Alone

I lost track of how long I was on the floor. It could have been two minutes or two hours at this point, all spent crying until I was exhausted.

Eventually, I ran out of steam and turned into a simpering mess of silent sobs and dry tears. My body still trembled, tired and worn out, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to stand again.

It wasn't fair.

Why me? Why was I okay? Why was I the person who had survived? Why not my friends?

I didn't deserve it. I'd left them. Maybe if I'd just stuck with them until the end I could have helped them out. I could have stopped them from being infected altogether.

It didn't matter that Anderson helped me escape. I could have figured it out. Between all of us, we would have figured it out.

Or at least all died together.

Once I was dried up and hiccupping, I remained in a tight ball, quaking and beating myself up.

After all, I'd done this.

I had convinced Jess to come on this stupid trip. I had withdrawn so far from reality that I couldn't see the truth, and Jess had suffered. She'd died a horrible death because I was too selfish to believe that she was in pain.

Wolf had tried to tell me. Jake had tried to tell me. Why hadn't I just listened?

I'd done this.

/My fault./

Slowly, I sat up and braced myself against the wall. Though I didn't cry, I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. There was nothing left for me to do. I'd followed after Wolf because it was my ticket out of this hell hole.

Why would I want that now, except to save my own hide?

My first thought was that I promised I'd help Wolf. I had to pay back the favors I owed him. The idea seemed ridiculous now.

Wolf could kill these pests all by himself. I'd just been the tag along shadow, riding his wake to safety. A burden, a liability.

Did he really need me at all?

Someone else would come along. Another one of his alien buddies. Wolf had survived the ship crashing so it stood to reasons others would, too. It was a big ship. Even if they had been wounded, they could have holed themselves up somewhere, tended their wounds, and were waiting for help to arrive.

No one needed me. No one needed a selfish, naïve child. Who was I kidding?

At least the cop had been on top of it. I only wished there had been more time. Wished he could have allowed us to say goodbye. A goodbye I would never be able to say to Jess.

It was for the best that he hadn't hesitated or waited, though. In the end, it would have been harder to let go, and they had been in pain. Half a minute later and they would have suffered like Jess had.

Maybe I should be grateful. I couldn't deny that it had been quick. Wolf might have ended it just as painlessly and killed the chestbursters in the same fell swoop, though.

I could still hear their bones cracking, the sound bouncing around in my skull.

The guilt ate away at my insides, burning like the same acid blood in the aliens' veins.

I lifted my head to rest my chin on my knees. Though I didn't move, I glanced around the room within my peripheral vision. There was nothing in it, and I wondered briefly what it was for.

Again I hid my face in my knees, squeezing tighter until they dug into my chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I said to no one in particular. The ghosts of my dead friends, haunting me until the end of time.

/My fault./

More screeches sounded in the far distance. I thought I heard the Echo somewhere, but it could have been anything. It started my brain, though. Why was I sitting here? Was I waiting for him, or was I waiting for a drone to find me?

I didn't have to wait. Not when I could go find the trouble, instead.

Whatever part of me that still wanted to live picked up the blade on the ground. I dragged myself to my feet and shuffled to the open door. First glance told me there was nothing outside, so I wandered out.

Had Wolf told me to stay? I couldn't remember. I'd been so out of it. Well, if he had, he'd just have to come find me. If he even planned on coming for me in the first place.

The blade hung limp at my side, long enough that the very tip dragged across the floor. It made a gentle scratching sound every couple seconds, but it was a good distraction from the horrible silence.

On a whim, I pulled my phone from my pocket. It had a small amount of battery life left and no reception. The clock read close to five in the morning. Still more than an hour until sunrise.

Sunrise meant it would be easier to make it down the mountain.

Maybe even off the ship.

All I had to do was find a section of the hull that the crash had destroyed. A hole or something I could crawl out of. The drones had to be getting off the ship somewhere, so I had to find it and sneak through it myself. If the sun rose, I could find the hole easier.

Then I'd go home and . . .

And what? Go back to school? Pretend everything was fine? There wasn't anything left for me. Maybe to see my mom again, my dad, my siblings. I wasn't sure, but I didn't know what else to do but try to go home.

If I lived through stumbling about, I'd figure it out.

