Table of Contents
- Home
- Introduction
- Where Goths Come From - Neef
- The Watcher - Hobbes
- The Resurrection Shuffle - Barbarella
- Cassandra - Cosey Mo
- Drunken Old Bastard - Sandro
- Alcohol - Trayce
- Shadows - Entrippy
- Entropy - Kage-Ryu
- Is There A Point - Trajik
- Whispers - Kitsune
- Confessional - Sandro
- Garden - Entrippy
- Radio - Cam
- Cold Spell - Nikolai
- Slices - Neef
- A Bottle of Something Strong - Jraff
- The Light Fades - Tim
- Rain - Tim
- Self Help - Gothic Gallae
- Cato - Trajik
- Addiction/Fragment - Trayce
- Heal Thyself - Nikolai
- Shattered - Hobbes
- Travelling Song - Solitaire
- Distance - Stranger
- Legacy - Stranger
Heal Thyself
As I stepped over the bodies, the brown-haired girl gurgled and jerked back to life, just like in the cheesy horror films. She tried to get up and stabbed me in the calf of my left leg. The blade went right into the muscle and glanced off bone. I hissed, supported myself against the seats and shot her also.
Glancing up at the scenery going past the windows, I knew I only had a few minutes before we arrived at the last station on the line. I left the knife poking out of my leg for the moment (thinking, temporary loss of blood, decrease in awareness), found the one that the shaven-headed girl had been holding and started stabbing a line across her throat. It was hard work; I had to hack away a lot of tough sinews and muscle before I could expose the spine and force the vertebrae apart. I broke the blade by forcing it into the gap. That should slow her down. I had to settle for pounding the other girl's head with the lead pipe until her skull shattered, the blows forcing triangular splinters of bone into her brain. I hoped this would be enough. I limped on to the next carriage.
And walked right into him. He must have been waiting, if not for me, then for one of the girls, because he screamed "Genevieve!" as I entered. As he shouted her name, he swung a large fire-axe - just like the ones in cartoons, glittering metal edge followed by a red-painted pickaxe point - down at my face. I dodged back at the last moment, but not far enough. The blade cracked my breastbone in two and sank into my chest, leaving the handle and the red-painted point poking out. I fell back against the carriage door and blinked.
The man frowned at me. "You're not -""No, I'm not." I'd never tried to speak with this kind of injury before, but it wasn't as difficult as, say, being cut in half. The diaphragm and basic mechanics of the lungs still worked in this case. I was still able to bring the gun up to his face and shoot a golf-ball-sized hole through his head. I was always careful to go for head shots; they took longer to heal.
The train was slowing down. I had just enough time to stagger down to the last carriage and look in. Whoever had been in there wasn't about to get up in the next hour or so; the seats were still burning. The train stopped. I only just made it to the door and out onto the platform before the doors closed again and the train started back the way it'd came. As it rolled off, I saw the brown-haired girl standing at the window, still blind through her lack of a head from the nose up. She was holding her brains in the cup of her skull with one hand and pounding furiously at the window with the other. I laughed and flipped her the bird.