by Ian Woodhead
Once Raphael had finished and used his energy to repair the damage that he had wrought to her flesh, he realised that they even foresaw this union. It made perfect sense to him. The woman’s leaders needed a part of Raphael.
“They said that you wouldn’t.” She shrugged. “I didn’t doubt them.”
Such blind loyalty felt alien to Raphael. “They are your new parents? You love them, trust their decisions, relying on them to keep you from harm.”
“She nodded. “Of course I do. Our community is built on love and respect, not fear and hatred.”
Did she know in advance what Raphael would do? It must have passed through her mind at least once. She was sexually active, that much he did discover. He had trawled through her sleeping mind, looking for memories of sexual activity just as he had done with his other girl. This one was not as experienced, but she certainly knew how to pleasure her human mate.
Raphael jumped off the bed and walked over to the doorway, wondering how she would react to her body changing as Raphael’s spawn grew inside her. He suddenly stopped and turned to look at her. “Okay, so you’re leaders were right about me not eating you. What makes you so sure that’ll I’ll allow you to leave?”
The woman smiled again, and she reached out and ran her fingers down his arm. “Our lady has foreseen it. Accept it, Raphael, as I have.” She picked up her crossbow and slung it over her shoulders. “We all have our roles to fulfill.”
He hurried down the stairway, attempting to digest her words. It frightened him to hear the strength of her faith in her voice; she reminded Raphael of how his mother used think before the infection changed her. Raphael had seen fragments of his mother’s old mind hidden under the new one. Her mother’s unswerving belief had not done her much good.
“We’ll triumph, Raphael. Deep down, I know you believe me.”
He slowly nodded, deciding that after they had killed the two remaining newbirths, Raphael would allow this strange woman to leave his domain, but not before fucking her once again. This time, he would not put her to sleep.
“I can feel one of them,” she gasped. The woman slumped against the door. “He’s so close!”
He pulled her back inside the shop, terrified that the newbirth was about to burst through the door at any minute.
“Relax,” she whispered. “It can’t sense us.”
Raphael shook his head. “No, you’re wrong, of course it can.”
The woman opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. “No,” she replied, turning around to face him. “It can’t sense us because we are working together. You’re blocking it. That thing is practically blind. As long as it doesn’t see us, we’ll be fine.” The woman loaded her crossbow, “Reach out, Raphael, and find it. Don’t worry, it won’t know you’re there.”
He knew she was right about one of them close, he had sensed his brother at the same time as the woman almost fell. Despite his reservations, Raphael did as she requested and allowed his mind-eye to leave. He found it immediately, sitting on top of a red car, pushing one of his claws through the skull of a dead thing and scooping at the soft insides.
Raphael’s mind-eye settled in front of the creature, and he listened to its simple thoughts. There was not much difference to newbirth’s mind and the dead thing, at least not while it was eating. It was tempting to slip inside its head, just the once, to experience first hand how it truly thought. It would be suicidal to attempt such undertaking. It could not sense him, but his mind-eye still knew that its mind would just suck him inside and devour him just like it was devouring that brain. Raphael watched as it raised it huge armoured head. Soft black chewed flesh sliding down its chin, and just for that single moment, Raphael caught a glimmer of recognition in its eyes, as if it knew that his mind-eye was in front of him.
The simple-minded focus just dissolved and Raphael felt the creature’s true intelligence start to rise to the surface. The incident only lasted a second. The desire to eat took over, and it lowered its head. Raphael fled.
“It’s in the next street,” he murmured when he gratefully returned to his body. Raphael watched the woman nod before setting off. Did she seriously think that her puny weapon would be able to take down the newbirth? Even if she could get close enough to use it, he doubted the bolt would break through its thick armour.
Raphael set off after her, wishing that she had one of those human guns. He knew from experience that her crossbow was deadly, but how would it fair against his new siblings? It suddenly dawned on him that the woman had not actually seen a newbirth. He sighed, picturing it scooping out the contents of Raphael’s skull, then forcing it’s tube into the woman’s stomach and filling her insides with eggs.
