The Last Legacy (Season 1): Episodes 1-10 (9 page)

“Nothing happened. We got free.” That was the truth. We made it out of the house mostly unscathed. I couldn’t un-see the things I saw or take back the things that happened to me, but we were alive and relatively safe now. This time when I touched his shoulder, he let me, accepting my comfort.
 

“Thanks, Lana.”

“For what?” I asked back. He grabbed onto my hand, lacing his fingers with mine, and led us back to the large rock. I didn’t want him to let go of me.

“Do you have any idea where we are?”
 

He shook his head. I glanced around us, searching. Trees were the only distinguishing feature: oaks and evergreens in no pattern at all, scattered. Grass poked up in random areas, but it was mostly brown dirt with rocks jutting up. A few bushes with purple flowers clumped towards the path we were taking.

“We left from the south window of the house, which means we went due south if we ran in a straight line—which I doubt we did. We might be near Newington, but I can’t be sure.” He took a swig of his water and squinted around us.

“We’ll figure it out.” I tried to be optimistic.

“We will,” he said. I tried to be reassuring as I faked a smile. I wasn’t sure if we would find a safe place or even a place to stay the night. But if we were optimistic, it would help. Jim placed his palm on top of my head like I was a child and smiled down at me. From the awkwardness of his grin, I could tell it wasn’t a normal gesture of his.

He rubbed my hair, patting it down, and pulled me in for a one-armed hug. At first, I tensed. Jim must have felt it because he let me go as fast as he hugged me.

“Sorry,” I muttered.
 

He walked past me and picked up the discarded gas mask, which I had hoped had magically buried itself. He handed it to me with a raise of his eyebrows. I pulled it over my matted, sweaty hair and rested it on top of my head. Jim smiled and shook his head.
 

It was too hot to be wearing a mask like this. It was still cool from last night, but I knew once the air warmed from the sun the thing was going to be a major pain in the ass. Jim gathered our things from the ground and repositioned the bag over his back. I had an empty water bottle in my hand, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I looked up at Jim.
 

“Here,” I told him.
 

“What?” he asked with his hand outstretched towards me.

“Put it in your bag. We can refill them, right?”

“If we find fresh water,” he said matter of factly. Jim took the bottle from my hand and tossed it into his bag. He started to march, me lagging behind. I ran forward, grabbing his hand, and we jogged in silence.
 

Each foot stepped forward on its own accord. I had no control over my dying body. Limbs that felt like jelly wobbled forward. Truthfully, I wasn’t even sure I was still moving. Without food and water, I felt dizzy and faint, hungry and tired. The pounding of my feet pulsed in my head, and it was like I was parading to the beat of my own song.
 

“That’s the last of it,” Jim said as I drained the bottle of water. We didn’t have long. The deadline loomed over us like a storm cloud. We had to find a shelter or a water supply or else we’d be dead. Maybe I was dead? I sure as shit felt like it.
 

I couldn’t remember the law of threes even though Jim had just told me about it. Three minutes was air, I knew that. I thought three hours was the shelter one. Did he say water? It didn’t matter. We had to find a place to stay. And we had to do it now.
 

I refused to look up from the ground. I didn’t want to see more eaters. We had only passed three so far on the dirt path; each one Jim had to kill. I understood it now—the need to kill or be killed—but it didn’t mean I liked it. Despite my complicated past, I had never turned into a violent or angry person. I saw too many people suffer. Death wasn’t something I dealt with well.
 

After I emancipated myself at sixteen, I lived in an apartment with three other girls. They had similar situations as me, all of us alone and broke. I tried to interact with them as minimally as possible, not wanting to create bonds or relationships. I knew I’d have to move along soon.
 

One of them got pregnant by her crackhead boyfriend. She was the only one I felt a connection with—she had morals, goals. She was attending community college at night on a scholarship, working at the local diner down the street all day. I didn’t even know how she had time for sex.
 

She killed herself and the baby when she was just under three months along. There was no note explaining her reasoning, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. It was the last straw for that poor girl who never had a family. If she had just said something to me, maybe I could’ve helped. But maybe not. Two days after her death, I moved on to my next home.
 

Jim squeezed my hand, pulling me out of my head. In the distance was a brown wall, like the side of a building, although, I wasn’t sure if it was real or not. My vision had clouded long ago, everything blurred and shaking.
 

The wall jutted up from the ground like a cross. Mud covered the outside white wall. It stood out against the sunny morning. My pace picked up, my steps faster, the beat in my head steadier.

“Please, tell me that’s real.” I stopped walking and stared when we got to the edge of the woods. I squinted my eyes against the blaring sun, trying to discover if I was hallucinating or not. But I didn’t think you knew when you were having a mental break; it just happened.
 

I had had enough panic attacks before the bombings to know.

“It’s real, Lana.” Jim squeezed my hand again, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the building. I wanted to get there and drink as much as I could. Hell, if the only water in there was in a toilet bowl, I’d still lick it dry.

“It could be overrun. We have to be quiet. Get your knife.” Jim reached into his back pocket and pulled out his own glistening metal. I mimicked him. “And put on the damn mask.” He reached over and shoved it down over my face, blinding me for a second as it fell into place.

“It has blood on it,” I whined.

“Don’t let the blood in your mouth and you’re probably fine.”

I hated the mask. I hated wearing it and the feel of it against my skin. It was too big and put pressure on the bridge of my nose, making it harder to breathe. It was bad enough to be panting from being out of shape, but add in the mask, and I was miserably defeated. It smelled like sewage and was now covered in eater blood from all of Jim’s kills.
 

