Catharsis (Book 1)

by D. Andrew Campbell

  My mental picture of the trip I just took (And it’s one I don't fully remember, by the way, since I was distracted and day-dreaming.) is as clear in my mind as if I were watching it on a TV. I can rewind and fast forward my journey all the way back to the store, through the store, back across the parking lot and all the way to the warehouse where I left Lazzy. The ability to run my trip through my memory like it's a recorded show is disorienting at first, but I quickly get used to it.

  "Ok," I say out loud. "This is impressive. I knew my memory was improved, but this is outstanding."

  After running through the memory a few times (partly just for the sheer thrill of it), I figure out where I deviated and the quickest way to get myself back home. I'm too far east of the warehouse, so I turn back to my right for the shortest path. Which leads to a small problem.

  My fastest route home takes me down an alley between two dark and most likely deserted buildings. An alley that before a week ago would have caused me to tinkle myself at the mere thought of walking down it. It's the kind of alley you see in movies where super heroes stop heinous crimes from occurring deep in the bowels of the criminal infested city. It's not the kind of alley petite, pretty (Hey! It's my story.) Hispanic girls wander down at night. At least not wander down and live to tell about it.

  And then I laugh. I laugh because I realize that's the old me worrying. The me that didn't have the physical gifts of strength and eidetic memory (Apparently that's the official name for a photographic memory, or for whatever I have now.) and hyper alert hearing and see-in-the-dark eyes. For me, this alley isn't even a challenge.

  It's the fastest way home, and it's the route I'm going to take.

  And with that small decision my life changes forever.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Before stepping into the cluttered alley (It was moderately wide for a lane between buildings, but it had obviously been a depository for any number of detritus and trash the vagrant population of the area had collected. Discarded shopping carts, piles of clothes, smashed cardboard boxes and overflowing dumpsters crowded the path making what was initially a wide walkway into a relatively narrow one.), I decide to tap into my abilities before committing to the choice. Even if I'm not afraid of any nocturnal dwellers that might reside down the creepy path in front of me, there's still no point in pushing my luck.

  "There's a difference between being dumb," I pause and scan the desolate wreckage of society in front of me. "And being just plain stupid."

  Even though the darkness of the night (Except for an impressively bright, and yet creepy, moon.) is reflecting the near absence of light in the alley, I can make out details just fine. My night-vision has kicked in nicely as always, and even in the dim light I can tell there's no life around me. Or at least nothing is moving ahead of me.

  A brief but deep inhale (The place reeks of varying level of putrescence, but I don't smell anything that resembles a human.) and a slight cock of the head (There are a number of sounds in the city at night, but nothing registers as out of place.) reassures me that my previous fears were unwarranted. My new home (How depressing to think of a large, empty warehouse as the place to "hang my heart".) is only a quick fifteen minute trip away.

  Hoisting the bags back up, I begin the delicate tight-rope walk of trying to get through my desired path without bumping into anything with my toted treasures. It’s an endeavor that is most certainly easier said than done.

  As I creep past my fourth open disgusting dumpster (How many of these things can they cram into this place? It's beginning to defy both logic and physics.), it hits me.

  Something's wrong.

  I'm not alone.

  There's no movement to alert me, it is just a sudden sense of something else knowing I'm there. No. Not something else. Someone else. There's someone in the alley, and they're close. And they are most definitely thinking very unhealthy thoughts about me.

  But where are they? I think as I stop walking and slowly spin around trying to find a sign of where they might be. Even with my heightened senses, though, nothing stands out. There's nothing around me but piles of trash. Lots of trash. Unless they are hiding in the trash...

  "Hey, sweetheart," a growly voice rumbles from my left (Of course not the direction I'm currently looking.). "Wats in da bags? Whachu got fer daddy?"

  Spinning towards the sound, I see an ancient trash monster rise up from the ground and shuffle towards me. As it stumbles my way, the paralyzing smell of rotting food and what I can only assume is the used contents of a baby zombie’s diaper (I may be wrong on this count as I've never actually encountered a zombified baby or inhaled the contents of its diaper by choice, but I'm thinking if I ever do encounter said creature then I will recognize the smell from this very moment.). The reek of the creature alone is horrifying and causes me to step back a few feet (That's as far as I can go before bumping into one of the many waste receptacles that populate the alley.).

  Raising its arms towards me (Just like every horror movie monster I've ever seen.) it physically shudders as it walks and bits of used food wrappers and other societal refuse fall from its body. I know my life has taken a weird turn lately, but this is seriously too much.

  "Gimme da bags, gurl," it rasps in that horrible voice, drawing each word out slowly as if tasting them before releasing them into the air. All I can do is stare as it slowly releases itself from the trash nest it had buried itself in.

  As the trash continues to fall away from its body with each shuffling step, I realize what I'm staring at: a man. A horrible mess of human existence for sure, but it’s still just a man. A man so covered in the nasty surroundings of this alley, that he was able to slip under my senses and not be noticed until I was right on top of him.

  The relief that sweeps through my body upon the realization that I'm not fighting some supernatural creature is almost crippling. The sweet tingle of it flooding my system is so intense that I have to drop the bags and grab the metal structure behind me for support.

