Hunted || Wesari

Chapter Five: Hope

Wes rarely had nightmares.

Before the bomb was dropped, he'd never had a single one. Of course, everyone had one the night in began. Seeing New York in flames on their T.V screens, wondering if their city was next, if they would be drafted, if this was the start of another world war... those thoughts had scared the shit out of Wes. 

Then, of course, when the virus was brought to America from England during a rations drop off, and the first infected was spotted in Seattle; that night hadn't been a good one for the then-sixteen-year-old. But, as far as Wes could recollect, that had been his last one.

Until now.

He watched David, clawing at his own throat, trying to rip off his skin as the virus crept closer and closer to his brain. Wes couldn't move, and was forced to watch as his friend slowly killed himself.

Then he was on the ground, and Remina, completely turned, was slowly eating him alive while he screamed. Keith watched, a hole in his forehead, as blood trickled down his face. It was horrible, and felt so real, that Wes wasn't even sure he was dreaming.

Then Keith's mouth opened, and expelled a very feminine-sounding "shut up!"

Wes shot awake, sweat covering his whole body, breathing heavily. The purple-haired woman- Mari, he remembered -was hitting the plastic tube with a stick while screaming those two words. When she saw that he was awake, she dropped the stick.

"Finally," She rolled her eyes. "Some of us are to trying to sleep, you know, so if you could keep the screaming down, that would be great."

"Sorry," Wes mumbled, on instinct. He almost slapped himself. Did he just apologize to her, the woman who had kidnapped him?

Before he could correct himself, she was gone, disappearing through the door, leaving him alone in the darkness. He laid back down, but now that he wasn't tired, he could tell how hard the floor of the container was. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep for a long time.

• • •

By the time the lights flickered on, Wes had given up on trying to fall asleep. The generator must be on some sort of time-system, tuning on at determined time frames, if that was even possible with generators; Wes honestly had no idea. If he did, he would've been able to get the one at camp working.

Camp.

He wondered how his group was doing, with Keith's death and his absence. Who would be their next leader? Monica? Matthew? Would they even have one? What was their food situation? How were the gardens doing? There was nothing Wes wanted more than to be back with them, helping them figure it out. Instead, he was here, utterly useless to everyone but the group that had imprisoned him, though he still didn't know what use they could possibly have for him.

He heard the sound of footsteps, and looked up. Mari was walking towards him, a water bottle and can of beans in her hands. He watched her climb up onto the assembly line.

"Are you my caretaker now?" He asked her as she tossed the items into his container. Luckily, he managed to catch both of them before they hit his head.

She snorted. "Not for long."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wes asked.

"We're going to kill you tonight," She replied, like she was telling him the weather. "Enjoy your last meal."

Wes' eyes widened. "What?!"

But she was already leaving, and didn't turn around at his words, leaving him in shock. They were going to kill him. Tonight.