[ wp ] `` You 're gon na miss me when I 'm gone . ''

It's hell, sitting here staring down the barrel of this gun. I can see it, the rifling, twisting. My eyes flick lazily to the sight, then down to the fingers on the grip, then to the face of the person holding it. 
 
 `` You gon na say it, or do I got ta say it...?'' I ask. 
 
 `` Shut up,'' she hisses, hand starting to shake a little. These chains are tight, real tight. Damn things are biting into my skin. This is not a good night, not at all. First, I get the call that there's a god damn La Gomera undead in damned San Francisco of all things. `` Shut up, Mark. Shut the fuck up.'' 
 
 She's crying, crying a lot. It's not pretty, looking at my sister like this. Monster hunters. We're supposed to be monster hunters, the best damn monster hunters out there. We can do anything together. 
 
 Except what I need most right now. 
 
 Even we ca n't do that. 
 
 `` Sis, you got ta say it. Say it, or you'll regret saying nothing. Cold emptiness is going to do nothing but fuck you up in the head.'' 
 
 The bite hurt like hell. 
 
 God damn fire. Civilians trying to play hero, throwing damned molotovs. God, these fuckin' chains. God, this fuckin' bite. It ca n't possibly hurt any worse, it's a burning throbbing ache and it smells like a cess pool. 
 
 `` I do n't want to say it!'' she shouts, taking the gun off my face. I raised her. Parents dead when she was six years old. I was sixteen. Got a job, brought her up. Found out about monster hunting, and together we got into the game. Made money, got ourselves set up nice and rich. Got guns, got body armor. 
 
 But the fire burned a damned hole in my pants leg. Burned the flesh too. Some god damned zed got a fuckin' well cooked meal. Sealed pants leg and it burned right through because zombies are n't supposed to use fire, they never are. Not even the mutated fuckers, they use acid at worst. 
 
 `` Someone's got to say it. We treat each other... like siblings do, and we fight all the time, but you got ta say this sis... someone's got to, or you're going to... lose it. This world ca n't lose you, no way, not the best damn hunter I've ever seen. Say it while I'm still here sis.'' 
 
 `` No! No, god damn it! What if someone... finds a way, a... a cure!?'' 
 
 `` They ai n't gon na do it in the next ten minutes. Look at the wound... I can smell it, and... I bet I'm in stage two,'' I tell her, taking a shuddering breath. Heat feels like it's in my head now. God damn it's hard to focus... blurry vision... shit. `` This is... La Gomera shit, sis... no cure, no treatment...'' 
 
 She's sobbing so hard now. The worst part is by the time we noticed I was already losing control of my body... ca n't hold a gun, or I'd blow myself away... only a registered hunter can execute a living infected person... Guards all around, outside the quarantine room... 
 
 `` I do n't... God damn it, I do n't want to say it! You say it!'' 
 
 `` Put the gun against my head. I'll say what you need to say, or hear, and as soon as I'm done... you pull the trigger,'' I manage, breathless. `` I ai n't got much time and I wan na die with some sort of dignity. You got ta do this before I turn.'' 
 
 `` Bro, I...'' 
 
 `` What are we, sis?'' I demand. God damn it, I can feel it, parasitic fucking things... hurts... vision is getting reddish about the edges... damn... 
 
 `` Hunters, but-'' 
 
 `` Why do we do the job!?'' 
 
 `` Because... because...'' 
 
 Need to hurry this up. Ca n't turn. She sees me like that it'll cripple her mentally against all such... fucking things in the future... 
 
 `` Why do we do the job!? Tell me!'' I shout hoarsely. 
 
 `` Because it has to be done!'' she roars in reply. 
 
 `` And!?'' 
 
 A moment of silence. 
 
 `` And because we like it. Because we have no other skills. Because we're... because someone has to do it, and... because if we do n't, people die.'' 
 
 `` Now... now, knuckle up, shoot me, and then go home to your girlfriend and cry. Take a few weeks off, hate everything a while, then move on, got it?'' 
 
 Another long silence. Heart beating wrong... this pain, all down my left arm. She wo n't look me in the eye. 
 
 Her hand is still shaking when she points the pistol at my face. Her other hand rises to check her hazmat mask and goggles, to make sure they're sealed. The barrel touches my forehead... shit, I have one hell of a fever, it feels like ice... 
 
 `` Say it, then. Say it for me. I always had trouble saying...'' 
 
 Her feelings. Therapy helped but she still ai n't good at talking about emotions. But I know here like the back of my hand. I know what she feels. 
 
 `` You love... me. You hate me for leaving you alone, just like mom and dad did. You forgive me for the bullshit. I love you too, sis, I surely do. Oh, and as much as we fight, and you think I'm a jacka-'' I'm cut off by a cough, a hacking cough. Blood flecks my pantlegs. Stage three... fever, red vision, uncontrollable coughing, he... hemo... hemopt... coughing up blood. `` The point is, you're going to miss me... when I'm gone...'' 
 
 Her finger is tightening on the trig- 
 
 ( Hm. Tried. Ehn. )
