CYOA Page 86
You force yourself to take a closer look.
Joel is fucking INFECTED.
Now you can't breathe. There's not enough air in the sky. You look away because his arm is fucking screaming at you and you can't breathe.
"I'm so sorry... I don' know what to say."
It's like he's speaking through a blanket or something... his voice is foggy. Or maybe it's your head that's foggy. It doesn't matter. You slip off the tailgate and start walking. Just... straight ahead, nowhere... breathe... 1... 2... 3... 4...
You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you stand still. Joel's saying something... something that doesn't make sense. Something about getting through this. And he's telling you to breathe. I know, Joel, I'm trying.
It's not a panic attack. Your body isn't thinking "I'm gonna die"... but your brain knows that you are. ...Which is kind of backwards.
You must have shaken off the hand because you're walking again. Joel is gone... what am I gonna do... WHAT AM I GONNA DO!
Your knees give out and now you're on the ground... you still can't breathe and now your throat is clogging up with sobs and someone is putting their arms around you... lifting you up... walking you back to the truck..
It's Joel, of course. He's still here. He hoists you up on the tailgate again. "Scoot back," he says... not muffled by a fog blanket this time. He wants you to sit in the bed of the truck with him. Probably to lean against the back, like he is...
...but you hurl yourself at him instead, flinging your arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, Joel! I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." You repeat it like a mantra... until you're crying too hard into his neck to form the words. Great big hitching sobs that you'd be embarrassed or ashamed of, if the situation were any other than this.
Joel "sshhhh"es you and strokes your hair and hugs you almost as tight as you're hugging him. This isn't real... you're having a nightmare... any second now, you're going to wake up...
You're sure you're going to be bawling forever, but it's probably like five minutes later when the gut-wrenching sobs give way to a slightly-more-dignified steady stream of tears. Joel settles you in the crook of his arm. "Thought you might actually choke me there for a minute," he says lightly.
"S-sorry!"
"I'm just teasin' ya." His voice sounds rough. Scratchy. "What are you so sorry about, anyhow? This ain't your fault."
You wipe your nose on your sleeve (and you figure at this point Joel doesn't mind that you smeared snot all over his collar) and look at him. His eyes are red and wet... you think he might have been sobbing with you. Maybe your sobs just drowned out his because you're loud and he's quiet. A fresh batch of them threatens... you just shake your head and bury your face in his shirt.
The next time you're able to speak, you sit up enough that you can see his face; he's not crying now. Your tears haven't dried up yet because your eyes haven't caught up to your brain, which is reminding you that crying is a useless waste of time. "I'm sorry because... I don't mean to make this all about me," you finally tell Joel.
"Of course it's about you. Somethin' happens to one of us, it happens to the both of us. You're in shock... I am, too."
"You're the one it-- I know how you're feeling. I felt it, too." A flare of hope surges inside you. ...WHAT IF! "I felt it, but then I didn't turn. I didn't turn and maybe you won't either! Maybe you're immune, too!"
Joel shakes his head. "No. Hardly anyone is immune. You're special."
"But you don't know for sure! ...do you?"
Joel withdraws his arm from your shoulders and hitches up the ripped flap a little. Both of you look...
...and just like that, your hope dies. It's already spreading!
You pull your knees up to your chest and bury your face in them. "I don't believe this. I can't... deal with this. I should be helping you deal with it... fuck..."
"We'll deal with it together." Joel tugs you back over into his arms. "We've always known I'd be the first to go."
"But not this soon! Not like this!" you spit out. "It's so unfair!"
Joel laughs bitterly. "I've done more than enough shit in my lifetime to deserve--"
"Because bad shit happened to you first! You're a good person. Fuck this shit." You wrench yourself away from him. You feel rage boiling up inside you -- literally boiling, pretty much. You need to hit something. Hurt something. You look around for something to use. Most of the weapons Joel carries on his back are piled in the other corner of the truck bed, but he no longer has the two by four he had before the fight, and nothing else is suitable.
"Ellie, no. We have things we need to talk about."
You don't want to talk about anything that he's going to bring up right now. You make to hop over the opposite side of the truck but Joel's too fucking quick; he drags you back to your designated spot, his arm restraining you like a seat belt. "I can't stand it, Joel! I need to--"
"I know. I know you do. But I don't want you hurtin' yourself, and... well, I don' know how much time we have."
...Oh GOD... the abject horror washes over you again. I CAN'T. "Two days."
"Not necessarily." Joel relaxes his arm. The fucking infected arm.
"It better fucking give us two days!"
"Well, in case it don't... listen to me." He pivots you a little... paws at the tears permanently running down your face. "I know this is hard. An' this is a lot to ask..."
He wants me to DO something for him? "Oh! Anything. You name it, I'll do it," you say eagerly.
He pauses. "I need you... to kill me. When it's time. Like we talked about before."
That hits like a punch to the gut. "No. No -- I never said-- I told you I couldn't do it!"
