My Way

How rare it is for someone to truly be able to choose their end, with a clear mind and dry eyes.

This thought tumbled clumsily through Maureen’s already cluttered head as she made her way painstakingly up the flight of stairs. There was blood, dark and slippery, on the soles of her boots and every step just reminded her of all the times she’d thought about investing in carpet covers or some kind of textured tape strips to provide better traction than the polished wood had to offer on its own. She had always put it off as something to do on a weekend where there weren’t quite so many things demanding her attention, and eventually it had been too late.

The end of the world had come, and caught everyone completely by surprise.

‘Diseased corpses roaming the streets clamoring for brains’ was a concept she’d grown up laughing at in movie theaters with her friends, their clunky movements detracting from any fear they were meant to instill in her. She’d once discussed tactics for a Zombie Apocalypse at length with her brother Adam, both of them claiming that they’d outlive the other and providing detailed plans for how they’d be faster, smarter, tougher than anyone else out there. Maureen’s methods had been proven superior after months and months of caution, but it was obviously a hollow victory.

She had to pause at the top of the stairs, nursing her aching side carefully as she lapsed against a wall. The bite was already taking its toll, cramps twisting her stomach in knots and sweat beading up on her forehead in spite of the winter chill that permeated the abandoned house. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since she’d encountered the corpse tucked away in a shadowed corner of her kitchen, but Maureen knew from experience just how quick the end came for those with injuries like hers.

There had already been a small, infected scratch on her shoulder, spelling slow doom that loomed in the distance like rolling thunder. However, she’d gotten that over a month ago and scarcely felt its effects aside from a touch of dull pain creeping down her arm day by day. It was nothing compared to this newer wound, which had directly deposited a hefty dose of the aggressive virus into her bloodstream - if Maureen had to guess, there was probably less than an hour before she’d be no better off than the man who bit her, or her brother.

With an impending deadline in mind, Maureen pushed off the wall and padded quietly down the hallway toward the door at its end. All things considered, it was a fairly pleasant day with sunlight streaming in through a pair of windows to illuminate her path. The aircon system had long since failed, but the walls of the house still provided shelter from the wind and snow. It was more than she’d had in a couple weeks, at least, and provided a small amount of comfort.

Plus, it was her home.

Even if she’d left it almost immediately after things had gone bad, it was still her home.

Maureen reached out for the doorknob but hesitated, then pressed an ear against the wood to listen for any sounds of movement from within the room. She was already done for, sure, but she still had something to do before she was allowed to go down and wasn’t keen on taking any more punishment if it could be avoided. Luckily, initial signs suggested that the room was as devoid of life or living death as she’d left it and she felt confident enough to proceed.

Her fingers left bloody streaks on the doorknob as she twisted it open, peeking her head into the bedroom to double-check that the coast was clear. With the closet door wide open, and no other proper places to hide, it seemed like she was safe enough to focus on the task that had brought her back across the country once her fate had been sealed. She would have worried more about the space under the bed if there had been any, but she knew it was chock full of storage bins stuffed with things she hadn’t been able to bring with her and Adam when they’d left.

Now all Maureen was worried about was finding a tiny little key she hadn’t seen in ages. It had to be there, because before everything went to Hell in a handbasket and survival had taken precedence over organization, she’d been rather careful about not misplacing her things. The main problem was her memory itself, proving to be a little unreliable as she shuffled over to her desk after closing and locking the door behind herself.

Since when did I have three jewelry boxes..?

Opening them one by one, she silently cursed her past self for giving into passing attraction so often, each wooden box presenting a mis-matched pile of bracelets, necklaces, rings, and other decorative pieces. They hadn’t been entirely organized before she’d had to flee the house, but in her rush to grab a few things for the road their contents had been left in even further disarray. That she knew of, she only had keys to a few things, but the one she sought was as likely housed in the center of one pile as it might not be - meaning it was time for some excavation efforts.

The young woman sat down in her wheeled desk chair to get started, choosing the most challenging-looking mess to tackle first. A drop of sweat trickled down her forehead and the bridge of her nose as she worked, dripping silently onto the back of her hand. So far the shaking hadn’t become bad enough to slow her progress, just a mild tremor here and there when the pain in her side flared up, but with her life hanging in the balance it was still hard not to feel like the task was taking forever.

Each pile of jewelry yielded under her ministrations, a gentle tug here, a quiet curse there. It wasn’t until she was about halfway through the second bundle that she found her first key, small and delicate enough to be the one she was looking for. Hoping that it wasn’t for some diary she’d burned in her late teens out of embarrassment over its contents, Maureen rescued it from its prison and prayed that it would fit.

Maureen pulled the heart-shaped locket out of her coat, its chain having broken when caught on a branch during one particularly frantic escape from a horde of more than a dozen reanimated corpses. Going back for it had earned her the scratch on her shoulder, but she’d only doubted her decision for a heartbeat before deciding that it was worth it. As the key turned easily and popped the locket open, she decided that coming home and shortening her already capped lifespan had been worth it, too.

She didn’t have any pictures of her and Adam left aside from that one.

When she was younger, she’d never liked being photographed - always thought that she didn’t have the face for it. Going back through family photo albums of holiday celebrations, birthdays, and weddings always made it seem like she didn’t even exist, save for the occasional candid shots her aunt managed to sneak in here and there. The picture in the locket was from her and Adam’s graduation ceremony in their senior year of high school, something her brother had insisted on for his present from her.

With her mission achieved, Maureen reclined as much as she dared and just spent a while looking at her brother’s face for the first time since he’d died. Memories flooded her mind’s eye, a curious mix of emotions that made her heart ache with longing. Though, that could have just been the work of the virus making its way through her system. She barely registered that the spot where she’d been bitten hurt less as it was starting to go numb.

She knew that time was getting short, but there was nothing else she felt needed her attention. It had been a long time since she’d felt so free, strangely enough, with no looming obligations or deadlines to worry about, no precautionary measures to take or traps to set. Just her, Adam, and the promise of oblivion… and a jar of mysteriously unmelted peppermints to enjoy while she waited.

Take two, a voice at the edges of her mind whispered. Adam would have wanted one.

Truth be told, he would have wanted the entire jar - always such a sweet tooth. Maureen gently set the locket down before her on the desk and took a candy, unwrapping it with little difficulty and popping it in her mouth. Her hands had finally started to quiver, things progressing as expected, and she quietly wondered if she’d lose the ability to unwrap peppermints before the fever took her mind.

Until one or the other happened, she resigned herself to the little comforts. Her brother’s smiling face looking back at her from the desk, the soft sweetness of the candy, and the winter sunlight peeking in through the blinds. It wasn’t a glorious end in the street, besieged by hordes of undead, or self-inflicted as a means of keeping herself from turning into one of them herself. She wasn’t like Adam in that regard.

But it was something she’d chosen, with a clear enough mind and dry eyes.