As Raphael ran towards the woman, he sensed it ready to move. They’d never reach it in time—well, he could but not without leaving the human behind. He wrapped his upper right arm around her waist and jumped onto the side of the building, trying not to let his body react to the sound of her frightened gasps, she was so warm and tender. He brushed away the feeling of lust, not believing that his body was reacting like this.
The newbirth was about to leave. Raphael jumped off the building and ran up the side of a high wall. As he reached the top, he saw it standing on the roof of a car and gazing up at a window of a skyscraper.
Raphael could sense them too. There were over dozen humans in that building. The newbirth then spun around and caught sight of them; its expression told Raphael that it had no clue that they were there. It screamed with rage, he felt the raw power from its thoughts brush over him, like a light breeze. That took the newbirth by surprise as well.
It then noticed the human and growled. Raphael knew that it had just worked out why its mind blast had not liquefied the inside of Raphael’s head. It jumped off the car and galloped towards them.
Raphael saw the woman steady her bow and fire. The bolt hit the creature in the throat and ricocheted off its thick armour. It leaped and pulled the weapon out of her hands before jumping on her and pinning the woman to the ground. He dived on the creature’s back and bit into its neck, trying to find a soft area. It roared in anger and then pain as he pushed his four clawed hands into its side.
The newbirth slung him off, bent its head, and gave the woman a single sniff before leaping off her. Raphael took advantage of its confusion and dived on it again. This time he was able to push his digits under the armour. He jerk his head away as the newbirth lunged towards his face, the things long teeth missing his nose by inches. Raphael pushed his fingers deeper into its flesh, shuddering in pleasure as the creature threw back its head and howled in agony. Raphael dived forward and sunk his own teeth into its tender neck.
The newbirth sighed before giving up on life. He looked aback at the shocked girl’s expression and wondered if she’d mind if Raphael ate some of it.
“I should be dead,” cried the woman. “Why didn’t it kill me?” She looked at Raphael and brushed some leaves out of her hair. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. Raphael knew why it hadn’t killed her. She would soon be bringing new life to the world.
Chapter Seventeen
The reassuring burr of the rotor blades must have caused Peter to drop off. Well, he wasn’t ready to open his eyes just yet, he wasn’t going to go back to sleep either, not after those crazy fucked up nightmares. His wife would probably still be sleeping, he couldn’t hear her talking.
Sergeant Dawkins wouldn’t be sleeping though, he never seemed to shut his eyes; the man was like the Energizer bunny. If the sergeant knew he was faking it, the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone. That guy’s boasting was bad for Peter’s indigestion.
The sergeant had told everyone—at least everyone that would listen—that he wanted to spend his share on a new car, one of those fancy electric Korean jobs. Peter privately thought he was a fool. They’d get the Saudi field back. It was only a matter of time before the Chinese conceded their claim.
Peter had promised to buy his wife an expensive
ring from his share. That wasn’t going to stop him from checking the digits of any decaying corpse that they might happen to pass. He’d soon be able to get rid of the strong stench of decay from the ring with plenty of strong disinfectant. She wouldn’t know any better.
It was strange how he could smell that decay right now. The stench brought back one of his dreams of some freaky butcher tying him to a pole in a cellar. That stench was not going away, no mater how hard he tried.
“You can’t fool me, Peter. I know you’re awake. Hey, have I told you what I’m going to spend the share of my money on?”
Peter reluctantly opened his eyes and glared at the sergeant’s back. How did he know he was faking it? The bastard wasn’t even looking at him. The smell of bad meat was everywhere now.”
“Sergeant, do you need to visit the bathroom? Something in here stinks. Have you dropped your guts?”
The sergeant slowly turned around and Peter cried out as the dead butcher grinned back at him. He lifted up a cleaver coated in lumps of rotting meat. “I think that your guts will make brilliant sausages.”