A twig snapped beside us. I jumped backwards and raised my knife. An eater stumbled out from behind a tree to our left. He fell forward, his leg caught in something behind the brush. He grabbed onto my leg through the leaves on the ground.
 

I pulled back and kicked him, but his grip was surprisingly firm. His fingers twitched at his sides. The noises that came out of his mouth were like he was expelling a demon—a loud, feral moan that chilled me down to my bones. Jim ran in front of me and stepped on the eater’s arm.
 

With another shake of my leg, the eater unhooked from my ankle. Jim grabbed him by the back of its head. He shoved the eater into the dirt and raised his knife. My heart throbbed in my chest. My skin felt on fire, adrenaline rushing through me. I watched as Jim twisted the eater’s neck to the side.
 

He stuck the knife into its ear, shutting the screams up forever. The eater lay face down in the dirt, a pool of dark blood surrounding his head. The eater was so slow, he never stood a chance against Jim. Jim stood up and wiped the blood off the handle of the knife.
 

“Shit!” I yelled as Jim was pushed from behind.
 

Another eater came from the woods, strolling right into Jim’s back and knocking him to the ground. I looked past the eater and saw at least a dozen more creeping through the woods headed straight towards us. They walked slow, some limping. Others rambled aimlessly like they hadn’t noticed us yet.
 

I wanted to help Jim, who was kicking the eater’s face from the ground, but I wasn’t sure I could kill. My stomach knotted up as I held out my knife. What if the infection could be reversed? Then, would it be murder? I didn’t have a chance to think.
 

An eater stepped towards me. I stepped back, countering him. Maybe if I could just lead him away then he’d find another prey, like an animal in the woods. I knew I was faster since it was day-time. I stepped backwards until a tree stopped me. The eater didn’t stop, though.

I was stuck, brush behind me that blocked me in. The eater had me cornered and I had nowhere left to run. I lifted my knife in front of my face, my panic skyrocketing. My brain fired off with scenarios of death, all more gruesome than the next.
 

He stood just feet away from me now. I shut my eyes and held up the knife, hoping the eater would just march into it and kill itself. I squeezed my lids shut and turned my head to the side. So this was how I was going to die? I sucked in a breath and held it.

A loud thump made my eyes dart open. Jim stood over the body of the dead eater, his eyes wild with light. He reached his hand out for me, and I took it. He lifted me over the body. I wanted to thank him, but he spun around, his attention back on the group of eaters.
 

He saved me. Now I had to do my part. Jim couldn’t take on all the infected by himself. They were ruthless with one goal in mind: murder. I refused to force the brunt of killing on him. I had to step up.

I stood beside him with my knife in front of me and nodded. Two eaters walked beside each other towards us. The rest were a few feet behind them. Jim grabbed the first eater by its tattered button up shirt.
 

The other one followed, lunging and falling to the ground. He slumped to the side, and I went towards him. I paused, but the eater got ahold of my sleeve. I pulled back to loosen his grip, jerking hard enough that his head whacked against the ground. But he bounced back fast, not even seeming affected.
 

His face craned up, away from the rest of his body that just lay there, along for the ride. He crawled towards me, his fingers digging into the earth. I searched his bloodshot eyes for a shred of humanity. I wanted him to tell me not to kill him, to beg for mercy like a human would do.
 

But instead his bright red eyes showed nothingness. They were blank, empty of any emotion, including rage. They just were. He grinned at me, flashing his missing teeth and bleeding gums. I bent down before he could reach me, making the decision to kill him.
 

My hand grazed the back of his head. It felt like regular human hair, still thick and a bit curly. It was so normal. I ran my hand through my own hair, hating the similarities. He’s not real, I tried to convince myself. He was changed—infected with whatever disease had caused this.
 

I pressed the sharp blade against his forehead. He screamed, his moan startling. I faltered for a moment and pushed his head down, using the ground to pin it there. I pushed the knife into his skull, resisting the urge to throw up.
 

But my knife didn’t move at all. His skull was too hard for my knife to lodge in. A trickle of blood seeped down his forehead where my knife had once been. Blood pooled in the corners of his eyes. I flashed away, breathing through my nose so I wouldn’t vomit.
 

The gas mask got in the way. I could barely get air into my lungs. I didn’t have a hand to spare, one holding my knife, the other pinning down the eater. I put my knife on the ground and pulled my mask off, discarding it to the side.
 

I would have to enter his head through a softer area. Jim had done it through his ear, but I wasn’t sure I had the skill to maneuver something like that. It was either his throat or his eye.
 

In one swift movement, I stabbed him right through his red, dead eye. His entire body relaxed, his hands stilling, not reaching for me anymore. I pulled the knife out of his eye. Brown and red goo spilled out from the small incision, coating his entire face in seconds. I couldn’t see more.
 

My eyes collided with Jim’s. He lifted me off the ground by my shoulders and held me there. I refused to glance down at the dead body. As it was, I seesawed on the edge of a breakdown. I tried to focus on Jim, but flashes of those red eyes kept disturbing me.
 

In my head, they were neon red, glowing in a black room. The screams were there, so close to my ears I felt deaf. Jim shook my shoulders, forcing me to focus on him alone. It worked.
 

“Good job,” he said, nodding at me. His lips lifted in a proud smile. I faked one back, trying to count the hairs on his face to distract my head. The victory was short lived.
 

I tripped over my own feet, stumbling forward over a rock. The knife in my hand flew forward, clinking along the dirt path. My face slammed into the ground, my arms too slow to catch my fall. I flipped around onto my butt. The eater stood just inches from my feet, looming over me.