.
He didn’t fight his words, only sighing and tightening his grip on the blade. “We’re really doing this?” he asked. A last chance to back out.
Sean didn’t leave him waiting for an answer. He lashed out with the sword, catching the other across his chestpiece. It wasn’t enough to cut through the armour but a blow like that was definitely enough to hurt. He twisted the blade to strike again — quietly wishing he knew how to handle anything other than a simple sword better than this.
This time, Shadow caught it with his own. His expression had twisted into something more serious and threatening. It would’ve scared Sean if he didn’t know it was a front to hide his fear. Neither of them were too well-versed in swordfighting, but it was obvious which one of the two had more experience. He drew Sean back with each strong clash. The sounds of metal scraping together echoed over the fields to draw the attention of every last remaining zombie in the city.
The fight was both over much too quickly and lasted much longer than he’d thought it would. They danced across the roof for quite some time, narrowly avoiding toppling over the edge into the horde, trading blow after blow. Armour was broken and skin spliced open, but neither showed any interest in slowing down.
Then, finally, one blade slipped between the cracks of a battered chestplate, piercing skin and flesh, and pushed right through on the other side to stick out multiple inches. Impaled on a blade, breath stolen in a gasp.
Shadow stared at him, but he didn’t look victorious or glad. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly, the words barely audible over the hungry groans from the other zombies. “I’m so sorry.”
When he retracted the blade, Sean fell. Onto his side, the world having slowed down, hitting the ground with a deafening thump. It hurt to try and sit up, to move at all. He couldn’t help but stare up at the other with some kind of fear as his hand tried to cover the hole in his stomach, eyeing the blade dripping with his own blood as if it would come back to hurt him.
“I don’t want to kill you, Sean! Please- why did you have to attack me? Why did- things didn’t need to go this way!”
There was nothing that could save him now. The wound was too deep and destructive to be healed with medical supplies and neither of them had any golden apples or potions left. Even if Shadow did, he would not give it to him. He would die here, no matter how.
And he really thought he wouldn’t care if he’d rather bleed out or have Shadow finish the job. That was until he could feel the clumsy, greedy hands of the infected start to grab at his armour. An involuntary cry escaped him. His hands were trembling when he tried to crawl away, unable to find purchase on the flat roof. Pleas spilled from his mouth faster than he could blink. He didn’t want to die like this, anything but this.
“Shadow!” he shouted, as much as he could anyway. He couldn’t leave him to be mauled and torn apart by the horde, could he? It was written in the other’s eyes, that man knew exactly how awful such a death would be. It would be cruel.
Yet he was hesitating. He was unmoving, eyes shooting between the zombies and Sean. Killing him would be mercy — he’d take the blade now, more than gladly. “I can’t- I can’t kill you.” It was almost like he was the one to beg. Fighting had been easy but killing? Ending his misery? That was apparently too much. “I can’t do it, Sean!”
He couldn’t get another word out before the grabbing hands dragged him to the very edge of the roof and off. He was plunged into a sea of limbs, screaming where he thought he had no voice left, torn apart and bitten into, the light of the stars not reaching him down there. He wouldn’t see the chopper appearing on the horizon, dying in the dark.
Death came no second too soon. The game was over.