Contractual Pact |Day 40 After Virus Release|

Lex

I am frantically pushing my legs along the safest path I’ve practiced and explored going downtown, and I can’t stop processing. No no no. This isn’t right. Step by step, I breathe in faster and hotter. Parades of thoughts raid my head. Anneka is an amazing fighter; I’ve never seen her lose, even when everything is against her. I believe that she could win that fight, but she must see it differently. Was I right to leave?

I think back to my last sight of her. Striking was the light in her eyes that communicated to me that leaving her to fight alone was all that she wanted. If I were to ignore the meaning derived from her resolute stance, I could tell that she would never forgive me, and things would never be the same, meaning the right action is to continue with the antivirus. Believe. Believe in my partner. She is uncompromising to obstacles and the tides of life in the way of her dreams. She’ll do far more than I can in this situation, and I long for my belief in her to vanquish her condemned words. You need to assume I’ll be dead.

Looking at the landmarks, I’ve made my way downtown. For seconds, I take in the view of Olympic Sculpture Park, a public park that is flat, perfectly clear in all directions, green with nature, and beachfront to the clear blue Salish Sea. The next step is testing the prototype antivirus on these tied-up zombies throughout the architecture, which is absolving the symmetry of the park. The zombies or strain carriers I selected for trials are varied and have already been analyzed sufficiently. Currently, the prototype virus is inhaled, so carefully to not waste or misuse it, I bring the viral particles close to their faces. I administer it to every single zombie and wait. There is nothing to do but review the day. I see each of the subjects. A conjuring of fragments containing all the faces. The wide array of people I want to cure here. We have to cure here. They assuredly had different lives before their change to zombies. Every type of distinction is possible. Experience, age, families, and dreams. If this goes well, they should get all of that back and have a brighter future. The start of a saved future from the brink for all of humanity. I fidget, taking items out of my bag, staying out of sight, safe on the top of a tree, resting in the apex of branches. Inevitably and humanly from doing nothing, I question the future even though I have already worked through my thoughts earlier.

I obsess over my mind and heart. They need to live in a stable equation. It is how I’ve always lived. Desperate, I hold on to what exists in my head to maintain that best mental state despite fighting alone with no distractions or objectives. I find nothing of peace in that space inside my mind for hours. My thoughts collide, burst, and spurt, driven by the weight of life and death I consider. Deep in the dark and abyss, I grasp my contractual pact of responsibility to the world. Its expanse and depth rationalize my actions and feelings for me like a mother warmly holding a child. Its formed logic states that I am required to compartmentalize my thoughts until after this is over after I can guarantee the world will be saved. It is not that I can’t think everything through now. Instead, my promise is simply of the highest magnitude. I can’t be lost in what I don’t know and can’t control. I’m sure if I start to think, the balance in my heart will break, and I will be in a worse state for everyone relying on me.

There is no change in the zombies’ transformation back to humans or the movements of stray zombies throughout the city in my direction for the first half day of 12 hours. I wait another half day where I allow myself to lightly rest up in a tree for the first eight hours. Looking at each zombie after I get up, I mark everything I think went wrong with the antivirus in a notebook. Perhaps I am still too impatient? The zombie virus is all throughout their bloodstream. It wouldn’t surprise me if it takes longer for the antivirus to combat a fully taken-over system. I choose to carefully monitor and wait for a final increment of 12 hours. I cannot continue any longer before I have to head back.

Like every other period of waiting, I go through my bag once more, sitting near the shore. In the lowest corner, I find the novel Anneka is reading. I don’t know why it is here and how I’ve missed it, looking through my bag's contents so many times. The bookmark is only a couple of pages past the cover. She's so far from the ending of this book. It's my fault. I slam my fist against the innocent sand. I should have given her more time to read. I should have told her that it wasn't necessary to watch over our sleep. It wasn't necessary to be alert at all times. She shouldn’t have set aside her own life for these reasons. Someone should care. I’m the only one who could have. She was so excited to read the future finale as well.

Future.

That recurring word causes my head to ache and ring, and I crumble down into the sand of Salish Beach. The grains are too large and have a myriad of dark colors. I feel off-put as the gritty particles impede my shorts. Exhausted and hurting, my back takes to the sand.

Eyes closing, I recognize that I have a couple more hours before it is time to check up on the zombies again. After that, I need to go back to our base. There are only four more hours of fuel, and the return trip is three hours. I’m sure that this prototype doesn’t have the right features. Before I can change it, I have to make sure that we don’t lose crucial power to our incubators, putting them out of commission. I don’t have time to delay.

“What are you doing? All you care about is time. Anneka is the one who doesn’t have much time left.”

I shake my head about and tremble my arms down at my sides. I open my eyes, but my reality is the same terror. The voice is overbearing. “I … I need to save the world and stave the suffering.”

“You’ll do all that, but you can’t even save your best friend? Change the basis of your belief. Believe that you can and need to save her. Your partner? The one person who saves you daily from this outside world. All this time, you’ve never been a help; you've only been a weakness. Do something this one time. No, do the right thing.”

I continue looking for the source and stare into the water, looking into the sand at the bottom and then my reflection. It is a perfect replication that debates clearly. I yell back to it. “I can’t do anything derived from my personal emotional feelings that would crush her dream.”

“Are you sure? Think about your dream. How are you going to live in a world after failing your best friend? You’ve already failed Fion. Your dream is falling apart. Maybe it doesn’t exist.”

Ugh. The voice lands a sharp blow to the dream that holds me like a contract, unwriting everything I perceived earlier, not with a subtle eraser but with scissors tearing it to shreds. I feel hollow as I realize the cost of my actions and inactions. Fion’s warnings pool the space in my head. The criticism of my resolve and dream. He was right, and my reading of his head wasn’t. I’m flawed. The life of fighting internally that he had been fending with this whole time is unbearable. I never knew the thorns at all, and even with time, I couldn’t process your absence or loss, Fion.

My deep conviction fights my power struggle, remerging. “No, I have a responsibility to the world. I’ve sworn that minimizing suffering is the only thing that matters.” I say while letting deep breaths leave. “Anneka never wants my help in fights. You know this already.”

The water’s figure palms his face.

“Don’t believe the nauseating rationalizations. Do you ever want anyone’s help? Well, she is the same idiot. Realize the parallel. You are possibly the only person here in this city. Head to help immediately. There is no time. Surpass your limits by using your brain to fight.”

“The antivirus has no clear effect on the zombies. That much is true. What about the incubators? It has already been 35 hours. The return trip back to base is three hours. If I leave them to go to her aid now, then they will be lost, and I can’t think of any way to get new incubators before we run the countdown time. I haven’t been able to contact anyone through the radio for the past two weeks, and even with contact, I doubt that it would be any different. Helping Anneka directly dooms the world.”

“It doesn’t matter. Save your friend. She is part of the world you care so much about. Carefully note that it would take another three hours to make it back to the inner city on foot after arriving at the base and filling up the gas. Additionally, I estimate that you need to spend three more hours finding where Anneka is and preparing the materials needed to execute a plan. You can’t waste a second, and you definitely can’t waste up to six just traveling back and forth.”

So, has it been my dream all along to save everyone, not the world? I wail and cry out. It is the only sound of man being made in the forgotten downtown of Seattle. My truth is obscured. I don’t know what this voice is and what part of me it comes from, but it made one thing clear. I have to make a choice. Do I betray my best friend and my own dream, or do I betray her dream and the world? Am I cursed to make such a decision? I feel like either way I go, the other will haunt me for the rest of my life. No. If I want to live and create for myself a world that reaches the heights it deserves, then there is only one true decision to make.