“This one’s fresh enough,” I groan to the others.
“Van’s full,” one of them barks back.
“What do I do with him?” I ask.
“Let him go,” someone says.
“Break his neck,” another voice suggests.
The dilemma is real. We can’t help everyone. If I let him go, maybe he’ll get another chance, another chance to spread his sickness, or another chance to be made well. Would he want to live again if it still meant being half-dead? Who was I to judge? How could I judge?
My arm wraps around his neck. Closing my eyes, I let him decide.
Tale Told 