I fumbled around in a daze, my feet dragging. The ship was silent except for the ambient cries of the aliens. They were far enough away I wasn't worried, and even if it had been close I wasn't sure if I would care anyway. I had the serrated blade Wolf had given me. If something came, I'd do my best.

It wouldn't be enough, but I'd try.

Somehow, I came to a group of bodies laying on the ground. I stopped moving and stared at them with a blank, despondent expression.

My friends. The cop.

Without really knowing where I was going, I had found my way back to the scene of my undoing.

I fell to my knees there, blind to the bloody messes that were left of them. My lip quivered and tears wet my eyes. I wiped them away and got up to leave before something occurred to me.

Identification.

The dog tags were still heavy around my neck, and I rubbed my thumb against the metal tags. They wouldn't have those, but I was sure I could find something to give their parents when I returned.

If I returned.

My hands fumbled through their jackets' and pants' pockets. All Jake had was his wallet, so I pulled out his ID and stowed that with the rest of the things. Michelle had her wallet, phone, and her digital camera, so I put her license next to Jake's.

Jess had her phone, but I was encumbered. I went through the rest of the wallets to find IDs, leaving behind what I could while still keeping something worth the trouble.

Her phone had more battery than mine. I ditched it and kept hers. The cop had his badge, so I clipped that to the waist of my pants.

I did all of this without feeling a thing. Once again I was far away, watching my actions like they weren't mine. There was something in the back of my head, telling myself this was why I needed to escape.

Why I needed to live just a little longer.

Give the dog tags to the military, give the phones and shit to the adults. I could do that. I could live for that.

The only thing was . . . I didn't want to.

As I finished with the cop, I realized his gun was still there. I stared at it. He had used the last bullet on himself, but maybe he had an extra clip.

With a sniff, I pried the gun out of his hand. It was heavy. Sighing, I put it back down. Useless.

Standing up, I waited several moments where I just stayed silent. After a time, I finally turned and left. There was nothing else to do.

Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids and weighed down my limbs. My mind was running on fumes, ragged and dry. I wandered aimlessly for a while until I could no longer.

Even then, I soldiered on, stopping only when I found another empty room. It was open, so I assumed it was a public room for all who lived on the ship.

There was a few metal tables welded to the floor. I curled up underneath one, figuring I could take a small break after all that I'd done, all the progress. All the death. I deserved that much, right?

Just a few minutes to lay down?

After wandering for the fifteen or so minutes, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of anything. No Wolf. No drones. No nothing. I figured I could have a couple of moments to myself to just rest. I wanted sleep, but I couldn't have sleep.

My tears had dried up, the sobs subsided to an occasional hiccup. The crying had taken its toll, though. I thought I had done a decent job keeping it together. I was mostly keeping it together, still.

Mostly.

Maybe I could sleep. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. If I just let myself succumb to my exhaustion, I would be asleep for when the drones found me. Maybe then I wouldn't feel them tear me apart. I'd be asleep, and I would never wake up.

Easy.

I wouldn't have to wake up and deal with the consequences of what I'd done.

It would be better than dealing with the sharp pain in my chest. Better than the knowledge that I had killed Jess. That I had killed them all.

But I'd already known that.

From the very second that I'd left them behind in the woods I knew I'd killed them. Why did it matter now? What was the difference? Killed them then, killed them now . . .

Maybe because I hadn't watched them die.

Now I had. Now it was real.

Wolf's blade lied next to me on the ground, dropped when I had collapsed. I blinked at it, then pushed it away and rolled over, my back to it. I didn't want to use it anymore. I didn't want to try. I was too tired.

I was nothing but a burden. A useless heap of flesh that needed to be saved and protected, a selfish waste of space that left her friends behind and forced an alien to help her.

/I'm done./

/Done, done, done, done, done . . ./

Closing my eyes, I pillowed my head on my arms and curled up tighter. My breathing slowed and it felt amazing to close my eyes and rest. To pretend that I wasn't on an alien ship crawling with things that wanted to eat me.

It was way past my bedtime, anyway. I should be in bed, sleeping. None of it should have happened. They'd warned us.

But it was too late now.

Finally, I started to slip. I let my eyes close and took in one more shaky breath: remnants of my crying fit. My mind raced with "should'a, would'a, could'a" scenarios, threatening to keep me awake.

Not for long, though.