Peter’s eyes snapped open, and he groaned in despair when he found himself sitting in the pilot’s blood splattered seat. He glanced down at his arms, “What the fuck is all that?” They looked as though they’d both been dipped into strong acid. The stench of decay was rising from his flesh. “Oh fuck, my body is rotting away!”
The sound of the rotor blades followed him out of his waking dream and Peter realised that his comrades were on their way. They’d take one look at his rotting body and burn him to a fucking crisp. He couldn’t stay here, Peter didn’t want to die. The sound of the helicopter was getting louder, it wouldn’t be long before they landed.
Peter leaned forward, feeling his wet shirt peel off the leather chair. He dare not glance behind him, fearing what he’d see. It wasn’t sweat soaking his shirt, that he did know. He pushed open the door and fell out onto the roof, crying out at the sight of wet pieces of skin sticking to the door handle.
The helicopters were now visible; he got to his feet and staggered over to the open doorway. Why was this happening to him? He needed to find somewhere to hide and hope to god that whatever was happening would stop before he dissolved into a pile of soft, wet bones.
Peter stumbled down the concrete stairs, panicking when the sound of the machines touching down reached his ears. He was leaving bits of his self on everything he inadvertently touched. He stopped at the last step and carefully placed his foot on the landing, expecting to fall over at any second. His shoes felt like they’d been packed with wet mud. His flesh was literally falling off his bones.
He rushed into the first room he came to and slammed the door shut. Peter then jumped and cried out when he heard the faint sound of gunfire. They were on the streets as well. He took a deep breath and took a closer look at both his arms. During his flight down here most of the top layer of skin had broken up and slipped off.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he whispered, trying to reassure himself. Peter held out his hands, noticing that he’d lost his fingernails too. He pressed a forefinger down on his wrist. Another piece of slime-coated skin slid off and hit the floor, but underneath the meat was firm and unyielding. He was in no pain or discomfort. Perhaps he wasn’t dissolving after all.
He knew for certain that none of those dead things had bitten him. None of the decaying fuck ups had even gotten close to him. Peter then thought back to splashing in all that sewer water, the crawl through the tunnels, and his encounter with that insane butcher. Fuck knows what weird germs had seeped into all his cuts and scratches through this diseased pesthole.
Peter slowly walked over to the window, casually picking off more pieces of wet flesh. The infection had got to him alright, but he didn’t think that he would change into some flesh-eating dead thing.
The men from his unit were running through the empty streets, probably looking for something to shoot; it looked as though they’d already established a perimeter. If they did find him, Peter just knew what they’d do if they saw the state of him. The bastards would turn him into Swiss-cheese.
He screamed as the front door burst open. Peter turned around, watching two heavily armed men rush into the room. They both let out a single gasp when they clapped eyes on what Peter had become.
“Guys!” he shouted, raising his hands. “Oh God, don’t shoot me. It’s me, it’s Peter.” He searched both their astonished eyes, looking for any sign of recognition and finding none. All they saw was some nightmarish monster. Did he really look that bad?
Peter knew them both. Oliver and Vincent were from his ship, he’d bunked up with the pair of them, at least until he’d got married. “Oliver, okay, so I look like shit, but don’t you even recognise my voice?”
The large blond haired man raised his weapon. “Vincent, what the fuck is it? I mean, it looks like its trying to surrender.”
His companion scratched his head. “Why are you asking me that? Look at its fingers and mouth, it hasn’t got teeth. It’s not wild, maybe it’s somebody’s escaped pet. Sure is pissed about something, though.”
Peter dropped to his knees. The realisation that neither of them could understand him hit Peter hard.
“Do we shoot it or what?” asked Oliver. “We’re supposed to kill the dead ones.”
“I’m not fucking dead!” he cried.
Oliver cocked his weapon. “We can’t risk it.