Joel doesn't even try to wipe away his own tears. "I know, baby girl, an' I hate askin'... but if you really can't do it, then I have to. An' since I don' know when I'll... lose the capability..."
"No! No, you-- No!" You can't let him end his own life when you need to milk every minute you have left -- how many have you already wasted with your tears and blubbering? "You're not... doing it early. You'll turn, and... and then I'll..."
"So you'll do it, then. Look me in the eye an' promise."
You can't make such a horrible fucking promise! You look at him defiantly. "I'm going to let you turn. You'll turn and I'll be with you, so you'll attack me."
Judging by the look on his face, you've managed to surprise him. "That is exactly what I don't--"
"You'll kill me, because I'm not going to fight you, and then we'll both be dead," you say coolly. "I won't have to live the rest of my stupid fucking life without you."
Joel slams his fist into the back of the truck so hard it makes you jump. "No! You can't do that to me, Ellie. First of all, I won't be dead, I'll be a... shit-for-brains monster. You've seen enough of 'em now -- you know they're just goddamn... miserable... shells. Second, I should've died a thousand times over by now. You know why I haven't? Because of you. 'Cause I was meant to... cross paths with you. To help you. To get you out here an' start a new life, away from all that bullshit in the Zone. For you to just... throw it all away like that... have it be for nothin'..."
Damnit, Joel, quit fucking making me CRY. "You're bleeding. Look, you fucked up your knuckles..." You try to take his hand.
He pulls it away from you. "I don't give a shit about my knuckles! Are you hearin' me at all or am I talkin' to a wall?"
You stare at his bleeding knuckles (it's easier than looking him in the eye), frowning. "You're asking too much. I don't know how to do either of those things. Kill the most important person in the world, to me... and then go on and live my life like nothing happened."
"It won't be me anymore, when you do it." His tone is softer now. "An' yes, I want you to go on, but... not like nothin' happened. You're so young... sixteen. You have so many good years ahead of you... I'm just one chapter in your story."
You squeeze your eyes shut... like that will block out the horrible words, somehow. "You don't understand," you hiss through gritted teeth.
"I understand that you're stronger than you think you are."
Joel likes to say that, but it's not true! You shake your head. "I'm not. At all. I just fake it. Or-- or if I am, it's because of you." You look at him. "I get my strength from you. I get... so many things from you, that you prob'ly don't even know... fuck," you mutter as you swipe at your eyes again, annoyed that the tears have suddenly kicked it back up a notch. There's really no point in wiping them away. Or trying to breathe through your nose.
Joel fetches the mostly-clean towel in his backpack and hands it to you, keeping a rag for himself. He retreats to the corner.
You blow your nose on a corner of the towel. Gross. ...Then you wonder how you can care if it's gross or not. Like any of that matters now. You've got to quit this fucking crying, too. "Sorry... wasting time with this s-stupid... crying..."
"We need to talk some more, but we can't stay here. I need to get you back to Jackson. I think if we push it--"
"Why?"
"...Why what?"
"I mean... unless you w-want to... s-say goodbye... but that's you. You said... get me b-back..."
"Jackson is your home."
"Our home. It's not mine... if you're not... in it."
"Of course it is. Hell, there ain't a person in that town who don't like you better than me. An' that's includin' my own brother."
You know he's trying to make you smile, but it's futile; you're never going to smile again. "I'm not living without you, there..." --Or anywhere else.
"Damnit, Ellie... we really need to get goin', but you're scarin' me."
"I'm scaring you? That's a laugh." You feel a little calmer now. You don't have to live without Joel: you can both die at the same time. You look at him so he'll see your sincerity. "I'll do it, okay? I'll... shoot you. After." ...and then I'll shoot myself.
He looks at you warily.
"I will," you tell him earnestly. "I promise."
"You may not have to. If we can get back to town, one of the guards can do it."
"No, I'll do it! Don't worry."
He either still doesn't believe you, or he knows there's something you're not saying. "All the same, I'd rather you not have to. Listen... when we get back, I want you to go stay with Maria an' Tommy. They'll take care of you."
"I don't need to be taken care of. I'm not a baby."
"They'll... help you through this," he amends.
"You're the one who helps me through things." You're surprised at how cold your voice sounds. You can't be angry with Joel for getting infected! What is wrong with you?!
"I know, baby girl... but I can't this time." He looks away as the tears invade his eyes again.
You look at him... sitting there in the corner, his elbow propped on the one knee he has drawn up, his face leaning into his hand. He never draws both knees up, like you do. And never all the way up to his chest. You dumbly wonder if this is the last time you'll see him sit like that.
And he's never been like... THIS. Weepy. He wasn't until you started with the tears. Maybe he'll stop if you stop. You can see -- and feel -- how much pain he's in. "You're scaring me," he said before... you're making this worse for him. If it was you who'd just been handed a death sentence, what would you want from him?
...I can't. I CAN'T EVEN FUCKING DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.
But you don't have a choice.
Continue to page 154.