It was a brown teddy bear on the sidewalk, staring up at the moon with its one black eye and the other one torn out. Brian picked it up. What a mistake it was…
The bear started speaking; it was one of those fucking bears with a battery inside.
Bear: ‘I’m a little teapot short and stouts. Here is my handle here is–’
Brian squeezed its head, even tried ripping it off. But the thing kept playing, now in a battery-dying-voice that got even louder. ‘When I get all steamed up. I JUST SHOUT. Tip me over and–’
Brian threw the thing of the floor and pressed the hill of his shoe on it. The thing still did not shut up, now it kept repeating one word: Tipme –tipme –tipme – tipme.
And then…it died.
Resilient piece of fucking shit. Brian thought, and shook his head. He looked around him to see if it attracted any attention. Luckily it did not.
Or so Brian thought.
A few seconds later he heard somebody…start to cry. It sounded like the cry of a young girl.
Brian was correct, as he neared the corner and peeked around, he saw a very young girl, probably around 7 - standing in the middle of the bridge he had to walk over.
Brian crept more closer - now tasting distance of the bridge. The little girl was walking in the middle of the road, lost. She had long brown hair that rested on her shoulders. When she turned her face, Brian could see her pink headband with white flower patterns on it. She was now walking towards him (still unaware of Brian) and had her finger on her lips, in a shhhh gesture. Then she spoke.
‘Tibles, where are you? Tibles please come out, I want you back in my arms.’
Is she looking for that teddy bear? Brian thought. And for a second even considered running back to get it for her. But, the more he looked at her the more he noticed that something was not right.
She kept giggling in a way that made him nervous. Not only that, Brian was sure she was biting her nails off, to the point where blood dripped from it.
Then she said: Oh you bloody finger, help me find Tibles.
Brian was right, she was lost. But what was he going to do now, walk back, find another route? This was no option, he was not going to let some young girl block his way, and besides how strong can she be?
(14)
There was good news and bad news. The good news was that Brian crossed Willis Avenue Bridge. The bad news was that the little girl was stronger than he thought. Albeit not in a physical sense, but tenacity. He came up with the brilliant idea that he could outrun her. How badly mistaken he was. He did try, and tried he did.
He probably outran a few metres until she picked up pace. He has never seen a little girl run that fast in his life; it was like she was possessed by Satan himself. When she did reach him, she jumped on him like a jack in the box toy: HEY MR DID YOU SEE MY FUCKING TIBLES?
She managed to take a chunk of flesh from his shoulder. He cried in pain and threw her on the floor like a ragdoll. For a moment he stared into the eyes of little girl that once loved playing Barbie and would sleep with the light on because she was scared. Now – all he saw was hatred and a gaze; lost in a bottomless pit.
While the little girl was pinned down, she opened her mouth to show off her bloody teeth. Brian even noticed little splinters of nails stuck on her lips like glue.
For a moment Brian got caught off guard. She managed to regain her stance and jumped on his shoulder again, where she aimed for his skull. She was just about to take another chunk of flesh when Brian had enough. He is now ashamed to say that he threw a young girl of a bridge.
A part of him felt so much guilt that it was almost unbearable. But, another part was stronger; it was the part that reminded him of when he looked the little girl in the eyes – and what he saw.
Brian was now bleeding a neat stream of red from his shoulder. While holding his shoulder he knew it had to carry on, there was no stopping now. He limped forward and kept his eyes open for anyone.
As he ran down the road, splashing puddles, he saw a sign up ahead that said: Othmar Ammann Playground. It reminded him of those eyes, it even reminded him of: Tibles, where are you Tibles?
As he neared the playground he heard a group of people speaking. At first it sounded like English, but then the words turned into babbling. Brian was now on full alert, if he had trouble taking on a little girl that was looking for her teddy bear named Tibles, he was sure that a full grown man would kill him in an instant, especially with his injured shoulder.
(15)
Brian was now standing at the edge of the playground. He heard the occasional speaking. Words that did not make any sense, it sounded like: Gora. Oom la girada. Sa dam ra oof. Then there were swinging; an oily grind that screamed as it swung up and down.
A thick brush of shrubbery was now blocking his view.
The sky above was now starting to clear slow. It you looked hard enough you might have been able to see a star or two. It was still raining though, very little compared to the previous days. Brian wondered what time it was and got out his cell. Time was flying Brian thought, it was already nearing twelve, and it looked like there was still no signal.
As Brian slid his cell back into his jeans, something caught his attention. Far down the road something was letting of light and puffs of smoke. It was too far to confirm what it was but–
Something was now disturbing the shrubbery next to Brian. Leaves crunched and dead sticks cracked. Brian stood still, he lowered himself completely onto the floor, not that it would have helped if someone saw him.
More crunching. Then a large snap.
Brian was holding his breath when he heard: Goo roo. Ra rit. Ra rit. Then someone else spoke in the same gibberish not far from the same place.
Did they see me? Shit am I in trouble? Brian thought. Feeling sick in the stomach.