  "Geez man," I mutter quietly once I have myself under control. "You really scared me. You shouldn't do that to people."

  The adrenaline that had shot through my body upon first seeing him has activated my hunger more than I would like. My goal of not tapping into that side of myself is still fresh in my mind, and I don't want this to be the event that breaks me. I need to calm myself down.

  The man (He's not nearly so scary now that I know what he is. He's still dirty and nasty and not someone I really want to deal with, but at least I'm not worried about what he can do to me.) is still moving towards me and saying something, but I've tuned him out so that I can try and calm myself...and try to prevent his becoming a snack.

  "One moment buddy," I say to the guy as I close my eyes and try to control my heartbeat and breathing. "I'll be with you once I take care of something."

  He's getting closer and still making noise, but I'm only dimly aware of it. He's an extraneous issue right now compared to getting myself under control. He can wait.

  Breathe.

  Concentrating on happy thoughts, I let them flow through me and over me and wash away the hunger that's in me. I don't need that side of my powers. I can live without it. It's not a necessary part of...

  My abdomen explodes with fire and pain interrupts any train of thought I had going. It hurts. It hurts so badly. It just hurts!

  Instinctively grabbing my stomach, I stumble backwards and open my eyes.

  "What happened to me?" I gurgle as wetness pours out through my fingers.

  The trash man stands in front of me holding a long, pointy knife covered in blood. The viscous red liquid slowly slides down the blade and drips to the pavement of the alley as I stare at him.

  "Witch!" He yells at me (That's not the word he says, but it's what I'm going to pretend I hear.). "Donchu 'nore me whens I talking to you. You unnerstand me?"

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  He stabbed me. I've just been stabbed. I'm bleeding. Am I going to die?
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  The same four thoughts keep repeating in my head on an endless loop as I stare at the man screaming at me.

  "No lil Chinagurl (I believe the murderous trash monster has his racism all confused. Now's probably not the time to educate him about it, though.) gonna 'nore me whens I talking. Dat spit (He didn't say spit either, but I think you get the idea.) ain't hapnin wit me. No way. No how. You lissen when I talk, and you ansser me ness time. Nows you dun got stabbed and gonna die wiles I..."

  His rant continues as he jabs the knife back and forth punctuating the air where periods should go (Not that he stops for a breath at any time during the excited ramble.). Bright red drops of my blood flit through the air and splatter around the alley each time he flicks his wrist to make a point. The ground around me is becoming a Jackson Pollock-ian tableau of gore.

  My hands are warm as I feel my blood pool around my own fingers. It's the sensation of spilling a hot bowl of stew in my lap and trying to keep it from leaking onto the floor. It's an interesting – yet horrifying - sensation.

  I'm going to die. In this alley. Tonight. The thought hits me as I hold my belly and stare at the unsettling sight in front of me. Can I even die? Is it possible? I've thought about death several times since that night I woke up in the alley, but suicide has never been an option for me. Ever. Suicide is a sin. It's a sin that sends you straight to hell according to my parents and the Bible. I may not like whatever I'm going through right now, but I haven't committed a major sin that I know of (I still don't know what happened in that alley to the old man. Was I responsible? Was it an accident?) and I don't plan to start now.

  If I just give in to this now and allow myself to bleed out, is that a sin? Is that suicide? Or is that just allowing fate to run its course? Can I just let this end right now? Am I strong enough to do that?

  My insides twist as a wave of nauseating pain rips through me. I clench my hand into a fist and dig into my intestines as much as my body will allow it. It hurts so much.

  I miss my dog. I want to see my dog again. He's a good dog. I have food for him.

  My brain seems to only want to work in short bursts. I can't hold my thoughts together very well anymore. I think I'm bleeding faster than I had anticipated.

  I miss my family. I like my new home.

  My hand is sticky, but I don't notice it as much as I once did. I think my fist is loosening. It's not as easy to hold it as tightly as I did before. I don't think I'm going to be around much longer.

  I work on focusing my eyes up again and I see the trash monster talking at me still. I'd begun to forget he was even here. I don't want to die with him yelling at me. It's annoying. He should stop.

  “shut up,” I whisper at him in the strongest voice I can muster. Hmmm...that wasn't very loud.

  "...and dat's why you shuddna talked at me like you did. Y'understann, Chinagurl? Now's I gonna haff to take all yoor groshrees for maself. You canna..."

  Either he didn't hear me, or he's in his own world. His yapping is killing me (Ha! I still have time for humor at a moment like this. I kill me. Get it?). I can't take it. I don't want to put up with this anymore.

  "Stop talking," I wheeze at him a bit louder than before. "Please."

  "...now's I gonna find me a skirrul out here and skin it and I's gonna take that..."

  I need him to shut up.

  "Stop moving your mouth," I tell him and put all my effort into it. I want him to feel the imperative in my voice. I want him to know he will stop talking now.

  "...once I have the tail off'n it, I can..."

  And silence. His mouth just stops moving and he glances down at me and finally sees me laying on the ground. He doesn't seem to care about my condition, but at least he has noticed me and stops that inane chatter.

