I was one of the last people of our group - one of those who volunteered as a rear guard. Most of the others had already reached the relative safety of the vehicles ahead. Amongst the hurried preparations to depart, a few people simply waited and beckoned for us to hurry, the sounds of starting engines and the occasional scream drowning out their calls.
I glanced back to where we came from for a mere moment to judge the position of our pursuers... it was then that I saw her.
It was just a movement in the corner of my eye at first. A fleeting glimpse from my peripheral vision - there was no way I could be sure what it was. Nonetheless, something told me to stop and pay attention. I came to a stop so quickly I almost tripped over myself, momentarily forgetting where I was and what I was doing. There she was, clear as day, some two hundred meters away, moving slowly but surely from behind a building.
I remember the initial wave of relief, tinged with delight. It was so strong, I became lightheaded. A smile came to my face, as if by reflex. I had searched for her for so long – I’m ashamed to say that I’d just about given up hope. I tried to reach her on the other side of town, but I was so tired and in pain. But she was here now... everything would be all right again. I’d found my wife.
When we met our freshman in college, she was the typical good girl overachiever and I was a stereotypical slacker, trying to ignore my impending adulthood and its responsibilities. As soon as I met her, I was smitten and she, thank the gods, somehow saw potential in me. We started dating exclusively. She pushed and motivated me to study and succeed, so we both eventually graduated with business degrees. We married soon after and had been living more or less happily ever after for the last few years.
She was dressed smartly in a dark pantsuit, one I had often seen her wear to work. It was somewhat worse for wear now though, being rumpled and torn, dirty and bloodied.
She turned her head slowly, as if searching for something and eventually locked on to my direction. In a slow shambling walk, she started moving toward me, ignoring the gravel and broken glass under her bare feet.
My happiness was fleeting of course.
Her usually soulful brown eyes were devoid of emotion. A milky white color was beginning to obscure them. Those brown eyes of hers used to be so full of empathy and life. Now all there was, was a dead stare. As if our love never happened. That I didn’t exist. For her, nothing did... not anymore.
A rush of emotions hit me then – grief, anger, hopelessness, revulsion… In all my wildest dreams and nightmares, I’ve never expected seeing my wife to elicit such feelings. I believe that I came close to snapping, to losing my sanity, but somehow I held it together…
I focused on one simple idea: She wasn’t really there – not anymore. My wife was dead... what was left of her, her corpse was just infected.
I shouldered the rifle I had liberated from a sporting goods store the day before and took aim. “Goodbye sweetheart,” I whispered, then I put a bullet in her head.
Without looking back, I quickly continued on my way, catching up with the rest of the survivors, trying to make our way out of town toward someplace safe. I would later find out that, surprisingly only seconds had passed. No one has any idea what I went through, what I had to do. I don’t think I ever will tell anyone – there’s no real need to. Everybody in the world has their own personal horror story to bear now.
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