Peter lunged forward, “You can’t shoot me!” he cried. “I’m one of you.”
His finger brushed across Oliver’s cheek and the man screamed out. Oliver wrestled out of Peter’s grip and fell to the floor, howling in agony. Vincent’s rifle fell from his numb fingers and Peter rushed over and snatched it up. He backed off, training the gun on Vincent and watching the flesh on Oliver’s face bubble up. Thick yellow blisters grew over his cheeks and down his neck.
“What the fuck have you done to him?”
Oliver abruptly stopped moving and fell silent. All Peter could hear was Vincent’s heavy panting. “I swear to you, buddy, I didn’t know that was going to happen.” He then remembered the man couldn’t hear a word he was saying. “Fuck it, the bastard was going to shoot me anyway.”
Vincent turned his head and opened his mouth in a silent scream as Oliver’s body began to move. The man sat up, looked at Vincent, and moaned. He tried to get off the floor. The man wasn’t a complete fool, judging from his expression, Vincent knew that his friend had just joined the ranks of the shuffling dead. The corpse looked at Peter before he lunged for Vincent. Peter fired a single shot through Oliver’s head before he could reach the terrified man.
Vincent screamed again as three more soldiers rushed into the room. Unlike the previous two, it took them an instant to assess the situation. One man rushed forward and snatched the gun out of Peter’s grasp while another man placed a wire looped metal pole around his neck. He cried out and tried to remove it; his reward was for the loop to tighten. He heard the cocking of automatic weapons and immediately ceased his struggling.
“Vincent, what the fucking hell happened here?”
The man just looked at Peter one more time before collapsing. Two soldiers caught the man and carried him out of the room. The soldier holding the pole dragged Peter through the doorway and up the stairs towards the roof. Peter had to focus on trying not to stumble. Despite his belief that the rot in his body had stopped rotting, he didn’t want to put the theory to the test.
Peter was pushed through the door at the top of the stairs and onto the rooftop. The roof was a hive of activity. Peter saw over a dozen men lifting out large boxes from three helicopters. Over in the distance, he saw similar activity on two more roofs. It looked like an invasion. He was pushed towards an imposing figure, busy dishing out order to three young soldiers. Their faces drained of blood as Peter neared.
The man turned around, he took one look at Peter and quickly crossed himself. “What the fuck are you doing, man? You’r
e supposed to kill the dead, not capture them.”
“That’s just it, sir. I don’t think that this is dead. I mean, it even seemed to react to a command.”
Peter gazed at the commanding officer, he so wanted to tell him who he was. What was the point of that? Nobody could understand him. After what he’d seen what his toxic flesh had done to Oliver, perhaps it was best that he should be killed. He watched the man take a closer look at his face and his ripped and tattered clothing.
“Peter?”
He looked up at the mention of his name. The officer coughed. “Shit, it is you under all that rot. What the fuck happened to you, man? Oh Christ. Can you understand me?”
Peter nodded.
“Jesus H Christ! Oh man, I’m so sorry.” He pulled out his automatic. “This will be quick, I can’t imagine how much suffering you must be going through.” The man pointed the gun at his face.”
Peter closed his eyes, said a quick prayer for his wife, and waited for release. He felt the noose go slack followed by the sound of a dozen objects hitting the floor. He opened his eyes and saw every soldier rolling about on the rooftop, each one silently screaming out. He then saw something crawl over the edge of the building and shivered. It was like that other monster that took his wife, only much larger and covered in crimson chitin-like armour. The beast scuttled over to the nearest soldier and pushed two of its six legs through the man’s stomach.
The creature looked over at him before turning his attention back to the soldier. It proceeded to slice off pieces of the man and push the wet lumps into it large mouth.
He looked down at the officer, writhing and arching his back like the rest of the men on the roof. None of them stood a chance against this thing. Peter turned and walked along the roof, watching the huge beast scuttle over to another man. “Leave them alone,” he shouted.