Beyond the Horizon(An apocalypse novel)

"Wha..."

They barely stared at each other for a moment before Miles burst forward, bat already swinging. He was no longer in the hallway, so the running rule stopped applying completely.

Right before he reached Jayce, a sharp pain burst again in his head. But this time it was muffled, barely reaching him through the flesh puppet that was his body. It was wholly incapable of stopping him.

His bat continued in its path unerringly, slamming into Jayce’s raised shin. Metal met flesh with a thud, forcing Jayce to the floor with a pained grunt.

Wanting to press his advantage, Miles swung again at his lowered form, only to be interrupted by an impossibly heavy ground sweep. The force behind it caught him off guard, leaving him unable to stop himself from falling.

The moment his back touched the floor, he rolled to the side, barely moving away in time to escape the fist that landed at his previous location.

He pushed himself back up, stumbling a bit due to a sudden weakness in his calves. There was no pain attached to it, so it was something he could push through.

Miles pressed towards Jayce again, but the boy was ready this time. He stepped inside Miles’s range before the bat finished its swing, throwing a punch at his face.

Even after seeing the incoming fist, Miles didn’t retreat. He shifted his face to the side, out of the fist’s path, and committed fully to his swing.

It struck true, smashing Jayce’s shoulder with a crack, nearly sending the boy kneeling in that instant. But Jayce held, and his fist slammed into Miles’s shoulder the next instant.

The weight behind it felt more like a hammer than flesh. Impossibly heavy for anything human. The sheer force behind it sent shudders through his body.

There was a pop, then like a light switching off, he lost control of that shoulder and the arm connected to it.

It staggered him, sending him backwards and onto his knees. Before he could begin reorienting himself, Jayce charged towards him like a raging bull.

Thinking in the little time he had, Miles dropped his bat. Then he used his now free hand to grab the arm he’d lost control of, and raised it before himself like a shield.

Less than a moment after he did, Jayce’s boot crashed into him, cracking and twisting his raised arm at an unnatural angle as he was sent flying back into a pile of canned food.

The metal cans bit into his back, some bursting to spill bean soup as they scattered around.

Pressure from [Delusion] suddenly increased again, darkening his vision. He was forced to reduce his control of the ability just to stop himself from blacking out.

The slip let sharp spikes of pain pierce through the numbness, then go silent, before piercing through the numbness again. It was almost as disorienting as not having the ability on.

But he wasn’t in any condition to imagine a better delusion.

He lay on his side again, allowing him to see how the others were faring, even as blood coated his vision.

Grimm lay on a pile of shattered crates, dazed and bloodied. His hand desperately gripped onto the empty rifle by his side.

Near him, Brandon still wrestled against Maxwell. He grabbed the boy wherever he could reach, blazing with bright blue flames and searing Maxwell’s rock-like skin dark. Unfortunately, it didn’t catch like it did with the ghouls.

His face turned dazed for a moment, letting Maxwell slip out and punch him, tearing wounds into his face and sending him scrambling to regain his hold on the boy.

Maxwell’s friend was just about done with Ryan; the boy knelt, coughing out blood to the side. Only Mia stood between him and the vulnerable back, her skin flushed red as she barely held her ground.

He couldn’t find Chloe.

Before his dazed mind could think anything else, a hand roughly grabbed him by his collar, raising him.

"This is what you wanted, right? Are you happy now?"

Jayce stared down at him, eyes wild with a mix of desperation and rage. Miles didn’t reply; his functioning hand curled around the nearest can, smashing it into the boy’s skull.

It split open the skin on his forehead, the blood from the wound blinding his eyes and dazing him. Before Miles could attack with another strike, Jayce slammed him back down.

The force knocked out his breath, bouncing his head off the floor. A fist came crashing down before he could catch it, sending him back down.

The pain flashed through [Delusion], making his grip on the ability slip even further.

He could barely see Jayce through the blood pooling on his face.

"Fine."

He heard the boy’s voice in that red darkness. A fist smashed into his face, piercing [Delusion] once again.

"If that’s how you want it, Miles."

Another punch.

"Friends, right?"

Then another.

"What a joke."

And another.

"I’ll live."

The last punch knocked off some of the blood blocking his eyes. Beyond that curtain, he saw Jayce again.

Except it wasn’t Jayce. It was a boy with skin as pale as his, staring down at him with a familiar set of grey eyes. The only difference between the boy and himself was some difference in facial structure, along with his curly brown hair.

Beyond that, it was a spitting image of Miles. An image that sent waves through his heart, even beneath all his layers of [Delusion] and numbness.

"You’re still you, Miles."

His fist smashed into Miles’s face, fully shattering his control over [Delusion]. He couldn’t even get his thoughts in enough order to turn it off.

’M-Matt...’

When his vision returned, he saw Jayce again. Not that face again. Not Matt.

"No matter what."

He only saw it for a moment before the fist came crashing down again.

"Do you even have a heart?"

It was Matt again.

The punches rained down continuously, his face changing with every punch. The voices changed in tandem.

"I’ll reach my family."

"How could you just abandon them like that?"

"No matter the cost."

"For what? Pride?"

"Please."

"To prove you’re not like me?"

"Forgive me."

"You’ve never been better."

"Forgive me, Miles."

"You monster."

"Please..."

Under that endless barrage, through the desperation in Jayce’s eyes and the hate in Matt’s, Miles knew they wouldn’t stop.

Not until they killed him.

His senses were all muddled now, yet through them, he could still feel his arm. Through them, he could still feel the cold metal resting in his pockets.

He funneled his will, channeling every last bit of his consciousness into dragging his hand to that knife. Into wrapping his fingers around its cold handle.

It was a painful, bitter process. But the moment his hand touched the handle and his fingers wrapped around its length, the cold of its metal provided him a meager amount of clarity.

Yet it proved to be enough, for in that moment the clarity let him hear the sound of glass shattering. The clarity let him notice the punches had paused.

And using that very same clarity, he pulled out the blade and stabbed. Right into Jayce’s gut.