I knew that with how exhausted I was, I would pass out into sleep sooner rather than later and then it would be all be over. A drone would find me, and I could only hope that I would sleep through the infection or mauling.

Somewhere—somewhere close—a screech jerked me from my pity party. I started violently and my eyes shot open, immediately darting around the small room.

So, after all, I would be awake for my comeuppance.

The sound came again, louder this time. My heart started to pound against my chest and I blinked away the dreariness.

Part of me wanted to curl back up and try to sleep again, but my monkey brain forced me to find out what was going on.

I crawled out from under the table, my hand brushing the hilt of the big-ass blade that Wolf had gifted me. I took the cool grip in my hand out of instinct and dragged it with me.

All I saw were shadows inside shadows on top of more shadows. There was something out there, though, in the hallway. I thought I saw movement somewhere to my side and I stared but saw nothing. They were beginning to dredge up more feelings of flight or fight.

But why? I shouldn't care. I wanted this. I took a few deep breaths to calm down.

/This is how it should be./

When the drone's shape appeared, fear flared up, chilling the back of my neck and raising goosebumps up and down my arms. It noticed me and hissed, swinging around to stalk in my direction.

I lifted the blade higher and tried to sneak back into the room, but it was too late. The drone bared its chrome fangs at me, glinting in the dim lighting.

Still and all, I retreated to the room. I raised the blade higher, then lowered it again, warring with myself.

/Let it come. Let it finish this and dole out your punishment./

Frozen in place, my eyes were wide and unblinking. The drone's head peered into the room and I backed up further until my back hit a table. My heart dropped.

/All you have to do is stand here./

My arms moved of their own accord and raised the blade higher. Though I tried, my arms were stuck in that pose, fingers white-knuckled around the grip. I was just waiting for the angel of death to swoop in and end my misery.

When it squealed and lurched toward me, adrenaline forced me into movement.

Flight.

I threw myself out of the way and the creature barely missed me. I stumbled and picked myself up, then tore down the hallway. The thing shrieked and gave chase. I pushed myself faster, arms and legs pumping.

A corner blocked my way and I skittered to change direction, thumping against the wall. I almost dropped the sword.

At least the hallways, unlike the forest, were a straight shot. There wasn't as much debris to deal with except the occasional hanging wires and tubes or pieces of ceiling.

Maybe I was a goalkeeper and not a striker, but I was in shape. They still made me run for hours with everyone else. I was still fast; I'd always been praised for my long legs.

/Stop running!/

My body wouldn't listen to the desperate, guilty voice that plagued me. Fear drove me forward, fueled by every sound the thing behind me made. I knew not to look backward and I kept my eyes forward, on the prize. Possible escape.

But it wasn't escape.

It was a dead end.

I was running fast enough and it was dark enough that the end of the hallway snuck up on me. I slammed on the breaks, but I still collided against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of me. It knocked me on my ass.

/What about the drone?/

Scrambling up and whirling around, I put my back to the wall and held the blade in front of me, trembling. I coughed a few times, trying to fill my lungs with air again and rid myself of the pain.

It was still sprinting toward me. I couldn't drop the weapon and as the beast bore down on me, there was only one thought in my head. It overrode any of the guilt I was feeling and overwhelmed any of my higher cognitive thoughts.

/I'm scared./

When it saw I was trapped, it slowed its pace. Its head swung one way and another, considering me, checking for other enemies. Weighing its options and seeing what I would do.

The waiting was killing me. The end result would be the same—so what if I put up a little bit of a fight?

Make that fucker work for it. After all it and the rest of its ilk had put me and my friends through, it didn't deserve an easy ride. It didn't deserve to have me served up on a silver platter.

It deserved to suffer, even just a little bit.

The same way I suffered. How my friends suffered. How Anderson, Simmons, Wolf, Wolf's friends, and all the other citizens and police and soldiers had suffered.

Unbridled rage became me.

Step by step it came closer, hissing and snarling. My chest heaved with each breath and I couldn't hold the blade in my hand steady, even with both hands. When it was about ten yards away, it stopped and crouched, muscles bunching.

I tensed, all my muscles coiled like a tight spring. My blood was on fire. Red tinted my vision.

/I don't want to die./

Not to that thing. It weren't going to get me. I was going to live. I was going to make those fuckers PAY.

Every last fucking one of them.