by Samie Sands
Something crashed into me hard and I fell backward into the abyss. I expected to fall forever as I felt gravity’s pull, but came instead to a sudden painful stop, dangling in space, one arm still looped through the pack.
I hung there for a second, perhaps expecting to be hauled to safety. Something warm dripped onto my face and slid down my cheek. I looked up. Straight into the eyes of Toothless. There he was, so desperate in his pursuit of my flesh that he was still holding on to the free strap, lying flat on his belly and staring down at me, with his broken jaw hanging awkwardly to one side. It would have been funny, but the peril that awaited me should Toothless get bored quickly stifled the humor.
A corpse fell silent past me as Kaatje dispatched an attacker. I saw her look at me, then to Toothless, bringing her knife up to strike.
“No!” I screamed, swinging my free arm up and digging my knife into a groove in the stone, just as Kaatje’s blade pierced the ear of Toothless.
A black ooze leaked from his head and he snarled no more. Kaatje withdrew her blade with the sound of a plunger and Toothless’s lifeless body slid forward under the weight of the pack.
I quickly worked my arm free of the straps and watched as his boney form dropped past me, taking his prize into the darkness. I felt for a lip in the stone and pulled myself up with a hand from Kaatje, who threw her arms around me and pressed her face into my chest. I tried to break free, worried that more zombies would be upon us any minute, but her grip was powerful and I was exhausted. If I am to die, I thought to myself, this is how I want to go.
Eventually, she loosened her hold and I turned to see Black finishing off the remaining dead. The last corpse finally fell and Black sunk to his knees, arms hanging limply at his sides. I rushed to him, followed closely by Kaatje. When I arrived, I knelt beside him and looked him over.
He was naked save for a ring of blackened cloth hanging around his neck. His skin was torn and ragged, his nose had been smashed and more bones than I could count were cracked and broken. The whole time I looked at him he just stared into space with his one bright eye, the other having been ripped free in the battle. A while passed before anyone spoke, and it was Kaatje who broke the silence.
“Come on Black,” she said, trying to keep her voice positive, “We need to get out of here.”
Black’s eye focused on her and he raised his arm, pointing into the darkness ahead. I looked and saw a slither of light shining through a crack in the ceiling, a mountain of rubble leading to it. Black remained pointing.
“What? What is it?” Kaatje said, shaking slightly.
“I think he wants us to leave,” I said slowly, placing my hand on her shoulder.
She began to shake more, her body heaving with silent sobs. Black gave a slight nod and she stood up, walking slowly away. I stood to follow and felt a boney finger snag on my trousers.
Looking around I saw Black staring up at me, “Ghost” he rasped, and the hairs on my neck stood. “Survive.” He looked past me, again focusing his eye on Kaatje as she moved away. “Survive,” he said again, his voice barely a whisper.
His arm dropped and the light faded from his eye.
I awoke to the sound of rain, happy to see my hastily erected shelter had lasted the night. As I lay there, watching the sheet of canvas over my head flutter in the wind, my mind began to wander back over the events of the past few days.
After Black’s second-death, Kaatje and I had emerged from a wide crack in the road to find ourselves back in the quarantine zone. Fortunately, I recognized the area and set off in the direction of home, keeping a close eye on my friend. She had not spoken to me since the bridge and remained in silence for quite some time. I assumed she was grieving and left her to it, giving her a reassuring smile whenever I caught her eye.
“So that was the Undercity” she croaked, her voice barely breaking her lips.
“Say again?” I stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden end to the quiet.
“Back there, the Undercity. I thought it was a rumor but...” she trailed off and looked down.
“What rumor?” I asked, trying to keep her talking.
“There was a rumor, or rather a story, that I was told when I was young” she began. “They told me that after the outbreak most of the underground tunnel network was converted to make mass graves. Basically, they made a big hole and just tossed the dead in before covering them over.”
