*sighhhhhhhhhhhh*
Sorry, I had to type exactly how I feel right now. Just one massive defeated sigh. The good news is I didn't have to tell Timothy that we were excommunicating him from the group. The bad news is he died. He was going to turn.
When I woke up, I heard it. The excessive coughing, the sounds of Timothy's lungs trying to evacuate themselves. At first, I thought he caught my flu, but even I wasn't sounding that bad. I looked him over and he exhibited another symptom of turning, something that you don't see in anyone who actually has the flu; bleeding from the eyes. He had mere hours left.
I looked at his bitten hand, and the evidence was immediate. The wound was black, and the flesh surrounding the bite was turning green and yellow, oozing a milky brown fluid. No signs of infection was around his ear, as it was torn off and not just bitten. Timothy knew what was happening to him, but at the same time he didn't understand. He was bit by a human, not a zombie. I didn't understand at first either and then my eyes widened. I grabbed his good hand and told him to remember Cheyenne. His eyes widened as well. Rat was a carrier and could transmit the vivensmortua through bite. Had I known that, I would have killed Rat the moment I saw her. Although, now I'm beginning to suspect we could all be carriers...
I had everyone gather and told them what was going on. Sandra shrieked and started crying. Jonathan hung his head low, and Hector's sniffles betrayed his machismo. Kat hugged me tightly and cried into my shoulder. We stood around Timothy not knowing what to do. It was different at the hospital. Most of our loved ones were killed right away, and I was the one who had to finish off the ones who weren't. To see Timothy's health rapidly decline in front of our eyes was gut-wrenching. Suddenly, my concerns with him being untrustworthy were washed away. I just kept holding his hand trying to comfort him.
He started shaking to the point of almost convulsing, and he had me lean in as he wanted to tell me something. He whispered, "You know what you have to do." I knew before he even told me. I closed my eyes and nodded. I had everyone leave the room, and Kat held back her tears to be strong for Sandra, who ran to Timothy and hugged him tighter than Kat had ever hugged me. Sandra, trying very hard to speak through sobs, said, "YOU CAN'T GO, YOU SILLY MAN! YOU'RE TOO SILLY TO DIE!" Kat and I looked at each other. We had no idea Tim left such an impact on Sandra. He just put her hands on her shoulders and said it was going to be OK. He said he couldn't wait to see Heaven, a place full of flowers that wasn't as beautiful as the ones she could make. It was impossible for me to hold back after hearing such a heartfelt sentiment. The walls came down and I started crying myself. Tim, through a bloody cough, remarked at me, "I always knew you were a pussy!" I tried to chuckle, but it got caught on a sob.
I had to help Kat get Sandra off him, and everyone left the room. I grabbed the gun, ejected the magazine and counted the rounds. Two left. I didn't feel like using one on Tim because even though it was only two bullets, who knows how valuable they would be in the future, but there was no other way to give him a quick and painless death. I put the mag back in and cocked the hammer back. I kept trying to bring up the gun but my arm wouldn't obey.
Timothy reached out with his good hand and said, "Here, give it to me." I hesitated for a while, but he insisted that he wanted to do it himself. He said he wanted to be a man for the first time, to accept his own death, to be in total control of his life for once. As I started to think he was finally being serious, no more zombie fantasy bullshit, he null and voided my feelings by saying, "Besides, this is how a bad ass would go out!" Before I could even smirk, he swung the gun up to his temple and pulled the trigger. I jumped back, startled, not expecting him to shoot himself so suddenly.
The cries on the other side of the door brought tears back into my eyes. I took one of our blankets and covered Tim up with it. I walked outside and told no one to go in, that they didn't need to see it. I had them take occupancy in the next room, and I asked Jonathan for his help to move Tim's body outside. After moving Tim to the overgrown lawn, Jonathan retrieved the shovel from the ambulance, the same one we used to bury everyone else at the hospital. We dug a grave and placed Tim inside.
Jonathan went inside the school to collect everyone, and we had a funeral for Tim. Sandra had her signature flower decorated tongue depressor cross and she placed it into the soil of his grave. I told her to make another one, and she asked who was it for. I told her it was for Rat, the girl who attacked us at the library. I didn't tell her about it yesterday, but I decided to just get it over with and told Sandra what happened. She said she was going to make her prettiest one yet, and she did.
Jonathan, Hector and I then went to the library, shovel in hand. When we walked in and approached the spot where Rat was, we discovered her body was missing. There were no trails of blood leading away from where the stain was, so she didn't get up on her own and walk away. I don't think she would have turned into a zombie, because it was head trauma that killed her; the brain wouldn't have been able to be restarted. Rat must have been carried away by someone else. We instantly got the chills, and the thought of anymore children like Rat was scarier to me than a horde of leathers. We started to leave, but then I turned around and quickly returned back to where Rat used to be, and I laid Sandra's cross down on the bloodstain. It was all I could do.
We returned to the high school and I said I wanted nothing more to do with Columbus. If there weren't any objections, I wanted to get back on the road tonight. There weren't. We're currently on the road now while I'm writing this, with Jonathan driving us. We're going west on I-70 heading toward Indianapolis. We're still planning on heading to Idaho to find Jonathan's friends. We haven't made as much progress as I would have liked, because our gas is low and we've been stopping at every gas station not finding a single working pump. We've also been stopping at every abandoned car to try to siphon any gas we can, and we're lucky to get just a half gallon from the ones that have anything left.
The mood in the ambulance is pretty gloomy. Hardly anyone's talked to each other these past few hours. We're sick and tired of death. I've also been having horrible thoughts of just killing us all and saving the eventuality of turning into zombies or being food for them. I don't like thinking like that, but that part of my brain just won't shut off. I looked at Kat, and I kissed her mouth. I looked at Sandra, and I kissed her forehead. I held Kat with my left arm, and Sandra with my right. These two are the reasons why I need to keep living. I can't be selfish and deny them a possible future as bleak as it may be. I can't be weak and take the easy way out myself. I'm sorry, Kat. This is another one of those things I simply can't tell you. Again, if you happen to read this, I'm really sorry. I know you'll understand.
We're going to try to drive through the night. If we run out of gas, we run out of gas. With just the five us now, there's plenty of room in the ambulance to bunker down. I'm going to end this entry here as Jonathan looks like he needs a break from driving.
Until tomorrow.
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