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Drift's body was too cold. Her skin, normally pale from avoiding sunlight like it was the plague, was now near-translucent. Her eyes, a deep amber that spoke of warmth and comfort and life, were empty. Glazed over. Distant.
Her blood, what little remained of it, was soaking into a forest green vest. Grey cargo pants, pockets ripped open to spill the garlic shoved inside all over the ground. Torn white sleeves, the fabric used to hastily bandage claw marks and bite wounds for whoever had needed it.
They hadn't been enough. Drift was dead. Bandages couldn't stop fangs from piercing her neck, from tearing flesh and ripping her throat open.
Avid had been the sole living witness. Just as the vampires had wanted - just as Owen had intended. All the other residents of Oakhurst were dead, or worse - Avid was the only being with a heartbeat remaining.
His arms were still holding Drift. His eyes still watching, scanning, begging for anything - a breath, a laugh, a smile. Any sign of life she could spare - fuck, he'd even take if she was undead. At least-… at least if she was a vampire, she'd still be here.
There was nothing. No change. No movement. Just the cold embrace of death, and the reminder for Avid that he had failed again.
When Avid was little, before the accident that had changed everything, his grandfather had died. It had been his time, his mother had assured him, and she had carried little Avid to the cemetary to say goodbye at his grave.
She had been a performer, a singer - not like, world famous, but popular in the tavern in town for weekend performances. And in that memory, of a cemetary and of death, Avid could remember being comforted just by the sound of her voice as she had sung.
A song that Avid, looking down at his only friend, found coming to mind.
"You're heading for Heaven, the sweet old hereafter,
And I've got one foot in the door."
Avid's voice shook badly, the words almost strangled. He knew he was being watched, could feel crimson eyes on the back of his head, but he couldn't stop. Not here, not when it was Drift.
"But before I can fly up,
I've loose ends to tie up,
Right here, in The Old Therebefore."
Gently, Avid ran his fingers through Drift's hair. Worked out some knots, brushed through it - he… he wanted her to look nice. He didn't want her thinking he didn't care.
"I'll be along,
When I've finished my song."
Avid rested Drift on the ground. Adjusted her jacket, in an attempt to cover the graphic wound on her throat. If he squinted and blurred his vision enough, Drift almost looked like she was sleeping. Maybe this was all a bad dream, and Avid would wake up fresh on the other side of it.
"When I've shut down the band,
When I've played out my hand."
He's deliberate in resting her hands on her chest. Underneath her palms, Avid places a delicate chain of silver - for protection, for payment, for whatever comes after this life. He thinks she'd appreciate the extra effort in ensuring she could carry something with her.
"When I've paid out my debts,
When I have no regrets.
Right here, in The Old Therebefore."
Avid stays, kneeling at Drift's side. His eyes close, and he tries to hide how badly he's trembling by tucking his hands into his lap. He just wants to finish his song first, before the person watching him lunges. He hopes that of any mercy they choose to grant, they opt for that.
"I'll catch you up,
When I've emptied my cup,
When I've worn out my friends,
When I've burned out both ends."
Avid had sung this before, he remembers. It feels so distant now, even if it was mere weeks ago - a shallow grave dug behind a hunting cabin, Elle's body laid to rest there. Avid didn't think he'd be allowed to dig a grave for Drift - he hoped Shelby would take care of her for him.
Shelby loved Drift as much as Avid did… right?
"When I've cried all my tears
When I've conquered my fears
Right here, in The Old Therebefore
When nothing is left anymore"
Avid reached a hand up to wipe away tears, and found nothing but blood. Drift's blood, splattered on his face, still warm to the touch; Avid fought back a gag, having to pause his song to take a deep breath.
Footsteps approached. Avid needed to hurry, to send Drift off properly.
"I'll bring the news
When I've danced off my shoes"
The footsteps halted at the continuation of the song. Avid didn't dare stop again. He knew the moment he stopped, he'd never sing again.
"When my body's closed down
When my boat's run aground.
When I've tallied the score
And I'm flat on the floor
Right here, in The Old Therebefore."
Avid blinked, slowly. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. His ending was here, was now - he may as well face it.
"When nothing is left anymore."
Avid lifted his head. Looked directly into Owen's eyes - past the red filter, the blood lust, the never-ending need for vengeance. He looked into Owen's eyes - sought out the lumberjack that had once existed. The humanity left from depravity. A kindred soul, both sick, both seeking a cure.
Avid wondered if he would've become like Owen, if he had been turned. If he had gotten a new lease on life would he have turned to cruelty as well?
No. Avid doesn't think he would. He likes to believe he would've been kind.
"When I'm pure like a dove
When I've learned how to love."
Slowly, Avid looked back down to Drift. At least she wouldn't have to see what came next.
"Right here,
In The Old Therebefore…
When nothing is left anymore."
Avid's eyes close for the last time. The song carried on the wind. The last notes seem to cover the depravity of Avid's death. Owen takes pleasure in ripping the singer apart limb from limb for what he'd done.
In the end, there's not enough left to bury.