I listened and tried to imagine the scale of such a thing. It certainly explained the number of corpses we had seen in our brief time down there.
“I had no idea, Rick” she sobbed, stopping and turning to face me with tears in her eyes. “I would never have taken us down there if I had and maybe Black would still be...” she looked to the ground again.
“It isn’t your fault Kaatje,” I said softly. “Black came to us, he was already down there.” I pulled her in, holding her close as she cried quietly into my shoulder.
We arrived at the zone just as the sun was beginning to set, casting a red glow across the evening sky. My friend the ex-soldier let us in and strode over to me, a questioning expression on his lined face. I held up my hand, not wanting to get into it with Kaatje still in earshot.
I took her hand and led her into a vacant tent nearby. She looked exhausted, her skin pale and eyes swollen. I wrapped her up in a rough blanket and sat by her until her breath grew heavy, sleep taking her. I wanted more than anything to lie down next to her and close my own weary eyes, but I had to make my report.
I stood up on aching legs and made my way back outside, pulling up a seat next to my friend. I retold the whole story, from my journey to the well and our capture to our escape and eventual return.
He listened closely, and when I had finished he smiled, patting me on the back. “Good job, son,” he said, his gravelly voice suiting his creased features perfectly.
It occurred to me that I had never spoken at length with this man before, opting usually for a quick nod or wave when passing through the gate. I sat with him and enjoyed a few games of cards, during which I learned his name was John. He told me the water situation had worsened. He said he had resorted to placing buckets, pans and all manner of water catching devices around the zone, hoping to catch something should it rain. I helped John place a few more before finally bidding him goodnight and retreating to my spot next to Kaatje in the tent.
A gush of cold water brought me spluttering back to the present, my makeshift roof having collapsed under the weight of the rain. Wiping the water from my eyes I took up my things and set off.
This run had been unusually quiet. I had agreed to go out and check on the well, to see if anything could be salvaged after the explosion. Upon arrival, it was clear the blast had done more damage than any of us expected, the entire of the town square having sunk inwards. From my vantage point I could see dead roaming around near City Hall, but no sign of any other activity.
I kept cautious while picking my way through the area, taking every corner slowly, expecting an attack from the shadows. None came and I found myself making good time as the day wore on, even deciding to check the surrounding ruins for anything useful.
The storm hit as I was walking back to the zone, heavy rain lashed my face and cold wind pierced my shirt. With the evening quickly turningto night I ran down a tight alley and took shelter, stringing up a large piece of old tent I had stuffed into my new pack.
It was surprisingly cozy and I dozed off soon after dark. Now the storm had settled, leaving a steady drizzle and a sweet-smelling fog hanging low over the rooftops. I followed the road home, staring at my feet and allowing my mind to once again wonder, this time about Kaatje.
Her beautiful smile and big eyes materialized in my subconscious and I felt a warmth run deep within me, bracing me against the cool morning breeze. I heaved a sigh and immediately coughed. Looking up I saw the walls of my zone emerging through the fog, now black and thick with smoke.
I ran towards the open gate, a lump clawing its way in
to my throat. Burning embers swirled around me, singeing my clothes and leaving small burns on my skin. I barely took notice as I burst through the gate.
The scene was chaos, with people frantically trying to salvage things from the fire. One of the people swung at me with a pitchfork, catching me in the gut with the blunt staff.
My eyes watered and stung while the man geared up for another attack. “Leave him!” a voice bellowed. I could make out someone pouring water from a bucket up ahead.
“Grab something and help me put out these flames!” John shouted, gesturing at a fire breaking out in the guard area. I approached him, shielding my face from the heat.
“Where is Kaatje?” I shouted, dread filling my stomach. “She headed up to the apartment building with a group of refugees, talking about getting them to safety.”
I was already tearing away up the street, leaving him to protest to the wind. There was only one block of flats in the area, marked out as a safe zone long before I was born. I ran as fast as I could, cutting through alleyways where possible.
