“Damn this disease.” Zelester said, his head hung over a toilet. “Damn it to h-” he reared forward, his stomach heaving, and expelling even more of his gut’s contents, undigested and acidic to his throat. Another heave produced no results. “Empty...” he said with a struggle, breathing heavily. A third heave ended in a harsh cough, as Zelester slid to the floor, propping himself up against the aluminum steel door of the stall.

He leaned forward and swung his legs out, trying to stand. He stumbled, and in an attempt to save himself from falling, placed his hands on the toilet seat. Inadvertently, his fingers slipped into a puddle of vomit. “Fucking craika...” He said, annoyed. Slipping his vest off without touching it, he wiped his hands off, and cleaned the spittle on his lower lip. He crumpled it up and threw it into the toilet bowl. Unlatching the door and walking out into the white walled restroom, Zelester felt ill again, but swallowed the pain, knowing it was useless to keep on ‘dry-heaving.’ He locked his elbows and leaned on the countertop in front of the mirror. He began to run the water, cold and fast.

He couldn’t help but stare at himself in the mirror, something he realized he had not done in ages. His hair was unkempt and lopped to one side, it’s blonde color dirtied to a brown. He ran his hand under the faucet and combed his hair back, wincing as the snarls were forced free. He sighed, gazing into his own eyes. They were bright and blue, but there was a certain luster missing that he grieved for, making the pair of glistening orbs more grey than blue. He sniffed, an itch building in his nose. Ignoring it, he stared on further.

He nearly winced as his eyes cast down to the reddish-brown of his fur, understanding now why his few friends did so in bright daylight. He craned his neck to relieve the stiffness running down his back. The painful snap indicated he’d tried too hard. He squinted at his cheekbones, realizing finally just how thin he was. Thanks to the light layer of fur, his emaciated face was concealed somewhat.

“What the hell...” He muttered, as he fell to his knees before the counter. “Who am I kidding... I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep being the tough one.” He placed his face into the cradle created by his folded arms. He breathed heavily. “I always need to be strong, the support. But what happens when I fold like paper... What happens when I can’t take it anymore... Who’s gonna take care of me?” He asked himself at a regular speaking volume. “I can’t keep watching Relisia. She had to get a foster family because I couldn’t rake in the money to support her... Why did I hang around? Who knows. She’s like the little sister I never had, but what do I know about looking after her. I can barely feed myself, let alone a sixteen year old kid. Shit, I’m only nine years older than her, we could be brother and sister.” He slid onto the off blue tile, his back against the marble counter. He closed his eyes, tilting his head to the fluorescent lights above. “What do I know? What can I do, now?” he said, proposing himself a quandary. “What am I going to do?” He tightened his eyes, squeezing the sleep from them. “I can’t fight. I can’t protect her any better than she can herself. What good am I?” he slid further down, the white long sleeved shirt he wore sliding up his back. “Why am I even thinking about this. Those humans are probably out there, croaking folks still. We need to survive, if anything. Yeah, that comes first.”

“But then what?” he said, instantly returning to inner debate. “Then what do we do? Where are we gonna go? What are we gonna do, even?” He leaned forward, his jet black claws hanging out in front of him. He stretched his legs, feeling a cramp coming if he did not stop soon. He rubbed his calf muscle. “What’ll there be to do... Who knows... Who knows.” He slowly went to stand again. “I still need to be strong. Gotta bottle it all up for a while longer.” He went to open the door that led back into the bar. Discretely approaching Relisia, he saw her holding D’s hand, or ‘rather affectionately’, Zelester thought.

“Hey.” he said, practically right behind Relisia. Her reaction was delayed. “How did you know what to do?” she asked, looking up into her guardian’s tired eyes. Zelester sat upon the floor beside her.

“First aid was the only thing I paid attention to in school.” he said, smiling widely and somewhat uncharacteristically. “I guess some people would call that fate, huh?” He felt D’s forehead. “Yeah, he’ll be fine, Rel.” he stood again, confidently. “He might take a turn for the worst if we just leave him on the cold floor, though.” Zelester stated. “There’s a couch in the manager’s office upstairs. I don’t think he’ll mind us borrowing it, now.” Relisia cracked a cold grin, and agreed with a nod. She scooted to D’s legs and tried to lift. They were heavy. Zelester moved to D’s torso and tried to hoist him up, but without much success.

“What’s this freak made out of, concrete?” Zelester joked, the ‘deep burn’ in his arms making him somewhat annoyed. “You ever met a hek this dense before? Craika, a regular behemoth.” he was right, though. D was something of a genetic misfit. A rare six feet tall and in possession of a fine set of muscles, he was something of a physical outcast. With a little more effort, Relisia and Zelester finally got D up and off the floor. They drug him across the smooth floor to the stairs without too much exertion.

“Let’s get this over with.” Zelester said, grabbing a chunk of fabric from D’s wide shoulders.

“Don’t drop him.” Relisia retorted, an icy smirk stretching her tear encrusted face.

“Drop him? You shitting me? We could throw him out the window and he’d wake himself up and come back in here.” Zelester exclaimed. “Now grab something, like his pant leg. I hope he don’t mind his clothes being a size bigger than usual when he wakes up.” he paused, preparing. “Go.” They lifted him up and slowly, but successfully, got him up the stairs. A few feet of beige hallway and the door was before them. A door with a wood frame and a blurred window, with the manager’s name printed upon it, was before them. “I don’t have a key, but I don’t see why that should stop us. Stand back.” He launched his clawed foot at the doorknob, but the door remained closed. “Fuck it.” He smashed the window with his fist, covering his eyes from the spray of glass. He felt for the lock and unlatched it, letting himself in.

