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She remembered flesh.
Her hand caressed a
patch of warm skin as her heart struggled to beat again.
Once, flesh was meant to offer comfort through touch. It
still had that same effect to her.
The body shuddered
beneath her with each stroke of her finger. A man with hair
the color of night and eyes as wide as the full moon. There
used to be another man. She didn’t remember his name.
All she remembered was
flesh. She dipped her head into the trembling man’s neck.
Her teeth grazed his pulse. She salivated with each rapid
beat. The man cried out, begging for mercy. She granted it
for him by closing her mouth over the center of his throat.
She tore at flesh, chewed on soft skin, and licked the red
blood gushing from the man. Her hands clutched the back his
head, tilting it to the side so more skin was exposed. The
liquid was heavy and sweet on her rough tongue.
More. I want more.
She held the man down by
his shoulders; her long fingernails dug into his skin.
Sweat trickled down from his jaw to where she fed from his
neck. The salty droplets added a kick to the hot piece of
bloody flesh. She sank her teeth into his throat again and
came away with a mouthful of soft skin and warm blood.
The man went limp under
her.
She studied the man’s
vacant eyes--now a black hole of lost memories--and her
heart whimpered.
Whenever there was light
out, she hid. There were groups that haunted her. They
called her kind the living dead.
Am I dead?
Her silent heart told
her yes. Her empty stomach told her no.
She only traveled when
it was dark out, wandering through trees and long streets
that went nowhere. Sometimes she looked up to the sky. The
stars triggered memories--names like Ursa Major, Ursa Minor,
the Big and Little Dipper.
She didn’t remember her
name.
Although she preferred
to be alone, it wasn’t hard to stumble upon groups of her
kind. They littered cities, fields, buildings. Their faces
were frozen in sadness. They groaned from a pain that they
could not stop. It was that never-ending, cold hunger she
also felt, twisting and piercing her inside. It demanded to
be fed and it would not be satisfied until it was she was
drowning in the warm sea of flesh and blood.
Tonight, she walked
among the rest of the living dead. She bumped into another
body. The man’s flesh was wasted--dry and brittle falling
from his face in curly wisps. He mumbled, but she
understood. They needed to repair themselves. The only way
to do that was to find more flesh.
The growl deep inside
her took control. She made a mistake and stepped out to
where there was light. It didn’t take long for the ones that
hunted her to find her.
Three men cornered her
in an abandoned building. Their skin radiated in the
sunlight. Her stomach clenched as the hunger grew.
The men spoke words to
her, but she had forgotten their meanings when the taste for
flesh became her language.
They had weapons, and
she knew what kind of damage could happen. The men meant to
kill her like she had seen with others. A loud bang. Bullet
hole in the head.
The weapons took away
the memories, shut them down again. That was how her kind
died and never came back.
She snarled at the men.
They didn’t lower their weapons. They moved closer and with
each step they took, the sweet smell of flesh made her
insides itch. She twitched, bit down on her bottom dry lip,
and charged towards the men.
She swung her arm at
one, knocking him to his knees. She grabbed him and twisted
his neck, snapping the bone. Guns fired. Something hard
slammed into her back, not the head. She advanced at the
other men.
The second took a hold
of her long hair and pushed her against the wall. He reached
under his jacket and removed a large knife. His chest rose,
fell, and with each breath he took, her body prickled with
anticipation. He raised the knife. She grabbed his hand and
rotated his wrist until it cracked. She slammed the blade
into the man’s stomach and shoved it up; his guts spilled
out in thick pink coils. He gurgled with his last pathetic
gasp for life. Her mouth latched into his warm neck, tearing
at his flesh. Hot blood splattered on her face. Her knees
went weak as the hunger inside her screamed for more.
The last man stood in
place, shaking and crying. She had tasted plenty of tears
since her craving for flesh started--the salt with the
coppery tang of blood. She licked her lips--now wet and
stained.
The last man pointed the
gun to his head.
Take away the memories,
take away the person.
Before he could fire his
weapon, she was on him, teeth ripping into his throat. She
licked his torn flesh, then ran her tongue up over his neck,
leaving behind a trail of her saliva and the blood of his
fallen companion. She stopped where the tears were still
fresh on his cheeks. The taste of his terror was like seeing
the first bolt of lightening streak across the sky before a
storm. Her body hummed with an electricity that made her
feel alive even though her heart made no sound.
She bathed the men’s
bodies in the sunlight streaming in from the open glass
windows and then in their own blood. It only added to the
appeal of their flesh.