Scenes of devastation lay before me at every turn, civilians and bandits lay dead or dying, some even beginning to reanimate. I ignored it all, the burning buildings, the blood-soaked streets, even the cries of lost children. The world I once knew sped past me in a blur as I closed in on my goal.
My destination came into view, an old apartment building, dilapidated and abandoned, distinguishable only by the tattered sign that hung from its roof. It used to read ‘HELP’ before a storm ripped away the ‘P’ and was a preoutbreak relic remaining in this zone.
I sprinted towards it, navigating a slalom of rusted cars, my legs burning and sweat pouring down my face. I reached the front gate and bolted through and took the stairs two at a time. Reaching the top, I pressed myself against the wall, my lungs aching for air. My hands shook as I drew my knife, the sense of dread becoming even harder to ignore. The big glass doors hung slack on their hinges and I entered the lobby, a white-knuckled grip on my weapon.
There she was.
She hung from the nails in her hands, naked and blood-soaked. One leg was broken, a shard of bone protruding from her thigh. Other women lay in pools of fresh blood all around her. I rushed over to her, tears falling from my eyes, my whole body numb from the claws of ice clutching my heart.
I raised my hand to her face and jumped back as her head lurched forward, white eyes wide under her matted hair; teeth bared and spit falling onto her pale skin. I dropped to my knees in front of her, my knife clattering by my side.
I looked up into her once beautiful features, now twisted by bloodlust and hunger. Her body jerked, striving to be free of the nails holding her. A shadow moved to my left, and her attention diverted, her eyes facing somebody else.
Laughter, deep and vengeful laughter, crawled up my spine and into my ears. A hand grasped my hair and pulled, yanking me to my feet. I stood looking into the singular eye of a heavily built man, his thin mouth curved in a sick smile.
A knife hilt hung around his neck.
My knife hilt.
I looked back to the floor, seeing the stiletto laying there gleaming in the light of the flames outside. Looking back up into his face I could make out a scar protruding from behind a leather eye patch and my stomach flipped. I had stuck my old blade into the eye of this man on the day I met Kaatje, and now he had reaped his revenge on her.
I forced myself to look at her, hanging and snarling at the two potential meals stood before her. I took a step towards her and another. I could sense the bandit growing concerned.
A further step and I was almost nose to nose with Kaatje. “Oi!” the bandit shouted, “Get back over here!”
I ignored him; continuing to stare into Kaatje’s shining white eyes and letting all else fade from my mind.
I moved forward and embraced her.
The pain was instant, her teeth ripping excitedly into my shoulder. The bandit shouted something but the pain ringing within me blocked out his words. I held on tight while Kaatje tore the skin from my bones. Blood spattered my face and ran down over my chest, pooling where our two bodies met. I felt my strength fade as the life drained from me.
I fell to the floor and watched with clouded vision as the bandit stepped over me, driving his knife into the head of Kaatje. I tried to scream but the overwhelming darkness gripped my mind.
A hand moved in the darkness, flexing into a fist before relaxing. Eyes blinked open and a body rolled over, climbing to its feet awkwardly. There I stood, cold and numb. I could feel pressure building in my lungs like I was drowning. I tried to inhale but my body, with no need for air, fought back and I began to choke. I raised my hands to see darkened veins beneath ghostly white skin. Putting one to my shoulder I felt the open wound, flaps of skin and torn muscle gave way to hard bone. Something inside me twisted and caused me to gasp, but this time when I inhaled no choking came, but instead the rich smell of blood filled my senses.
I scanned the room and turned, searching for the source. My eyes fell upon the unmoving figure of Kaatje, blood dripping from her open mouth.
Anger flashed through me and I felt a surge of hatred and desire. Something began to beat in my ears. The bandit was still in the room, his heartbeat giving him away. I stood gazing at Kaatje, struggling to pinpoint exactly where the beating was coming from.