“I got him.” Relisia said, dragging D into the carpeted room. The office was small, a couch large enough for a single person, a desk with papers and folders on it, and a filing cabinet were all that decorated the cramped office. “Real cozy.”

“Better than downstairs. Gotta admit that.” Relisia tilted her head in agreement. “Let’s get ‘im up on the couch.” With one last struggle, D lay comfortably on the cushions, his hindclaws hanging out over the armrests, anyways. Zelester fell back into the office chair near the desk, the chair itself nearly collapsing. Relisia sat on the corner of the disk, the height matched almost perfectly to herself. It was rather comfortable. The two of them sat in silence for quite a while, absorbing the moment.

“You should try and get some bloody sleep.” Zelester said. “It’s been rough on all of us this past day or so.” He tried to remain calm, despite his obvious insecurities. “So hit the hay.” Relisia pondered taking his advice.

“Maybe... I don’t see how I’ll sleep.” She pivoted on the desk, kicking up a few papers, now sitting cross legged before Zelester.

“Just give it a try. For me.” Zelester implored, almost begging, but in a joking sense. Relisia spun back around and sat on the floor.

“Alright. What’re you gonna do?” she asked, rolling into a ball on the shag carpet. “Hmm, it’s warm.” She rolled onto her stomach, tail nearly touching the back of her head.

“I’m gonna go downstairs, find some water and maybe some food.” Relisia dug her face into the carpet, as Zelester left the room, shaking his hand and plucking bits of glass from it.

“Hmm... Wonder if we’re gonna make it. Hekshanians, that is. It seems like the end of the universe. It seems like... we’ve got nothing left to hope for, nothing more on the horizon. What will the future bring us... It’s probably not worth thinking about, but then again... I just can’t help myself. I gotta wonder what’s next, ‘cause I don’t want to look back anymore. I can’t look back anymore. The past is past, and I can’t live in what’s already happened. I gotta live in what will.” She tossed a bit. “But what’s ahead? More death, being sad? If that’s the case, then...” she trailed off while contemplating a myriad of deaths. “Only then. What if it comes to that... will I be able to go through with it? I can’t possibly know... I can’t know. I just don’t want to die at their hands.”

“I can’t die knowing that way. I can’t bear thinking of that...” she sighed. “But what then... the people I’ll leave behind. Zel. He’s strong. He’ll get past it. He always does. What about D? We were never the most tight knit friends by any means. He’ll get on with life. There’s no one else to let down. They’re all gone, now. They’re all gone.” she rolled back onto her stomach. “I just... can’t go on like this anymore.” Her ears perked up. “...” She stood, slowly gliding across the carpet to D. She lifted his shirt gently and there like a silver coin on blacktop, was the revolver. She took it and held it in both hands. “Can I?” She lifted the weapon, and stuck the barrel beneath her chin. “Can I?” Her hands twitched and began to sweat. Sighing heavily, she let the weapon drop from her hands.

“I can’t do it myself... I can’t.” she slowly began to sob, but sucked it back behind her eyes. “Not yet.” her eyes scanned the room. She fixed on D, whose face was contorted, and whose brow was slick with sweat, unlike before. She went to him and kneeled beside the couch, gently shaking him. “D...”



Where am I now... What is this? D thought as he examined the surroundings. It was... home. He stood in the center of the living room, without his shirt, like he was when it happened. !? He gazed about, realizing where he was. But... impossible. The corpses of his family lay about, just as they had when they’d died. D went blank, unsure of what to do. All he could do was stand in a daze. The room froze his skin and his arms folded to his chest.

“H... hello?” D said. He noticed his breath rising into the air, like it did on a particularly cold night, like it did when they lived in the north. He quivered, watching it rise.

“Heh... heh heh... hehehe.” A maniacal laugh rose from the dark. “Heh heh heh heh.” D’s father stood before him.

“Shit...” The ghastly corpse grinned with sharp teeth, pallid flesh and a lifeless stare locking with D’s stark blue eyes. Another voice began to laugh, adding to the cacophony.

“Heh, heh, HEHE. Heh.” D spun around, only to lock gazes with another lifeless stare.

“M...M...Mom?” Shivering, D stumbled back, tripping over his long pants. He fell into the carpet, scrambling back and away. A third laugh joined, this one gurgling and distorted. A third figure rose from the dark. “Erink...” The corpse was like the others, moving like an appartion, apart from the tremendous head damage. Blood spat and dribbled from the gorge carved down the side of Erink’s face.

“Hreh, burheh, rrreh.” The voice bubbled. D felt his chest heave, the sensation of bleeding rising over him. He felt at his chest, the bullet wound wetting his chest with crimson fluid.

“No...” He gurgled, feeling a drip of blood fall from the corner of his mouth. He coughed, a cloud of blood ejecting forth. A cold hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

“Why... Did you leave us...” D snapped sideways, his nose mere inches from Dren’s mouth. A cold wind issued forth as he spoke again. “Why... did you abandon us, D?” D could not see Dren’s eyes, as a chill went down his spine.

“Why...” D gurgled further, as blood spilt from his mouth. He lay back, and his eyes slowly slid shut, returning to the darkness from whence he came.



“Wh... Uh...” D’s eyes opened. The ecstatic faces of Zelester and Relisia were over him. “Welcome back to reality.” Relisia said. “We’re in the clear.”