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Writer's picturekris

I'll Keep Coming

I’m crawling on my hands and knees now to get to her. All around me are the screams of battle and sadness and pain and regret and death and dying and all that that entails. Still, I’m focused on getting to her and only her.

The grasping hands clawing for me and my flesh refuse to let up. But so do I. I have to get to her. I have to.

And that’s why I’m crawling right now. I’m ignoring the pain in one leg and the lack of feeling in another. As much as I can, at least. Which is enough to keep me moving, to keep me going towards her. To keep me trying and trying and trying. She’s all that matters to me. She’s all I have left. I have to get to her. I have to reach her.

Regardless of the consequences. It’s not like I’m of any use in battle anymore. It’s not like there aren’t so many others like me. Like her. Fighting the good fight. That’s what they like to call it: “The good fight”. At this point I’m not sure that that’s really true.

Heh. I say that as if I ever thought it was. Maybe I wanted it to be true. Maybe I wanted it to be true… But… It’s not. As I crawl towards her, so close, so close to her body, I try and imagine what it was like before all this. When we thought that- that we had the upper hand. Back when we thought that- that we could do something. That we could change things.

We went into this together. And now, we’re gonna get out of it together. Whether we’re alive or dead or somewhere in between. We’ll be together. Which is more than I can say for so many of our friends.

I can hear the crying, the shouting, the disbelief. I can hear the moaning and the groaning. But that’s not at the forefront of my mind right now. She is. Only her. Only ever her. Maybe later, if we get out of this it’ll be different. But right here, right now, at this moment? She’s all that matters.

I can see a hand right close. It tries to grab the foot of the leg that I can’t feel anything from. Just narrowly misses. but I keep going. They’re crawling out of the ground. As they breach surface, they ignore me. Was I bitten and I didn’t ever realize it? I don’t know. She was bitten a while ago. She’ll turn soon.

And, even if I hadn’t been bit, she will. I’ll let her. I’ll let her bite me so we can be together in death, in limbo, in a weird form of life that’s not really life. We aren’t living. We weren’t living before. That’s why we joined: to survive. That’s all we’ve ever known is survival. It’s different from living. From being able to enjoy the luxuries of life. Whether it be a card game. A good meal. Or anything else.

And that’s why I can feel comfortable crawling towards her. Towards her and only her.

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