I followed after her. I was positive that at any second she would turn around and bite my face off, but I was pretty much ok with that. She obviously had somewhere she was going, and there was a chance that this place might have some food, water, or maybe even a bed.
Of course, there was also a chance that she had just bumped her nervous system and it was stuck in first gear.
I knew that I would be dying soon without any more water, so I was happy to have some companionship there, even if it was with a stone-cold, brainless zombie shell of a person.
It’s funny; I’ve always thought about myself as an independent person, but now, during the penultimate moment in my life, I wanted nothing more than to be with somebody, near somebody, heck, even within twenty yards of somebody.
I noticed that she was no longer bleeding from her side. Before, she’d had two long gashes just above her waist. Her shirt was stained, but it was dry. Maybe she had some innate healing ability like Wolverine. That’d be pretty cool. Although, that would make me the dopey sidekick, and that’s not cool.
I thought about the completely outrageous situation I was in. If they made a movie about me, would Wendy be my love interest? Would I be a grizzled action hero? I hadn’t shaved for a while, so I had the grizzled look down. The action part was iffy. So far, the most action had been a pleasant little knife fight wherein I was the last man standing.
Yeah, I’d be cool with Bruce Willis playing me in a movie.
I stopped too, but not as fast, and I almost ran into her. This freaked me out a little; I was not ready for physical contact in our relationship yet. Especially considering she’s supposed to be dead.
She slowly turned around and faced the direction we’d come. I turned too, expecting to see Red and Truman waving at us, but nope. Nothing there.
I glanced at Wendy, who was not even squinting into the distance. She was just staring out as casually as if she was waiting for a light to change.
I looked out again, straining to see past the horizon, trying to see what had made her stop.
Wendy fell down with a thud.
When the only sound you’ve been hearing for the past two days is the steady rhythm of your footsteps and your own rattled breathing, a thud is a pretty terrifying sound. I must’ve jumped a good two feet before I figured out what it was.
She had fallen straight backwards and was lying down, hands at her sides, eyes closed, and for all outward appearance, like a body at a funeral.
This was bad. I had no desire to try to continue along this endless desert by myself, just to die a hundred yards later.
I nudged her with my foot, trying to get something, anything, out of her. Nothing moved. I bent down and shook her by the shoulders. Her eyes stayed closed and her body resumed its former position.
I wanted to scream, yell in her face to get up. I wanted to drag her behind me until we could find a nice five star hotel and survive.
I didn’t want to be alone.I lay down next to her, and for the second time that day, I gave up and waited to die.