General Max and I watched the soldiers running round the tracks in their usual morning exercise. Max grinned with interest as he saw them all running with determination, eager to claim a prize issued by their squad leader. I was also interested in their races, because I was a fan of the Olympics and did a few runs myself. We walked along the tracks and observed them ahead of us, running with such determination as if their lives were on the line.
     " What do you think of them Joe?", asked Max, his eyes still fixed on the runners.
     " Excellent runners sir", I replied." Your men must have trained them well. But why are they running with such determination?".
     " They must have been promised a handsome reward to make these men run like cheetahs, but the main purpose of this training is to make them run faster than that for more desirable reasons".
     " And what are those reasons?".
     " The desire to live, and the desire to save a friend".
     I thought about what he said and nodded in response," I see. To fight for survival and fight for their comrades right?".
     " Bingo. The more reasonable your goal is, the more determined you are to finish that race. It's what gives us the fuel to burn through our limits and achieve the impossible", he replied with a smile. He then stopped, looked me in the eye and said," No matter what, don't give up on your race".
     Max was right. Everything up till now had been a course set in place for the main event. To my enemy it was just a game, but to me it was a race. The main questions were simple; could I save Blue? Was I fast enough to do that? Is there really any hope left?
     There was no answers to these questions at the moment. Only hope was my fuel, forcing me to go beyond my limits. Wounded, but I still ran. Exhausted, but I still endured. Bleeding, but I could still tolerate it. My existence didn't matter to me. Blue mattered, and I was even ready to die in his place than to watch him die.
     Just a few metres, I thought, and I'll beat down the bastards trying to kill him. Hang on Blue, just a little bit more, and you will be alright.
     I wished things had gone just like that. Me ravaging the trucks and stopping Blue's execution. But it never came. A trip wire was set in place. I fell to the floor at that instant and broke a nose. I yelled out in pain, but still ignored it later and tried to get back to my feet. Eight Militans emerged from nowhere and buried themselves upon me, restricting my movements. I yelled out in a rage and struggled for freedom, but they pressed me down further and prevented me from moving any further.
     " My my", said the voice," You were almost close, so close, but still not able to finish this race".
     " Bastard!", I yelled out in a rage," I'll kill you! Don't you dare kill him!".
     " Kill me? Ha ha ha. I'll see if you really can fulfill those words when we meet. But for the meantime, enjoy the show to the very end".
     I looked at Blue and saw that he was at his limits. His screams were becoming faint, his body was stretched beyond it's limit. He could endure no more, but manage to look at my direction(even though he was bilnd) and offer a smile, a goodbye smile. The trucks finally moved freely in opposite directions and stopped a few metres away from a trail of blood. As Blue died, so did my sanity.
     I lost all sense of reasoning at that point. Nothing made sense anymore, not a single thing. Every effort, every endurance, every sweat, every hardwork, became meaningless. Life itself was full of bitterness. Nothing made sense, because everything became meaningless. Insanity starts when one fails to have sanity, and there is no limits to what mad people can do. That is because the previous laws of the senses has left them, and now they are bounded by no laws or doctrine. Before someone can recover part of his senses back, his insanity must drive him into committing things inhumane. That is exactly what happened to me.
     All former pain vanished, all wounds forgotten, all exhaustion deleted. Only rage filled, boiling with fury, swept into my heart and soul, bringing out the demon within, and unleashing havoc upon my enemies. With abnormal strength, I forced myself back to my feet and made the zombies stagger backwards. I looked at them with the eyes of a devil and engaged them head on. The dead stayed dead, with their new deaths not worthy to be told.
     The ones in the trucks weren't left out either. The first one came out and was met by a lunatic holding two Jack knives with bloodstained hands. The face was disfigured in seconds. The other saw what happened and tried to run, but one of the knives crippled it on the right leg. A savage man pounced upon it and murdered it with his fists, until they were dripping of blood. He stood up in the midst of the slaughter and walked towards the upper half of his friend. He knelt beside it, bowed his head and uttered no sound while tears poured out. That was my last minute silence to my best friend.

***

     The story itself was tragic from the start. Out of the survivors of the Washington outbreak, only one man survived in the trials of Mexico. That man had experienced the most horrid deaths right in front of his eyes, and lost more friends than foes. The morning sun found him on the outskirts of the country, digging a grave. He managed to lay a coffin in it and filled the grave back with earth. A large stone tablet was placed at the head of the grave to gave out the name of the occupant, Blue Wilson.
     I stood in front of the grave and stared at it for a long time. Memories flooded through my mind, tears flowed once more, and words wouldn't come out. I had accepted my defeat. I couldn't finish my race. I brought out the KJV Bible page and tore it to shreds. The wind blew them into the sky and they disappeared from my sight. Useless, I thought to myself, it is all meaningless. I'm meant to be alone.
     I turned my back against the grave and headed for a road that led me away from Mexico. I knew not where I was going, but I didn't cared either, for that was my fate, the fate of a sole survivor.

***

     Max once took me to a funeral of a friend he had lost. It rained heavily, and while people left in a hurry, I stayed beside him in front of the grave. We had our umbrellas over our heads and wore black suits. I said nothing, but stood by his side. Before I knew it, he spoke," Joe?".
     " Yes sir?".
     " There's something you must know".
     "I'm listening sir".
     " When a man loses his loved ones, his greatest enemy, is depression".

THE END
MUTATION: THE FATE OF A SOLE SURVIVOR, COMING SOON