The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End by Jason Kristopher

fell to the ground as the soldier’s helmet came off, sparing us the view — though not the sounds — of his squad being torn apart by the walkers left inside.
     
    What the camera’s unfeeling lens didn’t spare us was the view out the front of the restaurant, and we watched as the wounded soldier called for help on his radio, not realizing he was also calling every remaining walker in the area straight towards him. I turned away. I knew what was coming.
     
    There was the sound of a suppressed pistol shot, then another, and two loud thuds followed by the panicking soldier’s voice. “Oh, thank God. You’re not one of them, are you? Help me, I’ve been bitten…”
     
    Another voice answered. “I know. I’m sorry.” Another shot and a final thud. The video went silent as Maxwell paused it once more. I knew what I would see when I turned back, and there it was: 12 pairs of eyes, all staring straight at me, most in anger, none in fear. Only Maxwell’s showed any sign of compassion as he looked at me.
     
    It was my voice on the video; my apology to the soldier. My likeness on the screen holding a pistol in its hand, staring down at the body of the soldier I’d just killed.
     
    I looked down for a moment then raised my eyes once more and met their glares with neither confidence nor pride, but acceptance. “I did what I had to do. I’d seen it before. He was bitten, and he was going to turn. There is no cure. It’s as simple as that.” I looked at the colonel.
     
    The accusing, angry looks changed to reluctant understanding as they looked back at the screen, and at Maxwell, who resumed playback. I watched myself look around carefully for more walkers, then take a knee next to the now-peaceful soldier. On the screen, I bowed my head. I’m not a particularly religious man, but sometimes, what’s right is right, regardless.
     
    May the road rise up to meet you;
may the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face
and may the rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
may God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
     
    I murmured these words along with the video, then watched as I strode into the restaurant, pistol at the ready, and moved out of the camera’s view. Several more of the shots, and the view swung around to show me in extreme close-up as I looked straight into the camera. I had no idea when it had happened that I might be watching the video later. In fact, I had been almost certain that I was going to be dead in hours, if not minutes. Watching myself in that video, I experienced a very strong sense of déjà vu.
     
    “What I did, I did because there was no other choice. I hope that you can understand that.” The video went dark, and the colonel turned the projector off, the briefing room’s overhead lighting coming back on automatically.
     
    “Those guardsmen had no idea what they were walking into. No one had briefed them on walkers, or how to take them down. No one knew that that was what they would be facing. When their squads didn’t return, the Guard cordoned off the town and called the Army, which is where AEGIS comes in.
     
    “When we arrived, we found more than six hundred active walkers in a small town that had once held well over twice that number of uninfected people. Walkers ranging in estimated age from four to eighty-five. Most of those who weren’t killed or turned by the others died through accidental trauma or self-inflicted wounds when they realized there was nowhere for them to go.
     
    “We lost nearly two full teams of operators cleaning up the town, many of whom were bitten, subsequently turned, and then attacked their own squads and fellows. Our operators for that mission were briefed with everything we could tell them; they knew to go for head-shots and to stay quiet. And they still died. Even with some knowledge of what’s going on, things can get hairy. You’ve all seen it.
     
    “ What Blake did was necessary . He