Suddenly the beating grew intense and I stepped back just as a blade slashed through my cheek. I felt nothing. Turning I locked eyes with the bandit, who was still holding his weapon toward me. I felt the hatred once again build inside me as I stared him down. His heartbeat had grown faster and I saw his one eye widen slightly. There it was.
Fear.
My whole being tingled as I launched myself at him, grabbing his arm and snapping it, driving him to the floor yelling in pain. He tried to crawl back but slipped on the blooded tiles. I bent down over him gripping his face in my hands. I closed my eyes, letting desire take hold, and felt something squish as my finger entered his eye socket.
His screams echoed through the lobby and out into the streets, only to be suddenly silenced with one final snapping of the neck. Silence fell. His heart had stopped beating.
I opened my eyes and looked down. Every fiber within me was pushing me to sink my teeth into his body and take my fill, but something at the back of my darkened mind drew me away. It took me back to my feet and turned me away from the horrific scene I had created.
People had already begun to gather outside, looking on. Some of them held weapons and looked upon me with hate in their eyes, while others only showed fear. I began to climb the stairs, out of sight. I climbed onwards and upwards, past walls lined with old posters, under ceilings cracked with damp and mold.
I let the ghost in my mind lead me up until I was standing on the roof, wind blowing through my hair. I closed my eyes again and saw a figure form in my mind. He walked towards me through the darkness, wearing a pack on his back and wearing a knife at his waist. I watched him until he stood inches away, feeling no urge to run, no willingness to attack. I felt I knew this man.
“Remember who you are,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“Ghost” I whispered, before stepping out into the everlasting night.
Jonny Graham
Jonny Graham was born in Leeds, England. He currently lives in Uttoxeter with his Fiancé and their twin cats Kynareth and Mara.
He loves to travel alongside other hobbies such as reading, writing, and gaming, with inspiration for his stories often coming from unique in-game experiences.
Find him on Twitter - @JonnyoftheVale.
Email [email protected]
Maggot
Arnaldo Lopez Jr.
Topo grabbed the corpse roughly by the shoulder and turned it on its side. The blood, already drying in the apartment’s oppressive heat, made a ripping sound as the body was separated from the cheap plastic cover on the couch. Viscous strands of it still connected the dead man to his furniture a
s Topo inserted a dirty forefinger into one of the sixteen knife wounds he’d helped inflict and explored until he scraped a rib. He grunted in satisfaction.
New York City in the summer of 1988 was plagued by record-breaking heat...and homicides. Newspaper headlines featured the triple-digit numbers of the temperature alongside the quadruple-digit number of murders as if trumpeting the daily results of a macabre contest. While scientists and other talking heads blamed the rise in temperature on Global Warming and El Nino, police blamed the rise in violence on that summer’s two most readily available commodities. The heat, and crack cocaine.
In the tiny tenement apartment where Topo and his accomplice stood, covered in an old man’s gore, the air felt almost as thick and sticky as the blood that now decorated the walls and cheap, sparse furniture. A screenless window stood wide open, torn gray curtains hanging limply on either side, but no soft breeze disturbed or stirred them. The only things that stirred in the relentless heat of that summer—were the flies.
One of those flies, a fat, hairy specimen, buzzed close by and landed on Topo’s hand. He shook it off and let the body of his girlfriend’s uncle roll softly to the floor. Topo looked up and glared at his blood-spattered co-conspirator, her own knife still held loosely in her hand and stepped over the body towards her. A fly, bloated with eggs, flew lazily onto the corpse and disappeared into one of the brownish-red wounds in its back.
Topo planted himself in front of his girlfriend and stared down at her. Even though he was barely eighteen years old, he towered more than a foot above his sixteen-year-old “main squeeze”. She kept her eyes on the body of her dead uncle on the floor, her young/old face expressionless. Topo placed a large, knobby hand on her head and twisted his fingers into the tight curls of her hair. Suddenly, he yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him. Sharon yelped in pain and dropped her knife.