Then there were more loud stick snaps. It was now breathing distance from Brian. Then…
The sound of a steady stream. Someone was urinating. And Brian knew - at that moment the shrubbery was standing between him and whoever was there on the other side. The person made a loud. Ahhhhh. That sounded very English for a second Brian thought, but then it went back to: Oe ra ta. Ra ti, Ra ti.
When footsteps walked away from Brian, he glimpsed back at the pulsing light far down the road. The puffs of smoke now transformed into large dragon breaths. His curiosity told him to head in that direction, but why would he do that? Was that not the counter-intuitive thing to do? Maybe it was best sticking to shadow and ill-lighted corners.
But then, his curiosity spoke again, and it got the better of him.
(16)
Brian thought about things. He thought of the little girl looking for her little Tibles. How was she a few days ago? Was she still normal? I bet Tibles the bear was her most favourite thing in the whole world, she would cuddle next to it at night and say hello to it at sunrise. Where was she now, floating at sea or has she sunk to the depths back to hell? Brian thought of Veora and her dying husband, how he coughed long deep hollow breaths during the night, how life snatched his right to live on earth – and even gave him a stopwatch with a countdown. Did they really deserve all this shit? Brian thought no. But they were only two elderly people living in a city populated by eight million. What about the others? What about the joneses, the ones that kept up with latest what-is-hot-and-not. What about the fashion divas that bought the latest Louis Vuitton handbag and Giambattista Valli dress; were they lying on the curb gargling their own blood? Or what about all the hardworking nine-to-five citizens, the ones that worked their ass off to pay their credit card down and take care of family. All these thoughts made Brian sick to the stomach.
Brian was now nearing the place his curiosity told him to go to.
The smell of charcoal was in the air. Every so often, a spark would ignite itself into a larger plume of smoke; that sprung up into the air like an effigy God.
He now saw that it was a burning vehicle. And by the looks of it, a police car. It’s b
lue stripes were now melting away into black. The NYPD on the side was already gone. It was strange, because Brian would have preferred any other car to be burning than a police car. He did not really know why, maybe he saw it as a bad omen, an omen that said: LOOK. Nothing will stop us.
He ignored the stupid thought and carried on walking straight.
Brian was now nearing Jefferson Park. Even though he lived in the area most his life, he still needed direction. Everything around him was a blur, a mass confusion.
The clouds were now gone. The rain stopped, but the wind picked up; whistling. Brian climbed over the fence into Jefferson Park. He did so because on the main road were a group of people walking in his direction. He almost did not see them because he was too busy staring up at the damn sky. Luckily, they did not see him.
As Brian ran across the grass, he had to stop for a second. His shoulder started to throb with pain. His hand was also not the best bandage; he could feel a cold stream running down his skin. He went to sit down under a tree.
He has been here on many occasions, in fact, he remembers coming here with Mason when they were kids. Once Mason brought a girl with them, (they were probably nine). He proclaimed his love for her right in this park. God knows why, Mason brought Brian with, but it was fucking hilarious. She told him that she saw him as a friend. Imagine that at nine years old. Brian could remember Mason saying: Uh, sure, sure why not. Friends. That’s cool. I would – love – to be friends.
Afterwards, Brian asked him why he brought him with, and Mason said that he was ‘not’ scared to do it alone, but he just needed some ‘backup’.
A smile ran across Brian’s face. It occurred to him that it was the first time that he really smiled, in quite a while. The smile faded after a few seconds. The reality now was too stark to ignore, it was survive or be killed.
Brian had the urge to urinate. He got up from the grass and saw the park bathroom just up ahead.
I can probably find some toilet paper in there. Then I can wrap it around my shoulder. Brian thought.
He went over and decided to go into the female’s toilet for some reason. Maybe it was safer in there. He went inside and relieved himself of his urge. All lights were off, so he had to play the game of I-will-use-my-hands to find the toilet paper. He did eventually - and took a few minutes to wrap as much as he could over his shoulder. He was just about to put the roll down.
Heavy steps walked the floor. It sure wasn’t Brian.
Everything went silent. Then, the footsteps carried on walking inside. The lights came on, blinding Brian.
Could this be someone normal, Brian contemplated. The steps were too heavy for a woman’s. It must have been…no woman walks that heavy. Then, the smell came; a thick breeze of rotten food.
Brian now knew that this was no normal person - wanting to go for a wee-wee at one in the morning in Jefferson Park. Not to mention that fucking smell. Now that Brian thought about it, the smell was actually far from rotten food - that smell was of flesh and bone.
Steps were now slowly nearing the cubicle Brian was in. He climbed on top of the seat. He saw this trick work in countless of movies, but this was far from your normal: OK GUYS, CUT! Let’s take a break.
This was more: (Person A goes for nice stroll in park at night. Person A opens cubicle door. Person A finds person B on toilet seat. Person A enjoys a midnight snack).
Then, Brian heard…nothing. It was now…too quiet.
Why did it go so quiet was the first thing that popped through his head. He licked his lips and channelled his focus on his surroundings, even shutting his eyes.
