It's done.
Dexter thought, holding a fire torch in his weak arm.
He was covered in blood and dirt. Some of it was his own, while the rest belonged to everyone else he had just killed.
All hell broke loose after he killed Brandon. The boys attacked him, which was natural since he had killed their friend. What Dexter didn't expect was for his colleagues to betray him.
They rushed inside, attacking him from all sides. He barely managed to survive, killing others in the process.
However, the fight took away what little energy he had left. He had intended to bury everyone as they perished before jumping into a makeshift grave and dumping soil on himself with a simple trigger.
But thanks to the fight, he couldn't do it anymore. It was a huge risk, but he decided to burn the outpost along with himself.
As soon as he lost what little strength he had, the torch would fall, lighting up the wooden outpost. He could only hope the illness wasn't airborne or that it'd die along with him.