  Now I can die in quiet. I'm still not sure if it's the right thing to do, but I believe I am past the deciding point.

  He bends down slowly in front of me still clutching the knife tightly in his right hand. My vision is darkening a bit at the edges, but I continue to watch him as he approaches me. He is less than a foot away from me now.

  "Didjou juss tell me wat to do lil' Chinagurl?" His breath washes over me as he speaks. "Didja?"

  Seriously? He's going to keep talking? I'm going to shuffle off this mortal coil with this guy still rattling on about squirrels and their tails? This is my fate?

  And then the smell hits me. Not the rancid smell of rotting refuse from before, but his true smell. His human smell. The smell that had been camouflaged by the trash this whole time.

  And with that smell something deep within me awakens. Something I'm not strong enough to control. Something that will make a decision for me.

  I don't want to die.

  Strength rushes through my body as the hunger rises up in me and floods my body with endorphins. My mind clears as I inhale deeply letting the scent of warm flesh tickle every part of my olfactory organ. Water fills my mouth as my salivary glands kick into overdrive. Food is coming soon.

  I don't want to die. Not here. Not tonight. Not any time soon.

  With a burst of speed that even surprises me, I reach out and encompass his massive right fist with my petite one and lock his knife hand in place.

  "Whachu doin' Chinagurl?" He barks at me in surprise as I begin to squeeze the hand that so recently had been the harbinger of my impending doom. His eyes widen as I continue to squeeze his balled up hand, and I smile as I hear the first of his knuckles pop in my grip like marbles being smashed with a hammer.

  "What am I doing?" I repeat his question to him in my quiet voice. "I'm going to live," I say as I smile into his pale face.

  His screaming begins as a low wail and quickly rises into a shriek. It's more sound than I want to put up with right now.

  No more sound, I tell him and layer my voice with my desire. I push the thought into his head.

  The scream cuts off immediately, and he just blinks at me in confusion. I can see he wants to scream, but it is no longer an option his brain will allow him to have.

  A darkness wells up in me and wraps itself around my brain. All I want to do is ease the hunger that is tearing at me. I want the pain to stop. I need the pain to stop, and he will take my pain away. He will provide me with a way to end the pain and give me strength.

  I know that what I am about to do is wrong on some level, but so is allowing myself to die. Before me now are two evils, and I must choose one of them. Neither is completely right, and neither is absolutely wrong.

  Come closer to me, I tell him in my thick voice, and I see resistance ebb out of him. The more I want him to do what I ask, the more willing he is to do it.

  He leans in toward me, and even through all the filth that coats him I can see the artery in his neck pulse and call to me. My salvation is only inches away. All I have to do is give in to it. Embrace it. Accept it.

  All I have to do is make a choice. Him or me? Life or death? Damnation in the afterlife or damnation in my current life?

  Pain tightens my mid-section again, and a wave of dark hunger sweeps up me. It hurts so much.

  I don't want to die.

  In the end it isn’t really a decision at all.

  PART THREE

  -VENGEANCE -

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  It's been three days since my decision. I've spent thirty-six hours holed up in my warehouse afraid to go outside. Afraid of what I will do if I step one foot outside the safety of these walls that can guarantee my lack of interaction with another human being. Days spent accepting the weight of the knowledge that I am now a murderer. That I have willingly chosen to take another human's life. I took his life...and I enjoyed it. And the worst part? I don't regret it.

  I've never felt stronger or more alive than I have these last few days. My senses are communicating with me at a rate that I never thought possible. My brain can process stimuli at a rate beyond what any normal person should be able to. It's the most thrilling experience I've ever had. I've never enjoyed some
thing as much as this in my entire life.

  Whatever power I thought I had tasted prior to this - after I had satiated myself on the animal blood - pales to what courses through me now. Just breathing is an adventure. I can feel the air pressure around my body change with each inhale and exhale.

  This is awesome in the true definition of the word. The sum of the awe in me is almost debilitating. My brain is moving so quickly and taking in so much at any one moment, that movement is nearly beyond me. For the past twelve hours I've done little aside from sit in the middle of the warehouse and stare at the walls while savoring every bit of information that my senses can bring me.

  I hope Lazzy can get into his bag of food that I brought home. I just dropped everything once I got inside, and I haven't touched them since.

  Oh...and how much faster or stronger am I now? That's a thought that won't leave me alone.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  I haven't slept for over five days now. I've been awake for just over one hundred and thirty hours. I don't think that's good for my physical well-being. Or my mental health, for that matter.

  Since all this started, sleep has been almost secondary, but at least I was able to sleep on occasion. I could curl up with Lazzy and close my eyes and rest. But not now. My energy level is too hyped up to sleep. There is too much stimulus coming at me constantly to allow me to turn off my brain and even approach the relief of sleep.

  I'm going to need to find a way to confine myself in a claustrophobic area that I can use to block out all light, smells and sound. If my senses can detect anything around me, I am almost unable to not focus on it. The frustration of wanting to get a break from everything is wearing me down. I'm no longer sharp. My brain has turned sluggish from the exhaustion of constantly working for days on end. I'm not used to this. There has to be a way around this...