Still, nothing.
For a moment Brian considered that the person actually left the toilet. But he was certain that he did not hear anyone walk out. Or, was he?
A few minutes past and it was like no one even entered. Not a sound. Not a chirp.
Brian took a deep breath in and out. He put both his hands on either side of the cubicle and slowly got down. He waited a few more seconds, and then…
He unlocked the door. It made a loud CLUK sound. He pushed it forward.
Still nothing. Not a sound.
With bated breath he went out. He looked left to right to see - nothing. He even considered that his mind was playing a silly joke on him.
Brian went over to the mirror. A was now staring at his brown eyes and messy hair. He looked down to his shoulder; the blood was already seeping through.
The wind whistled outside.
Brian thought it was best to venture forward.
(17)
Monday, September 29, 2014
A brilliant light shone on Brian, warming his skin. For a second he had to lift his hand to block it from his face. Birds were now chirping a beautiful melody. This was when Brian remembered where he was. He was now in Central Park – and on a baseball pitch by the looks of it.
Brian coughed. He thought of Veora and her husband. Brian coughed some more; and this time he could feel sand stuck to his face.
He opened one eye and the world was upside down. He saw someone walk in the distance, wearing a burnt orange jacket and blue cap. He closed his eyes again.
Brian was now thinking of Veora again. He remembers her feeling so guilty for asking him for help, after she was the one that preached: Have you lost yo’ marbles son. A fit man like yo’self can’t be walkin out there with them things chewin’.’
New York City is renowned for its people. They are street tough. They know when you walk them alley ways one in the morning you sure hell don’t walk head low and shoulders back. You walk like you are the king of New–
Brian opened both his eyes this time. The world was still upside down. Vision was blurry but he could still see the person walking with his or her orange jacket.
Brian blinked.
The person far away was now joined by one other person. Brian was sure it was a female; her hair was long, much longer than shoulder height.
Brian closed his eyes and continued thinking about New Yorkers. He thought about how important it was that they were actually street tough, and that it was every man and woman for themselves. Big city meant a lot more weirdos. You had to protect yourself. But apart from that, there were still the Veora’s of New York. Don’t forget that. The kind and gentle hearted people.
Brian opened his eyes again. The fuzzy picture in front of him was getting a lot less blurry. He was certain that those two people were walking in his direction.
He closed his eyes and felt tired. He wiped some sand of his face.
Brian has not forgotten about his mission. Another person’s life was on stake here, it was not only his own ass he had to protect, someone was relying on him to get help. He sure as hell prays that Veora’s husband was still alive and breathing. Both of them actually.
Then, he remembered those things…those humans that prefer flesh over fruit–
Brian’s eyes shot open. This time for good, because he just realised with pristine clarity – that he was lying face down on a baseball pitch – and in the open.
How can I be so fucking stupid. Brian thought.
He quickly remembered two things, one: that after Jefferson Park he continued walking as far as he could , which was Central Park, he then collapsed somewhere which was here, and slept. Two: There were two people walking in his direction. And they did not look friendly.
Brian jumped up from the floor. Sand trickled down his body.
Did they notice me?
No, they did not. The two walking, one female and one male, were both fixated by something on the grass. It was a dead body.
Brian looked at them as they sat around it like it was a picnic. They should have brought a fucking blanket, he thought. But there was no need. The woman used her nails to scrape flesh of the inner thighs, but the man used a more forward approach, he kept ramming his jaws into the body, taking large gulps of flesh that hanged from his mouth.
That was Brian’s queue to get out. And he sure did.
(18)
Brian preferred it when it was raining, at least that gave some cover. Now it was broad day light; with the sun hanging high above. There were a lot more people out than he expected. After he saw those two back their mutilating a body, he saw four others circling the same area.
Brian was starting to wonder how many people were infected, he still had no clue what the hell was going on, but they had to be infected with something. Severe Rabies maybe? What would cause people to go violent and then start…eating others. It was crazy.
Brian thought it was a good idea to leave Central Park and head out on the main road. At least there he could use alley ways for cover.
He was just about to leave the outskirt of Central Park and head into the West side. When he heard voices.
Wait. That…is English. And it sounds…normal. Brian thought.
He was spurred with optimism. Hearing other people speak brought so much comfort to him, that he decided to start running. He ran as fast as he could to the other side of brush.
His suspicion was right. It was far from right. It was…It was–
Brian fell onto his knees. He burst out crying. On the opposite road was a group of five-seven people, normal people, and one of those people was dressed in army clothing. He carried a gun – one of those big fucking guns, Brian think it was an M-4 Carbine, but he was not sure – nor did he care. He was so pleased to see others. Not to mention that it looked like they were escorted by the army man.
A woman wearing a black dress that had white triangle patterns on it - saw Brian. She said something to the group and waved at him furiously.
Brian recognised that gesture as: Get-over-here-quick.
The Need For Flesh (Apocalyptic Cannibalism Book 1) Page 4