Judgment 22: Trailer

“Help me, you bastards!” Jason Wellington staggered towards his once friendly group of battle-ready allies. Many had their guns aimed at him, while others had their bludgeon weaponry raised to strike in an instance. One of the judgmentals lay dead at Jason’s feet, but that was no cause for relaxation. The telltale bite mark was already embedded within his arm, and the flow of blood was just another sign that he would slip away into death, and awake as a judgmental.

Clicks of guns being readied echoed throughout the hallway. Jason’s eyes began shifting back and forth between the army of barrels, knives, and clubs that he faced.
“I don’t believe it.” Jason said in an empty, grim voice. “You’re actually going to kill me without hesitating?”

Silence ensued with the exception of Maria Wellington, who was quietly weeping while she aimed a .45 caliber pistol at her husband’s chest.
“We’re hesitating alright,” A gruff, almost homeless looking man by the name of Thomas Jenkins mumbled through his beard. “But it’s got to be done.”
“Throw me a gun.” Jason dryly requested. “I want to put myself out of my own misery.”
“Not a chance in hell.” Thomas said immediately. “Think about it. Judgmentals have the capacity to maintain knowledge of weapons and tactics. The second we toss you a weapon, you’ll probably die on us, come back, and begin to shoot us all down. Do you honestly want to put us, and your wife especially, in that sort of peril?”
“I just don’t want to burden you with the task of murdering me!” Jason screamed irritably at Thomas. “If you won’t give me that luxury, then just kill me now!”

It was obvious Jason was dying now. The veins in his body were now showing through his skin, turning black as his flesh turned white. The eyes in his head dimmed down until they didn’t seem to have any color at all, and it wasn’t long before he fell to his knees, coughed up a bunch of coagulated blood, and finally slumped over on the floor.

Maria finally lost it, tossing the gun aside and falling to the ground in anguish. She starred at her husband’s corpse through blurred, teary eyes.
“Steady…” A young boy – Bartholomew Wood – ordered from behind the crowd of people ready to strike down the already deceased comrade. Grips tightened around various weaponry as tension and anticipation for the newly born judgmental rose higher and higher.

A twitch of the fingers. That was all that happened. Resurrection time seemed to have long passed, and the group of battle-ready warriors began to relax. It appeared that Jason was one of the few who simply died from the virus, rather then dying and reviving to slaughter his fellow man. Bartholomew slowly walked towards the corpse as relaxation became ever more present.
“Poor bastard…” Bartholomew sighed as he lightly kicked the carrion onto its backside.

Jason’s eyes opened.