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Untitled

Written By: Karen Stahl

Fiction
I step inside the bathroom in the same motion with which I open the door. It's a mistake that I would never repeat again.
Its blood is still red.
I let out a little scream and raise my gun, nearly hitting it with the barrel.
But it just stares.  
It's not that dead stare. It's taking me all in. And, most importantly, it's... okay, she's not making any move towards me.
A few breathless moments later, I realize that she has a gun too, pressed against her own head.
She speaks first, with a small, mirthless smile.
"I was expecting a surprise. Something to pop in and interrupt me. But... expecting some thing. This is... special."
This is the first actual human being I've met in over a month. I stutter, backing through the doorframe and stumbling a little.
"Ah- wh-why are you bleeding?!"
"Oh. Same reason this is pointed at me, not you."
"Shouldn't I be concerned?!" I yell, most of my thinking dedicated to things other than speech. "I mean, you? S
houldn't you?!"
"This was a long time coming, and I'm probably in shock anyway. Maybe you could be worried, but the bite still hurts, so you have a while. Come talk."
My hands are shaking violently. The freshly turned are easily some of the worst. I only just start to take in fine details. She's crying, but this has no visible effect on the rest of her face. The blood is seeping through both a shirt and a jacket - the bite's deep, she doesn't have long. She watches me as I look her over.
"Guess you don't like what you see."
"I... you're the first person I've met since the, since the crash, but, from what I saw then, a bite like that, you, uh--"
"First one? Really? Where've you been?"
"Me? Oh, I've just been, er, wandering, but-"
"You know, I haven't met anyone coming from the next city over. If you came from there, it would explain why I'm your first."
"Right! Right, um, quarantines were kind of failing, u
uh, left and right, back home, but-"
"And 'the crash?' I've heard a lot of names for it, but that's new."
"Oh, I kind of made it up myself, you know, like a stock crash, everyone panicked and bailed, the only safe way through it was not to be a part of society in the first place, but-"
"What is it that you keep trying to say before I interrupt you?"
I stop, and glare at her. Her expression doesn't change - that same empty shadow of a smile. My mind wanders. I wonder what she might have been like under better circumstances. I'm reminded of all the others that this infection has brought to ruin in front of me. My finger twitches on the trigger.
She just watches me, glassy-eyed, seemingly reading my every thought.
"We don't have to talk," she says, simply. "I just... can't do it unless I'm sure there's no other choice."
My eyes flick down to the bite. Her blood is paling. It's progressing more slowly than it does in most peo
people, but there won't be another choice for her.
I fight rising emotion. I stopped sparing empathy for the infected weeks ago, but that's because the ones I'd seen were already gone.
I edge in with her, keeping the distance long and my weapon trained, and, with a moment's consideration, shut the door behind me.
That smile widens just a little, but it's just a token effort. No feeling behind it.
"So," she says, "if you're going to talk at all - what brought you here? Most people don't go outside without a good reason."
"I've..." My eyes sting. I take a breath. "Been wandering, I said."
"Right. Me, I have a family to take care of. I've been visiting this place a lot. Non-perishables. Apocalypse stuff. No-brainer to come here."
I try to keep my eyes on her face. She still says she "has" a family. Not "had..."
"Surprising that anything's left here after the crash."
"Quarantines were set up everywhere. Th
ey failed more spectacularly in some places than others. There was- there... time no for loot, panic."
Her expression thaws; her eyes widen. She presses the gun in harder, clenching her teeth, whispering a curse.
"What am I going to tell them?! I won't be able to tell them anything. I'll just dead in be here. Big sister never came back. That's all know-they will."
Her hand shakes. She reaches up to steady her aim.
"I-is there anything I can do to make this easier on you?" I ask, helplessly. "Where are your family?"
She says something completely unintelligible.
"What?"  
"Ne-nevermind, just get away!"
I scramble to my feet. She slams her hands on the ground. Supporting herself. Picking herself up to run after me.
"Away! I'm sorry!"
I reach back for the doorknob, trying to steady a shot, but she does it for me. One final jerking movement of her arm. A blast, echoing deafeningly in the closed room.
Her blood, not yet that snowy white powder, spl
attering across the wall, clumping and drying in seconds.
I don't think I would have heard her hit the floor even if my ears weren't ringing so loudly.

Brown hair. Green eyes. Looked twenty-something. Jacket has the local university mascot on the breast.
Could've been anyone.
Could've been any of the girls I've sat with in their last moments.
Could've been any of the girls who didn't have a family left to report their loss to.
But she wasn't. This time, someone's big sister isn't coming home.
And I stare, fighting back tears again.
They all had stories like this. Some were shorter. Some dragged on. Some had some ring of hope. Some died alone.
They just couldn't cut the story off before they got to the end.
I find an ID in her wallet, cringing at taking from a body that, for once, is still warm.
I almost don't recognize the woman in the picture. Her smile is completely different from the one I saw.
A student ID. She was 23. A junior. And I have her name, first
and last.
Her story doesn't end just yet. There are people who need to know.


Untitled story that I felt like sharing...
Karen Stahl