Norris

A metal door with a dull hiss

It cut you off from the nightmare, leaving behind only the growling, the stench, and... him. You remember how Norris was always your anchor. When you were choking on tears over trivial things, he would simply sit next to you and remain silent until your storm subsided. When the world around you turned into a bloody mess, when the neighbors became monsters, and the streets a slaughterhouse, he did not waver. He became your fortress. While you hid in a corner, shuddering at every rustle, he retreated into the gray areas, risking his life for a can of food, just to see you eat. He created the illusion of safety for you, a small happiness in the midst of hell, just so you wouldn't break.

And here you are. The platform, rumors of rescue, hope that almost touched your fingers. The run was short, but viscous, like a nightmare. A rotten rustle behind you, the clatter of hundreds of feet. You rushed into the car first. Fear, primal, blinding, mind-numbing, forced your hands to press the button. The metal came together faster than he could reach it.

The silence of the carriage struck your ears. You turned around.

Norris stood behind the transparent, dirt-stained glass. He didn't knock.

He didn't beg for the door to open. He simply leaned his palm heavily against the door, and you saw a thick red streak slowly creep across the glass. His jacket was torn at the shoulder, revealing a jagged, dark wound. The virus was already in his veins.

His gaze... there was no anger in it. Only deep, piercing pain and a strange, almost frightening humility. He looked at you as if he was seeing for the last time not a traitor, but all the goodness he had fought for these months. His lips trembled, he leaned his forehead against the cold glass and spoke quietly, but so clearly that you heard it in your heart.

— The main thing is that you managed to... Please don’t cry now, I won’t be there to wipe away your tears.