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                “One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic.”

Josef Stalin

                A bright light floods out on us. I look back and see it’s from one of the eight of twelve goons that followed Morcean, casting a battery-powered spotlight onto the field. I don’t know why, but that makes me feel a lot worse, that blinding white light against my back. Morcean stands behind me, the gun aimed against my head. His shadow is splayed out in front of me. I can see all the shadows, like a sick puppet show cast against the grass.

                Morcean’s shadow turns. “Well, Slate. What do you think?”

                Slate’s shadow, held by one of the other goons’ shadow, struggles still. “I think you’re a sick bastard who . . .”

                “Slate, I can shoot poor Sam in the back of the head,” Morcean’s shadow explains as he locks his gaze back on me. “Or I can shoot him the lower back.” I see the shadow’s arm lower. I can imagine the barrel of the gun staring hatefully against my spine. “The point is, he’s going to die. But one way, he won’t even notice. The other, he’ll be out here for hours, rustling with the agony of not being able to move his legs, his hips. He’ll be left lying on the grass, unable to move at all as the life slowly drains out of him.”

                The shadow moves in a bit closer to me. “Kind of a pity. What a waste of all that material.”

                “What do you want?” I whisper, shaking in fear at the shadow that stands over me. Sweat runs down my face, stinging my eyes, but my constricted hands keep me from wiping it away. I try to move my head, but Morcean’s shadow reaches forward and I feel the hard tap of the gun barrel.

                “I want information.” The shadow explains. “I want Slate to tell me what happened to the others, because I simply can’t believe they’d all be dead. I also don’t believe that little cache of rats was the whole resistance cell.” I see his shadow turn. “I also want to know exactly what she saw over in the other bio-dome.”

                “Then you don’t want to kill me.” I pipe up, watching the grass as his shadow turns back to me. “I saw a lot more of that place. I was all over it. I went from Argent labs all the way to the two towns. I even have, had a cell phone from there. If you want to know about the zombies or something, you, you can’t kill me.”

                “Oh I can.” He says simply. “And I probably will.”

                My body shivers as he puts the gun back against my head. As if marking my passing, the trees begin to smoke out a hazy mist. Heavy and cold, it clings to the ground, rolling in quietly on us, moving up towards me like the Reaper’s grasp calling for my soul. I feel its barrel against the ridge of my skull, the smooth texture of its tiny mouth as it gapes at me, threatening to eat its way through me. “What do you want to know?” I say, my voice coming out in nervous bursts. “Whatever it is, I can tell you.”

                “I want her to tell me.” Morcean’s shadow says simply.

                “I don’t know anything.” She calls.

                “Shut her up for a minute, will you?” Morcean’s shadow says. I see the shadow that’s holding her turn, exposing her whole body to another shadow as the guy slams his fist into her stomach. I see her shadow convulse in pain, then slump as I hear wet gasping.

                “How many zombies are there?” Morcean’s shadow asks, it’s voice cold just as the shadow is swallowed up by the thick white mist.

                “A lot.” I say. “Anyone with type B blood is a zombie. I didn’t see any vampires, but there might be some.”

                “And you were inside Argent labs.” Morcean allows. “What did you see?”

                “The place was in ruins. I mean, it looked fine, except just about everyone was dead and there were zombies everywhere.” I spout.

                “And the zombies got loose?” He goes on.

                I nod. “Yeah. When Slate and I got to the gate to sneak out, we found it had been torn open, and we came across zombies inside the tunnels.”

                I see Morcean’s shadow turn around. He’s looking at Slate. He finally turns back to me. I don’t need to see him to know the look on his face. “Well then.” He says. I can hear the smile. “It’s a good thing we’re safe in here.”

                I feel the gun go against the back of my head. “I hate to do this, Sam. I really do.” I feel him adjust his grip, the gun going steady. I close my eyes, my facing pulling taut. I shiver in the cold as the mist crawls along my waist, while the gun chills me down to my soul.

                I’m going to die.

                “You’re going to die.” Morcean says.

                I feel his hand get ready.

                I feel the barrel shift as he starts to squeeze on the trigger. I hear the groan of metal as the movement starts, as the metallic anticipation builds. I feel the vacuum of my chest as my life already starts to disappear.

                The light goes out.

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