When she was through,
she stood back up; the hunger inside her quiet for now. She
walked out of the building just as the three bodies rustled
behind her. They groaned as they returned. She remembered
waking up with the dull ache pulsating inside from her head
to her toes, her ashy mouth, and knowing the only way to
quench that thirst was to find flesh and fill herself with
it.
That was a long time ago
when the virus had only affected a few selected individuals,
before it became an epidemic, before she had stopped to help
the bleeding man only to have him sink his teeth into her
arm. The disease quickly spread inside her.
In turn, she spread it
because that was all she knew, all that she could remember.
There was a little girl
and her mother on the side of the road.
They were like her.
She watched as the two
of them knelt next to the fresh bodies. The mother let the
child feed first. With her small hands, the girl took a hold
of the limp arm attached to the young man. Her mouth ripped
into flesh. The mother stroked the girl’s stringy hair with
a faint smile on her face.
She continued to watch
the two of them and her mouth went dry with a strange taste.
It filled her lungs like smoke, almost suffocating her.
Memory.
She decided to go home
because she remembered.
His name is Todd.
She remembered why she
had the ring on her left hand. She remembered a little boy
with the same dark hair and eyes as Todd.
They were her family.
She traveled all through
the night, hiding from the ones who haunted her and keeping
her distance from the others like her. She only stopped to
feed and search the stars.
When she made it home,
her heart struggled to work, but it no longer knew its
purpose.
She stood at the door,
but no one came.
Maybe they no longer
remembered her.
But she remembered them,
and that was enough fuel to drive her fist through the
wooden door. She did it again and again until the door burst
open for her. She stepped into her home. As soon as she did,
the memories flooded her mind. So many images hurdled to the
front of her eyes that she had to lean against the wall.
She saw herself--alive
with a beating heart--holding a child. Her child. He had a
name for her.
“Mommy.”
She saw Todd’s muscled
body draped over her slimmer one as they molded as one. She
remembered how warm his flesh had been on top of hers.
The memories caused her
chest to tighten. It was too much.
She continued inside the
home. In each room, another memory threw itself forward.
Spicy smells from steaming pots and pans. The sweet tang of
berries in her mouth. The kaleidoscope of colors from the
vase full of fresh flowers. The touch of Todd’s hand
securely on her waist. The joy of hearing her son’s laughter
as she held him on her lap.
When she made it to the
end of the hallway, she stopped. There was nowhere else to
go.
Something clicked behind
her.
She turned to find a man
holding a weapon. A little boy lingered behind the man’s
tall legs.
I know who you are.
They were her memories
come to life.
She wanted to smile, but
the muscles in her face didn’t know how to move in that way
anymore. She could only groan and move slowly to her family
with her hands extended. She wanted to touch them again and
feel comfort from the warmth of their flesh.
Todd fired the gun.
Loud bang.
Bullet hole in the head.
He missed.
Another groan filled the
room.
It was the last man. His
stiff neck was an open crevice of muscle and skin tissue.
She could still taste his salty tears on her swollen tongue.
Gone was his weapon. Gone were the two other men. But she
still circled him as though he was a danger. She knew why he
was there--for flesh, for her family.
She screeched and
grunted with urgency as her fists collided with the last
man’s jaw. His head whipped back, but he remained unfazed
with her attack. He shoved her and she pulled him down with
her; their legs became entangled. He bit into her arm and
she cried out as he pulled away with a piece of skin in his
mouth. She pushed him aside, jumping on top of him. She tore
into his neck again, but instead of tasting the sweetness of
his flesh, she coughed up ash. He rolled her on her back and
sat on her chest. Looking down at her, he gave her a rusty
smile.
Loud bang.
Bullet hole in the head.
The last man went slack
and collapsed to his side on the wooden floor. He didn’t
move after that.
She sat up. Todd still
held the gun. Their son huddled behind Todd with his small
arms wrapped his father’s legs. He buried his face into the
back of Todd’s thighs.
Don’t be afraid. It’s
Mommy.
As she stood, there was
another loud explosion. The bullet struck her shoulder. The
impact made her spin around and hit a wall. She slid back
down to the floor.
Todd towered over her.
The barrel of the gun was aimed at her face. A face her
husband and son no longer recognized. With a silent plea,
she asked for them to remember her.
Remember me like I
remember you.
She blinked and found
her eyes wet. The liquid rolled down her face until they
touched her lips. It was the familiar taste of tears, but
this time, they were hers.
Then, she remembered.
My name is--
Loud bang.
Bullet hole in the head. |
